The Rock of Regard, divided into four parts.  
The first, the Castle of delight: Wherein is reported, the wretched end of wanton and dissolute living.  
The second, the Garden of Unthriftiness: Wherein are many sweet flowers, (or rather fancies) of honest love.  
The third, the Arbour of Virtue: Wherein slander is highly punished, and virtuous Ladies and Gentlewomen, worthily commended.  
The fourth, the Ortchard of Repentance: Wherein are discoursed, the miseries that follow dicing, the mischiefs of quarreling, the fall of prodigality: and the sudden overthrow of four notable cousners, with divers other moral, natural, & tragical discourses: documents and admonitions: being all the invention, collection and translation of George Whet●tons Gent.  
Formae nulla fides.   

¶ To all the young Gentlemen of England, to whose perusing this Book shall happen: George Whetstons wisheth both health and good hap.  
WOrthy Gentlemen, I have presented unto your friendly acceptance, a work so worthless, (in respect of the homely handling thereof) as will (I fear) neither content you in reading, nor any ways commend my pains in writing: & yet I am right well assured (curious contentment set apart) it importeth necessary matter of direction, for unstaid youth, who having the rains at liberty, are so hot ●n expense, as that they be many times surfited with encumbrances, yea, tired out right with prodigality, before they be brought into any perfect order of spending. For whose behalf and forewarning, I have collected together a number of my unlearned devices (invented for the most, of experience) and more boldly, then well advised, have guarded them, with the title of the Rock of regard: not for that it containeth only needful matter, but for that you, having noted the discommodities of the unnecessary, might read the necessary considerations with more regard. And for that it behoveth the master of every feast, to provide divers dishes, to please the divers appetites of his divers guests: the like consideration now moveth me, who having invited a number to peruse my unpolished labours, as near as I can to use such Decorum in my doings, as every desire may be satisfied. And sure I hold it necessary, that matters of advise (to work attention) be sometimes mingled with delight: and further, for that I know the most part of youth (to whom I chief dedicated the fruit of my travel) are so careless of their commodity, as they set light of sound advise, unless such persuasions be sauced (in some respect) with their own desires, so that to win them to the reading of that which is profitable, I have likewise presented them with matter of honest pleasure. And yet, lest they lighting on some discourse of worth, should by and by be led away, with the sight of some wanton devise, I have published my travel, under these four following titles.  
The first is, the Castle of delight. Wherein (to join commodity, with the reader's pleasure) are many moral and needful considerations. For who so noteth there, the issue of the Countess of Zelants hate, may happily fear to execute a strumpet's bloody revenge. In Cressida's complaint, the subtleties of a Courtesan discovered, may forewarn youth from the company of enticing dames. The adventures of Rinaldo (which may very well be termed a Labyrinth of love) discourseth the inconveniencies of jealousy: and by the overthrow of Frizaldo, is shown the reward of lawless lust and treachery.  
Some there be, that having eyed my former unthriftiness, do gape (percase) to view in this book, a number of vain, wanton, and worthless Sonnets, in some respects I have satisfied their expectation, moved to suffer the imprinting of them, not of vain glory, but of two good considerations: the one to make the rest of the book more profitable, and (perhaps) less regarded, the better sailable. The other & chiefest, in plucking off the vizard of self conceit, under which I sometimes proudly masked with vain desires. Other young gentlemen may reform their wanton lives, in seeing the fond & fruitless success of my fantastical imaginations, which be no other than Poems of honest love: and yet for that the exercise we use in reading loving discourses, seldom (in my conceit) acquitteth our pains, with any thing beneficial unto the common weal, or very profitable to ourselves, I thought the Garden of Unthriftiness, the meetest title I could give them.  
The third is, the Arbour of Virtue, the which I chief published, for the delight of virtuous Ladies and Gentlewomen: and yet (my lusty Gent.) it containeth matter very needful for you to note: As in making choice of a wife, rather in owed with virtue, than money, as Sir Vlrico did. And in reading the complaint of Alberto and Vdislao, you may see how foul a fault it is, rashly to judge ill of women's behaviours.  
The fourth is, the Ortchard of Repentance, the which for the most part, I planted with experience: the fruits therein growing (think I) be wholesome, although to curious appetites, not greatly toothsome. But what for that? the smarting wound is cured with fretting plasters. Even so, abuse is to be reformed with sharp reprehension, then sure it were not Decorum, in inveighing against a Cozener, Cheter, Dicer, Quareler. etc. (who for the most part) live without good order, to use any mild and plausible kind of writing. The inconveniences that rise of these professions, are the fruits of forewarning, that my Orchard (gallant Gentlemen) affords: and yet to afford you a good peniwoorth, it marreth the markets of a great many. The Cozener will chafe to see his practices published: the Cheter will f●me▪ to see his crossbiting and cunning shifts deciphered: the Dicer will swear to hear his cogging & foisting advantages discovered: the Quareler will stamp to hear his brawls and brabbles baited at: the Merchant will storm to see his new kind of Usuries revealed: the Lawyer willbe in a wonderful heat, to hear his double dealings, his dilatory delays, and unconscionable advantages disclosed: all these men's displeasures have I hazarded, in opening (for your behoves) their mischievous subtleties: and trust me, not one of these sorts of men, but his teeth watereth with the desire of your livings, yea he daily studieth to bring you in lash: so that it behoveth you to look warily into your estates, else you shall light into the snarts, of some of their dangers.  
Now, worthy Gentlemen, have you herded my honest intent as touching the imprinting of this my book, mine was the pain in framing the plots, wherein these fruits & flowers grow, yours is the pleasure & profit of both, marr● if you misuse my welmeaning so far, that you (where ●ea room serveth you to avoid the sands of wanton love) will wilfully run upon the rocks of unlawful lust, the folly is yours, & no fault in me●or if you (where you may gather friendly friuts of admonition, that will cure your wounds of prodigality, & preserve you from the infection of cozening cutthrots) will continually be smelling unto unthrifty flowers, you not only vamly spend your time, but work a discredit unto my painful labours. Wherefore I earnestly require you, that you use the first increase of my barren brain so rightly, as I may be encouraged hereafter to bent my head about some matter of more worth, rather than by the misuse of them, to be discouraged, from attempting any honest labour. And thus wishing good success in your virtuous enterprises, I commit you to the pleasure of the highest. From my lodging in Ho●●orne the 15. of October 1576.   

That this is such good Reader see and say,  
be judge thyself, I cannot tell thee all,  
To speak to short, defame the same I may,  
And better rest, then rise to catch a fall,  
Yet this I say, who so most faults shall find,  
In trying like will come an ace behind.  

R.C. in praise of Whetstons and his Rock of Regard.  

REader reward, this gallant gift with thanks,  
Whose worth is much, although the price be small,  
Biancaes life, and Cressida's subtle pranks,  
Of wantoness shows, the fortune and the fall,  
Frizaldo's foil, at point of all his hap,  
Of lawless lust, foretells the after clap.   

What are the joys, and lovers daily wrongs,  
Their sweet, their sour, Rinaldo here doth show,  
The moral heed, in all these thriftless songs,  
Doth prove him blest, that lest of love doth know,  
But that that bears the pearl of praise away,  
This Poet doth, the fall of vice bewray,   

Bore fast he sets, the masks of peevish pride,  
He finds their faults, that fostereth fraud with pennies,  
His searching Verse, the cozeners trains hath spied,  
Which hide their craft, with cloak of plain pretence,  
The end of brawls, the beggary following dice,  
Forewarneth youth, from haunting either vice.   

The virtuous praised, the vicious here are blamed,  
Here lives their fame, that virtues soldiers ware,  
For your behoof this worthy work was framed,  
Of more emprise, than gold or jewels far,  
Lo thus from toys, hath Whetston weaned his Muse,  
In thundering Verse to threaten foul abuse.    

Humphrey Turner in commendation of Whetston and his book.  
REader for this his gift, with thanks good Whetston pay,  
The worth runs far, beyond the price, as seeing thou will't say.  
The matter in which wooorke at large here to report,  
(Unable man) though feign I would, my skill a mile comes short.  
Where he the substance shows, I should a shadow make,  
In praise of him, yet needs my Muse, some pains will undertake.  
And first I know of zeal, for younker's heed he made,  
This gallant book, which sets to sale, the craft in every trade.  
With moral meanings saust, delight it yieldeth store,  
The virtuous praised, the vicious checked, here is: and would you more?  
If this may not suffice, yourselves peruse the book,  
And you shall find to please your mind (percase) more than you look.   

Abraham Fleming upon G. Whetstons' work.  

Who wisheth with pleasure refreshed to be,  
A Castle of comfort and passing delight,  
Erected of purpose, (lo) here he may see,  
And painted with colours of pure black and white,  
No bulworcke, no fortress more strongly prepared,  
And therefore well named the Rock of Regard.   

Who wisheth for vantage, to view and behold,  
unthriftiness Garden where weeds do abound,  
He hath leave to enter, and is not controlled,     

when she perceived his mistrust, she left him & fled to Pavy, where she entertained Ardisino Valperga, Earl of Masino as her minion: but weary of his custom, she chose Roberto Sanceverino, Earl of Giazzo for her lover. Valperga thus scorned, railed at her inconstancy, Bianca Maria, by Valperga thus openly defamed, practiseth with Gazzo to murder Valperga, which when Giazzo neglecteth, with very hate she leaveth Giazzo, and falls in love again with Valperga, with whom she practiseth to murder Giazzo, which Valperga discovered to Giazzo, and they both in such sort painted out her lewdness, as for very shame she left Pavy, and fled to Mantua, where she entertained one Dom Pietro, a lusty young captain, to whom she bewrayed the injuries of Valperga and Giazzo. Dom Pietro by and by promised, in penance of their shameless reports, to dispatch their lives, which in part he wilfully performed. For one day, taking Valperga at advantage, he soudenly slew him, the murder & the murderer discovered, Dom Pietro was taken, & confessed the whole matter, he in hope of amendment was pardoned, and Bianca Maria Countess of Celant, was condemned to be beheaded, whom you may suppose upon the scaffold, ready to be executed, to complain as followeth.   


¶ THE DISORDERED life, of Bianca Maria, countess of Celaunt, in form of her complaint, supposed at the hour of her beheading, for procuring the murder of Ardissino Valperga Earl of Massino.  

AMong their falls, by wanton fate untwist,  
Let my lewd hap, remembered be I pray,  
To salve whose harm to late comes had I witted,  
Blood cries for blood, he craves none other pay:  
For conscience sake, behold then now I wray,  
With trickling tears, my deadly cheakes that warm,  
The true report both of my hap and harm.   

Good Ladies first, to you this tale I tell,  
To you as chief this drirye plaint I preach,  
Your high estate, your vices cannot quell:  
But as you live your fame or shame doth stretch,  
With vantage sure (such notes doth honour reach)  
Your praise is raised, as far is blazed your blame:  
Thus are your lives, y payest with partial fame.   

Let me be proof, and warning for you both,  
Whose filthy life, so foul report hath spread,  
That lo (constrained) I show the shame, I loath,  
My wanton toys, in thousand books are read,  
My birth, my blame, how lewd a life I lead,  
My passing love, my peevish hate withal,  
My murderous mind: in fine my filthy fall.   

First for my birth, I must confess, was base,  
But bags I had, this baseness to supply,  

The Viscount Hermes her first husband kept her short  My form was fine, I had a gallant face,  
A sugared tongue, a passing pleasant eye,  
Good gifts besides, to hoist my hap on high:  
These lures in love, the viscount Hermes brought,  
Who kept me short to tame my wanton thought.   

But (ah) to soon my Lord to heaven did wend,  

Bianca Maria was her name  Who maugre will, Bianca kept in fame,  
The coupe thus broken, wherein I long was penned,  

Gonsago a lord about Mantua, an earnest suitor.  I set myself, to sail with open shame,  
Gonsago yet, did like me with my blame,  
But lo I stoopte, unto the Celant Count,  
He loud me well, I liked a fit to mount.   


She married, the Count of Celant, a lord of Savoy.  Consent of friends, accorded with our wills,  
And we forsooth in haste must married be,  
But raised a fit, I quite forgot what quills.  
What feathers first, to honour made me flee?  
As priests forget, the silly clerk degree,  
So I from cart, a Countess framed by fate,  
Through scorn abused, my honour and estate.   

Not marvel why: For force the Cur to draw,  
The kestrill kite, to 'cause the heron to quake,  

Kitt will to kind.  The ravening wolf of lambs to stand in awe,  
The myllers' mare, a manage good to make,  
Or apes to dance, while mules lie at the stake,  
A botelesse toil, in fine you sure shall find:  
For counterfettes will still return to kind.   

And think you those, that wear dame Fortune's crown,  
Whose homely friends, did hold the plough of late,  
Can rightly rule, the sceptre of renown?  
Not, honour stoops to nature, not to fate:  
Yet Fortune heaves, a thousand to estate.  
As in good mood, she did of late by me,  
Who never known, the use of dignity.   

As by abuse, 
Pride.  one proof shall well appear,  
First for my pride, my betters did me scorn,  
The poor did fawn, godwot, for very fear,  
My luring life, did move my lord to mourn,  
Whose jealous sighs, foreshowed he feared the horn:  
Yet wisely he, his shrewd mistrust to show,  
used secret nips, my faults to make me know.   

I see, and smiled, to see his true mistrust,  
And yet in show, I sight throw sullen will,  
As who should say, to think thy spouse unjust,  
Thou dost her wrong, she never meant no ill,  
She hath been true, and so she willbe still,  
For all his wit, thus found I out a wile,  
To quench suspect, forsooth a little while.   

But ravening curs, their chaps can hardly hold,  
When carrion lies, before their hungry jaws,  
The straggling kite, with chickes will sure be bold.  
If once a wing, she spies a flight of daws.  
So ramping girls, regard no modest laws,  
As proof appears, by this my filthy flight,  
I left my Lord, and stole away by night.   

Who hearing once, of this my gadding mood,  
My vital thread, untwiste good care (quoth he)  
In fine her hate will sure suck out my blood,  
She loves me not, there is no third degree,  
Thus led with fear, at large he let me flee,  
I pinchte with need, to praying forthwith fell,  
And for myself, I shifted pretty well.   

To plant my wares, 
Pavia a town under the government of the Duke of Mantua.  in place of bravest view,  
In Pavia town, a stately house I took,  
I decked myself, with weeds of lightest hew,  
To lure guests, I spared no wanton look,  
Valperga first, 
Ardissino Valperga  was choked, with Cupid's hook:  

Count of Massino, her first minion at Pavia.  He sight, he sobbed, he cursed his sorry chance,  
He surde, he searud, he did attendance dance.   

But squeamish than Bianca Maria was,  
His secret sighs with scorn she quited still.  

Note.  A parley yet, at length, was brought to pass,  
Where safely he, might show his hidden will,  
With sugared words, he wrayed his suits at fill,  
His life, his death, all in my power lay,  
I was so kind to loath this Lords decay.   

They say, the mate is apt to mischief still,  
Whose foul offence, with countenance is held,  
So wantonness forced, with their agreeing will,  
When lust assaults, will after learn to yield,  

Note.  No fame nor shame, can make them keep the field,  
To true a proof, appeareth by mine end:  
Then sin not, dames, in hope for to amend.   

I show not this, to shape mine own excuse,  
My life I loath, to salve my fowl amiss:  
But for your heed, I blaze this vile abuse,  
Beware, beware, of Venus' beastly bliss,  
It feeds the flesh, and starves the soul I wisse,  
It honour stains, it is a shrine of shame,  
A bitter sweet that breadeth naught but blame.   

In me too late, these faults I did foresee,  
Valperga so, my wanton humour fed,  
My fare was fine, I lacked no golden glee,  
The art of Love, for exercise I red,  
And thus my life, in Venus' court I led:  
With wealth at will, I could but wish and have,  
The toy I lacked, I need not twice to crave.   

And think you dames these vizards yield such sights,  
As wanton girls may sigh to see their shame,  
Not: meekness mars the masks of fond delights,  
And fasting must, their frolic body's ●ame,  
To Scriptures read, they must their leisure frame,  
Then loathe they will, both lust and wanton love,  
Be sure else, such ryggs my case shall prove.   

But at my call, why did Valperga stoop?  
Why did not he, foresee the fruits of lust?  
Why did he come, at every wanton whoop?  
Why, why did he, Bianca Maria trust?  
Which to her Lord, had shown herself unjust,  
A man he was, whom weakness cannot 'scuse,  
How could he then, let love him so abuse.   

How could he (ah:) Perforce I show my shame,  
As one whose tongue, a truth, will neatly tell,  
I reaved his life, why slay I then his fame?  
No reason why, save I can nothing well,  
For through my lure he (won,) to folly fallen,  
If not so witched, who list like case to prove,  
Shall found, fine heads, are fraughted first with love.   

Then sith his joy, all in Bianca lay,  
What excuse hath she, with hate to pay his love?  
be not abashed, the truth in words to wray,  
Which thou in act, untimely late didst prove:  
What sullen mood, this peevish scorn did move?  
And am I forced, to show the fault I shame?  
Sigh needs I must, Good Ladies, note the same.   

They say, who so with dropsy is aprayde,  
The more he drinks, the more he doth desire,  
The greedy churl, is never well appayde,  
Although he reap the gain he doth require,  
So lust in ramps, is such a raging fire,  
That most it heats, when most the same is drenched,  
A hellish flame that never can be quenched.   


Idleness and pride, the cause of wanton love.  This fire in me, was kindled first with pride,  
But raised to flame, with ease and wanton thought,  
It raged so, no reason could me guide,  
My husband's sport, so small allayaunce wrought,  
As him I left, for lustier lads I sought:  
Valperga then, a while suppressed this fire,  
But he decayed, oor change I did desire.   


Roberto Sanseverino Earl of Giazzo, Valpergas great friend, was her second lover. The trains that entice to love.  Giazzo next, was favoured in my sight,  
Who forced me not, his friend he loved so,  
He known I was Valpergas sole delight.  
He scorned my winks, my wanton love in show,  
My privy sighs, my wily signs of woe,  
But Spaniel like, by stripes to kindness moved,  
The more he scorned, the more this lord I loud.   

And when I saw he shunned inticeing baits,  
Immodest rig, I Ovid's counsel used,  
Where cleanly, I did colour shame with sleights,  
Through love constrained, which reason had abused,  
My pen did paint, what bashful tongue refused,  
Which few sufficed, he known love kept no law,  
He was my joy, of him I stood in awe.   

This proffered grace, did stoop Giazzo strait,  
He loud his friend, but more his own delight,  
The hook of love, he swallowed with the bait,  
Not marvel why: Biancaes beauty bright,  
Her brave array, and she a Countess height,  
Would force a man, himself and all forego,  
And could he choose, when love was offered so?   

Not: need to run the créeple sure will teach,  
A pleasant prey, a thief enticeth soon,  
As foxes hate the grapes, they cannot reach,  

Note.  And wily saints, with shows are seldom won,  
When as assuerde, their squemishnes is done.  
Even such a saint, Giazzo proved in fine,  
He loud no grapes, before he reached the vine.   

Well, thus at length, I w●n my wished joy,  
He came, in whom, my heart did wholly devil,  
To make him sport, Bianca was not coy,  
She known her game, and straight to dalliance fallen,  
Where as this Lord behaved himself so well,  
That lo I loathe Valpergas drowsy sport,  
And so with scorn I stayed his often resort.   

Thus reft (good soul) of her he healed so dear,  
His wonted suits, a fresh he put in ure,  
He sight, he served, he looked with sorry cheer,  
But when no suit, nor service could procure,  
My straggling love, to stoop unto his lure,  
By need enforced, his dotage than he reft,  
And so with loss, my wanton pleasures left,   

When mists of lu●●e, were cleared from his eyes,  
Disdain forthwith, transformed his love to hate, 
Peevish hate ensueth passing love.   
Fie on my life, and lewdness, loud he cries,  
He heaves me up to filthy Faustines' state,  
A Layis bird, for Masseline a mate,  
A filth, a flirt, a bitch of megra's kind,  
A rig, a ramp, and all that came to mind,   

But when I herded, my blame, he blazed thus,  
Impatient I, began to stamp and stare,  
To wail, 
A woman's deadly hate.  to weep, to wring my hands I wo●s,  
To fret, to fume, to tear my golden hear,  
In fine, as mad as ever was March hare,  
I vowed to reave Valperga of his life,  
Which I performed (ay) me through peevish strife.   

While sport was quick, I did Giazzo move,  
To slay this Lord, in grace which whilom stood,  
But disposest, to win his own sweet love,  
Uncivil wretch, accoyde through sullen mood,  
He blazed me forth, as bird of Layis brood,  
Leave off (quoth he) I loath thy heavy cheer,  
Valpergas tongue, shall buy this babble dear.   

With which sufficed, I fallen to kisses strait,  
And showed myself, more gamesome then of yore,  

Giazzos' friendship towards Valperga.  To tyce him on, I laid this wanton bait,  
But he which long, Valperga held in store,  
Within his heart, my hatred did abhor:  
Yet nay the less, my love he so did like.  
As still he said, he stayed for time to strike.   

But when I found, what fine delays he used,  
All swelled, with wrath (quoth I) the proverb says:  
Proferde service, is ever more refused,  
And offerde love, is quited syld with faith,  
Without the hook, the bait no poison hath,  

Note.  Yet haply he, for all his wiles may prove,  
My peevish hate, oore ways my passing love.   

And in disdain, the secret gates I barred,  

An honest colour to dissemble a lewd revenge  Where in and out, Giazzo erst did go,  
I told him plain, his market clean was marred,  
I meant my faults, unto my lord to show,  
If which sufficed, I would no more do so,  
To feign with change, I did Giazzo pray,  
With kindness shown, contented for to stay.   

Nigh tired he, my greedy lust to glut,  
Full well appayde, for truth my fay●ings took,  
He took no heed, how oftentimes is shut  
In sugared bait, a fowl and filthy hook,  
How hate is hid full often, with friendly look,  
Ne how the lewd, when grace is not their stay,  

Note.  Refuse no mean, to work their foes decay.   

Even such a filth I (forced) confess I was,  
I used this show, to chase my foes mistrust,  
Thereby to work his fatal end (alas)  
When least he thought, I would have been unjust,  
Such cankered hate, my murderous heart did rust,  
Unto which end, 
She practised with Valperga whom late she scorned, to slay G●azzo, who should have slain him.  I for Valperga sand,  
With ill, for good, to quite his faithful friend.   

I known the force, of new revived love,  
How peevish hate, more perfect made the same,  
I likewise known, new friendship how to move,  
With pleasant looks, y mixed with pretty blame,  
I checked him first, for foiling of my fame,  
Perdona moy, over shows again with view,  
Dear dame (quoth he) I yield, your tale is true.   

Even so (quoth I) and smiling used these words,  
Confessed crimes, doth open penance choose,  
What plague you please (quoth he) your thrall accords,  
That he or you, shall execution use,  
Such power (quoth I) I mean not to refuse,  
Yet hoping that, those faults you will amend,  
I pardon all, and take you for my friend.   

And when I saw him eager of delight,  
A sigh I fetched, and did Giazzo name,  
Valperga said, 
A policy.  Giazzo to his might,  
Was sure his friend (quoth I) I think in name,  
But (ah) his deeds, will never prove the same,  
And though I, loath, to sow seditious strife,  
Yet needs I must, for safeguard of thy life.   

In sooth (sweet friend) thy dangerous state I rue,  
This traitorous mate, to move thy overthrow,  
By guile God wots, with me in friendship grew,  
Betwixt us friends, he first did hatred sow,  
He forged faults, to keep me still thy foe,  
And yet my heart, for all that he could say,  
Did love thee well, although my tongue said nay.   

Which when he smelled puffed up with fury strait,  
He vowed thy death, for robbing of his joy,  
Which bloody words, did force me to unfraight,  
This bitter speech: Auawnt thou peevish boy,  
Thy filthy sight, Bianca doth annoyed.  
Believe me, Lord, this tale is very true,  
Begin with him, before he do with you.   

These forced words, did raise a soar mistrust,  
Or haply else Giazzo might a smoked,  
But yet he vowed, to feed my filthy lust,  
With bloody shoulder-blade, his traitorous breath to choke,  
And leave he took, he said to strike this stroke,  

Note.  But lo he went forthwith to Mantua,  
Unto his friend, these secrets to bewray,   

Which treason when Giazzo understood,  
Who can avoid (quoth he) a strompets' hate?  
And thundering out, the storms of furious mood,  
With terms of scorn, he did Bianca rate,  
Out filth (quoth he) twixt friends which sows debate,  
And in despite, a libel he inventest,  
Which (Lords) to you, Bianca here presents.    

¶ An invective written by Roberto Sanseverino, Earl of Giazzo, against Bianca Maria, Countess of Celant.  

WHo ever saw, a thorn sweet grapes to yield?  
Or sour sloes, upon a vine to grow?  
UUho ever herded, & coward first in field?  
The forward wight, soonste feared with sight of foe?  
UUho ever known, in time of any mind?  
Good fall to bad, or kit to flee from kind?   

If proof ne pears, who may Bianca blame?  
Whose father rose, to wealth by filthy fraud,  
Her mother's life, y shrined with endless shame,  
Whose grandam was, in drooping days a bawd:  
She only left, of all this beastly store,  
Must needs be worse, than parents were before.   

What marvel then, if she did flee by night,  
And sent a horn, unto her Lord and fere,  
To blow the death, of all his brave delight,  
That gadding mood, she learned of sa mere,  
UUho lightly veiled, at ery wanton whoop,  
How could she then, but to Valperga stoop?   

Ne can she choose, but prove the Proverb true,  
(UUon with a word, and lost with one ill look)  
Giazzo knows, Bianca seeks for new,  
He whilom was, a vowel in her book,  
Giazzo wrought, Valperga out of grace,  
Giazzo scorned, Valperga hath his place.   

Yet both in lash, at length this cressid leaves,  
And Megra like, pursues their love with hate,  
Such is the fruit, of ruffians, rogues, and thieves,  
Which framed her heart, 
Giachemo Scapar●one her fa●●er a great Usurer.  when she was formed by fate,  
Her fathers live (Scappardone being dead)  
And divers seeds, doth divers natures breed.   

(O happy man) Giazzo scorns her love,  
(Valperga blest) that knows her murderous mind,  
UUee have enough, her truth let others prove,  
And rest content, with what we left behind,  
We sucked the sweet, let others drink the draff,  
UUée eat the corn, what skills, who chewes the chaff.    

The Countess of Zealand, continueth in her complaint.  

NOw gallants judge, if it with honour stands  
For any Lord, a Lady thus to rate,  
Or blaze with scorn, their pleasure at her hands,  
If it ne grées, with glory of their state,  
Help to excuse Biancas deadly hate,  
Who now begins, such bloody news to blaze,  
As endless shame, her infamy will raise.   

Or give her leave, to use what cloak she may,  
For once report, will much enlarge her miss,  
In women's moods, there is no mean they say,  
They (scorned) love, so huge their liking is,  
Of force as great, their hate must be iwis,  
What folly then Giazzos' mind did blame,  
To think my wrath, would cease through open shame.   

How could he ween, my friendship for to force,  
By ringing out the lewdness of my life?  
Sigh shame compelles the bad, to fall to worse.  
Where discord is, new wrong increaseth strife.  
Revenge is sought, where injuries are rife,  
Wast then the way, to reave my wrangling hate,  
invectives vile to set up on my gate.   

O, not, God wots, my mighty little heart,  
Was well nigh burst, my blame was blazed so,  
These rhymes I sung, with notes of musics art,  
Bianca named, in every wanton show▪  
Constrained me wretch, from Pavia for to go,  
To Mantua then, I did my journey take,  
Where open house, I kept for credit's sake.   

And placed there according to my will,  
With bloody hate my murderous heart was bend,  
Giazzo Lord, Valperga eke to kill,  
A thousand feats of murder, I invent:  
As many fears my purpose did prevent:  
I loath, yet would, and willing, stood in awe,  
Such brunts they bide that venture breach of law.   

Till vice, virtue hath vanquished in the field,  
Then reason, law, rule, fear, and all adieu,  
Their minds, their hearts, to naught but folly yield,  
In spoil, they sport, they laugh at mischiefs new:  
The proof of which, alas, to late I rue,  
For when my fear, my fury put to flight,  
I living died, till I had wrought my spite.   

And sith this act to do, my mind did maze,  
This train I laid, to tyce a trusty friend:  
In place of vene I gallants gave the gaze,  
Their bonnets veiled, Bianca straight did bend,  
Through friendly show, a bon iour for to sand,  
To parley often, I did myself apply,  
Before I trust, by talk each youth to try.   

In making love, they pretty prattle used,  
But naught it veiled, to halt before the lame,  
For I of yore, with wily words abused,  
As children brent do after dread the flame,  
At sugared speech, I made a sporting game,  
But ah (aye me) to work mine overthrow,  
Untimely came, 
Dom Pietro a lusty young captain her lusty lover.  to Mantua dom Pietro.   

This captain stout, went flaunting too and fro,  
Till lo (ill luck) me wretched, he espies,  
My gallant port, beseemed a countess show,  
My beauty then, my brave array he eyes,  
While blinded love into his fancy flies,  
And striving (he) doth 'cause his fire increase,  
Thus wars he found, when most he hoapte of peace.   

Unarmed yet, to match with Cupid's force,  
With Congees kind, he wrayde his loving mood,  
Next sighs he sends, to move me to remorse,  
Then paints his pen, thus strange his fancies stood,  
My yea would save, my nay should shed his blood,  
Quick answer make, Dom Pietro hath decreed,  
To live in joy, or else to die with speed.   

These lines received, I spied my novis heat,  
Who looked and lacked, the recompense of love,  
Which scorn in me, did 'cause him more to sweat,  
He sight, I smiled, his joy, my noy, did move,  
Which thwarting shows (past hope) enforced him prove  
If that his lute soon might (his passions shown)  
Can force his sweet, his hard mishap to moon,   

But when I saw, his love did still increase,  
As he one night, lamenting lays did yell,  
My gates were open, in sign and show of peace,  
In came this Lord, in mind his grief to tell,  
But lo abashte, he first to blushing fell,  
In chamber frays, of both myself the best  
This onset gave, to cheer my choose guest.   

Biancas breach, of chaste and modest law,  
May seem full strange, to you my loving Lord,  
To ope my gates, to one I never saw,  
When known friends, so falsify their word,  
Dread not (quoth he) Dom Pietro doth accord:  
From sorrows free, yet free Biancas slave,  
To like but what, his love, desires to have.   

I aunsweard soon, with sugared shows full oft,  
Such Lords as you, fair Ladies still beguiles,  
But suits obtained, they silly souls are scofte,  
Then choice, in change, your love, and faith, exiles,  
Not so, in me (quoth he) I want such wiles,  
For proof, command, what service pleaseth you,  
The which performed, then think Dom Pietro true.   

In hope (quoth I) your words and deeds are one,  
I first will trust, your faith, then after taste,  
To quite your love, Bianca is your own,  
Dom Pietro strait, did execution haste,  
And bashful erst, his best beloved embraced,  
With sugared wiles, I so this gallant wrought,  
As sure I was, a Goddess in his thought.   

assured of which, to sauce his sweetest sport,  
A sigh I fetched, and squeamish feigned to be,  
UUoe worth (quoth I) Giazzo lewd report,  
Valpergas scorn, two Earls of high degree,  
Their traitorous tongues, so sore have slandered me,  
That death I wish, but destiny will not so,  
And they triumph, that wrought my timeless woe.   

Dom Pietro then, did bluster forth this speech,  
(Ah) verlets vile, from nature's law which swer●e,  
Ere long I sure, your traitorous tongues will teach,  
To slander her, whom duty will's you serve,  
And then he vowed, with speed their flesh to carve:  
Soon shall they prove (quoth he) if I do feign,  
And you shall see, if deeds and words are twain.   

I glad of which, yet sad I seemed in show,  
And sighing said, look to yourself, my sweet,  
Your hurt, my death, in heart I love you so,  
Which friendly words, his fury more did heat,  
Far well (quoth he) till I have wrought this feat,  
This hand and shoulder-blade, their babbling tongues shall worm:  
Which words with deeds, he (cruel) did perform.   

For lo one night, he did foreshaule their way,  
But weakly armed, Valperga was intrapte,  
Giazzo blest, was absent at this fray,  
Oore weighed, with force, Valperga was entrapped,  
That (ah) his death, untimely there he rapt,  
Who dying cried, Dom Pietro did the deed,  
Straight, hue and cry, to search him out doth speed.   

He found, forth with, unto the Duke was brought,  
And paints at large, my love, and loathsome hate,  
The suit of friends, in grace, Dom Pietro wrought,  
To salve my miss, repentance came to late:  
Good Ladies yet, note well my fall, and fate,  
My wealth, my weades, my sweet delights to shoe,  
Entice, not warn, without the sauce of woe.   

But listen well, unto my filthy fall,  

The thought of wont pleasures increaseth the miser's pain.  Poise, bliss with bale, sweet life with sour end,  
And you shall find, my joy oore weighed with thrall,  
Of freedom rest, in prison closely penned,  
Distressed, unhelpt, forsook of kin and friend,  
Yea, more than straying, so fowl my folly's ware,  
As gold, ne vayld, to clear my clouds of scare.   

Ne could I (wretch) take well in worth my woe,  
My former sweet, did so increase my sour,  
My homely cheer, my costly cates did show,  
My prison vile, of yore, my princely bower,  
My laughing friends, by foes that then did lower,  
Controwld and scorned, who thousands did command,  
Once crave and have, denied now each demand.   

My loathsome couch, presenteth to my view,  
My beds of down: with thought of sweet delights,  
Thus day and night, my wilful harm I rue:  
Each thought of grace, my conscience guilt affrights,  
Yet (loath to die) against repentance fights,  
Till due desert, by law and justice lead,  
Did doom my miss, with toss of my poor head.   

The which in place, I ready am to pay,  
Acknowledging, my faults before you all,  
God grant my life with such effect you way,  
As you may be forewarned by my fall.  
Of lawless love, the end is bitter gall:  
I now have said, and for their witness cry,  
How so I lived, I do repentant dye.    

The Argument, for Cressida's complaint.  
THE inconstancy of Cressida, is so ready in every man's mouth, as it is a needless labour, to blaze at full her abuse towards young Troilus, her frowning on Sir Diomedes, her wanton lures and love, nevertheless, her company scorned, of thousands sometimes sought, her beggary after bravery, her loathsome leprosy, after lively beauty, her wretched age, after wanton youth, and her perpetual infamy, after violent death, are worthy notes (for others heed) to be remembered. And for as much as Cressida's heirs in every corner live, yea more cunning than Cressida herself, in wanton exercises, toys, and enticements: to forewarn all men of such filths, to persuade the infected, to fall from their follies, & to raise a fear in dames untainted to offend, I have reported the subtle sleites, the lewd life, and evil fortunes of a Courtisane, in Cressida: name, whom you may suppose, in tattered weeds, half hunger-starved, miserably arrayed, with scabs, leprosy, and mayngie, to complain as followeth.   

Cressida's complaint.  

YOu ramping girls, which rage with wanton lust,  
Behold in me, the bitter bloumes of change.  
Forworne with woe, who wallows in the dust,  
And lepre like, is double mayld with maing,  
For my desert, this fortune is not strange,  
Disdain my life, but listen to my moan,  
Without good heed, the hap may be your own.   

Though now I am, anointed with annoy,  
My hide bepatcht, with scabs of sundry hew,  
I sometime was, the star of stately Troy,  
With beauty blessed, my venes as Azures blewe,  
No fault in me, but that I was untrue,  
In Priam's court, who did not Cressida like,  
In lieu of love, who gave she not the gleake.   

Where I was loved, I seemed always strange,  
Where little weighed, I won with gleams of grace,  
My gadding mind, had such delight in change,  
As seldom twice, the best I did embrace,  
And once beguiled, with beauty of my face,  
With ebbs of grief, did fall his floods of joy,  
He sued and served, but Cressida then was coy.   

I did entice, king Priam's sons to love,  
And did repined, the poorest, should go free,  
My thralls for grace, a thousand ways did prove,  
On whom I smyld, a happy man was he,  
The wisest wits, were thus bewitched by me,  
But as the hawk, in mewe, at random lives,  
Yet diet keeps her gorge, as seldom grieves.   

So I that lived, with store of food at large,  
When hunger pinched, on lusty youths I prayed,  
If boisterous lads, my gorge did overcharge,  
For tiring meat, the dainty boys were weighed,  
Thus with a mean, my prime of pride was staid,  
Then was I fair, my train with oil was strict  
My feathers fresh, were daily pruned and pricked.   

No toy, no gaude, ne strange devise I see,  
Though not the first, the same I second had,  
Glad was the youth, that fastened aught on me,  
Of brave array, in change, I still was clad,  
My cost to see, the courtly dames were mad,  
They did repined, the peers should Cressida love,  
When rascals, scarce, to them did liking move.   

Such fancies strange, were figured in my face,  
As few there were, 
The property of a courtesan to maintain one with the spoil of another.  but my good will did move,  
I trained them on, with outward show of grace.  
My garter one, another had my glove,  
My colours all, did wear in fine of love,  
But where in heart, I loved and liked best,  
He ever wore the spoil of all the rest.   

Sir Diomedes got, both brooch, and belt of cost,  
The which in right, to Troilus belongs,  
An eyesore sure, to him that loved me most,  
Who might repined, but not revenge his wrongs,  
Lest notes of hope, were turned to desperate songs,  
The rest did love, as courtiers do in show:  
But he good soul, did pine away with woe.   

Yet cruel I, did smile to see his smart,  
Who sometime warmed, his woes with slender hap,  
Which fréesd again, with frowning overthwart,  
And when with joy, he prattled in my lap,  
With peevish speech, I would his pleasures snap,  
For wronging whom, the Troyans' did me paint,  
In heart a fiend, in face and form a Saint.   

Then judge you may, my beauty bore great sway,  
Which thus inthrawld, by love a Prince's son,  
My state no less, that dared his suits denay,  
A world it was, to hear what praise I won,  
A wonder, more, how soon my pride was done,  
My form did fade, my beauty proved a blaze,  
Or as a toy, which forced fools to gaze.   


Painting common among Courtesans.  Declining yet, I had a present shift,  
A painted face, did please a gasinge eye,  
But surfled stuff, proved no enduring drift,  
My slibbersauce, when wanton girls espy,  
With open mouth, the same in court they cry:  
Poor Cressida then no sooner came in place,  
But forty frumps, were framed by her face.   

Some said that I a passing picture drew,  
Some would have drawn, the figure of a sot,  
The crabtréeface, would have me mend his hue,  
Some in my cheek, did feign to clear a spot,  
And all to rub my starch away, godwot,  
If messellike, my painting so they piled,  
They smiled and said, my silk no colour held.   

Myself did laugh, to see my painting clearde,  
The strange defects, that withered age did bring,  
A horseface then, a tawny hide appeared,  
A wrinkled mumps, a foul misshaped thing,  
A sea of hate, where lively love did spring,  
Thus beauties beams, to clouds of scorn to change  
So soon, me thought was sure a mirror strange.   


How evil the courtesies of a Courtesan is acquitted, if she live to be aged.  Yet so I priest, amid the Courtly crew,  
Who once espied, a fresh the sport begun,  
Some said I looked, now of a passing hue,  
A scarf some cried, to keep goodface from sun,  
Thus was I scorned, when youthful pride was done,  
Some willed me learn, anew my A.B.C.  
With backward read, from H. to skip to B.   

But as the Hawk to gad, which knows the way,  
Will hardly leave, to cheake at carrion crows,  
If long unserude, she waits and wants her pray:  
Or as the horse, in whom disorder grows,  
His jadish tricks, again will hardly lose:  
So they in youth, which Venus joys do prove,  
In drooping age, Sir Chaucer's jests will love.   

Myself for proof, when wanton years were worn,  
When looks could yield, no love, but loathsome hate,  
When in my face appeared the form of scorn,  
When lust for shame, with me might sound debate,  
Although I did turn tail to fowls of state,  
At vantage yet, with base birds I met,  
On kites I prayed, till I could partridge get.   

But I so long, on carrion crows did pray,  
My poisoned blood, in colour waxed pale,  
In nature's aid, mine age had wrought decay:  
Now listen ramps, for here gins my tale,  
Before my bliss, but now I blaze my bale,  
For Physics art, my surfeits can not cure  
Bond so perforce, the worst I must endure.   

In seeking sport, 
The diseases that follow wanton and disordered living.  my hair did shed in jest,  
A sorry joy to ceaseless sorrow plight,  
French fevers now, in me can take no rest,  
From bones to flesh, from flesh in open sight,  
With grinckcomes grease, behold a monstrous wight,  
My lovers old, with (fawth) their brows doth bend,  
Of Cressida's lust, lo here the loathsome end.   

Glad is she now a brownebreade crust to gnaw, 
Beggary the end of Courtesans.   
Who dainty once, on finest cates did frown,  
To couch upon soft seams, a pad of straw,  
Where half misliked, were stately beds of down,  
By need enforced, she begs on every clown,  
On whom but late, the best would gifts bestow,  
But squeamish then, God dyld you she said no.   

From top of state, to tumble thus to thrall,  
Too froward sure, dame Fortune was in this,  
But highest trees, in fine have hardest fall,  
A merry mean, her partial hand doth miss,  
She pines with pain, or baths her thralls in bliss,  
Best therefore then, for to withstand her might,  
With sword of fame, in virtues band to fight.   

But (ah) in vain, I frame excuse by fate,  
When due desert, doth work my overthrow,  
Ne was I first by Fortune stauld in state,  
My room by birth, did high renown bestow,  
Though wicked life, hath wrapped me now in woe,  
A warning fair, a mirror full of moan,  
For gadding girls, a bone to gnaw upon.   

Take heed in time, lest Had I witted you rue,  
And thus perforce, I hold my tired tongue,  
Me thinks I hear, the bell to sound adieu,  
My withered corpse, with deadly cold is clung,  
A happier turn, if I had died young,  
My shrouding sheet; then had not been of shame,  
Who dying now, doth live in filthy fame.   

Sieve bonu●● sine malum, fama est.    

The Argument, for the discourse of Rinaldo and Giletta.  
GOod Reader (to continued thy delight) I have made change of thy exercise of reading bad verse, with the proffer of worsser prose: requesting (as erst I have) that thou will't vouchsafe my well meaning, and mend what thou sindest amiss. This discourse was first written in Italian by an unknown author, the argument of whose work ensueth. Rinaldo masking with fair Giletta (at her brother's marriage) was so strangely surprised with the love of her, that necessity enforced him to discover his sorrows: Giletta sufficiently persuaded of his constancy (after long suit by Rinaldo made) was in the end contented to love: After these two (secretly) had thus assured themselves, Rinaldo fell sick, in whose absence one Seigner Frizaldo▪ (by her parent's consent) was an earnest suitor to Giletta▪ who (inferring on the familiarity, between Rinaldo and Giletta) become jealous, to quench whose mistrust, Giletta (for fear of her friends displeasure) wa● forced to make a show of good will towards Frizaldo, whom she loved not, and to hate Rinaldo, whom she liked as her life. Rinaldo (unacquainted with his mistress meaning) by the perverse practices of Frizaldo, was driven into despair, in so much as he leapt into the river of 〈◊〉, of purpose to drown himself: But weary of this enterprise, (labouring for life) he recovered the shore: afterwards was known unto Giletta, and having notice of Frizaldo'S treachery, he slew him in a combat, and after, with the consent of her friends, married Giletta.   

The story at large.  
IN Italy (near to the river of Po) there dwelled a noble man of great reputation, called the Lord de Bologna, who (besides his special credit▪ with his Prince, his destered company: among the noble men, his uncontrolled sway, both in court and country: the great possessions, inheritances, revenues, annuities, and other commodities he had, to maintain his honourable calling, to work his chiefest comfort) had by the Lady Katherine his wife, a toward young Gentleman, to his son called Petro de Bologna, and also a daughter whose name was Giletta, at that time unmatched, both for virtue, beauty, and shape.  
Petro de Bologna, having overrun nineteen or twenty years (still overlooked with the counseling eyes of his natural parents assured friends, and careful tutors) become not now only desirous of more liberty, but won with the enticing pleasure of the Court, and finding in himself sufficient cause of desert, he bend himself wholly to profess the exercises of a perfect courtier, where in in short time, he so greatly profited, as that he was reputed to be one of the gallantest Gentlemen in all Italy. Petro de Bologna (attaining this estimation) lived awhile unwitcht, with the alluring beauties of brave Ladies, yet on the souden, subjecteth with the sight of fair juliet (a noble man's daughter of the said country) & joining her excellent shape, with the report of her matchless virtue, he forthwith transformed his late liking, unto such faithful love, as secretly he vowed, that neither change nor chance, should (while life lasted) remove his affection, and to make his thraldom known, by continual service, he craved reward. Mistress juliet finding his words▪ in works, & perceiving by the often alteration of his colour, what humour most of all feed him (joining the assured knowledge of his loyal love, with other his deserts) presently in thought she gave consent to love, so that afterward she used towards Petro de Bologna, what honest courtesy she could. The news of this love, was suddenly spread throughout the whole Court, and in the end it came unto their parents ears, who weighing the equality of the match, gave willingly consent, unto that, these two lovers most desired. And to exile all jealous mistrust that lingering might breed, the marriage day was in great haste appointed.  
To honour which, a world of people resorted unto the Lord de Bolognas castle. For the entertainment of which guests, there neither wanted costly cheer, curious shows, or pleasant devices, that either money, friendship, or cunning might compass. And to be short, divers Gentlemen that were the bridegrooms companions (the more to honour the marriage) presented him one night with a mask, so curiously set forth, as it yielded a singular delight, unto all the beholders. Among the which maskers, there was one Roberto Rinaldo (a Gentleman of better qualities and shape, then either of birth or living) made choice to mask mistress Giletta, the bridegrooms sister. But on the sudden he was so surprised, with her passing beauty, as he fared as one, whose senses, had foregone their dutiful office, he oft forgot to use due reverence unto his mistress. Sometimes he masked without measure, and many times when the rest presented their Ladies with voluntary prattle, he used silence. Thus continually visited with passionate fits (of the beholders marked, of his mistress misliked:) time in the end, forced him and the rest from dancing, which done, the maskers were invited unto a costly banquet, who (marching with their Ladies) with manly force encountered with many a monster, whose gross bodies, were transformed into a sugared substance. The maskers now (on easy request) did off their vizards, as well to make themselves known unto their mistresses, to manifest their zeal towards the Lord of the house, the bridegroom and his fair bride, as to show their desire, to delight the whole company. Rinaldo (greatly ashamed of his disordered masking) with blushing cheeks oftentimes, very earnestly beheld fair Giletta, Mistress▪ Giletta seeing him in these passions, and knowing his wont audacity, was assured somewhat was amiss with him, so that to be better acquainted with his malady, with a pretty smile she used these speeches.  
Quoth she: Friend Rinaldo, I suppose your vizard did you great wrong this night, for that by your unperfect sight, you mistook your choice, so that wroth with your fortunes, or angry with poor Giletta, she hath noted a number of sudden alterations in you, but if either be the cause, remove your choler, and comfort yourself, that you tempered your tongue so well, as she knoweth none of your secrets.  
Rinaldo glad of this opportunity, answered: My sovereign mistress, in very deed, I greatly mistook my chocie: For whereas I had thought and determined, to have made it so in different, as I might have used my tongue at will and pleasure, I confess it fell out so unegal, as I (forced) must yield unworthy to be your slave, so that musing on this mistaking, I not only masked mute, but I forgot to present you with my willing service. Rinaldo being newly entered into his answer, the Revels broken up, and every man went unto his rest, so that he was forced to discontinue his suit, and bid his mistress far well: which reverently done, he forthwith went into his chamber, and so to bed, but his sleep he divided on those, whose heads were free from fancies: For he (God wots) one while, matching his base estate with her high calling, saw an impossibility of favour. Anon, joining her courteous disposition with the force of love, was fed with slender hope Thus hanging between hap & harm, the more he strived, the more he was measht, in the nextes of restless fancy: but in the end, resolved to prosecute his suit, he soudenly caused his man to light a candle, and then to pro●●er his service▪ to paint his sorrows, and to use excuse for his late silence, he invented these verses following.  


THe pining wight, presented with relief.  
With sudden joy, awhile foregoes his sense:  
The reckless youth, likewise besieged with grief,  
With fear dismayed, forgets to use defence:  
Such is the force, of hasty joy or woe,  
As for the time, few knoweth what they do.   

And I unwares, with both extremes foregone,  
Subject to love, that never felt his force,  
One while dismayed, I starved in wretched moan,  
And strait through hope, I tasted sweet remorse,  
Soused with these storms, when I should move my s●it,  
Small wonder though, a while I masked mate.   

And yet (God wots) my sighs did pled amain,  
They broken the clouds, that cowred all my care,  
My ruthful looks, presented still my pain,  
As who would say: When will she cl●●re thy scare?  
Attending thus, when you should note my case,  
The time forewent, ere I could sue for grace.   

But now (constrained) need makes the créeple go,  
My festered sore (of force) some cure must seek,  
My wounds so bleed, I can not hide my woe,  
My hurt is healed, if you my service like,  
Let equal love, go bath in wished bliss,  
Sufficeth me, my mistress hand to kiss.   

Lo thus, dear dame, you know my case and cure,  
It rests in you, my life to save or sp●ll,  
If you desire, I should these storms endure,  
Command my death, and I will work you● 〈◊〉,  
If not in time, him for your servant ch●se,  
Who living dyes, till you his ser●●●ce use.   
Roberto Rinaldo   
This little leisure, together with the disquietness of mind (as appeareth by the plainness of this invention) wrought an alteration in Rinaldo'S muse, yet for that his devise, somewhat answered his own estate, he was content to present it to mistress Giletta, and persevering in the said purpose, the next morning he clothed himself in russet satin, guarded with black velvet, which witnessed he did both hope, and dread: he thus appointed (choosing a place of most advantage) willingly lost these verses. Giletta by this evening far well, looking for such a morning welcome, was the first that found them, who soudenly withdrew herself, with earnest desire, effectually to peruse Rinaldo'S devise. Which done, one while she scorned his base estate, and strait she was contented of Rinaldo to be beloved: so that (her mind distempered with the contrariety of fancies) neither angry nor well pleased, she written this following answer.  
Although it pleased you this other night (occasion by me unhappily ministered) to entertain time with an ordinary profession of love, yet (master Rinaldo) you do both me and yourself great injury, to continued your peerless labour with such importunancie to me. For that you trust to overthrow my virtues, with the assault of wanton persuasions, yourself, for that I am assured you war in vain, but for that I want wit, to encounter you, in words or writing. I will henceforth likewise want will, to take knowledge of either your exercises. Thus much (being your first attempt) I thought good to answer, lest you should think with peerless niceness I acquitted your courtesies. And for that you know the success of your faultless adventures, I trust to be no more troubled in answering your idle letters.  
Giletta de Bologna.  
This letter so soon as Giletta had surely sealed, she presented herself in the great chamber: Rinaldo (delighted in nothing so much, as in the sight of his mistress) with the first saluted her. Mistress Giletta, courteously (as she did the rest) acquitted him, dissembling as then, her knowledge of his verses, but notwithstanding this careless show, her mind was cumbered with a thousand contrary fancies, one while she mistrusted the invention to be his own devise, an other while she feared to deliver her answer: now she loved, strait she scorned, and yet in her greatest disliking, she liked to look on Rinaldo, and as it is the nature of lovers (subject to a thousand distresses) to search all means to be assured of their choyces loyalty, so here mistress Giletta (newly entered into that profession) by the often beholding of Rinaldo, and marking the colour in his apparel, took occasion under the colour of a pleasant request, to be acquainted (perhaps) with his inward disposition, in so much, when as other Ladies, charged such as they thought well of, with service, Quoth she, for that I know (master Rinaldo) you are a very good Poet, I enjoin you without further study, to show in verse, to what end you wear black upon russet: quoth Rinaldo (willing to obey this injunction) dear Lady, although my sight in Poetry be but small, yet will I (to satisfy your request,) supply my inability of skill, with the ability of good will: and to execute the same, he called for pen, ink, and paper, in the presence of a number, writing as followeth.  

WHen summers force is past, and Winter sets in foot,  
The heart and strength of herbs and trees, is nourished by the root.  
The frosts and froward blasts, doth nip the naked spray,  
The Summer livery of the bows, with cold is worn away,  
Yet lives such roots in hope, that Phoebus' glimmering beams,  
Will once dissolve sir Hiems force, his frosts and icy streams,  
And lend relief at length, when he their lack should see.  
With coats of leaves to clothe their arms, fit garments for a tree.  
Even so both hope and dread, doth wage continual fight,  
Dear dame, in me, whose summers joy, you raised with friendly sight,  
But love, unlooked (God wots) to yoke my wanton years,  
Strait used his force, and base desert, consumed my joy with fears,  
It raised frosts of scorn, my fire to overthrow,  
This changed the Summer of your sight, to Winter of my woe:  
Yet fled my heart to hope, who faintly feedeth me,  
Your pity passeth poor estate, where faithful love you see,  
He shows by secret signs, your virtues every one,  
And says your beauty breeds no pride, that brueth all my m●ne.  
But maugre friendly hope, base hap with me doth strive,  
Who wears my flesh, with withered fear, how so my heart doth thrive  
Which is the very cause, why I these colours wear,  
The ground of hope, bewrays my heart, the guards my desperate fear:  
But if with grant of grace, my griefs you mean to quite,  
Both hope and dread shall soon be changed, to colours of delight.  
Roberto Rinaldo.   
These verses were reasonably liked, both for that they were done of the souden, and that they somewhat answered the demand, and yet this proffered love to Giletta, bred no suspicion, for that every one thought, Rinaldo on so good occasion, could not otherwise choose, but proffer some show of loving service: After many had thus commended the readiness of Rinaldo'S wit, by proof of this invention, at the length (quoth Giletta half smile) master Rinaldo, you have clerkly answered my question, and now knowing your cunning, I may haply set you a work in matters of more importance. Rinaldo (glad of this commendation) made answer, her causes could never weary him, for that he had both left his own, and all other business, of purpose, to do her service. The music now (a while) commanded them from prattle, and the gallants addressed themselves to dancing, where Rinaldo, to make amendss for his other night's negligence, requested to lead mistress Giletta the measures. Giletta, although at the first made the matter coy, yet wone by importancy, accepted his courtesy. Rinaldo somewhat encouraged by hope, bestowed himself to the best like he could, and (to report the truth) with the perfection of Art, he made full satisfaction for his former disorder. The dancers now wearied with heat, applied themselves unto more cooler pastimes, and Rinaldo and Giletta went to take the air at a meadow, where Giletta to bewray her knowledge of his verses, used these speeches.  
In good faith (although against my will) I see it is my fortune to be acquainted with your secrets, so that before mistrusting, that I am most assured of, by your passionate verses which (by fortune) I perceive, that the late mistaking of your love enraged you, yet for that they appertain not unto me, and that you shall remove your anger from me (if you will stay my return) I will fetch them, and make restitution, assuring you, that I neither have, nor will, reveal the knowledge of them to any alive. To stay her departure quoth Rinaldo (softly distraining her hand) since my fortunes were so evil to loose them, for that seeing an inpossibilitie of hap, I would have concealed my harm, I am glad my fortune is so good, that they light into her hands, to whom in right they belong, unto whose power (with vow of continual service) I subject my life, living, & liberty. Mistress Giletta raking up her conceived love, in the ashes of secrecy, thus answered: If I were so simple to be bewitched with shadows, your enticing words, might no doubt work spoil of mine honour. In the chiefest hope of my well doing, quoth Rinaldo, (disturbing her tale) you have truly described my present condition: for being reft of heart the only stay of life, and dying through despair, I am in no better state than a shadow. Well quoth Giletta, since your wit serves you to flourish on every word figuratively spoken, I will deliver the rest of my mind in more plain speeches. First I must confess, my inability, and unworthiness, to entertain such a servant: then grant your wisdom to be such, that you will not bestow your able service, but where you see sufficient ability, for your well deserving zeal to have deserved hire. Now to your verses I thus much conceive, that to colour that, your own colour bewrays, I mean your love else where bestowed, for that I (unhappily) ministered some speeches of mistrust, to dim mine eyes with a vain flourish, till time fits your better fortunes, you use this fond profession of love. Thus much I gather both by your words, and works, and thus much I had thought to have delivered in, in embassage, unto this tell-tale paper, (making show of the letter she had written) but knowing (quoth she) letters to be very blabs, I am glad opportunity so serves, that I may deliver in words, both what I think of you and your suit, with this she put up her letter again, I think for that she would not discomfort Rinaldo with the sharpness thereof, who feign would have fingered the same, only to have bestowed his skill in answer: but to show his able force to encounter her in words, in deed quoth he, letters are but to be used in necessity, & yet where griefs can not otherwise be uttered, necessary instruments. But I found this benefit in my bondage, that if I were both barred of tongue and pen, my flaming sighs, my frozen tears, my wan looks, and withered flesh, would witness with what devotion I served: which zeal through my changing colour by you noted, I not a little joyed, and I no less sorrowed, you would not take notice, to what Saint I used this devotion, when as Rinaldo calleth heaven and earth to witness, that neither beauty, bravery, or any other enticement joined with the credit, of the greatest Lady in all Italy, could subject his liberty, till giletta's virtue, matched with matchless beauty, reached the pitch that stooped his mounting thoughts, to whom, and for whom he useth this suit, and suffereth these sorrows. Giletta seeing the continuance of his vehemency, was prettily well persuaded of his loyalty, in so much as after a number of other proffers and defences, in hope (quoth she) of your ready duty, I admit you my servant, with promise to measure your reward beyond desert. Rinaldo glad of this conquest, after double vow of faithfulness, reverently kissed his mistress hand, and for that time committed her, a Dio.  
I will now overleap, what a number of sour and sweet thoughts feed these unfeigned lovers, one while they were distempered with dread: anon quieted with hope: now desirous with secret vow to warrant each other love: strait hindered by some unfortunate accident, still meashed in the snares of misery, till time that either (with out condition) might gauge the other loyalty, faith, and constancy, provided this wished opportunity, which was: On a day the Lord Sonsago, father to the late rehearsed bride, to perfect the glory of the said marriage, invited the Lord of Bologna, and his son in law, with other of their friends, and allies, unto his castle, at which place Rinaldo with the rest of the ruffling youth, on small warning, & less bidding, as ordinary visitors of such pastimes, presented themselves. The dinner solemnly ended, every one was addressed unto the sport most agreeable to his or their fancy, some fallen to dancing, some to putting of purposes, & such voluntary prattle. But Rinaldo and his Giletta, otherwise affected, then to listen to those couterfet contentments, (to found opportunity to discourse of more serious matters) with a choose company conveyed them selves, unto one end of the great chamber, where Rinaldo, to pass the time, in reporting the strange effects of love (playing on a Lute) sung the following invention.  

In bondage free I live, yet free am fettered fast,  
In pleasure pain, in pain I found a thousand pleasures placed,  
I fry, yet frozen am, I freeze amid the fire,  
I have my wish, and want my will, yet both as I desire,  
I love and live by looks, and looking works my woe,  
Were love no god, this life were strange, but as he is, not so.  
For through his awkward fits, I suck such sweet in sour,  
As I a year of dole would bide, to have one lightning hour.  
I like no life, but such, as worketh with his will,  
His will my wish, my wish to love betide good luck or ill,  
No choice shall make me change, or fancy new desire,  
Although desire first blew the coal, that set my thoughts on fire.  
But fire, frosts and all, such calm contents doth move,  
As forced I grant there is no life, to that is led in love.  
Yea base I think his thought, that would not gladly die,  
To lead but half, of half an hour, in such delight as I  
Now thou dear dame, that workste, these sweet effects in me,  
Vouchsafe my zeal, that only seek, to serve and honour thee.  
So shall my thralled breast, for fancies free have scope,  
If not, it helps, I have free will, to love, and live in hope.  
Roberto Rinaldo.   
These Verses although they were in number few, yet the sweetness of the tune, together with the rareness of the invention, running altogether upon contraries, made them to be singularly well liked, especially of mistress Giletta, who could now no longer dissemble her love: In somuch as to further occasion of knowledge, she requested of her servant, to have a copy of the said Verses. Rinaldo of nothing more desirous, then with courtesy and service, to present his mistress, having this Sonnet already fair written, first satisfied her request, with the delivery thereof, and next solicited his own sorrows, with these persuading words.  
My good mistress, I am glad (quoth he) your ear was so ready, to hear my strange estate discoursed, as that your heart consenteth (in perusing this worthless Sonnet) to continued in your remembrance my sour passions, never appeased, though sometimes comforted with the sweet effects of hope. So that if it please you to note the sequel of my life, you shall easily see the subjection of my liberty, which known, I no otherwise conceive of your courteous disposition, but so often as you read my craving words, seeing them confirmed in works, so often you will be ready to perfect my unsure hope, with assured hap: I mean, bestow your love on him, who were it not to do you service, would through the extremity of love, rather wish to die then live. My good servant (quoth Giletta) I think your cure stands not upon such necessity, but reason in time may qualify your raging fire, and wisdom warm your frozen fears, or at the lest wise warn you from such untemperate affections. O, not (quoth Rinaldo) time hath made both extréemes more extreme, for when as reason would have quenched, my burning love, with the thought of my unworthiness, the remembrance of your worthiness, made my heat more fervent: when hope would have warmed my frozen doubts with the knowledge of your great pity and compassion, the consideration of my base desert, straight made my cold more cruel: So that entertaining time with these thoughts, time hath brought both extremities, now to such a mischief, that necessity (perforce) commands me to seek qualification at your hands, in whose good will, the termperature consists.  
I think (quoth Giletta) my mild disposition, in very deed, makes you a great deal more desirous, yea your knowledge of my inward liking by my outward looks discovered, makes you so earnest a suitor: But if I were persuaded your love to be as great in zeal, as in show, yet for that I know not whether it tends to honesty or my dishonour, I can hardly answer your suit, if any way, with the spoil of my good name, you seek to feed some foul affection, your love I loath, and so you sue in vain. O my sweet mistress (quoth Rinaldo) your words at one instant have joined two contraries, in such mortal fight, as to whom the victory will incline, is as yet doubtful, I mean hope and despair: for I earnestly beholding your looks, when as you said, they showed you loved, in very deed to my judgement I saw in them the very Image of love: therewithal (quoth I) to myself: Love cannot hate the well-willers of love. But as I was continuing this fancy, with the continuance of other your comfortable speeches, on the sudden, an If, distrusting my loyalty, clean altered the case: For trust me (sweet mistress) my faithful love, unspotted with villainous desire, when you used those speeches, straight murmured at your suspicion, yea dread still persuades me, your over often mistrust, will hinder the acquittal of my desert, and yet hope desirous of victory, will's me not to be discomforted through your wise misdoubt, lest silence in me, should work in you a greater suspicion: wherefore before God and you, I protest with my heart, yea if you please, to use the world for after witness, I will swear unto you all, I never had the thought, that tended unto your dishonour: then dash (good Lady) this hard condition of foul desire, from out the other covenants of love, and take my vow of faithfulness, for the warrantise of my honest and true intent. Suits must have an end, & sorrows a salve, either by the benefit of fortune, or violence of death: For I, through the extremity of sorrow, being now brought to the exigent of desperation, am forced to sue unto you for atonement, presenting unto me in this case, both the image of good fortune and death: of good fortune if you love, where you are loved: of death, if you hate where you are honoured. Sufficient trial you have had of my loyalty. Since so (good Lady) say yea, or no: either answer will work appeasement of my sorrows, the one with death, the other with delight. Soft (quoth Giletta) haste makes waste, your Harvest is yet in grass, you may very well stay for answer. These words with a smile countenance delivered, she forced to depart, yet not in such haste, but that Rinaldo had leisure enough to rob her of a kiss, which fed him with such a sweet conceit, as that he was persuaded, with the assault of importunancie, on the next adventure to conquer her strangeness and attain good will, so that to lay his siege with the better advantage, to her doubtful words he thus replied.  


Moore haste than need, doth turn to waste,  
and waste doth all things mar,  
Your Harvest, is in grass good Sir,  
as hasty as you are.   

This doubtful jest, among my joys,  
my mistress late did pop,  
But I reply, that backward haste,  
can never blast my crop.   

For sigh (sweet wench) my seed of love,  
hath taken root in time,  
And clear escaped the frosts of scorn,  
that pinched it in the prime.   

Now that the spring time of your grace,  
hath raised it to an ear,  
The kindly riping of the same,  
in faith I little fear.   

For scorched scythes, like Summer's sun,  
will hasten on this wheat,  
And storms of tears, as heavenly dew,  
shall nourish with the heat.   

The jealous weeds of foul suspect,  
which lovers joys doth sting,  
Shall cropped be, with hook of faith,  
that favour freash may spring.   

Then banish dread, from thee dear dame,  
my speed will work no waste,  
Since that the season serves so well,  
our Harvest for to haste.   
Roberto Rinaldo.   
These verses were written in haste, & presented in as much haste, such was Rinaldo'S hasty desire a fresh to follow his suit: and yet not so hasty, as of Giletta heartily wished, the heat of either's love, for either's sight so hastily thirsted. But now to cut off ciccumstances, Rinaldo, upon this new onset, charged his masters with such vehement persuasions, as her niceness was of no force to make further defence, in so much, upon a modest occasion, she yielded to love. This sweet consent by Giletta pronounced, with sudden joy so spoilt rinaldo's senses, as for a time, he fared like one in an ecstasy. But so soon as this fit was overblown (quoth he.) Rinaldo how bountifully hath Fortune dealt with thee? How blessed is thy estate? canst thou tell? O, Noah. Thy joys so hugely flow, as the lest of a thousand comforts, thou canst not utter. And could good Giletta so much tender thy distress? Can she brook rinaldo's poverty? And could she love the wight unworthy to be her slave? Herself said, yea: Then (as homage of his saved life) most worthy mistress, of thy unworthy servant, receive, with vow of continuance, Faith, honour, love, and service. I crave no more save faithful love (quoth Giletta.) Giletta herself, in discharge of her duty, will use towards her Rinaldo, honour and obedience. Whom if she find constant, let fortune do her worst, she hath her contentment, and yet my good Rinaldo (quoth she) foresight is the only instrument of quietness. I know my father & other friends, if they knew of our love, with storms of displeasure, would hinder the accomplishment of our desires, if whose good will by any means, may be won, the execution of our joys, I mean our marriage day is well delayed, but if they nill consent, hap well, hap ill, Giletta submits herself to rinaldo's good will. My good mistress (quoth he) your poor servant (full satisfied for his hard fortunes fore past, as also to come) subjects himself to your wise consideration: Yea, Rinaldo will not in one jot, contrary giletta's direction, although he purchase death with the execution of her pleasure. Well quoth Giletta, let time work her will, yet live thou Rinaldo assured of thy giletta's love, who likewise liveth in hope of thy: But in hope sweet mistress (quoth Rinaldo) there is no hope without mistrust, and causeless mistrust worketh two injuries: The one in distempering the mistrusters mind, the other in suspecting the well meaning friend. But the offence towards me I freely pardon, so that thou wilt (to work thy own quietness) take knowledge, how that my heart is close prisoner in thy breast, which may not be removed without thy consent. And for that we must attend time, for the perfection of our joys, to entertain time without distrust of loyalty, Dear Lady, of thy poor servant, vouchsafe to take this Diamond, whose poesy is: I will not false my faith: protesting before the highest, to accomplish those words in works. Giletta willingly receiving this ring, in this sort acquitted him: My good Rinaldo (quoth she) I gratefully accept your gift, and that in absence, you may both think of me, and your vow, for my sake wear you this jewel, wherein is written: Fortune may hinder my love, yet none but death shall break my vow. These two lovers having by secret oath, thus warranted each others love, lest their overlonge talk, might breed suspicion, now conveyed themselves into the thickest of the company, where after they had a while showed themselves, Rinaldo in respect of his late conquest, had the ordinary pleasures, the which he saw in scorn. In somuch that to perfect his contentment with sweet imaginations, he conveyed himself into his chamber: where, in praise of his good mistress, and triumph of his Fortunes, he written as followeth.  

Beauty leave off to brag, thy bravery is but brayed,  
Thou mayst (God wots) thy vizard vail, thy wanton masks are wrayd.  
Thy toys in thy attire, thy plumes fortells thy pride,  
Thy coyves, thy cawls, thy curling cost, thy surfling helps are spied.  
Thy gases are for guests, that garish shows will eye,  
Else who so blind, but that he can a painted visage spy,  
Then go and market keep, where chaff is sowld for corn,  
I hold (God wots) thy vaunts as vain, thy lures, and love I scorn,  
For I beloved am, of one that thee doth pass,  
In faith as much as finest gold, excels the coarsest brass.  
She needs no frizling feats, nor bombast for her breasts,  
No glittering spangles for the gaze, no ierkyns, jags, nor jests,  
Her only self a sun, when thou art judged a star,  
Her sober looks works more regard, than all thy ruffling far.  
The reason is, the heavens, to reap the praise alone,  
Did frame her eyes, her head, and hands of pearl and precious stone,  
Which jewels needs no help, their beauties for to blaze,  
When bravery shadows fowl defects, or serves for wanton gaze.  
Besides her feature rare, her further fame to raise,  
Her wit, her words, her works in show, doth win a world of praise,  
Then beauty have no scorn, thy room for to resign,  
To her, whose sundry marks of grace, thus shows she is divine.  
If not, thy champion choose, if any dare avow,  
I do the wrong, thee to abase, and her so to allow,  
And him I challenge forth, by force of fight to prove,  
She hath no match, whom thus in heart, I honour, serve and love.  
Roberto Rinaldo.   
These Verses although they were too affectionately written, yet for two causes they were of Giletta very well liked: the one was through the humour, wherewith most women are infected, desirous to be praised: the other for that Rinaldo was the man that had so highly commended her, whom she wished to be as far overseen, in affection, as in his invention: & although she acquitted not his pains, with her pen, yet with other courtesies she sufficiently wrought his contentment. In this sort, in absence, with letters, in presence, with looks, signs, and loving greetings, now & then, with a stolen kiss interjoined, for a space these lovers, the one the other delighted. But (o) I sigh to report, how soudainly fortune threatened the spoil of their desires, yea when they thought themselves of her favour most assured, such are the changes & chances of love. But sith her threatening (after a number of griefs by these two lovers suffered) turned into grace: with more willingness, I enter into discourse of their sorrows as followeth.  
Rinaldo (unhappily) matched with an ague, through the extremity of his malady, was forced to keep his chamber, so that by this accident exiled from the sight of his fair mistress, the fury of his fever was no sooner overpast, but straight he was charged with fearful fancies, 
Passing love the cause of jealousy.  continually dreading how that his absence would turn his Lady's love to misliking: thus hourly visited with untemperate fits, (poor man) he was brought so low, as that, a live, he represented the very image of death. Good Giletta sorrowing the long absence of her Rinaldo, in the end hearing the unwelcome news of his dangerous sickness, presently fared, as though she had felt the extremity of his fits: one while, she determined, to go herself and comfort him, straight she dreaded the suspicion that might grow thereof, especially, for that Signior Frizaldo, by the procurement of her friends, was so hot a suitor, 
Frizaldo a suitor to Giletta.  as without some jealous thought he could never part her sight: yet notwithstanding all these hindrances, in the end she was resolved, to visit her loving Rinaldo, not by secret stealth, but with such a choose company, as it could be no otherwise thought, but that only for courtesy, she went to comfort him. Signior Frizaldo (with the rest of the Gentles) would needs wait of mistress Giletta, whose service I am assured was ill accepted, and himself to Rinaldo worse welcome: 
An unwelcome guest.  But secret griefs, shadowed with feigned good will, Giletta outwardly for his courtesy, thanked Frizaldo, and went with him and the rest, to rinaldo's lodging: which Courtly company at their first coming, were brought into the sick-man's chamber, whom when Giletta espied, to lie languishing in his bed, to comfort him first of all she used this greeting: How fares my good servant (quoth she.) Rinaldo on the sudden viewing his Lady, was so overcome with sudden joy, as on the sudden, the answer of his estate was far to seek: which when Giletta perceived, in this sort she continued her comforting words: what man (quoth she) be of good cheer, a lusty heart will soon conquer this sickness, dismay not yourself with fear. By this time a sigh had untyde rinaldo's tongue, who very softly for fear of suspicion, thus replied: In very deed sweet mistress (quoth he) if I had had the use of my heart, long or this my griefs had been eased: but, ah, my heart else where attends, it is Giletta (and none else, that may dispose the same. Well (quoth she) since I have the use thereof, I am taught by good authority, to keep the sound from the sick: your body is now distempered with a fever, your heart with me fareth no worse than mine: so that at the lest I will have the bestowing thereof, till I see you in perfect health, yet think that the comfort both of mine and your own, shall be applied for your relief. Here Giletta gave liberty unto the rest for to greet Rinaldo, who bestowed their talk (as they thought) to his great delight: But Rinaldo, that rather regarded the sober looks, and modest behaviour of Giletta, then the shining bravery of the rest, gave small ear, unto their pleasant prattle: Yea, seemed half offended with the continuance thereof, as who would say, the sight of their wantonness, wrought a fresh remembrance of his wretchedness. And truly there can be no greater torment unto the pensive wight, 
Others pleasures a grief to the wretched.  then to be thrown into the company of the pleasant: not for that he repineth at them, but that he cannot attain their happiness. The company perceiving the small comfort, Rinaldo took in their persuasions, on the sudden become silent, so that Giletta had now liberty to make an end of her tale: who (for that night drew near) knit it up with this farewell. I see well good servant (quoth she) that our company (although we came for courtesy) is rather a cumber then a comfort to your sorrows, and therefore we will now betake you to God. But to witness, I always wish your contentment, 
A secret virtue in giliflowers.  vouchsafe this posy of Giliflowers, which carrieth this virtue, that about whose head they be bestowed, the same wight shall not be much frighted with fearful fancies. God grant that be true (quod Rinaldo) for trust me, sweet mistress, the disquietness of my mind hurts me more, than the distemperature of my body, but how much of this virtue faileth in your flowers, so much I already find in your friendly words, and to continued in remembrance, your care to cure my miseries, wear you, good mistress, this Rosemary branch. Giletta willingly receiving the same, for that she was to departed, with the help of another Gentlewoman, raised rinaldo's pillows, and laid his bed furniture handsomely about him, where Giletta bowing over him, to amend some thing out of order, by fortune left with Rinaldo a kiss, the comfort whereof exiled the grief he should else have conceived, by her departure: but I am assured this poor stolen kiss, no more pleased Rinaldo, than it offended Frizaldo, who (god wots) with great impatiency, murmured at these two lovers familiarity, & although the rest took no heed of their speeches, yet his jealous suspicion, both read the letters of their flowers, and wrested out the sense of their subtle words. Nevertheless (for the place sake at that time) he hid his conceived hatred, towards Rinaldo, with a friendly farewell. But in the way homeward, he pinched Giletta, with this scoffing request: Away with this Rosemary (quoth he) jest it hide some infection (being sometime sick rinaldo's) That may offend you, (quoth Giletta) if it were any ways infected, by this time the open air hath purged it, but if before this time, I myself am infected, it smally helps to throw away this poor branch, and so your counsel is out of season, and yet for the same I courteously thank you. Well quoth Frizaldo snuffing at this answer, you were best to perfect your delight, to wear a Rose with your Rosemary, meaning the first letters of those two flowers, answered her lovers name, Roberto Rinaldo. These words stroke poor Giletta dead, and yet she prettily (dissembling her knowledge of Frizaldo's mind) found out means, to cut off those cross speeches, with argument that meetly well contented him. But, poor wench, so soon as she was bestowed alone in her Chamber, solitariness wrought a fresh remembrance of Frizaldo's doubtful words, but yet after she had a space bewailed her Fortunes, she wisely entered into the consideration of her own estate, and weighing, how greatly that Frizaldo was favoured of her friends, and on the contrary part, Rinaldo of small account, she concluded (to please all her friends, and content both her lovers) to use this policy. Frizaldo whom she smally esteemed, she ment to feed with courteous delays: Rinaldo, whom in deed she honoured, she determined in heart to love, and in show to hate, thinking by this means that she should extinguish & quench Frizaldo'S jealous suspicion: 
jealousy can never be perfectly quenched.  which in very deed, contraried her imagination. For although he liked giletta's entertainment, yet he continually feared her affection towards Rinaldo, yea he eyed her with such mistrust, as that she could hardly find occasion to acquaint her Rinaldo with this devise: notwithstanding hoping of favourable time to execute her purpose, she continued her feigned good will towards Frizaldo, but Rinaldo she would neither see, sand, nor writ unto: Who wondering at this insolency and strangeness, although he had hardly recovered his impaired health, yet he adventured abroad, to learn the cause of this sudden alteration. But his overmuch temerity and making hast herein, had wrought woeful waste of his life, had not God wonderfully saved him. For, repairing unto the place of his wont joy, and accustomed comfort, he found his mistress dallying with a fresh gallant: On him she would not vouchsafe to look: Yea, if on occasion he saluted her by the name of his mistress, very disdainfully and scornfully, or not at all she answered him: On him she frowned with a cursed countenance: On his enemy she fleared with a delightsome favour: with him she would not speak: with his enemy she continually talked. Which unfriendly welcome was far worse (God wots) to Rinaldo, than his late sickness: But worst of all he digested the report of the Courtiers, who (inferring on their familiarity) gave out for certainty, that signor Frizaldo, should marry with mistress Giletta. These news poor Rinaldo was like enough to credit, himself seeing such apparent proof thereof, yea he credited them so far, as he could not away with any thought of hope. In so much that scorning both Court and company, as one forsaken of himself, he forthwith went unto his chamber, whereas passionately discoursing on his hard Fortunes, which plaint, he powdered with a thousand sighs, by chance he fastened his eye, on the jewel which Giletta had bestowed on him, and with little lust reading the posy thereof, supposing she had falsified her vow, touched with the proof of his wretchedness, he forthwith written these under written Verses.  


For faithful love, the hate I find in lieu,  
My vow performed, the false of her behest,  
The small reward, I reap for service true,  
Her joy to see, me plunged in unrest,  
Doth force me say, to find an end of pain,  
O fancy die, thou feedest hope in vain.   

I sue for grace, she smiles to see my smart,  
I plead for peace, she seeks to sow debate,  
My sour her sweet, my grief doth glad her heart,  
I fawn, she frowns, I love and she doth hate,  
Sigh so, I say, to find an end of pain,  
O fancy die, thou feedest hope in vain.   

Starve thou desire, which keepeth life in love,  
And so my thought, from showering woe shall cease,  
But love alive, while fancy hope may move,  
A living death, my sorrows will increase,  
Wherefore I say, to find an end of pain,  
O fancy die, thou feedest hope in vain.   

My fancies dead, I end of woes should find,  
My eyes, nay seas (God wots) of brackish tears  
Would leave to love, whom love hath made so blind:  
My thorned thoughts, no more should foster fears.  
But o (ay me) for to prorogue my pain,  
My fancies live, and feedeth hope in vain.   

Do what I can, I pray on plighted troth,  
A (simple) think, she will not break this bond,  
I vow to love, I will not false my oath,  
But, ah, I find her false, and I too fond:  
Wherefore good death, at once delay my pain,  
My fancies live, and feedeth hope in vain.   
Roberto Rinaldo.   
Unto these Verses Rinaldo set a very solemn note, and the night following, he bestowed himself under giletta's chamber window, where (playing on his lute) he very mournfully sung this passionate invention, of purpose (like unto the Swan, that sings before her death) to bid his mistress adieu for ever.  
Good Giletta, hearing this sorrowful farewell, much lamented her servants estate, yet dared she not at that instant any ways comfort him. The cause was, signor Frizaldo, was then in her chamber, who known very well, that it was Rinaldo, that with his solemn music, saluted mistress Giletta, yea he known by the over often changing of her colour, how (notwithstanding her dissimulation) she greatly sorrowed Rinaldo'S distress: and therefore he thought best, during his discomforture, by some sly policy, at once to overthrow him with distrust: and until the execution of this treachery, he thought best, to give him this bone to gnaw upon. First to show his credit to be admitted into her chamber at that time of the night: Next (to prove his authority) he called Giletta, by the name of his subject: Who dutifully answered him, with the title of her sovereign: which done (quoch he looking out of the window) it is for you sake (fair Lady) we are presented with this sweet music, & although your unknown well-willer, maketh show of the sorrows he suffers not, yet courtesy will's you to intercept his pains with thanks. Poor Rinaldo hearing Frizaldo'S tongue, made no stay for giletta's thanks, but returning to his chamber (as one that had foregone his senses (a while in sighs he uttered his plaint. And after his sorrow was somewhat eased, (quoth he) alas good Giletta, thy exchange is very hard, to leave to be Rinaldo'S mistress, to become Frizaldo'S subject, But Rinaldo, worse is thy hap, that thou must serve her, that is subject to thy mortal enemy, thy thraldom is intolerable, thy tornients without end, with violent death dispatch both thy servitude and sorrows, so shalt thou force them to pity, that now triumph at thy miseries. In this sort Rinaldo continually raged at his fortunes. Well, how ever Rinaldo fared, Giletta was not free from sorrows: for good soul, she thought it high time to acquaint her servant with the continuance of her love, and although she had attempted many ways, yet she found no currant opportunity for discovery thereof, till in the end, she determined, by letters to deliver the Embassage of her mind, to which effect, she one day written these lines following.  
MY Good servant, I cannot but sigh to think on thy sorrows, who inferring on my strangeness, hast my faithful love in suspicion: and yet I cannot blame thee, that knowest not, what necessity enforceth my coyness: Alas, I live in the gaze of jealous distrust, who with Lynx's eyes, watcheth my behaviour, so that of force, I am forced, to rarrie a show of hatred, where in heart I love. But of this assure thyself, although Frizaldo (whose familiarity worketh thy fear) weareth both my glove and Garter, yet Rinaldo hath, and shall have my heart. So that (sweet friend) from henceforth (having my constancy thus warranted) when most I lower, contrary my looks with smiling thoughts. And thus till more fortunate time, do perfect our wished desires, thy loving Mistress, wisheth thee well to far.  
Giletta de Bologna.  
When good Giletta had thus ended her letters, for that she dared not trust Rosina her waiting woman with the delivery of them, whom she knew to be too well affected towards Frizaldo to work him such an injury, she determined to be the Ambassador herself, to accomplish which devise, she made an apple hollow, wherein she bestowed this letter, which she closed so cunningly, that none by the outward show, could perceive the inward charge thereof: But o the force of jealousy, Frizaldo for that he could not always be present to eye giletta's behaviour, won her waiting woman to watch her so narrowly, as she might be able to yield account of all her doings. This traitorous maid to her mistress, so trustily performed his request, as although Giletta practised this devise, in her secret closet, yet through the cranell of a brickwall, she had notice thereof, so that the night following, she came to the fingering of this apple, and finding these loving lines in the body thereof, she forthwith went to Frizaldo, to whom she delivered both the letter and apple, but he that foreknew giletta's love, towards Rinaldo, was rather glad, then sad of these news: For by this means, he spied occasion presently to overthrow Rinaldo with despair: To further which villainous treachery, as near as he could, he counterfeited giletta's hand, and then in steed of her courteous lines (in her name) he written this uncomfortable letter.  
RInaldo, 
A treacherous part.  thy dissembling, hath wrought my displeasure, & although I will not show how nor wherein thou art unjust, yet know thou, I know so well thy villainies, as no excuse shall remove me from revenge. And if my unpleasant looks any way offend thee, assure thyself my heart ten times more abhorreth thee: thereof let this my hand writing be a witness, which I myself deliver, to this end, that thou mayst at once, end both thy hope, and unregarded suit, by her that hates the more, than she loves herself.  
Giletta de Bologna.  
When Frizaldo had made an end of this letter, he bestowed it in the apple, and wild Rosina, to say the same where she found it, the next day, he brought Giletta where of force she must see her loving Rinaldo, and of purpose seemed careless of her behaviour, that she might have opportunity, to salute her sorrowful servant. poor Giletta unacquainted with this treachery, simply delivered Rinaldo the apple: saying, the virtue in the fruit, was of force to end his sorrows. Herewith she hasted after Frizaldo, without either answer or thanks, at her servants hands, who receiving this courtesy, beyond all hope, as one amazed, at so sudden a joy, it was long ere he tasted this apple, and finding a letter enclosed therein, I can hardly report, the one half of his delight: But this I am assured, for his fair mistress sake, he a hundred times kissed both the seal, and superscription, before he adventured to take knowledge of the hidden message therein: but when he ripped it open, and found the forecited news, alas poor man, his late sweet motions so increased his sour passions, that if it were possible, for any to taste more miseries, his fare exceeded the torments of Hell.  
Ah God (quoth he) how may it so sweet a face, should be matched with so cruel a heart, such heavenly looks, with such hellish thoughts, so fair a creature, with so foul conditions, and so modest a countenance, with so merciless a mind. O Giletta, what meanest thou so to eclipse thy honour, darken thy virtue, and spoil thy wont report of pity, by murdering of thy faithful friend? Hadst thou no fear of infamy? no thought of former vow? Might not remorse of conscience, withdraw thee from disloyalty? Madest thou no more account of love, then like unto a garment, at thy pleasure to put off and on? Couldst thou do Rinaldo such injury, as to let another devour the fruits of his toil? Wouldst thou suffer Frizaldo to reap the crop of love, that Rinaldo sowed with sighs, wéeded with faith, did nourish with tears, and ripened with continual service. Suppose, I admit the force of thy second love, in excuse of all these wrongs, with what face, couldst thou triumph in my miseries? Yea desire my death, that loved thee so dear? Trust me, cruel Giletta, if thy own writing had not been witness, I would never have thought thee inconstant, nor had not thy own hands delivered the instrument of my destruction, I would hardly a credited thy letters, but on so certain a proof, in vain it were to hope. Ah, God, how rightly didst thou hit my fortune when as thou saidst, thy apple would ease my sorrows: in deed I found in it my death, & only death must cure my grief. And sith so subtilely, thou prophesiedst my destruction, since it agreeth with thy will, thy wretched desire, shall forthwith be wrought. In this desperate mind Rinaldo hasted unto the river of Po, where by the shore side he saw a simple man, to whom he delivered a scroll, wherein was written: 
Giletta false of faith Rinaldo nipped so nigh,  
That lo he chose before his time, in streams of Po to die.   
Which verses he requested the poor man to deliver at the Lord de Bolognas castle, to mistress Giletta, and then without using any other speech, he leapt into the river. The poor man half amazed, at this wilful act, forthwith hasted unto the Lord de Bolognas castle, where after he had delivered the writing to Giletta, he showed for certainty, he see Rinaldo drown himself. The news was unwelcome unto every hearer (save only to Frizaldo, that trained him into this mischief) but especially to Giletta this tidings was too too grievous, she weapt, she waylde, she blamed her and his unlucky fortune, Frizaldo'S jealousy, her friends untowardness, and chief her own niceness, as instruments of Rinaldo'S lamentable destiny: in so much as, neither show of pleasure, company of acquaintance, or persuasion of friends, could move her unto any comfort. Well, leave we sorrowful Giletta, continually bemoaning the death of her best beloved servant: and turn we to Rinaldo, who after he had a while felt the fury of the floods, was weary of dying, so that for life he laboured unto the shore, which happily recovered, he felt his stomach at that instant rather overcharged with water then love, yet for that by sight of his sowre-swéete mistress, he would not renew his sorrows, nor that he could brook, in the court to be frumped and flout at, he consented in a forest near adjoining unto this river, in misery to consume the residue of his life. And abasing his mind, unto the condition of his distress, he was content to take a hollow cave, for his house, and harbour, the bore ground, both for his bed and bedding. For companions, to make choice of wild beasts: to bemoan his fortunes, unto the wild forests, to make the night raven his clock, his harmony of hellish noise of monsters, & his food the fruits of the earth, O strange effects of love, that could vail his mind to vouchsafe these miseries: that lately held at will, almost what he could wish. But leave I now to writ of love his force (whom no man hitherto, could either truly define or describe) and turn again to poor Rinaldo'S hard estate, who roaming in the wild forests for food, espied an apple tree, the fruit whereof, put him in remembrance, of the apple Giletta delivered him, wherein he found a letter that forced him to this penance, the sight whereof with sorrow, not only slaked his hunger, but moved him to such impatiency, that in despair, and despite of the fruit, upon the tree he carved this invention.  


O Needless fruit (of sin the mean at first)  
Thou forcedst Eve, and Adam didst entice,  
To bite their bale, for which the earth was cursed,  
And headlong they, from virtue fallen to vice,  
Thou wert the bait, that Paris gave the Dame,  
Who in reward, set stately Troy aflame.   

Thou didst convey, the loving writ that wood,  
Diana's nymph, from chaste, to foul desire,  
By thee too soon, I (wretched) understood,  
giletta's scorn, that changed her love to ire,  
And not content, but when my woes were dead,  
With former cares, thou combrest fresh my head.   

O envious fruit, in whom few virtues are,  
Thy show is all, but who so on thee feeds,  
Shall hardly find, thee help, but health impair:  
Then sith to man, such plagues thy beauty breeds,  
Would God thy guilt, upon each apple tree,  
Igraven were, for every eye to see.   
Roberto Rinaldo.   
Rinaldo thus freshly entered, into the consideration of his former love, likewise felt his former unquietness of mind, feign would he have found out some little spark of hope, but out alas, the sour letter his sweet mistress delivered, together with her hateful show against him, and her loving zeal towards Frizaldo, so hugely increased his distrust, as by no means he could away with hope: in so much (quoth he) O cowardly wretch, why dost thou not by death, at once dispatch thy sorrows: rather than to die a thousand deaths, by pr●roging a loathed life, canst thou brook continual bondage, when with one blow thou mayst rid thy wretchedness, set fear aside, use force upon thyself, thou hast lived an exile too long, since thou seest no hope of atonement at home, nor fealest quietness abroad. In this desperate passion, Rinaldo was determined to commit murder upon himself, and yet he thought best to defer the execution, until he might convey himself near unto giletta's lodging, that there her eyes might be witness of his loyalty, & her own cruelty. To has●en which folly, the next night he took his journey towards Bologna castle, and by the way he devised this petition.  
Even with the blood, that issues from his heart,  
Rinaldo (wretch) this sorry boon doth crave,  
There may be graven (by some continuing Art)  
These woeful words, upon his timeless grave.  
Lo here he lies, that reaped hate for love,  
Which hard exchange, to slay himself did move.  
These verses Rinaldo determined to writ with blood that issued from his deadly wound, & coming unto the place, of his desired rest, he drawn his dagger, in mind to finish his sorrows But finding his enterprise (by reason of the dead time of night) unlikely to be troubled, before he executed this tragedy, he weakly wrested forth this heavy farewell.  
O God (quoth he) that the groans, proceeding from my gored heart, might now awake Giletta, that she might see the use of my murdering knife, then would my yawning breath, my bloody sighs, & deadly gaps, no doubt bedew her cheeks, which hitherto my intolerable miseries, with ruthful tears could never wet: so should she know my escaped dangers, were but lightening joys, for to enlarge my sorrows: so might she see, the unfeigned confirmation of my loyalty, accuse her of inconstancy: so seeing so unnatural a tragedy executed (by the doom of her scorn) upon her faultless servant, remorse might happily move her to repentance, and pity win her from her wavering fancies. But (o) I tire time with too peerless a tale: she quietly sleeps, to whom I thus sorrowfully talk. Far well Giletta, farewell. These naked walls (besprent with blood) shall shortly bewray my moan. My breathless corpse, shall witness my constancy, and purchase (I trust) so much pity, as (notwithstanding my careless provision) to be bestowed in some forgetlesse tomb. I can not stay thy answer, and therefore I leave it to thy courtesy. Come wished death, now use thy force, my will is made, the time and place fitteth my desire, my tears and sighs are already bestowed, these wa●●es (my executors) only wanteth their hire: my waste blood I bequeath them, only to continued remembrance of my loyalty. etc. Good Giletta continually lamenting the loss of her servant, both night & day was smally disposed to rest, in so much that leaning in her chamber window, she herded (though not perfectly) this sorrowful discourse, and being moved with pity (as Rinaldo'S complaint grew to an end) she used these words. Yonder man's tongue, moan, and miseries, works such fresh remembrance of my good Rinaldo'S destruction, 
An unlookte for comfort.  as for his sake, I will apply unto his sorrows what honest comfort I can. Therewithal she prepared herself to learn his cause of grief: Rinaldo amazed with this sudden comfort, held his hand from his throat, till Giletta was at his elbow, who very modestly demanded, both what he was, & what forced him so piteously to complain. Rinaldo, on this small encouragement, began now to mistrust ill measure in others, and yet to try in whom the fault might be, he at the first, both hide his name, and the true cause of his grief from Giletta. Giletta earnestly noting the order of his talk, began now to be so distempered with the thought of Rinaldo, as she fallen strait thus to be move his hard fortunes. Ah, good Rinaldo (quoth she) wheresoever thy body lies in thought I so perfectly behold thy image, as in every mournful tale, my thinks I hear thy tongue. Woe worth thee Frizaldo, to cool whole jealous distrust, I used show of hate where in heart I loved, and yet Rinaldo, thou art not blameless in that, when as I made thee privy to the cause of my strangeness, thou wilfully afterwards didst drown thyself▪ Herewith, Rinaldo to make Giletta partaker of his new conceived joys could not choose but discover himself, whom when she perfectly knew, And lives Rinaldo yet, (quoth she) and therewithal embracing her best beloved, with very joy fallen into a swoon. Rinaldo seeing his Lady and love to faint, spared for no kisses to fetch her again. She being revived, and the heat of their joys somewhat qualified, I want skill, to will, to show what desire the one had to delight the other, but this I am assured, they in such sort overwent the night, that morning willed them away, ere either of them had thought of former sorrows, or sought to work for future joys. 
The woman's 〈…〉.  But as it is said, the woman's unt, is more readier than the man's, in practices that answereth their liking: experience here makes proof of no less. For when Giletta espied Rinaldo in a brown study, with debating, which way they might best, easiest, and soon, perfect their 〈◊〉 delights, she comforting him with a pretty smile, willed him to commit that charge unto her, but in any case she warned him to live a while unknown. Rinaldo faithfully promised to obey her direction, who after he had given, and taken a hundred loath to departed kisses, forthwith posted unto the next uncouth place, and Giletta secretly conveyed herself unto her chamber: Who the next day forsook her mourning weeds, & with a cheerful countenance, she bid her friends Buon giorno: who rejoicing to see her so prettily comforted, applied themselves, unto such exercises and persuasions, as they thought would best work her contentation. Especially Frizaldo, who (after it was given out Rinaldo was drowned) was so much of Giletta misliked, as that she could neither abide his sight, nor would patiently hear his name, now seeing her stormy anger somewhat appeased, by little & little renewed his loving suit. Giletta now to work sure, (because he should no more suspect fraud in her overmuch familiarity) made the matter somewhat strange, & yet not so strange, but that Frizaldo might pick out encouragement to continued his bootless suit. Who refusing no advantage, charged her, and double charged her with importunate persuasions: she at every assault, seemed somewhat to relent, yea, in the end she was content patiently to hear his request, & if she chanced to cross him with froward language, she would comfort him with some feigned good look. giletta's father seeing some likelihood of the match he long desired, I mean between Frizaldo and Giletta his daughter, furthered Frizaldo'S desire in what he could, in so much as coveting a speedy dispatch, he one day enjoined his daughter to give him a direct answer off, or on. Giletta modestly answered, the promise she made Rinaldo, was such a corsie to her conscience, through the fear of infamy, as although she had sufficiently tried (& by trying liked) Frizaldo'S honest and faithful love, yet she feared to give her willing consent, to that she heartily wished. Why quoth her father, your promise died with Rinaldo, & though he desperately dispatched his life, neither law of God, nor Nature, can forbidden you marriage: and to make you the more willing to that I wish, there shallbe proclamation made, that if Rinaldo within one month come in & make claim to Giletta, he should be indifferent-heard, if not, Frizaldo to have her as his lawful wife: by this means (quoth he) the clattering tongues that thou fearest, (would note thee of inconstancy) well persuaded of his death, by reason of his absence, will sure be stayed. Giletta thus proffered, what she had thought to have requested, set niceness aside, & feigning her father's persuasions to have conquered her, upon this condition, yielded to marry Frizaldo. The Lord de Bologna, made no delay, but presently upon this consent, assured Frizaldo to his daughter Giletta, & caused proclamation to be made. This news wrought joy on all sides: Rinaldo laughed to hear this proclamation, for that he known how to provide sour sauce for Frizaldo'S sweet delights. Giletta smiled to see how wi●el●ly, she had wone her father's consent, to have Rinaldo, who she known was ready to make claim. giletta's friends rejoiced to see her sorrows appeased: but Frizaldo above the rest triumphed in show, he made no account of the proviso in his assurance. For why, he thought a drowned man would hardly claim his right, the kind entertainment of his mistress, so laded him with joy, as that he bad jealousy go trudge, distrust adieu, and all other hindrances avaunt: one while he invites his friends, another while he makes choice of martial calengers & champions, for justing, turn, barriers. etc. Now he consults, with carpet knights, about curious masks & other delightful shows: anon he runs unto the tailors, to see his apparel made of the strangest & costliest fashion, thus was he occupied in provision of bravery against his marriage day, he had no thought how Rinaldo would be avenged of his treachery, overthrow him in combat, wear his weeds, marry his wife, and use his provision of pleasure, for the honour of his own wedding: he would not see secret hate that lay hide in Giletta's loving looks, as the snake lurks in the sweet grass: his blind affection made him forget the villainy he had offered Rinaldo, so that prick of conscience could move him to no repentance. For having reached the height of his desires, he made her the instrument of his destruction, by whose dishonest service, he attained this show of preferment, I mean Rosina, Giletta's waiting woman: who seeing the preparation for her masters marriage, began to louvre on Frizaldo, the reason was, at such time as he was out of giletta's favour, to curry friendship with her, he told this dansel, in respect of her courtesies, & in despite of her masters injuries, he would marry her: which fair promise, this foully falsed, might very well force the poor wench to frown. Which Frizaldo seeing, likewise see without wise foresight a hindrance to his desires, & devising how to repair this breach of amit●e, he called to mind what small trust was in a woman's secrecy & weighing what mischief he had executed, to compass his loving affairs, now to perfect the success he long looked for, he concluded (in acquittal of the poor wenches courtesies) to shorten her life. O wretch spoiled of pity, rest of humanity, catyfe more cruel than any Tiger, how couldst thou profess to love, with so blandy a mind, especially to acquit her with such cruelty, that spoiled her credit to do thee courtesy. But why wear I time to wonder at thy unnatural villainies, which spendst thy life without thought of virtue, and diedst without show of repentance. And now again, unto this tyrant Frizaldo'S actions, with a friendly countenance, he came unto Rosina, and after his courteous salutations, 
Fair words makes fools feign.  he hayted his poisoned enterprise with this sweet persuasion. Sweet wench quoth he, thou seest a great preparation (supposed) for a marriage between thy mistress and me, if which were true, in faith I should do thee too too much wrong, to whom I am in conscience betrothed. But for that thou mayst now found performance of that in deeds, that hitherto I promised in words, I give thee to wit my intent. Thou very well knowest my faithful love once towards Giletta, her small regard of me, my suit, her scorn, yea her cross answering of all my amorous actions, so that my necessity enforced, I shunned her sight, that nothing esteemed my service, daily pleaded with tears, & solicited with sighs, which uncourteous (nay cruel) usage (as thou knowest full well) soudenly changed my love to hate, so that continuing (or rather increasing) my malice, I have hitherto sought, how to be avenged. And lo, a happy opportunity, her coyness is come down, & now she is content to love the man, that she so highly hated, yea, to allure him with friendly looks, whose tears sometimes could purchase no ruth, I mean myself, she is thus affected to: Who (in truth) rather seeks to be revenged, of her former cruelty, then to reward her present courtesy, and to use avenge more currently. Upon this new reconcilement, I shadowed my displeasure, with the show of wont kindness of purpose, when she thought herself most assured, then to give her the slip, and now the (supposed) wedding day draws near, but her delight far enough off. Now, now, sweet wench, the accomplishment of my promise, and thy comfort approacheth, it is thou shalt enjoy the benefit of this preparation. Frizaldo means to marry none but Rosina, whom he will shortly espouse: Wherefore (quoth he) to work both secretly and safely in this matter, I mean the night before my (supposed) marriage with Giletta, to convey thee to my house, and the next morning to make thee my wife▪ This currant tale not a little pleased Rosina. She thought all was gold that glistered, she never remembered how the poisoned hook, lay wrapped in pleasant bait, how the Crocodile obtains her pray with pitiful tears, nor how subtle devices, are (●or the most) compassed with sugared words, she never dreaded ensuing danger, but presently consented, to what Frizaldo should demand, yea, she thought every day a year, until she had overtaken this appointed hour: at which time according unto promise, Frizaldo with two other ruffens, to whom he had delivered his mind, repaired to this mistrustless maid, whom Frizaldo willed quickly to prepare herself to ride with those his men unto his house, and he himself would make what speed he might after. She (that was ready an hour before Frizaldo came) made answer, she was in a readiness to perform his pleasure, and so with more haste, then good success, away she packs. But so soon as these two ruffens had her in the forest (to sour her sweet conceits) they made her acquainted with Frizaldo'S commandment. It was his pleasure she should be slain, whose doom they promised, and would obey, and execute, and therefore they willed her to use her prayers, for no persuasions might purchase grace. The poor wench thus beset with naked sword, and seeing (by their stern countenances) how those traitors were spoiled of pity, began very lamentably to cry and scrike out: which these graceless variets hearing, commanded her forthwith to forsake her overloude clamours, and fall (if she would) quietly to her prayers, if not, they would abridge her short time of repentance. Good soul, she seeing them so furiously bend, become forthwith silent, and only to prorogue her life, (I think) with small devotion, she fell a praying, for when she settled herself to most patiency, she would soudenly exclaim of Frizaldo'S tyranny. Rinaldo, who (since his own wilful exile) lived in this forest, by fortune heard rosina's piteous complaint, and being well armed, hasted to learn the cause of so great an outcry, who espying a gentlewoman, upon her knees between two ruffens, that with naked sword were ready to shorten her life, set spurs unto his horse, 
A unlooked for rescue.  for her more speedy rescue. The varlets seeing an armed knight make towards them (without damaging the Gentlewoman) forthwith fled to save themselves. Rosina thus happily preserved, through very joy fallen into an ecstasy, but being both revived and comforted by Rinaldo. Rinaldo presently perceived, how that he had wrought this safety unto Giletta's waiting woman, and greatly wondering at the rareness of the chance, was earnest to know what led her to this misfortune, she not knowing (by reason he was armed) that when she had so often wronged to pleasure Frizaldo, was the man that saved her life, which Frizaldo traitorously sought, from the first to the last, laid open all Frizaldo'S treachery, and further she said, that to morrow he should espouse good Giletta. Nay, quoth Rinaldo, I myself hope to hinder that match, and to morrow (quoth he) we will both go to Bologna castle, in the mean while he prayed her to rest contented, with his entertainment. This long looked for morrow morning, is now at length come, and yet not so fortunate as to some wished for, but to him to whom it was most dangerous, it was best welcome, I mean to Frizaldo who (having a lightning delight, against his sudden destruction) very early gets him up, bravely arrays himself, and accompanied with divers gay gallants, with delicate music, awakens Giletta. Giletta that lived assured of Rinaldo'S challenge, seemed greatly contented with Frizaldo'S readiness, and with what speed she might, she decked herself as bravely as she could. The bridegroom and the bride being ready, the Lord of the castle, with the Lady his wife, accompanied with other their friends (with what honour they could) accompanied them both towards the church. But lo (by the way) an unlooked for let, in view of the whole company, there posted towards them a knight, accompanied with one only Gentlewoman, the knight (well mounted upon a black horse) was armed all in black armour, save upon the left side, about his heart's defence, there was graven a white Turtle Dove, with this poesy, Once chose, and never change, the strangeness of which sight enforced them to stay, to know the knights errant, who being arrived among them, his Gentlewoman was strait ways known, which strange adventure, greatly increased their wonder, and more greatly Frizaldo'S fear. Well, this gentlewoman, upon her knees requested both pardon, and respite to speak, which granted, she made firs● report of the love between Rinaldo and Giletta: then of Frizaldo'S liking & jealous distrust, further how Giletta feigned to fancy him, & to forsake Rinaldo, which devise she written in a letter, & enclosed it in an apple, thinking by the delivery thereof, to acquaint Rinaldo with her mind. But (quoth she) this apple came to my unhappy fingering, that which I delivered to Frizaldo, who took out the comfortable, & counterfeited in giletta's name, a cruel letter, that which he wrapped in the apple, & willed me to bestow the same where I found it: the day following, Frizaldo alured Giletta, where of force she should see Rinaldo, who delivered Rinaldo this apple. Rinaldo reading the counterfeited letter, desperately drowned himself: Which ill news so discomforted Giletta, as she repined at all the instruments of his ill fortune, especially at Frizaldo, whose name she could not abide. Frizaldo seeing his suits so smally regarded, with show of malice, in despite of her (as he said) promised me marriage. Since Giletta wone from this displeasure, Frizaldo with fair words, promised now to perform that in deed, the hitherto he promised in word, I mean, under the colour of marriage, won me to go with two ruffens to his house, who by Frizaldo'S appointment, in a forest not far off, were ready to murder me, had not this knight in happy time recovered me. I now have said, use your pleasure, & if you please pardon me. This strange discourse, made them all secretly to grudge at Frizaldo. But Giletta, being perplexed, both with malice & fear, with malice against Frizaldo, for his too apparent treachery, with fear, for Rinaldo'S absence, who she little thought to be the instrument of this discovery. Frizaldo perceived (by the alteration of countenances) what hearts were wone from him, by rosina's too true a tale: and although he found himself guilty, yet he began to clear himself with this shameless answer. This strumpet (quoth he) wone by some ruffenly companion, that repineth at my good fortune, or thinketh by this means, to be avenged, for Rinaldo'S desperate and foolish end, without shame in herself, thus shamefully slandereth me: But for that words will hardly quench the suspicion, that her infamous tale hath fired, I will presently in combat prove my innocency, and (I trust) discover her treachery, if any dare maintain her untrue sayings true. Frizaldo had scarcely concluded his challenge, ere Rinaldo thus replied. Notorious varlet (spoiled of all humanity) I am he that will maintain her sayings true, and in revenge of thy treachery, will (I trust) soon separate thy condemned soul (without speedy repentance) from thy carrion body. Go arm thyself, I attend thy coming. Infamous ruffian, will't thou (quoth Frizaldo) and counterfeiting (through necessity) fury in stead of fear, forthwith he went to arm himself. The rest of the company, rather desirous to see an end of this accusation, them the solemnizing of the marriage, attended Frizaldo'S return, who soon came, very richly armed into the field. The knights now swear that either quarrel is just, and at the trumpets sound so fiercely encountereth other, that both horse and men fall thundering to the earth. Frizaldo trusting in his force, Rinaldo both in his force & honest quarrel, either quickly recovereth himself, and (forsaking their shivered spears) with arming shoulder-blade, freshly falls a hewing at others sconce. The knights thus furiously fight, the standers by prey as they are affected, the indifferent, victory unto the innocent, Rinaldo'S friends unto the unknown knight: but Giletta above the rest, wisheth Frizaldo'S overthrow, whom she knows to be faulty in the quarrel. Still they fight, and yet the victory doubtful, one while Rinaldo hath the best, and strait a cross blow makes him loose his advantage. Remorse of conscience nothing weakeneth Frizaldo, but Rinaldo'S honest cause doubleth his strength, so that the longer he fought, the fearcer he was, and yet Frizaldo valiantly maintains his dishonest quarrel. But what doth might avail, when God assistes the right. Frizaldo for all his force, in the end began to faint: which Rinaldo espying, and eyeing his Lady's beauty, assailed him with such fury, that ere long he sent him dead to the earth. The battle thus fortunately wone, Rinaldo unarmes himself, & claims Giletta as his wife, the people at the sight of Rinaldo shaken the earth, with clamours of joy. Giletta (that lately wondered at Rinaldo'S absence) now charged her father with his promise: the Lord de Bologna, with the rest of his friends, agreed Rinaldo and Giletta should forthwith be married. The courtly company that came to honour Frizaldo'S marriage, had his dishonest actions in such disdain, as now they would not vouchsafe to see him honestly buried. But with all their provision of bravery, on Rinaldo they willingly attended, glad was be that could with any courtesy present him. The marriage rites solemnly pronounced, these faithful lovers repaired to Bologna castle, where they were welcomed, with what pleasure might be had: yea, to conclude, for to work satisfaction for their long miseries, there wanted nothing, that coin, cunning, or credit might compass. And thus after fortune had long threatened the shipwreck of their delights, their constancy conducted them to the port of their wished desires.  
El fine fa el tutto.   

Epilogus.  

Vide the fall of the C. of Celant fol. 16. a. Cressida's complaint ●o. 22. d Vide C. of Celant. fol. 2. a & fol. 10. b.  Lo here the fruits, of lust and lawless love,  
Lo here their faults, that vale to either vice,  
Lo Ladies here, their falls (for your behove)  
Whose wanton wills, sets light by sound advice.  
Here lords may learn, with noble dames to match:  
For dunghill kite, from kind will never sly:  
The vessel long, will of the liquor smatch,  
Wherewith at first, the same we taste or try.  
Here Cressida's life, her luck, and loathsome end,  
Their Fortune's paint, that Cressida's heirs are,  
Her fall doth will, all wantoness to amend,  
Their lightning joys, are joined with years of care:  

Vide C. of Celant. fol. 7. b. & fol. 13. b. Vide Frizaldo fol. 45.  Here youths, that see, a strumpet's angry mood,  
May haply fear, to execute her hate:  
Their hard lucks here, that purchase love with blood,  
Are warnings meet, for such as sow debate.  
And to be short, the sour in sweetest love,  
Doth prove him blest, that lest thereof doth prove.  
Formae nulla fides.    

THE GARDEN OF Unthriftiness, wherein is reported the dolorous discourse of Dom Diego a Spaniard, together with his triumph.  
Wherein are divers other flowers, (or fancies) of honest love. Being the inventions and collection of George Whetstone, Gent.  
Formae nulla fides.   

The Argument.  
DOm Diego a Spaniard, falling in love with fair Genevora, was in the prime of his fancies, with like love by Genevora friendly acquainted. Afterwards Genevora (else where fancying) had Dom Diego in such disdain, as still she crossed both his suit and service with scorn. Dom Diego seeing an impossibility of favour, exiled himself both from court and company, and vowed to live and dye in the Pyren mountains, unless Genevora, would both remove her misliking, and friendly fetch him home again: who solemnly persevering in this senseless vow, you may suppose among the Pyren hills, to wrist forth this following complaint of his wretchedness.  

DOM DIEGO HIS dolorous discourse.  

I (Wretched) weary am of toil, good death delay my pain:  
My words in waist, my works are lost, my wishes are in vain.  
I serve with faith, my hire is fraud, I love & reap but hate,  
And yet this woe doth wrong me most, I mourn without a mate.   

For if one drop of hope were seen, though dried with scorn in sight,  
I might with pining Tantal join, who starves in sweet delight.  
Or if I could but half the hill, roll up the tumbling stone,  
I had a mate of Sisyphus, to match with me in moan.   

But, o, O not my hap more hard, they have a scambling joy,  
But I no thought of sweet remorse, my sovereign is so coy.  
My joy in was, my woe in is, and so is like to be.  
My fancies turn, to fiery sights, alive, my death to see.   

The court, the court, where pleasure lives, with pain increased my care,  
Each blisie seemed bale, each gleam of grace, did missed my joys with scare.  
Each show of sport, my sorrows moved, each pleasure made me plain,  
Yet there I priest, to feed on sight, digesting dire disdain.   

Were love not blind, this life were strange, for one to love his foe,  
Moore strange to haunt a place of harm, but most to joy in we.  
But (O) who feels, his awkward fits, and sucks the sweet in sour,  
Shall bide a year of dole with ease, to feel one lightning hour.   

Such life I lykt, till sogge of scorn, did rise to damp my joys,  
Till secret sighs, wrought open scoffs, till flontes did quite my joy.  
Until the colours which I wore, my secret mourning wrayde,  
Till daunts of friends, till frumps of foes, my feeble hope dismayed.   

And till her bloody hate was seen, of every beetle sight,  
Till than I never shrunk, but sought with zeal, to quench her spite,  
But then (quoth I) Dom Diego wretch, bid Court, not care adieu,  
Some uncouth haunt, thy fortune seems, thy harms alone to rue.   

Thou gav'st thy word, to die her love, let word, in work agree:  
Her checking change, her scorn for faith, is no excuse for thee.  
A Hermit's life, beseems thy luck, go haunt the Pyren hills.  
To touch the food, we may not taste, increaseth hungry wills.   

Therewith I vow'de, in desert houltes, alone to rue my harm,  
Where fretting sighs, doth serve for fire, my frozen flesh to warm.  
My food, is apples, haws, and héepes', such fruits as feed a beast,  
Wild monsters are companions mine, in hollow caves I rest.   

A crabtrée staff my surest steed, my starved legs to ease,  
My thoughts new wounds, increaseth still, when cares I would appease.  
The watchful clock, the warning bell, the harmony I hear,  
Is dreadful 'noys of dreadless beasts, of whom I live in fear.   

My study is to way, and wail, that fortune thus doth lower,  
Where wealth by want, once love by scorn, my sweet by present sour.  
Where feathers slew, about my helm, a willow wreath to wear,  
My weeds of worth, by cote of leaves, sharp flows, for dainty fare.   

My stately home, by hard exile, delight, by withered woe,  
Doth force (god wot) my wasted tears, through grief, a fresh to flow,  
My lute that sometime lent me ease, hath neither fret nor string,  
My sugared voice, with howling hoarst, forbids me now to sing.   

My pens are worn, my ink is done, my paper all is written,  
Yet half my passions and my pain, unpainted are as yet,  
So that for only exercise, in trees and Marble stone,  
My grief to case, I forced now, do grave my wretched moan.   

Live long in bliss thou lofty beech, wherein this vow is writ,  
No luring friend, nor lowering foe, geneura's faith shall flit.  
To witness now, her foul untruth, Dom Diego writes below,  
Her vowed faith, from known friend, is reft by fawning foe.   

But chief of all, thou sacred stone, remain thou sound and safe,  
Continued thou these letters fresh, which are my epitaph,  
Hard by this rough, and ragged stone, Dom Diego (wretched▪ lies,  
Genvra's hate exiled him, yet loving her he dyes.   

This homely tomb, is all my help, to bring my death to light,  
This must record my faithful love, and show my Lady's spite,  
In time I trust some forest Pan, or wandering pilgrim may,  
Peruse my woes, and to my sweet, this sour message wray.   

To save my faithful boon unbroke, to show my service just,  
My sovereign's scorn, with face of faith, her treason cloaked with trus●,  
Me wretched Dom Diego forced, before my time to die,  
My bones unburied by this tomb, makes proof it is no lie.   

And now good death, with speed divorce, my soul from loathed life,  
My joys are worn, my pleasures past, my peace, is changed to strife,  
I see no mean of quiet rest, but only death by thee,  
Then spare them death, whom pleasure haunts, & use thy force on me▪   
Dom Diego having for the space of 22. months, thus lived an exiles life, only accompanied with sorrow, wretchedness and misery, which comfortless companions no one hour forsook him: it chanced that Dom Roderigo (a special friend of his) had occasion to travel into Gascoine, and as he journeyed (in the desert forest, whereof this wretched lover was made free citizen) he missed of his way: in the end finding out Dom Diegos homely cabin, of whom he demanded the way to Barcelone, & having his answer, as he departed, he espied in a corner of his cottage, two fair saddles, upon the one of them was engraven this Poesy in Spanish: 
Que brantare la fe, es causamuy sea,  
To violate faith, is a thing detestable.  Dom Roderigo reading this poesy, called to remembrance, how that his friend Dom Diego, in all his devices used the same, & to be short, he so handled the matter, as the hermit, whom he knew not (so was he overgrown with hair, and worn with woe) confessed himself to be Dom Diego his friend, & taking him a side, he delivered the whole cause of his exile. Dom Roderigo, seeing this foster lovers miserable estate, vowed (with what possible speed he could) to work his remedy, who (for more haste) forsook his journey, and returned home unto his own castle. At his coming home (making no semblance of his knowledge) he road to the place, where fair Genevora with her mother sojourned, of purpose to learn what new gallant had wooed her, and finting him to be a young gentleman of biscay, who shortly after (by her own consent) was minded to steal her away, Dom Roderigo, so cunningly coined with Genevoras Page (who wholly known his mistress secrets) that he certainly learned the night of these lovers departure. The same night, accompanied with ix. or x. Gentlemen his companions, and friends, he lay in wait for this Biskayne lover, & his Lady, who (about x. or a xi. of the clock, only accompanied with two or three gentlemen his companions) came merely on their way. Roderigo, so soon as he see the instrument of Dom Diegos misery, set spurs unto his horse, & with spear in Rest, so rudely welcomed this Biskayne, that for all his coat of plate, he pierced through both his sides. The soldiers of this amorous captain, seeing their master thus infortunately slain, and weighing their unable force, to encounter with Dom Rodericos company, saved themselves by flight, & left woeful Genevora to shifted for herself: on whom Rodericos servants soudainly seized▪ & blinding her with a scarf, with speed conveyed her, where wretched Dom Diego lived. Dom Diego somewhat comforted with the sight of his sweet mistress, began amain to crave recompense for his faithful service. Genevora so soon as she see Dom Diego, and known that sir Roderigo for his cause, had murdered her minion, answered him (& exclaimed on them both) with what opprobrious speech she could, yea the more they persuaded her with friendly requests, the more perverse was her refusal. Dom Diego thus seeing an impossibility of favour, with inward sorrow fell into a swoon. Dom Roderigo, seeing the distress of his dear friend, and the continuance, or rather increasing of Genevoras disdain, commanded presently her throat to be cut. Dom Diego half revived, seeing one ready to execute this judgement, proffered what rescue he could. O good Roderigo stay (quoth he) I allow of thy honest zeal, yet attribute my wretchedness to fortune, not her fault: Wherefore for the love thou bearest to me, for the love I own to her, see Genevora without further damage, safely conveyed home. Genevora seeing him offer rescue and crave her safe conduit, whose death, her frowardness well nigh had wrought, on the soudaive was won unto pity, and lovingly embracing Dom Diego, she offered satisfaction for his sorrows, and for an earnest penny she freely kissed him. Dom Diego, late the miserablest creature living, unwares become the happiest man alive, whose matchless pleasures appear in this under written triumph.   

Dom Diego his triumph.  

WHo can report that never tasted bale?  
What difference is, 'tween sorrow and delight?  
And who may tell, a more triumphant tale,  
Then he in joy, that late was kept in spite?  
I am the man: in moan there was none such:  
My moan is past, my mirth must be as much.   

Sigh so: alone, I rule in throne of joy,  
Of pleasures mount, I weald the golden Mace,  
Then leave to brag, you Princes proud of Troy,  
Your brayed delights, by me can have no place,  
Once beautes bliss, to vaunt doth make you bold,  
I have such hap, and ten times more in hold.   

And by your lean, your Ladies blemished are,  
Ask Theseus, who first lopped fair Helen's love?  
Sir Diomedes, the spoil of Troilus ware,  
Suppose them true, whom none could ever prove,  
Your lightning joys, such lasting woes did brew,  
As you may wish, your fames to die with you.   

But Lady mine, I wrong thee much in this,  
To poise thy praise, with such as lived or live,  
For nature's toil, some ways disabled is,  
She frames our form, but can no fortune give,  
But thou wert shaped (for fear of fortune's spite,)  
Of precious moold, by force of heavenly might.   

By heavenly might, and worthy well such toil,  
Whose lively limbs, the Indian riches show,  
Her hair five gold, her front doth ivory foil,  
Her eyes give light, as diamonds there did grow,  
Her words of worth (as cause doth 'cause her speak  
tween rocks of pearl, their pleasant passage break.   

What should I say? of truth from top too to,  
These precious gems, in beauty she doth stain,  
And more than that (besides the outward sho)  
Their virtues she, with vantage doth retain.  
So that of force, I (forced) must her define:  
Not bond to kind, but wholly is divine.   

Thrice happy man (whose love this Saint did lure)  
Dom Diego late, even very wretchedness,  
Now mayst thou daunt (thy vantage is so sure)  
That none alive thy pleasures half possess,  
Through chance of love, do thousands chance on death.  
But dying I, my love inlargde my breath.   

The scource of woe, is savoury sauce to taste,  
Our sweet delights, if once delight we feel,  
The rough repulse (if battering tire be placed)  
Amendss the spoil, when walls (perforce) do réele,  
Of every thing, the goodness doth increase,  
If once afore, the loss did us distress.   

Sufficient proof, my lingering love can show,  
I tired hope, ere time my truth could try,  
Yea desperate wretch, forworn with wreak of woe,  
I left my suit, and sought the mean to die,  
Now winning her, whose want wrought such annoy,  
On former griefs, I grafted my fruits of joy.   

In wax say I, men easily grave their will,  
In Marble stone, the work with pain is won,  
But perfect once, the print remaineth still,  
When waxed seals, with every browse are done:  
Even so in love, soon won, as soon is lost,  
When forced through faith, it bides both fire & frost.   

I can not vaunt of easy conquered love:  
I grant with faith, I foil geneura's scorn,  
But now in peace, Distrust shall never move,  
One jealous thought, of wild Actaeon's horn,  
And yet forsooth, this fear he liveth in,  
To loose the wight, with words, that words did win.   

O happy love, whose torments prove so sweet,  
O friendly foes, whose treason, tried my truth,  
O lucky man, Dom Roderic to meet,  
Geneura thou, thrice honoured, for thy ruth,  
Thou, only thou, (the rest of small avail)  
Didst save my life, when hope and all did fail.   

Now forth, I throw, my Gauntlet for this grace,  
To challenge such, as seek to foil thy fame,  
For sure the Arms, that dared my sweet embrace,  
Dares to defend, the honour of her name,  
If which I fail, in prison let me starve,  
So doom my fault, for so I should deserve.    

The complaint of two lovers, restrained from their wished desires, by the displeasure of their friends.  

WE luckless wights in thraldom linked still,  
May sit and sing, our lays of deep lament,  
Whose wayward friends, accoyde in sullen will,  
Both stir and strive, to sunder our consent,  
And yet (God wots) 〈…〉 a sting is in vain,  
One will serves both 〈…〉 and in pain.   

Have they desire, we should be shrined in clay?  
By sundering us, that loves each other so?  
Will they not know, Love doth no Law obey?  
Nor how he wraps, the wisest wights in woe?  
Think they that force, can force ourselves to hate?  
O, not, in vain, they seek to sow debate.   

Our plighted faith, shall never falled be,  
constraint of will, our wishes cannot yoke,  
Our words in works, in weal, and woe agree,  
Such care we have, to keep our vow unbroke,  
O love through whom, we live in this unrest,  
Once ease thy thralls, that thus obey thy hest.   

Remove their wrath, that works to wrack our will,  
That after storms, we may some sun shine see,  
The fault is thy, if love betide us ill,  
Which bond ourselves, that thou mightst set us free,  
Wherefore vouchsafe (to sour our sweet at last)  
That gleams of Grace, our clouds of woe may waste.    

¶ The Device of a Gentlewoman, to persuade her lover of her constancy, notwithstanding her show of hate, which she only used to quench the jealous suspicion of her friends.  

SIth fortune threats, to work our wreak of joy,  
By sousing of our ship, in seas of ire:  
Sigh sullen thoughts doth so our friend's accoy,  
As wayward will, still wresteth our desire:   

I see no means, more meet for our behove,  
Then sail to strike, till storms 〈◊〉 and go,  
Our looks must hate, although 〈◊〉 heart do love,  
Yea far from wish, our words must menace moan.   

And yet this show, of force must needs seem strange,  
Unto us both, 'tween whom was never strife,  
But let it help, I never mean to change,  
But keep my vow, unfallsed as my life.   

These simple shifts, we silly wenches work,  
To quench or cool, our jealous friends suspect.  
Whose Lynxes eyes, in every corner lurk,  
To tric, and spoy, what worketh our defect.   

Thus farewell friend, I willbe short with thee,  
Thou knowest my love, in darkest clouds will shine.  
And though in show, my words from works agree,  
Yet think I am, and ever willbe thy.    

¶ The rejected lover, with earnest desire, pursues the sight of his disdainful Mistress.  

THe damp of do●le, hath chaoked my delight,  
Sharp frumps 〈◊〉 frosts, doth nip my silly joy,  
My glymering grace, is darkened with despite,  
Yea sullen thoughts, my sovereign so accoy.  
As mists of scorn, still falls on my faith,  
My clear conceits, are clouded oore with care,  
And yet my heart, ay me no power hath,  
To shun the storm, that showeth all this scare.  
O strange effects, of blind affected love,  
To haunt the ill, whereby our mischiefs move.   

Much like the fly, that buzzeth by the flame,  
And makes a sport, to see the candle light,  
Till she unwares, be singed in the same,  
And so with death, doth buy her fond delight.  
Or as the mouse, that frisketh by the trap,  
At length is moved, to meddle with the bait,  
Which weaves (God wots) the web of her mishap:  
The bridge doth fall, and she is baind with weight,  
Such sweet conceits, enticing sorrows breed,  
To starve with woe, when joy makes far to feed.   

With which effects, I find my fancies witched,  
I feel the flame, yet can not shun the fire.  
Th'enticing trap, I see on treason pitched,  
And yet the bait to bite, I have desire,  
But (O ill hap) to work my harms increase,  
Both mischiefs want, the forerecyted force,  
I find no death▪ my sorrows to appease,  
And so my state, than other miser's worse:  
But sure my fault, or fate ordains it so,  
And therefore I, do take in worth this woe.    

A Gentlewoman falsely deceived with fair words, forsweareth hereafter to be won with flattering promises.  

Give me my work, that I may sit and sow,  
And so escape, the trains of trustless men,  
I find too true, by witness of my woe,  
How the fair words, with faithless works they blen,  
Much Siren like, with sweet enticing call,  
We silly dames, to witch, and wrap in thrall.   

O cruel friend, whose false of faith I rue,  
Thou forcest me, to count all men unjust,  
For if that vowor oath might make one true,  
Thou usedst such, as well might force to trust:  
But I betrayed, by too far trusting thee,  
Will henceforth take, fair words even as they be.   

I will be deaf, though thousands sue for grace.  
My sight as dim, if lights in silence pled,  
Salt tears, no oath, within my heart shall place,  
For this shall be my song, and daily read:  
Poor I that lived, in thraldom linked of yore,  
Unbound at length, will learn to love no more.    

The piteous complaint of Medea, forsaken of jason, lively bewraying the slippery hold in sugared words.  

A Mid the desert woods, I rue and show my fate,  
Exiled (O wretch) from courtly joys, bereft of prince's state,  
O love, from whence these plagues proceed,  
For service true, is this thy meed?   

What vaileth now my skill, or sight in Magiches' lore,  
May charmed herbs, suffice to help, or cure my festered sore,  
A salve I shaped, for others smart,  
Myself to aid, I want the Arte.   

I made the wayward Moon, against the Sun to strive,  
And ghastly ghosts, from burial graves, full often I did revive,  
To counterchaunge, the same with death,  
In flower of youth, some yielded breath.   

What future harms insude, I showed to other wights,  
And wanted skill for to prevent, my present pensive plights.  
Why did I leave my native soil,  
In foreign land, to have the foil?   

Thy love (O jason false) to win I spared no pain,  
Although Medea's loyalty, be guerdoned with disdain,  
The golden fleece, thou wert to blame,  
To bear away, I won the same.   

But lordly looks full often, and slippery service eke,  
To harmless Ladies have been vowed, to catch the suitors seek.  
And then departed, from plighted oath,  
Their sugared words, yield sealdome troth.   

Where be the careless vows, & fearless oaths thou swear?  
When I embarked from Colches coast, the mountain waves did tear?  
Where is thy faith, for golden fleece,  
To crown me Queen, of famous Greece?   

Might not thy traitorous mind, in lieu of friendship's lore,  
Forsake me (wretch) among my friends, but that with sail and over  
Thou me convaydst to place unknown,  
Among wild beasts to make my move.   

Who 'gainst their savage kind, do work me (wretch) not ill,  
But seems for to lament my case, or else the Gods y will.  
My loathed life, should lengthened be,  
To guerdon my iniquity.    

¶ The forsaken lover, prettily nippeth his Lady's inconstancy, for that (as he thought) she matched with his base in account, wherein coulerablie he discovereth both their names.  

THe Galley slave, which stil● doth stir the ore,  
If haply he, his wished haven espies,  
With restless toil, doth ply to be on shore,  
Hail in a main, my mates, he cheerly cries,  
But when with rough repulse, from blissful bay,  
He is enforced, on seas again to stray:   

Unhappy wight, then drowned in deep despair,  
Powers forth his plaints, with floods of brackish tears▪  
With whom I now, do claim a party share, ●  
Embarked in hope, where will the stern did wild,  
Thy faith was guide, which falsed me beguiled.   

My sails of sighs, my tackle framed of trust,  
With bliss, and bale, thus armed was my bark,  
Now vaunst on high, now thrown down to the dust,  
Now fraught with joy, now forced to care and cark,  
Yet quiet calm, at length of friendship's lore,  
Did seem to guide, my shivered ship to shore,   

And entering in, the narrow brook of bliss,  
Triumph (quoth I) dame Fortune hath the foil,  
The mends is made, that quiteth every miss,  
Adventurous boy, now reap thy fruits of toil,  
But trust to top, of Fortune's fickle wheel,  
Thy faith did slide, and I began to reel.   

For bitter blasts, of rage, and deep disdain,  
My anchors lost, my ship so sore they shook,  
That I again, was glad broad seas to gain,  
To scape the flats, within thy blisselesse brook,  
And whilst in hope, I wind and weather wait,  
A baggish bank, I saw, to pass thy strait.   

Agrieud whereat, through hate I hung the lip,  
And said too true, that waves, and women 'gree,  
Which saves the boat, and spoils the gallant ship:  
So Ladies love, lights often in base degree:  
And then I vowed, from which I will not serve,  
To haunt you both, no more than need shall serve.    

The lover attributeth his cureless wound to chance, by loving long.  

LOng have I lost my liberty,  
Alas through love, (long) have I so.  
(Long) have I stood in jeopardy,  
In loving (long) through pining woe,  
Whose constant truth long, hath den tried,  
Though (long) his suit hath been denied.   

By battery (long) the brazen brickwall,  
The cannon shot, doth clean deface,  
The longest trees in time do fall,  
Which (long) before had Boreas base,  
The little brook in running (long)  
Doth turn into a river strong.   

Then may it be I loving (long)  
My pining corpse by (long) delay,  
Can (long) abide the fury strong,  
Of ghastly death which (long) doth stay,  
His lingering stroke to have it so,  
That loving (long) should work my woe.    

A Sonnet, wherein is shown the strange effects of love.  

IN care I joy, my mirth is moved by mo●re,  
With floods of want, I wear to ebb my woe,  
Appayd I rest, in restless grief to groan,  
By fainting hope, my friendly hap doth grow,  
In waves of bale, I bathe in wished bliss,  
My wealth in woe, in pain my pleasure is.   

But how these hung, if so she search my harm,  
These few suffice, the same to show my (sweet)  
To raise her joy, myself I wholly arm,  
To freeze, or f●y, as she shall deem it meet,  
I bond, am free, and free, I yield her slave,  
That's my delight, that she desires to have.   

And sith my sport, doth make my sovereign ●oy,  
And mirth she finds, to thwart my faith with fr●ps,  
I sad, am glad, my noy, may force her joy,  
My sour, her sweet, my dole may clear her dumps,  
Yea life I wish, this were to do her good,  
Each day to waste, a drop of guiltless blood.    

The lover wearied with a number of delays, sues unto his Lady for pity, or otherwise her speedy denial, by death to work a speedy dispatch of his languishing days.  
IF pity may prevail, to pierce your heart with ruth,  
Sweet masters lend your listening ear, to hear your servants truth,  
Whose faith hath choose you judge, and jury if you please,  
If not, desert, shall try this cause, your dainty mind to ease.  
The whole record, is written, for rafing with my tears,  
My witness is, my withered corpse, nigh famished with fears,  
A thousand sighs besides, in open court will swear,  
You are the Saint, which with my heart, I honour, love, and fear.  
Disdain, that works delays, mistrust that moves my moan,  
No witness hath to hinder right, but false suspect alone,  
Yet bolstered up by scorn, they scoff my loyal love,  
And kept me play, with foreign frumps, till pricked by meed to prove,  
If pity could procure, your heart, my harm to rue,  
I found remorse, was priest to hear, the plaint before your view,  
And now good Lady note, my witness and my woe,  
If I deserve your love for love, give verdict yea, or not,  
For daunted with delays, for hap or harm I jump,  
And know you once if sullen will, my faithful love doth frump:  
I will not languish long, in cursed Cupid's flame,  
Death in despite, shall rid me dole, and you shall bear the blame,  
But if with sovereign grace, you may your servants state  
Yield recompense, of love betimes, lest liking come too late,  
To cool his flaming heart, by Cupid set on fire,  
Through heat whereof a Whetstone cold, consumes with hot desire.   

The thought of wont joys, doubleth the miserable man's grief.  

I That whose youth, was lulled in pleasures lap,  
Whose wanton years, were never charged with care  
Who made no flight, but reached the pitch of hap,  
And now besieged, with grief at unawares,  
How can my heart, but bleed to think on this?  
My joy with was, my woe is joined with is.   

With is? (O yea,) and ever will be so:  
Such hell is thought, to muse on joys foregone,  
For though content, would feign appease my woe,  
This myrthlesse note, continueth fresh my moan,  
O dear delight, with whom I dwelled in joy,  
Thy sourest sweet, my sorrows would destroy▪   

Destroy it would, but O, those days are past,  
When to my will, I found dame fortune wrought,  
My fancies clear, with cares are over cast,  
Yet bootless hope, will not forsake my thought,  
But still proroges, my grief, that else would dye.  
To vain effect, when I my toiling spy.    

The hap, and hard fortune of a careless lover.  

MY heart on hayh, with careless mind, I ranging freedoms field●,  
Blind Cupid, by arrest unwares, to beauty bade me yield,  
What yield (quoth I) at beauty's beck, as Venus' slave to serve?  
May he whom freedom, always 〈◊〉, by bondage stoop to starve?   

Not, Cupid, no: with me go tell, dame beauty bears no sway,  
Nor pleasure with her painted sheath, can make me Cupid pray:  
This answer made, with winged feet he took his flight away,  
And did impart, to beauty strait, his rest I would not bay▪   

With anger fraught, who forth with wild, an army should be had,  
And captains having charge themselves, in armour should be clad,  
Herself she placed in foremost front, with Pleasure in her hand,  
And Lady Love elected was, high Marshal of her band▪   

Fair Venus in the rearward went, her son in ambush lay,  
Thus Beauty and her warlike crew, did mearch in battle ray,  
But I poor I, which feared no force, in freedoms lease at large,  
Pursued my sport, with careless mind, of Love I took no charge,   

But all too soon, I herded a sound, of dub, dub, in my ear,  
And therewithal I saw in sight, ten aunchents to appear:  
Which powdered were with pined hearts, in bloody colours set,  
Which forced me flee to wisdoms wood, to scape Dan Cupid's net.   

But crafty (he) in scout there lay, who first gave charge on me,  
And brought me bond to Beauty's bar, her prisoner for to be,  
Than stinging love, enforced me pray, Dame Pleasure pled my case,  
But Beauty said in vain I sued, in hope of future grace.   

For martial law, forthwith (quoth she) thy heart in bale shall bounce,  
Therewith she charged her Marshal high, this sentence to pronounce,  
To bate thy pride, which wouldst not stoop, when beauty bend her lure,  
Thy casting shall be clods of care, Sans hope of happy cure.   

With floods of tears, thy dazzled eyes, thy sickly cheeks shall stain,  
And Fancy with his sleating toys, shall harbour in thy brain,  
Thy heart shall powdered be with pain, thy guts with grief to boil,  
Thy seething sighs, shall scald thy lips, to taste of inward toil.   

Thy entrails all shall parched be, with flames of fond desire,  
The heavy pierce of bodies grief, thy pined legs shall tire:  
Despair then was the hangman made, which doom did Beauty please,  
And I to bondage was bequeathed, to live in little case,   

Wherewith the Gem of Venus' band, unprayd of her bon gre.  
Did beg me▪ wretch at Beauty's hand, her prisoner for to be.  
And after vow of loyalty, did let me go at large,  
Yea further paid my farewell fee, my bondage to discharge,  
In l●e whereof at her command, my service lo is priest,  
As homage due, for saved life, yea, more her slave I rest.    

The absent lover in pawn of his constancy, sendeth his heart to his Lady.  
Receive, dear dame, as gauge of worthy love,  
This pined heart, bepoudred all with tears,  
Whose poesy is (No fate, my faith can move)  
A rare ascorde, in prime of roving years.  
When fancy sets a thousand thoughts on fire,  
When faith is choked, with smoke of filthy change,  
When folly fumes, when flameth fond desire,  
When raging lust, beyond his bounds doth range,  
When every bait beguileth, brainsick youth,  
When new found love, the old exileth still,  
When sugared words, are sauced with untruth,  
What strange consent, subdued my wanton will?  
Forsooth (sweet wench) this stay thy virtue wrought  
Thy rare report, this Metamorphose made,  
And jest my youth, should wrong thee with some thought  
I use this help, all vain desires to vade,  
In absence's lo, to leave with thee my heart,  
That all my joy, may live where thou dost rest,  
I likewise use, to free thy hidden smart,  
By secret sighs, which flies from covert breast,  
My heart to sand, to join in aid with thy,  
That thou mayst joy, although in pain I pine.   

The lover neither greatly favoured, nor openly refused, compareth the wretchedness of his estate, unto the pains of hell.  

FUll fearful is the talk of Tantal's grief,  
Who hunger starves in seas of dainty fare,  
Which fails to ebb, when he should found relief,  
And flows again, his hope with woes to ware,  
And how in vain, poor Sisyphus doth moan,  
To mountain top, who still doth roll the stone.   

And reaching thus, the point of all his pain,  
For joy he leaps, down falls his fruits of toil,  
Strait back he runs, to fe●ch the stone again,  
A new he rolls, but reaps his former foil,  
These be their plagues, which light in satans trap,  
To wish and want, to hope, and have no hap.   

If then it be, a hell, in doubt to live,  
Myself by proof, can blaze thereof the pain,  
Who finds grace, where scorn but late did grieve,  
And feed with hope, with hate is starved again,  
For all his suit, who can no answer know,  
If his sweet mistress, loves him yea, or no.   

If secret yea, this Item would but give,  
I love in heart, where most in show I hate,  
To free suspect, thus strangely do I live,  
To plight my faith, where scorn doth feign debate,  
Unto my smart, it were a sweet relief,  
Then should my lute, sound notes of joy, not grief.   

Then would I laugh, to see my Lady pout,  
And smile when most, she wrung her mouth awry,  
A sign of faith, should seem each thwarting flout,  
And jealous fear, far from my heart should fly,  
Although in arms, my foe did her embrace,  
If once she fleard, with fancy on my face.   

If open no, would will my suits to cease,  
I know the worst, and so adieu to smart,  
A hasty death, my sorrows could appease,  
Or languor would soon pierce my pining heart,  
Thus death were worse, how so my fortune ●ell,  
But now alive, I feel the pains of hell.   

By gleams of grace, I reap a hot relief,  
With storms of scorn, I freeze again with fear▪  
Thus floods of joy, do fall to ebb with grief,  
And doubtful hope, desired hap doth wear,  
In favour most, I move her still to love,  
Soft she replies, I must your patience prove.   

I fear to say, be plain with yea, or not,  
Lest in her pettes, not, please her peevish thought,  
And scorn with all, my joys do overthrow,  
So forward haste, with backward speed were bought,  
Thus am I forced, to dance attendance still,  
God grant for all, in five I get good will.    

G.W. to the sign of the brazen bell.  
AND not without desert, I thee a tyrant call.  
Which save a scorn thou mad'st of me, to each mishap art thrall,  
Thy credit is the church, O false unfriendly bell  
When as thou soundest the marridge▪ joys, or ringst the careful knell.  
The soldier in distress, by the alarm makes,  
And when good hap doth him advance, thy sides he rudely shakes,  
Digressing from his state, to toil of base chance.  
A thrall thou art, to Hick and Steven, in every morris dance,  
The hind doth deck his horse, with bells to make him free,  
The harmless fool, upon his cap doth make a scorn of thee,  
Besides to savage beasts, a servile slave thou rests,  
The dainty dog in Lady's lap, is iveld with thy iostes.  
The mounting falcon fit, bewrays by thee her stand,  
By thee the hobby dares the lark, before he well be mand.  
Of yore this phrase I learned, when things ne framed well,  
A capcase for the fool to call, a coxcomb and a bell,  
Then canst that thus art scorned, besides thy servile strokes,  
A triumph make upon his tears, whom love, ne lust provokes.  
To like thy mistress looks, and love her as his life,  
Who well is bend to quite thy toil, when stinted is his strife,  
He sure would thee advance, from brass to glittering gold,  
If that by piercing peals thou wouldst, his sorrows once unfold,  
Thou seest what sighs I send, and how my suits be paid:  
Thou seest my mistress smile with grace, and grant she erst denayed,  
Thou seest me Cupid's thrall, her love in league with hate,  
Thou seest my bliss is weighed with bale, when wrath doth weave debate:  
Thou seest my greatest joys, are counterpeisde with pain:  
Thou seest my mirth is mixed with moan, when jealousy doth reign,  
Yet when she smiles, thou sparest, my sorrows to deface,  
And when she frowns, thou fearest to speak, to win her wont grace.  
Well, sith through fear or scorn, thou lettst me languish still,  
I present now will pled for grace, to win my wished will,  
And first good tongue prepare, to tell a lovers tale,  
Sound forth my joys, aduaun'st by hope, by dire despair my bale,  
And when mistrust infectes my Ladies haughty heart,  
Than scalding sighs, give you the charge, to show my ceaseless smart.  
But if she list to toy, and smile with friendly face,  
With easy force then arms assay, thy mistress to embrace:  
Then sorrow seek revenge, upon her ruby lips,  
Then wounded heart receive the cure of cruel Cupid's nips,  
Thus forward vaunce yourselves, the master griefs to wray:  
The silent man still suffers wrong, the proverb old doth say.  
And where adventure wants, the wishing wight ne thrives.  
Faint heart, hath been a common phrase, fair Lady never wives.   

The lover blameth his Lady's mistrust, wherein is figured the passions of an earnest lover.  
WHat fancy fond did force your mind,  
My dear to judge me so unkind,  
As one of wits bereaved,  
To break the bonds of loyalty,  
As one devoid of honesty?  
Not, not, you are deceived.  
For where such perfect amity,  
Is linked with true fidelity,  
By no means junos' jealousy  
A sunder may it part.  
For since with you, I fallen in love,  
Assigned by the Gods above,  
My heart did never seek to prove,  
From yours once to start.  
For proof to try what I have said,  
Mark how my flesh, away doth fade,  
And inward parts doth fret:  
For who can hide the slankering fire,  
But that it will show forth his ire,  
By virtue of his heat.  
So those ypearst with Cupid's dart,  
Cannot so closely cloak their smart.  
But that they must complain,  
Their scalding sighs, their sorrows show,  
Their colour fading too and fro,  
Bears witness of their pain,  
Their sour sitting in secret nooks,  
When others laugh, their lowering looks,  
Declares them caught in Cupid's hooks,  
And far as men forlorn.  
Their often making of their moan,  
Their solemn sitting all alone,  
In places secret and unknown,  
Still cursing they were born.  
Are tokens true the Peet saith,  
To whom these Turtles vow their faith,  
If feigning we may trust.  
Certes these torments all men grieve,  
And therefore sure I do believe,  
Their sayings to be just.  
Wherefore to guerdon loyal love,  
My dear such fancies from you move,  
As Envy late did feign.  
For truly I protest to you,  
The heavens shall fall ere I untrue,  
My loyalty will stain.  
And time I trust will so provide,  
When elvish Envy shall her hide,  
From bale to bliss truth shall us hide,  
To top of Fortune's wheel.  
Where we to banish fallen annoyed,  
Still live replete with blissful joy,  
Still lauding of the blinded boy,  
Whose force we often did feel.  
Till time obtains that happy day,  
Let no conceit your mind affray,  
In judging me untrue.  
Which blessed hour shall hap with speed,  
Or else my will shall want his meed,  
And thus sweet wench adieu.   

The infortunate lover determineth rather desperately to end his sorrows, then to prorogue them with bootless hope.  

THe traitorous mate, by law adjudged to dye,  
If fear of death, should work this foul effect,  
In hope Sans hap, his secret to escry,  
Or slander forge to peach the unsuspect,  
Proroging thus, his life by dallying death,  
Besides his gilt, with shame should stop his breath.   

In desperate frays, where ransom is denied,  
Base were the mind, in hope of grace to yield,  
Whose courage else, might daunt his enemies pride,  
And so by force, with fame, to win the field,  
For where our wrong, doth work our overthrow,  
In vain we hope, to wear away our woe.   

And why should I, with hope persuade my thought,  
To bathe in bliss, past bonds of my desert,  
For my base hap, my love to high is sought,  
Whom favour none, but frowning overthwart,  
Alas can reap, at my sweet mistress hands:  
I love, she hates, and thus my fortune stands.   

With withered woe, my life I wear away,  
Where often I hear, thundering in my thought,  
Through love of her, my friends and foes to say,  
Upon myself, I wilful murder wrought:  
Then sith my death, this strange report shall shape,  
In vain for grace, till later gasp I gape,   

Nay, wretch divorce, delays from wished death,  
Cut through the thread, which care consumes to slow,  
Thy mounting mind, despiseth servile breath,  
And canst thou yield, to fortune's overthrow?  
Thy doom is death, by Ladies scorn decreed,  
Needs most thou dye, then best to dye with speed.   

Some friend will writ, on my untimely tomb,  
With faithful zeal, I so my Goddess served,  
My life, my love, my living all and some,  
I reaved, and left, before my fancy swerved,  
And when my suit, her moved to angry mood,  
To work amendss, I sacrificed my blood.    

Verses of complaint, devised for a well meaning lover, to move his mistress to pity.  
NOw cease good Lady cease, to weave my further woe,  
Where scorn hath worn my joys to ebb, let pity force them flow.  
To you, I sue and serve, to you I wail and weep,  
For you my restless eyes doth watch, when other men do sleep.  
To you my sighs I sand, which makes my heart to bleed,  
For you my tears, like Tiber streams, from dazzled eyes proceed:  
Not wealth I do enjoy, but that I wish you part,  
No grief doth gall, your dainty mind, but I do ease your smart.  
To roll in bags of gold, in choice I would detest,  
In faith for to enjoy your love, and harbour where you rest,  
If you I might enjoy, I now forworn with woe,  
To former joys would be restored, in spite of him says Noah,  
Not torment than should vex, or nip my heavy heart,  
All gulfs of grief, shall soon be damned, which drowns my joys in smart,  
Of age, I should triumph, and death I would defy,  
And fortunes force I could withstand, for all her cruelty.  
In you to save or spill, in you to make or mar,  
In you it rests to end my woes, or 'cause my further care.  
Twixt life and death I stand, twixt hope and deep despair,  
Till loving lines for pining woe, returns a lucky share.   

The complaint of a gentlewoman being with child, falsely forsaken.  

WHat gulfs of grief, may well receive,  
The tears which I in vain do spend,  
What faithless wight, dared once deceive,  
By falsehood foul, so firm a friend,  
With loose, who wrayes how well she loved,  
When choice for change his fancy moved.   

Though reason would, I should refrain,  
His blame, my shame, for to bewray,  
Good Ladies yet, my pinching pain,  
enjoins me here, the truth to say,  
Whose wretched plight, and pensive state,  
Surmounteth far, Queen Dido's fate.   

What meanest thou wretch, from joy exiled,  
To yield unto his feigned tears?  
With careless vows why wert beguiled,  
And fearless oaths, the traitor swears,  
Ere nuptial rites, why didst thou trust,  
His faith, and yield unto his lust?   

Thou jason false by perjured flight,  
Thou Theseus theft, decypherest plain,  
I Dido wretch (thou Trojan knight)  
Here equal griefs, in breast sustain,  
I justly say, which words I rue,  
All men be false, and none be true.   

The fruits ysprung, by our desire,  
My wealth, thou waste, might move thy heart,  
To grant, the rights, which love require,  
And search a salve, to cure my smart,  
But sith thy faith, thou dost forego,  
Come death and end my wretched woe.   

Yet Ladies all beware by me,  
To rue sweet words, of fickle trust,  
My heaped harms, let warning be,  
How filled talk, doth prove unjust,  
And rule your love by reason's lore,  
Lest future plagues, you do deplore.    

Against one which written a slanderous libel in dishonour of a Lady.  

YHacht thou wert in envies nest,  
Whose murdering tongue, might not suffice  
To work a Ladies great unrest,  
But that with pen thou didst devise,  
Vile vice to paint, in virtues place,  
Her spotless life, for to disgrace.   

Whose sacred head, with wisdom fraught,  
Is guided by Dame Pallas skill,  
Her dainty mind Minerva taught,  
The good to love, to leave the ill,  
Then may it be, she doth deserve,  
Report from reason's lore to swerver.   

No, not, thou wretch, and viper vile,  
From nature's law, which dost rebel,  
The world doth know, thy guilty guile,  
In dungeon dark, hence forth now devil,  
For all men doth, thy sight repined,  
From manly acts, which dost decline.   

The heavens do frown, with earthly food,  
Thy carrion corpses, should nourished be,  
Thou only bird of viper's brood,  
And bitter branch of rankors tree,  
A Harpy for thy filthy facts,  
For God and man, abhors thy acts.   

Unséene henceforth, thou caitiff couch,  
Thou murderer vile of others fame,  
How dared thou once presume to touch,  
The honour due unto her name,  
And make report that Diana chaste,  
Fair Venus' knights in bed embraced.   

Allotting to her harmless tongue,  
All rustic speech, with Stentors voice,  
Disdaining them whom love hath stung,  
For that with change, she makes her choice:  
Not careful of her curious charge,  
But gladly rows in every barge.   

How may it he such fertile soil,  
Well tiled and sown with happy seed,  
Can choose in recompense of toil,  
But yield thee fruits of Venus' meed,  
Why work I her so great abuse,  
For guiltless fact, to frame excuse.   

My pains herein deserves no praise,  
For all men knows, more than I writ,  
But thou that didst this rumour raise,  
If that thou darest so show thy might,  
As truth maintain thy slanderous words,  
Committing trial to our sword.   

Who ready am her to defend,  
Till wounded corpses, with blood begord,  
Of worldly woes do make an end,  
By froward force, of slanderous sword,  
Or recant, to make will I,  
And for offence, her mercy cry.    

The unfortunate lover is persuaded his misshap to grow by destiny.  

YEt was not Helen's fa●e, ne Paris fair,  
Untimely which did weave the Trojans woe,  
For former faults, the Gods agreed in ire,  
With future pangs, their vengeance down to throw,  
And making choice, as instrument withal,  
That Paris love, should king Priam's thrall.   

Such heaped harms, within the Heavens been,  
For one man's case, to 'cause another's care,  
Unfriendly so, the fates men's haps do spin,  
In partial wise, to yield each wight his share,  
Then love, why should I curse, or scorn law,  
Or blame the dame one whom I stand in awe.   

Her virtues rare, her peerless beauty bright,  
Her Pallas wit, I joined with Sabas skill,  
My restless eyes, which covets so her sight,  
Are not the fates, which forceth me this ill,  
For higher spirits, devised long ago,  
My youthful years, should pass in pining woe.    

¶ The discommodities of forced marriages, by the example of Venus and Vulcan: supposed for the more plain explaining of the inconveniences, to be written to a covetous carl, having but one only daughter, refused the offers of diverse gentlemen, some being of good worship: and married her, unto an old crooked coughing crust, for his great wealths sake.  
IN prime of pride, when Venus' mind, to junos' rites aspired,  
A wealthy crust, to catch her up, her father then desired,  
Perusing well his subjects states, who best might be her fear,  
At length he chus'de a Croyden chuff, to woo his daughter dear.  
Whose wealth I do confess was great, y gott by endless toil,  
At smiths forge, with daily heat, his apish face did broil.  
This gallant squire, a wooing rid, his face be grimde with dust,  
And coming to her father's house, this dainty Dame he bust.  
Who at the first this Lady bright, some monster thought to be,  
Retiring back, affright she was, his ugly shape to see.  
But in the end her father's threats, and Vulcan's gifts full brave,  
Did force her dainty mind to yield, this crabtrée piece to have.  
The marriage rites in haste were wrought, in presence of them all,  
Then he this peerless dame conveyed, unto his rustic hall.  
Whereas the rest solemnized, her friends they did departed,  
The which once done, then straight begun, the sum of all her smart,  
For he fallen to his former toil, before the dawning day,  
Where bouncing blows on stithy smit, the sturdy steel to fame,  
(Debarred of rest) did force her wish, to taste of wedlocks game.  
And as it is no news to tell, at all nor seeming strange,  
How lovers they do never lack, whose minds be bend to change.  
Here mighty Mars, y cleaped God of war and battle ray,  
Enforced to yield as Cupid's thrall, and eke his hests obey.  
Determined to give attempt, to fraught his heart with bliss,  
Though conquest hard, yet glory great, quoth he the guerdonis.  
Before her eyes his siege he plants, like Phoebus' rays that shan,  
Assault he gave, she did resist, he made no battery than.  
But one repulse his valiant heart, in no respect amazed,  
He shot again, the bulwarks fallen, and all the walls were raised.  
The fort thus won, as he did wish, he trod on pricking thorns,  
To gain the spoil of Vulcan's toil, and arm his head with horns.  
The which without resistance great, he joyed at his will,  
But jealousy the gulf did force to fear and dread that ill.  
Which in the end, when true he found, he framed by his art,  
A chain to tie these lovers fast, so that they might not start.  
And then for all the Gods he sent, to see this laughing game.  
Where they in meed of pleasures past, received open shame.  
Lo here the bitter fruits wherewith, such marriages be fraught,  
Where wealth doth win the woman's will, and virtue set at nought.  
Such chance may hap to the old snudge, enforced by greedy gain,  
Where pennies possess the daughter's love, the man she doth disdain.  
And so far well at this my verse, me thinks I hear thee snuff,  
But doggerel rhyme, were far to good, to greet a dunghill chuff.   

The forsaken lover showeth to what intent he weareth Tawny, bewraying the bondage that wanton Dames bring their thralls unto.  

MY fancy once in fair carnation stood,  
And truth to say, I lived in delight,  
But lo (such is the fruits of wanton mood)  
Both Dye, and days, are changed with despite,  
In Tawny now, I forced am to go,  
(Forsaken wretch) my mistress storne to shoe.   

And would to God, who notes my wretched weeds,  
Would wisely shun, the baits that beauty lay,  
Her sweet receipt, an ill digestion breeds,  
Once bond enough, her thralls must needs obey,  
Yea worse than that (though love seem near so hot)  
When all is done, forsaken is their lot.   

This is the badge, that Cressida's heirs do give,  
They lure with grace, and lose with deadly hate,  
Beware of them you that in freedom live,  
If not, behold, a pattern of your fate,  
Even I myself, do wear this Tawny hue,  
To show I served, a Cressida most untrue.    

The rejected lover, determineth, either to purchase his Ladies speedy reconcilement, or else desperately to die.  

OF thee, dear dame, feign would I learn the truth,  
If he that brings, the innocent in band,  
Or (so betrayed) who slayeth him faunce ruth,  
Is thought herein to have the bloodiest hand▪  
If he that doth, the faultless first betray,  
Then cruel, note the words, that I shall say.   

I am the man, that long can hardly live,  
You with your scorn, betrayed me to despair,  
Then though my hand the deadly wound do give,  
The murderer, it willbe said you are,  
But if you shame, such fowl report to prove,  
Now yield, sweet wench, or never grant to love.   

Behold the shoulder-blade, that shall confirm my faith,  
My woes consent, in wanton years to die,  
I live to hear, but what your answer says,  
Once leapt therein, my life or death doth lie,  
For trust me now, I (wretched) have decreed,  
To win your love, or else to die with speed.    

The lover being wounded at the Bath, sues unto his Lady for pity.  
I Bathing late, in Baths of sovereign ease,  
Not in those baths where beauties bliss doth flow●  
But even at Bath, which many a guest doth please,  
But lo mishap, those waves hath wrought my woe.  
There love I saw, her seemly self to lave,  
Whose sightly shape, so sore my heart did heat,  
That soon I shunned, those streams myself to save,  
But scorching sighs, so set me in a sweat,  
That lo I pine, to please my peevish will,  
And yet I freeze, with frosts of chilling fear,  
Thus in extremes, I live and languish still,  
Without relief, my restless woes to wear.  
I blame the bath, as brewer of my bale,  
To give me dregs, when others drink delight  
Thus to the streams, I tell a senseless tale,  
Time to beguile, when absence spits her spite.  
But now perforce, I sue to thee (sweet wench,)  
With tears I plead, for pity and for ruth,  
But if thou scorn'st, my scorched heart to quench,  
Do but command, and death shall try my truth,  
This blemish then, by thee, the bath shall get,  
Which many one, to health hath helped of yore,  
A mean to mash men, in dame beauty's net,  
And can not give, a salve to cure their sore,  
Which if you shame, then say no more but so,  
I yield to love, those words will ease my woe.   

The lover to his Lady in Durance.  
ABandon care, from dainty breast,  
bewail no more your fate,  
For why the Gods to pity dressed,  
will change his stormy state.  
And grant you joy, at your desire,  
though rancour rage like Aetna fire.   

Her answer.  
THe proverb says, whilst grass doth grow,▪  
For want of food the steed doth starve,  
So hope perplexed, with pining woe,  
From reason's lore so often doth swerver,  
That dire despair, doth win the fort,  
Where hope for succour should resort.   

A description of jealousy.  
A Fearful thought, which never doth remove,  
But when in arms, he holds his hearts delight,  
A wrangling hate, where once was passing love,  
Often cold with hope, yet never quenched quite,  
Moore clear in sights, than words this woe is seen,  
Sown by suspect, but rooted with debate,  
Watched with mistrust, whilst that the ear is green,  
Through ripe mown down, with sith of mortal hate,  
Is jealousy.   

To a disdainful Dam.  

DIsdainful dame why didst thou scorn, the wight that wished thee well,  
May peevish pride a harbour have, where beauty doth excel?  
No rascal here did seek to sport, or join with gentle race,  
Though haughty looks (thy form except) were shown in basest place.   

The haggard gill, despiseth often, to pray on princely fowl,  
To straggle out at carrion crow, and check with ugly Owl.  
Thy gadding tricks, pursues her trade, with vantage in defect,  
Hail fellow met, with basest sort, the best thou dost detect.   

Believe how that thy form was framed, by fond Narcissus glaze,  
Dame beauties gifts full fickle are, and fade as doth the grass,  
Thy golden hairs, to hoary grey, will change their glittering hue,  
Thy Lays life, and luring looks, no doubt thy bane will brew.   

Thy face so fresh, in prime of youth, will wrinkled be with age,  
Than taunting tongue, from scornful nips, dame nature will assuage.  
Thy mountain breasts, which bears such breadth, thy pride in princely gate,  
Thy graces all in tract of time, will change their former state.   

Then shalt thou feel the force of scorn, what fruits from pride proceed,  
The Ace of hearts, will haunt the stock, thy chiefest help at need.    

The lover in praise of his Lady.  

Apelles', O, thou famous Greek,  
Thy praise unto my ears doth sound,  
Since thou so far abroad didst seek,  
In countries through the world so round,  
Till thou hadst drawn forth Venus' shape,  
Whose beauty past, Sir Paris rape.   

O that thy fortune had been such,  
To light whereas, my Lady lives,  
Whose glistering beauty, is so much,  
As to think on, my heart it ryves,  
For Venus she doth pass as far,  
As doth the Sun, each shining star.   

Each gift, which nature could devise,  
By art my Lady, E, retains,  
A sacred head, which to surmise,  
The truth, all other far it stains,  
Her hairs be of so glistering hew,  
As gold they stain, to outward view.   

Her crystal eyes, her sugared tongue.  
From whence such pleasant words do flow,  
That liking binds, both old and young,  
The ground to love, where she doth go▪  
Her cherry cheeks so fresh of hew,  
Her veins much like to Azurs blue.   

Her Ruby lips, her snowish neck,  
Her proper chin, her crystal breast,  
Her pleasant veins, whose paps do deck,  
Her comely corpses, so finely priest,  
Her slender arms, with milk white hands,  
Would catch the Gods in Cupid's bands.   

Her other parts so finely wrought,  
Do pass my wits for to recite,  
For why it seemed dame Nature sought,  
In Court, each gorgeous gearle to spite,  
When first of mould, she did her frame,  
She is so beautiful a dame.   

No marvel though, the Grecian king,  
Did shape his course, through fishfull flood,  
From hateful Troy, his wife to bring,  
Or else in Phrygia leave his blood.  
If half such beauty, in Helen were,  
As is in this my Lady fair.   

If Briseis beauty, were so bright,  
Her comely syces, so excelled,  
None may blame Achilles' flight,  
When raging love, his heart compelled,  
To leave his Lord amid his foes,  
A salve to search, to cure his woes.   

Nor yet Ulysses' none may blame,  
Though frenzy, he himself did feign,  
Because without reproachful shame,  
He would avoid the Grecian train,  
The which to Troy, their course did shape,  
To fetch again Sir Paris rape.   

If that the beauty, equal were,  
Of chaste Penelope his wife,  
To match with this my Lady rare,  
For whom I hazard would my life,  
Amid a troop of Trojans fallen,  
My fancy she doth feed so well.    

An answer to a Gentlewoman by love constrained to sue to him whom of late she scorned.  

Nigh driven to death by raging love, revived by happy means,  
I smile you seek, the erst you scorned, with those your silver streams.  
Now time performs, my words prove true, when as I was your thrall,  
Your sugared joys, in flouting me, would turn to bitter gall.   

Else not the name of Goddess just, dame Venus doth deserve,  
Unless her servants, she advance, and makes her foes to starve.  
Your scalding sighs, let witness be, what sorrows I sustained,  
When as with piteous plaints I showed, the pangs that most me pained.   

But thou sprung up of tigers seed, ingrateful dame I say,  
When as with tears, I sued for grace, wouldst smile & go thy way.  
Now let me laugh a while I pray, to see plunged in pain,  
This is the salve to cure the smart, that thou art like to gain.   

For why the child, but young once burned, the fiery flame doth dréed,  
So I once bound and now am free, will taste no lovers meed.    

The contemptuous lover finding no grace where he faithfully favoureth, acknowledgeth his former scorn, used toward love, to be the only cause of his miseries.  

IN bondage as I live, attached with Cupid's mace,  
Exiled from joy, bereft of bliss, past hope of future grace,  
Myself is judge, I do deserve,  
Without relief in pain to starve.   

I smiled when I was free, at those which fettered ware,  
But I (God wot) with beauty's bait, was caught in Cupid's snare.  
When lest I thought of such a woe,  
My choice, in change, was sleating so.   

But now with soaking sighs, to one I sue for grace,  
Whose presence when I do approach, she strait doth shun the place.  
My sight, my sighs, my tears nor truth,  
Her stoanie heart can move to ruth.   

Yet love, that lives by hope, a fresh enforced me to prove,  
With pen to plead, what bashful tongue, dismayed was to move.  
But lo in vain to her I writ,  
For love my guerdon, is despite.   

I serve a froward saint, a Tiger's whelp I ●roe,  
She smiles to see me wade in smart, her wish my wretched woe.  
And yet in truth she blameless is,  
My only fault enforceth this.   

She is but instrument, myself, the very cause,  
Why I consume with cureless grief, for scorning Cupid's laws,  
Wherefore (sith love is sworn my foe)  
Divorce me death, from lingering woe.   

And then for others heed, this silly boon I crave,  
That I upon my timeless tomb, this epitaph may have.  
The thing, that caused me here to lie,  
Was scorning love at liberty.    

Epilogus.  

Vide fo. 65. foe 73. b. 80. & 95  FOr wantoness heed, here wrayed is the thrall,  
Of loving worms: how both they freeze and fry,  
How sweetest thoughts, are saw'st with bitter gall.  

Vide▪ 93.  How care, them cloys, that live in jealousy,  
What ill success, stolen marriages ensue,  

Vide. 93.  How forced consents, ●ield bear a loving heart,  

Vide 74.75 b.  How sugared words to late, fair Ladies rue,  

Vide 72. a.  How vain they strive, that lovers seek to part.  

Vide 90. a.  How envious tongues, are apt to sow debate,  
How fancy brings, the stoutest minds in awe,  

Vide 97.87.  How lovers wronged, from love do fall to hate,  

Vide 94,  How ramping rigs, regard no modest law.  
How lingering love, doth often misliking move,  

Vide 93.  How gallants gifts, fond women often allure,  
How pride & ease, prefer men's thoughts to love,  

Vide 100  How lawless lust, all mischief puts in ure.  
How scornful dames (the set men's suits at naught,)  
Of such as served, are glad to seek relief,  

Vide 74.2.100.  How loving thralls, from setters free are taught,  
To shun the snares, that snarled them in grief.  
And to conclude, in every Page is wrayde,  
A lightning joy, a life of lack is love,  
Who loveth lest, which proves is best appaide,  
For women's minds as wether cocks will move.  
Wherefore these toys, who list to read aright,  
Shall find loves woes, not how to love I writ.   
FINIS.   

The Arbour of Virtue A WORK Containing the chaste and honourable life, of a Bohemian Lady, to the which is adjoined, the complaint of two Hungarian Barons, that wagered the spoil of her Chastity.  
¶ Wherein, are the several praises of certain English Ladies and Gentlewomen: being the translation, collection, and invention, of George Whetstons Gent.  
Formae nulla fides.   

To the right Honourable, and virtuous Lady, jana Sibilla grey, now of Wilton, George Whetstons, wisheth a long and happy life.  
RIght honourable, and virtuous Lady, I found, that our chiefest and greatest encouragement unto virtue, is to hear the memory of the virtuous, continued with the careful reports of worthy writers: for that such testimony is both a precedent for our lives, and also foreshows after death, our fames. Likewise it as necessary, to register the lives of the lewd, that the terror of their punishments and infamy, may fear us to offend. So that moved with these consideraetions (among a number my leasurable labours) I have faithfully (though not curiously) translated the modest and noble life of a Boemian Lady, with the fall of two Hungarian barons: which unadvisedly wagered the spoil of her chastity. Which simple toil of mine, as a testimony of the reverent duty, I own unto you (under the title of the Arbour of Virtue) I humbly present to your Ladyship, to the intent that when you are wearied, with the dispatch of necessary cares and causes, you may recreate your honourable mind, with the mild report of this Ladies good behaviours. Wholly assured that as you lively present her virtues: you will likewise, both defend her fame, and my honest endeavour, with the countenance of your regarded name. From my lodging in Holborn, the .15. of October. 1576.  
Your honours during life to dispose. George Wh●tstors.   

The Argument of the following discourse of Lady Barbara's virtuous behaviours.  
A Boemian knight, named Vlrico, married a virtuous Lady, called Barbara. Vlrico being a little nipped with poverty, would feign have supplied his want, by service in the wars, which adventure, he long delayed, through the jealous suspicion of his wives behaviour, notwithstanding his imaginations quieted, by the direction of a cunning Necromancer, named Pollacco, he craved entertainment of the king of Hungary, the king (vouchsafing his request) employed him in the wars against the Turk: the wars ended, Vlrico (laden with honour) returned unto the king's court, where one day the Lord Alberto, the Lord Vdislao, and he reasoned of women's behaviours. The Hungarian barons held opinion, there was no woman so chaste, but might be wone to wantonness. Vlrico (in his Lady's behalf) reasoned to the contrary. In the end, they grew into this heat of argument, that both the Lords wagered their lands to his, that if he dared abide the trial, that the one of them, within two months would obtain bodily delight with his wife. Vlrico accepted of their lay, the wager being set down in writing, the King and Queen were both witnesses of the match. Alberto gave the first adventure in these loving affairs to win her to wantonness. The Lady finding his humour, by policies (as a thief that sought to rob her honour) caused him to be imprisoned, where to bridle his wanton affections, she made him to spin for his victuals. Alberto (in hope of liberty) discovered to the Lady the whole wager, and how that the Lord Vdislao would come about that enterprise, who in very deed shortly visited her castle: whom she likewise made forth coming, and in penance of his offence, he reeled the thread Alberto spon: the King and Queen hearing of their success, had the Lady in high estimation, awarded Vlrico the land, and banished the barons for their slanderous opinion.  

The Arbour of Virtue.  
AS supreme head of Hungary, a king there whilcome reigned,  
corvinus height, whose worthy force, a world of praises gained,  
What law & justice, once had made, through rule he never broken  
He cherished friends, he chaste his foes, with many a sturdy stroke,  
Ymoued through zeal, with clattering arms, he stooped S. Mahomes pride,  
The Turkish crew from Christian bounds, he chaste on every side,  
This noble prince unto his spouse, a gallant Lady choosed.  
A matron in her maiden years, such modesty she used.  
By whom she had three valiant sons, three virtuous daughters eke,  
Which worthy imps, in wisdoms lore, did live without their like.  
Besides with haps to heap his joys, his subjects gréede so well,  
That foes could find, no hollow hearts, against him to rebel,  
As vassal to which noble king, there was a Boeme knight,  
A valiant and a venturous Lord, Vlrico was he height.  
In prime of force, he plied the wars, his parent's purse to ease,  
His parents dead, he home returned, his tenants pennies to fease.  
But small was left to pray upon, his ancestors did desire,  
By dint of shoulder-blade, not bags of dross, to honour to aspire.  
Which when Vlrico wisely weighed, and wanted on account,  
He bend himself with hazard life, by service for to mount.  
But lo by lot, he hit in love, a wonder small to tell,  
Save that his Lady's virtues did, her beauty brave excel.  
Her portion yet (God wots) was small, yet all in wisdom lay,  
A dowry little reackt upon, where churls doth bear asway,  
But Beauty here affection raised, than Virtue friendship wrought,  
These two conjoined, in seemly dame, in love Vlrico brought.  
The earth (quoth he) is sure the Lords, the fruits thereof his wrack,  
And may it be, the beggar then, shall claw his servants back,  
O not, no wight as yet hath seen, the righteous beg his bread,  
Although the lewd through foul offence, are often nipped with need,  
And if I should for gain (quoth he) unto some wanten bend,  
Which venture into Cornwall would, her honesty to sand.  
Vlrico (hapless) then should be, a common scorn of men,  
Delight to deal, from pleasure pain, should change his fortunes then.  
To swim in wealth he means not so, to hazard his delight,  
He somewhat hath, and more may get, by manhood, and by might,  
Thy choice, if once, thou winst thy choice, in spite of Fortune's wrack,  
Will save what thy adventures gains, for to relieve thy lack.  
Then mayst thou live in foreign soil, without a jealous brain,  
Then mayst thou taste, at thy return, sweet pleasure for thy pain.  
Why stand'st thou then amazed (quoth he) thy honest suit to move,  
The silent man, the proverb saith, hath seldom hap in love,  
Confess that constant, long thou livedst, y linckt in beauties bands,  
And challenge freedom for thy truth, at thy sweet mistress hands.  
This weighed, Vlrico hies in haste, whereas his Lady lives,  
And there her friends in her behalf, him entertainment gives,  
As time did serve, he showed his zeal, unto his only joy,  
She liked his words, but more himself, how so she seemed coy,  
His gallant shape, his virtues strange, his honour never stained,  
His truth once known, the truth to tell, her love, had soon obtained,  
And quickly eke, with friends consent, them juno's rites doth glad,  
He had his will, and she her wish, and what would more be had?  
The nuptial feasts, y finished, Vlrico with his dame,  
Bids friends adieu, to castle his, they do their journey frame,  
Where one doth raise the others joy, one rids the others care,  
And thus contented with their choice, in joy their days they wear,  
Till need at length Vlrico nips, who was in spending free,  
His rents but small, these two accounts, will hardly well agree,  
And yet to poll his tenants poor, his honest mind doth grieve,  
What then, he feign would serve his league, but loath his wife to leave.  
See here how passing love is apt, to raise a jealous fear,  
Withouten cause, we so do dread, the thing we hold full dear.  
Vlricos mind, despiseth want, yet dreads to seek relief,  
In absence, lest his ladies change, should work his greater grief,  
And thus in silence long he mourns, and ebbs his joys with woe,  
Till secret sighs, and heavy looks, his inward harms foreshow,  
Which haply when his spouse espied, to clear his clouds of scare,  
Sweet heart (quoth she) unto thy wife, thy hidden sorrows share,  
So shall thy cares abridged be, so shall I know thy mind,  
And haply in my counsel thou, some comfort sweet mayst find.  
These words Vlrico liked so well, as strait he tells the truth,  
Of present want, of mean to wealth, in order as insu'th,  
Mine own (quoth he) you know my state, or present lack withal,  
Our charge is great, our minds are high, our living is but small,  
Of force we must our bravery leave, or seek some way of gain,  
And vailing to the valiant mind, is sure a matchless pain,  
This is the mean to mend our want, to serve my sovereign league,  
Who now is bend with might and main, the Turk forto besiege,  
Those wars, ere this, I well have tried, under Cilia Count,  
Those wars, I trust, shall force thy fear with wealth, & fame to mount,  
But ah (ay me) I loath, yet would, unfold what makes me stay,  
But sith sweet wench, love is the cause, allow what I shall say,  
Long wished, at length I won thy love, O gem of all my joy,  
As loath I am to leave thee now, lest absence make thee coy.  
I call to mind fair Helen's mood, who trudged with Trojan knight,  
When as her Lord was forced from home, with foreign foes to fight.  
The ruffling rout at Ithaca, Ulysses far from home,  
Doth force a thousand fearful thoughts, within my head to roam.  
Then Penelope's constancy, this dread would gladly wear,  
She placed alone, without her leak, a fresh doth raise my fear:  
The speech of woman's meekness eke, my thoughts doth run among,  
And strait my thinks I motions hear, that do Vlrico wrong.  
In mind I view, what battery is, against thy beauty bend,  
In thought I see, what sharp assaults, in sugared words are sent,  
What fearless oaths, what careless vows, do flee, to foil thy fame,  
In sine thou forced, with yielding will, dost blot thy name with blame,  
Then rage I strait, the (harmless) 'gainst, as though these toys were true  
And strait I check, those ranging thoughts, with reason that ensue.  
Vlrico fie, why wrongs thy wife, so foully with mistrust,  
Whom hitherto thou couldst not find, in word, or deed unjust,  
Whose modesty thou seest abhors, with rufflers for to prate,  
To save thy wealth, whose mind to work, gives wanton youth the mate,  
Whose life, with foul and lewd offence, report could never spot,  
What cause hast thou Vlrico then, her fame with fear to blot?  
To break this brawl, fair Barbara (so was this Lady named)  
With pretty nips, with pardon mixed, this answer forthwith framed:  
Well said (quoth she) first feign you fear, to free my shrewd mistrust,  
That choice and change, in wanton court, will make you prove unjust,  
But simple I accept your show, and faith I trust to find,  
But to my Lord, if so he please, I yet will show my mind,  
I long ere this, have weighed our want, and thought on means of gain,  
And sure I saw, the way for wealth was as you did explain.  
Yet dared I not, unfold the same, unto my loving Lord,  
Before his words foreshewd his thoughts, with mine did well accord,  
By service you shall credit win, by service likewise fame,  
By service you shall riches reap, as you deserve the same,  
By service, favour with our prince, acquaintance in the court,  
You sure shall find, slack not these helps, your wife doth you exhort:  
If God with children, bless our life, their youth from vices freed,  
Your credit after in the court, will stand them in some steed,  
And in your absence I so well, will to your causes see:  
As you shall have relief abroad, sufficient left for me.  
Yea sure, to brave it with the best: yet live within our bounds,  
Such skill I have to most avail, to rate and rend our grounds,  
And know you once, my heart is high, if living, there to stretch,  
Yet stoop I will to please my Lord, to live as rents will retch.  
And thus Vlrico dost thou hear, what thy poor wife can say,  
In wealth, in want, abroad, at home, thy will she will obey.  
Whose modest tale Vlrico herded, with patience to the end,  
And said, to use her sound advise, long erst his thought did tend:  
And now I am resolved (quoth he) the wars sweet wife to ply,  
Let worst betide that may befall, I sure with fame shall dye.  
Yet ere I go, my friends shall know my mind, and state at large▪  
But of my land, my house and goods, none shall but you have charge.  
And in this mood, from friend to friend, so long he did resort,  
That at the length Pollaccos skill, he herded by fond report,  
Of whom was said by secret Art, he could such wonders do,  
As none could work an act in thought, but he the same would show.  
He could inform the loving worm, if his fair Lady feigned,  
Or if she loved, yea if she had, her honour ever stained,  
For ramping rigs to Venus' joys, their nature prone that feales,  
He could work means of sport without, a Tympany with heals.  
Strange charms he had to force them love, that late to hate were bend,  
He could foretell, what hap, what harm, the heavens to us meant,  
With thousand sleights of hidden skill, which I omit to writ,  
Yet turn I to Vlricos thought, when rumour did recite,  
Pollaccos learning thus at large, who said in his mind,  
To free my jealous head from fear, a mean now shall I find,  
Pollaccos knows if that my wife, herself will faithful show,  
Or if she doth her honour stain, I absent, yea, or not,  
If in this journey she be just, then dread for ay adieu,  
If she be false, I fellows have, whose wives are found untrue,  
Once fear, yet frets my heart as sore, as if such fault were weighed,  
With that Vlrico posts with speed, to crave Pollaccoes aid.  
And coming to his homely house, he doth Pollacco greet,  
And craves to speak a word with him, where he should think it meet.  
They both unto a Garden walk, and thus Vlrico said,  
Your special gifts in secret Arts, to me of late bewrayed,  
Compels me now (Pollacco friend) to crave your friendly might:  
My suit is small, and yet be sure, great gain your pain shall quite.  
In what I can Pollacco said, I rest at your command,  
Then use your Art (quoth he) I pray, to grant this poor demand.  
Truth is, I mean with speed to serve, my sovereign in the wars,  
Yet jealous thoughts, I wots not why, with this accord still jars,  
Sometime my Lady's zeal in show, doth banish dread with hope,  
But strait again, mistrust doth give, to fearful fancy's scope,  
And thus to nought avail, I wear my golden time in woe,  
Such is the force of passing love, to fear for every show,  
But now Pollacco to my suit, by art I crave to know,  
In absence mine, if that my wife be faithful, yea, or not,  
Let worst betide, yet so I shall, my dread exile (quote he)  
Such feats you can, and therefore now, let will with skill, agree,  
Pollacco masde, to hear this tale, to this effect replied,  
That Science to, her scholars yet, such secrets had denied,  
And how should I, dissolve this doubt, that learned judges dread,  
Conceive the best, ne wrongs the worst, sans knowledge of the dead,  
And therefore Sir Vlrico cease, your suit surmounts my skill,  
What so (quoth he) of skill befalls, grant but agreeing will,  
Whereon Pollacco thus replied, sith niceness will not serve,  
I grant I know by Art this act, but use from law doth swerver.  
Yet breach of law I hazard will, to free Vlricos doubt,  
Stay here (quoth he) to work this feat, I will now go about.  
Anon he comes, with picture framed, much like Vlricos wife,  
So long (quoth he) this form keeps fair, she lives an honest life,  
If yellow, tempted than she is, if black with merry gayles,  
Unto the Cornish mount god buoy in haste, her honour sails.  
This known (appayd) Vlrico said, in hope thy words are true,  
Hold here thy hire, my heart is eased, and so good friend adieu.  
Away he goes, and to his wife, his household charge commits,  
Which done, while wind and whether served, unto the seas he gets:  
Such speed he made, as soon he at Albe regal lands.  
The king there lay, Vlricoes' suit, who shortly understands,  
And gladly entertained him, yea, gave him pay in peace,  
Which grace, when foes enforced in fight, did double force increase,  
As proof ere long appeared plain, the Turk began to stir,  
Which caused the king to cry alarm, to chase this graceless cur.  
The valiant wights, in armour dight, their forward minds do show,  
Each thing prepared for soldiers use, to wars these gallants go,  
Mustapha Basca, had the charge, of all the prince's power,  
Vlrico was his Colonel, preferred in happy hour.  
Post haste they made, until they came, within their enemies sight,  
Than bustling to their bloody tools, they show good wills to fight.  
At trumpets sound, the horsemen fling, the shot to skirmish fall,  
The archers with their feathered darts, both horse and man doth gall,  
The fury of the forward wights, to handy strokes than bring,  
Here houlbards hew, there bloody swords, on battered targets sing.  
Some faint with wounds, some flee for fear, some fight to save their friend,  
Thus either side, king Harrie knocks, both doth receive, and lend:  
The battle long continued hot, each would feign victor be,  
But to be short, for all their force, in fine the Mahomes flee,  
The Turk his pride abated well, and all things quiet made,  
Mustapha Basca, and his charge, returned with honour lad.  
The Ladies now (with many a kiss) receive their sovereign Lords,  
And every man to see his friend, a buon venu affords.  
In court there doth no triumph want, these captains to delight,  
At jousts, some use their force in sport, that late did fiercely fight:  
Some makes report of wreakful wars, the bliss, and cake the bale,  
Some loiterers in their Lady's laps, doth tell a wanton tale:  
Some have an ore in others boat, some colours do expound,  
And some doth note their heavy looks, whom Cupid's dart did wound,  
Sir Vlrico, among this crew, some exercise did use,  
To whom at length Alberto said, sir knight, I can but muse,  
That you that have a Lady fair, two years from her have stayed,  
You know a woman's force (God wots) a long is easily laid,  
You know that love with leisure joined, makes wantonness to be bold,  
She hath her will, health, wealth, and ease, she rules and not controlled,  
With all these helps she sure will wish, to taste some wanton joy,  
Then if she have her wish at will, think you she will be coy?  
Whereto Vlrico thus replied, I answer not for all,  
But sure my wife will constant be, what fortune so befall,  
She is no gadder far from home, she helps not beauties blaze,  
Her words and works are modest both, she gives no youths the gaze▪  
With honest exercises still, she fancies fond prevents,  
To hear my good success abroad, her careful mind contents.  
Sir knight quoth Vdislao then, ●ince so you love your wife,  
Beshrew me if that my reply, do sow seditious strife,  
You have enough, what would you more, let others have a snatch.  
Alberto said, will he or nill, she would in corners catch:  
And to be short, both Lords affirm, that Lady liveth not,  
If that a wise and valiant knight, her honour can not blot.  
Vlrico did deny it flat, they still affirmed it true,  
And thus they plead until the queen, their controversy knew,  
Who for that these barons so wrought, a slander to her sect,  
Their foolish, rash, and judgement false, she sharply did detect,  
Alberto (fuming at this cheacke) this answer made the queen,  
Not for to move your grace to wrath, our argument hath been,  
Yet if Vlrico like the match, my land to his I lay,  
How that ere twice the Moon hath cast, her horned head away,  
I battle will his brows so well, as horns thereon shall grow,  
Provided that his wife afore, the wager doth not know.  
And further, if I win her love, his Lady so he use,  
As if that she her honour did, in no respect abuse.  
The young Lord Vdislao would, the self same wager try,  
Vlrico armed himself to take, their proffers by and by.  
Indentures to assure this match, engrossed were in haste,  
The covenants as before expressed, were in the perchment plasie.  
The king and Queen gave free consent, the wager should be laid,  
Th'indentures sealed, by either part, and all things sure are made,  
It was agreed Alberto should, the battering tire lay,  
If Lady Barbara did resist, Vdislao should assay.  
With sharp assault of wanton words, to batter down her praise,  
If two months she could make defence, these Lords, their siege should raise,  
And loose their living for their hire, which small misliking breeds,  
See, see, the fond effects of hope, Alberto forward speeds.  
And spies in fine the castle walls, wherein this Lady lay,  
Who safe arrived at his Inn, straight changed his riding ray,  
And clothed a new, as pleased his mind, it was not long ere he,  
To see Vlricos castle hide, his hearts delight to see.  
To purchase welcome first he told, Vlricos happy state,  
And having causes in those coasts, he dared not pass his gate,  
Before he had, to her his wife, those welcome tidings shared,  
To find occasion to return, how she his Lady fared.  
Dame Barbara (joyful of these news) requested him to take,  
In worth: such entertainment, as her power was to make,  
The Lord Alberto made no bones, to be his Lady's guest,  
But like a Courtier brave and bold, vouchsafed her request,  
Till supper time with honest talk, she wisely held him tack,  
When sup he should, of dainty fare, she saw he had no sack,  
Alberto (feasted like a prince) pricked forth with pleasant brain,  
Assayed many times to fall, into some loving vain,  
Dame Barbara though feign she would, have broken this botelesse prattle,  
Lest he should think, his welcome herded, did hold him tack in ●atle,  
Which courtesy he construed thus, The Dame that is content,  
To listen to a tale of love, to love will soon consent:  
Forgetting how of force they must, some such discourses hear,  
Or to to coy, their friends forsake, which manners will not bear.  
But leave I that. Alberto thought, his match was meetly sure,  
And still to stoop, this modest dame, he threw his wanton lure,  
He flattering questions moved often, she prettily answered all,  
At length, into his loving suit, he soberly did fall.  
And with a sigh dear dame (quoth he) admit my faithful zeal,  
Who forced through love, must needs unfold, that feign I would conceal,  
Your beauty, birth and comely shape, report so high hath prised,  
That trust me as I herded you named, in thought, I thus surmised,  
This Lady stains, sir Paris rape, in face, in form and hue,  
And as he loved through brute of fame, so I in faith do you,  
And try who list, love wounds so sore, if he empayreth health,  
His thralls can hardly be restored, by reason, wit, or wealth.  
Their sovereign's grace, must be their salve, nought else can work their rest,  
Unless they will abridge their days, of both the bad's, the best,  
I love I grant beyond my reach, for to recant I strive,  
But love I must, and loath I am, to live and die alive,  
My help is on myself, that I untimely murder try,  
My woes consent, yet have I vowed▪ in your sweet sight to die.  
Despair hath sped me to this place, my sorrows to appease,  
My tale is told, you know my truth, preserve me if you please,  
This loving zeal, so sharply shown, did strike the Lady mute,  
Her answer now, was far to seek, she hated so his suit,  
Alberto, that did note this change, in words, in looks and all,  
Thought how his shape & friendly shoes, had brought her heart in thrall.  
And therefore to untie her tongue, he s●ily stolen a kiss,  
She little said, and yet she thought, there was no woe to this,  
And as she mused, she found a mean, his follies to reprove,  
But yet the feat 〈…〉 be wrought, with feigned show of love,  
Which she 〈…〉, as if she loved in deed,  
Or that her ●●use of strangeness late, of passion did proceed,  
Alberto thus advanced with hope, afresh now pleads for ruth,  
She stands not greatly on his suit, but falls to feign his truth,  
The knight (by proof of pleasures past) when she this issue took,  
Thought 〈…〉 sugared words, she had devoured Cupid's hook,  
And (as he thought) to free suspect, for oaths he spared not.  
That neither change, or any chance, should him, with falsehood blot,  
Few words to waste, she feigned at length, she was content to love,  
And pointed both a time and place, a pleasant taste to prove.  
But lest by absence from your Inn, quoth she, suspicion grow,  
I now bequeath you to your case, when to return you know.  
Alberto lulled with thoughts of joy, unto his lodging goes,  
Who thinks, each hour a year till that, the morrow morning shoes.  
Well yet at length, the hour came, that flattered him with grace,  
Who all too hastle hide himself, to his appointed place,  
Arrived there a pretty minx (directed well before)  
Unto a lodging brought this Lord, and locked fast the door,  
When he was safe away she went, for joy Alberto hoped,  
But see, a change, too late he spied, he was in prison popped,  
The windows made of iron bars, the walls of stone and clay.  
A bed he found, but far unfit, he thought for Venus' play,  
Is this a place of joy (quoth he) O not I am betrayed,  
He had no sooner spoke these words, but came saire Barbaras maid,  
Who at a grate Alberto calls, to whom she used these words,  
This is the curtsy sir knight (quoth she) my Lady you affords.  
First like a thief sith that you sought, to rob her of her fame,  
She hath in prison laid you fast, your lawless love to tame.  
And further (to alloy your heat) unless you daily spin,  
This distaff laden full of flax, your fare will be but thin,  
This said, the distaff in she throws, and bade him thus adieu,  
My tale is told, you know your task, now work as pleaseth you.  
Alberto at these sorry news, strait to this choler wax,  
Shall I from martial exercise, fall now a spinning flax:  
Shall I that lived at liberty, in prison thus be penned,  
Shall I be sysed of meat and drink, that late so much did spend?  
And shall a Lady foil me thus, whose heart the stoutest quailed,  
There with he strove to break the doors, but small his force availd.  
His grief but green with terms of hate, he blamed this Lady often,  
And supperless so went to bed, which was not very soft,  
But in respect of other plagues, he thought the hardness small,  
Who tired with tormenting thoughts, a sleep did quickly fall,  
When he had slept the night away, and cares digested well,  
Sharp hunger so assailed this Lord, as he to spinning fell,  
His gouty and ill shapen threads, so moved him to smile,  
That well he liked the exercise, his sorrows to beguile.  
At dinner time dame Barbaras maid, was to Alberto sent,  
To share his lowance like his work, to whom this courtoll went,  
And rudely calls to see the yarn, he had that morning spun,  
Alberto (eager of his meat) delivered what was done,  
By Saint Marie (quoth this quean) your buswiverie is good,  
And after she had frumped him well, she fetched his sorry food,  
A week or more, these hungry meals, in worth Alberto took,  
In hope of grace, which came so slow, as he his hope forsook.  
See, yet desire of liberty, see now the fruits of need,  
See here how thieves their fellows peach, see, see, how hope doth feed,  
Alberto for dame Barbara sends, to whom he shows at large:  
The wanton wager, words, and works, as I have given in charge.  
And how that Vdislao would, ere long attempt the like.  
Which strange discourse the Lady did, into a wonder strike.  
O God (quoth she) what cause give I, men should suspect my life,  
I never climbed beyond my reach, I am a loving wife.  
And comes there yet another Lord, that would my virtues stain,  
Well let him come, he shall abide, hard penance for his pain.  
This said, she willed the gaylor see, Alberto spin apace,  
His news thus recompensed were, whom now I leave a space,  
To show what rumour in the court, in every corner roung,  
Some say Alberto's joys were such, as loath to part he sung.  
Vlrico often his image viewed, to see what hue it bore,  
And all the while it yellow seemed, he lived in perilous fear,  
But when it turned to white again, what so the courtiers say,  
He knew Alberto had the foil, and he had wone the lay,  
The other competitor thought, his fellows joys too great.  
So that to have a share with him, he posted till he sweat,  
And posting thus he at the length, Vlricos castle spied,  
And making then more haste than speed, post haste he thither hide,  
Who safe arrived where he did wish, to make his welcome more,  
He had an errant ready stamped, yea two or three in store,  
He first commended to this dame, her husbands happy health,  
His special credit with his prince, his fame and heaps of wealth,  
And how on causes of his own, into these coasts he came,  
And how he herded in happy time, his friend Vlricos name,  
And also how not far from thence, did devil his Lady fair,  
And how he bound by courtesy, to see her did repair.  
The Lady smiled in her mind, to hear this currant excuse.  
And yet dissembling what she thought, she friendly did him use.  
Yea courteously she craved he would, his causes yet adjourn,  
And at his friend Vlricos house, with her awhile sojourn.  
Her gentle offer to accept, this Lord was nothing nice,  
And yet ere long her courtesy, he bought at too high price,  
Well both (contented, as it seemed) into the castle go,  
Where as fair Barbara glads her friend, with welcomes great in shoe,  
She talked, she walked, she sat, she stood, as liked this gallant best,  
Yea many a strange discourse, did pass, between her, and her guest,  
In since to toll, this lord in love, a sighing she began,  
And asked how Alberto fared, as if she loved the man,  
The lord, Vdislao did take, this motion in good part,  
Who smyld and said, in secret thought, Alberto had her heart,  
And for to strike her in a maze, quoth he, I wot not well,  
Since last he viewed these country costs, where as my friend doth dwell,  
Fair Barbara, as though she feared, this lords welfare did feign,  
And is he not (quoth she) returned, unto your court again?  
This lure thus thrown to work some hope, in Vdislaos' breast,  
The Lady broken the prattle off, and fallen to feast her guest,  
The lusty Hungarian lord, liked well, her kindness shown,  
Yet still he for advantage stayed, to make his passions known,  
Whose subtlety, when she espied, t'imbolden him the more,  
Against her will, her eyes d●d seem, more wanton then of yore,  
And trained thus to treat of love, at length his tongue found scope,  
She made it nice, yet not so strange, but he might feed on hope,  
He feeding still, on show of grace, was loath to leave the field,  
She faring, as she liked his talk, by piece meals 'gan to yield.  
In fine she feigned how that his suit, had won her to agree,  
And how she would sometime that night, her lovers lodging see,  
Until which time this frolic lord, committed her a Dio,  
A feigned good night, she likewise gave, and wild her servants shoe,  
Him, where he should that night be lodged, whose lodging was prepared,  
Next chamber to the prison where, Alberto hardly fared,  
Well Vdislao went to bed, full fraught with secret joy,  
And still he looked when his fair dame, would keep her promised foy,  
But all in vain, he gaped for grace, she glad he had him catched,  
Yet see, the fond conceits in love, in hope, the night he watched,  
He heard no noise, no mouse could steer, but straight in thought he smiled  
O welcome Lady (quoth his heart) but when he was beguiled,  
He Sopor blamed, for charging her, with to much drowsy sleep,  
But of his faults, and wager fond, at all he took no keep,  
Well all this night with fancies tossed, no sleep lodged in his breast,  
When morning came, this comfort came to set his heart at rest,  
Dame Barbaras maid, brought him a reel, and yearn Alberto made,  
She told him he, should reel the same, for that he had assayed  
To rob her Lady of good fame, to her then life more dear,  
If he refused, to do his task, he should have sorry cheer,  
Look you for neither meat nor drink, before your work be done,  
And sir (quoth she) t'encourageencourage you, the thread Alberto spun,  
He is your neighbour, far you well, I can no longer stay,  
These sorry news Vdislao nigh, out of his wits did fray,  
Alberto took his penance ill, but he did ten times worse,  
He raged, he raved, the Lady's scorn, himself, and all did curse,  
But what for that? how so he did, himself aggrieved feel,  
One of these evils, he needs must choose, to ster●e or else to reel,  
And of both bad's, the best he choosed, in fine to work he fallen,  
His rash attempt, had this success, which he deserved well.  
Now that this virtuous dame hath got, the conquest of her foes,  
These lordings pennannce for their pride, she to their servants shoes,  
In whose behalf, her bowtie here, I must of force commend,  
They wanted not, for dainty fare, how so they fast were penned,  
These barons men, (at liberty) straight posted to the Court,  
And of their lords imprisonment, there make they large report,  
These news of note, about the Court, went flinging every where,  
So long as both the king and Queen, these gallants fortunes hear,  
The king to learn the certain truth, to Lady Barbara sent,  
His chancellor, and other Lords, where as they found fast penned,  
Lord Alberto and Vdislao, Alberto spinning thread,  
And Vdislao réeting it, with fretting well nigh dead,  
The Lady showed the new come Lords the matter all and some,  
And how to tame their lawless love, the barons bid this doom,  
The Chancellor what erst is shown, returned to the king,  
Whose pleasure was, he should with him, with speed both parties bring  
They all arrived at the Court, the king judged out of hand,  
Vlrico had the wager won, and he should have the land,  
And more against the spoiled lords, with justice to persever,  
In penance of their lavish tongues, they were exiled for ever,  
Fair Barbara, for foiling them, did to this honour mount  
She was the chief about the queen, in credit and account,  
Whereas she lived many days, and held her wish at will,  
Now being dead in worthy fame, her virtues liveth still.  
Virescit vulnere virtus.   

The complaint of the Lord Alberto and Vdislao, the two Hungarian barons, that unadvisedly wagered their land, to win the virtuous Lady Barbara to wantonness: Who having the foil (besides the loss of their livings) for their slanderous opinions, were condemned to perpetual exile.  

COme gallants come, by both our falls take heed,  
With our fond faults, you most infected are,  
You work more wrong, in slander then in deed,  
And yet in deed, your flattery worketh scare.  
Learn, learn, by us, too lavish speech to spare,  
Large offers though, fair Ladies oft entice,  
Think there be dames, that will not vail to vice.   

First mend your own, ere others fault's you blame,  
See that your life, before you teach you try,  
Pluck out the beam, that blinds your sight with shame,  
So may you find a moat in others eye,  
What yet you note, reprove not openly,  
Observe this course, hear, see, and say the best,  
For lavish words, procureth much unrest.   

Had we but weighed, that half experience shows,  
We might have lived, in honour as of yore,  
The want we wail, and warn you by our woes,  
The lest of which, your hearts would much abhor,  

Their exile.  For what may be, than this a mischief more,  
Once lusty Lords, now prisd at lowest rate,  
And free men born, to live in banished state.   

What noble mind, whose hands could weapons use?  
Would brook his hands, should either reel or spin,  
To feed on crusts, what fool would not refuse?  
Whose coarsest far, a mess of meat hath been,  
In this distress, perforce we lived in,  
Too hard a plague, say you for fault so small,  
We think not so, that have endured the thrall.   

For who at full, may value honest fame?  
Whose wound so deep, as his that slanders carud?  
Our slanderous thoughts, suspected every dame,  
Our slanderous tongues, said all from virtue swerved,  
For which exile, we worthily deserved,  
She used us well (whose praise we sought to spoil)  
In housewives trades, for meat to make us moil.   

Our land we lost, by law and wager both,  
He won it well, that ventured for the same,  
But worse than these (the which to show I loath)  
Our follies lean, a memory of shame,  
Unto us both, a corsive to our name,  
Well what is paste, too late we call again,  
Sufficeth now, we warn with proof of pain.   

And know you first, what raised this slanderous thought,  
Forsooth our lives, in loitering dalliance spent,  
We other doomed, by faults that they had wrought,  
And joined with this, their spoils, by fond consent,  
Which yielded bond, unto our loving bent,  
Did make us think, at every wanton whoop,  
To lures of love, a Lady fair would stoop.   

What yet we thought, our tongues did sore recoil,  
In slandering them, our lives for to accuse,  
For who so vaunts, of any loving spoil,  
Confesseth how, himself he doth abuse,  
The greatest vice, that worthy minds may use,  
Deserving well, their worth, who should not praise,  
Deserving ill, much less a thousand ways,   

O stay we here, what means our advise?  
When we God wots, so much of counsel need?  
And how again, shall we unhappy rise?  
Alberto speak, what way shall we proceed?  
And art thou mute? Vdislaoes' heart doth bleed,  
O (men forlorn) how wretched is our state?  
Whom heaven and earth, oppress with heaps of hate.   

Who will esteem, our manhood and our might?  
By Lady's force, to card, to spin, and reel,  
Where so we live, all women will us spite,  
And cause they have, with such disdain to deal,  
Yet plagues enough, we else in penance feel,  
O slander thou, on us these haste brought,  
Fowl fall the cause, thou harboredst in our thought.   

Had wretched we, for treason banished been,  
Some would have ru'de, our misery and moan,  
But slanderous speech, is such a hateful sin,  
As slanders falls, lamented are of none,  
In books of shame, their faults are rolld alone,  
Their names are scorned, their presence ten times more,  
All filthy vice, that all men thus abhor.   

This rests then, for us unhappy men,  
To lead our lives, in houltes and uncouth woods,  
A hollow cave, to make our homely den,  
To foil hunger, with apples, haws, and buds,  
For nobles born, God wots, but sorry foods,  
There we, poor we, must rue our harms alone,  
Or monsters make, companions in our moan.   

O friendly death, our worldly farewell give,  
From hated flesh, our loathed life divorce.  
Spare them good death, the which in pleasure live,  
And use at once, on us thy matchless force,  
To thee alone, our woes sues for remorse,  
When all is done, our help remains in thee,  
Then strike with speed, our sorrows for to free▪    

In praise of the right H. the Lady I.S.G. of Wilton.  
WHere love affects, or flattery forgeth praise,  
There fails no will, fair Ladies fames to wray,  
But Art I lack, such partial notes to raise,  
Truth guards the check, in what I writ or say,  
And warded thus, when all their wit is shown,  
I boldly vaunt (although in barren verse)  
This Lady stains, their Ladies every one,  
She shows in works, what they in words rehearse,  
Past nature's reach (a gift of great imprise)  
Her faultless life, puts slander to his shifts,  
And yet she hath what Nature could devise,  
To set a gloss, upon her gallant gifts,  
Besides all this, she hath such fortune lent,  
As both commends, and doth herself content.   

In praise of my L. E. R.  

THe pearls of praise, that deck a noble dame,  
Exceed the price, of any juellers show,  
Yea beauties gifts, are but a gloss of fame,  
In virtues soil, these precious jewels grow,  
And that the dame, whom I do here commend,  
Hath store of both, my able proof attend.   

A passing wit is, lodged in her head,  
The which is decked, with hairs of golden hew,  
Her modest eyes, are sild with gases lead,  
And yet they stain, bright Diamonds in view,  
Her words of worth, doth win her tongue such praise,  
As when she speaks, the wisest silent slays.   

Besides her shape, which sightly is in show,  
Her mind is with, these noble gifts possessed,  
Her bounty doth, beyond her beauty go,  
A care she hath, to ease the thrall distressed,  
Thus is she decked, and this is she I say,  
That wears and bears, these pearls of praise away.    

In praise of my L. Cecil of Bourlegih.  

THe cruel wars, that Nature long did move,  
By force to pluck, good Virtue from her throne,  
Appeased in peace, to show the fruits of love,  
Of precious mould, kind faults to work anon,  
And having shaped this seemly dame of clay,  
For virtues help, she sent her strait away.   

When Virtue viewed, dame Nature's worthy skill,  
With great delight, she kissed this Lady's face,  
And then (to show, that Nature wished her will)  
She posted to, her treasure house of grace,  
Her golden shows, where she good Lady spoils,  
To deck this dame, thus was she both their toils.   

And with these gifts, into the world she came,  
Whereas she doth, in worthy credit rest,  
Yea sure her life, so beautifieth her name,  
As Envy grants (who seldom says the best,  
Her wit, her weeds, her words, her works and all,  
So modest are, as slander yields her thrall.    

In praise of Mistress M.H. now Bridges.  
Beauty with brags of late, wild virtue yield her thrall,  
But soon the Gods to stay their strife; a parliament did call,  
And fame with thundering tromp, was wild their subjects ●i●e,  
By credit of their thralls to show, who was of greatest might,  
Beauty against this day, her proudest shows prepared,  
And sure a troop of gallant girls, her seemly self did guard,  
Their spangles, wrought, a gaze each dame in feathers slauntes,  
Their strange attires, their cuts & cost, foreshewd, their scornful vaunts,  
They looked all askance, when beauty claymde her right,  
That lo the Gods amazed were, to see so proud a sight.  
Anon good Virtue comes, with train of bashful Dames,  
Whose modest looks, wrought more regard, than Beauties blazing flames,  
A silence now was made, that they their suits might move,  
Both Ladies sue for sovereign rule, and thus their titles prove,  
Proud Beauty vaunts on power, poor Virtue on desert,  
And by your leave, for all her brags, the worst had Beauties part.  
Her shows were blemished much, with surfling and such like,  
Which known, beauty (through fear of foil) into a maze did strike.  
Who gazing round about, fair bridges did espy,  
Whose seemly feature form and shape, did much delight her eye,  
And scorning other proof, she Bridges called in place,  
Who (to set forth, her sightly self) apeard with vashfull grace,  
Quoth Beauty? see my ●oyle, you Gods, now judge aright,  
Half part with you quoth Virtue straight, my gifts adorn this wight:  
For bounty guides her thought, which beauty far excels,  
And pity rules her noble heart, where pride in Beauty dwells,  
To love, and Lawless lust, where beauties lures do train,  
She wins a calm, yet frienndship firm, with show of chaste disdain,  
A mean contents her mind, where Beauty is extreme,  
What botes thee then, good beauty thus, to strive against the stream,  
She only shall suffice, if thereto thou agree,  
To show and prove, by doom of jove, the best of thee, or me,  
I will (quoth Beauty) stand, to that that jove awards,  
jove weighing well their worthy work, thus beth their toil rewards.  
He ruled Virtue should, be always best in name,  
Yet Beauty during Bridges-like, should sway in equal fame.  
Lo thus between these Dames the bloody frays did cease,  
But Bridges bore the praise away, for making of this peace.   

The praise of mistress A. C.  

IF Troyians stout, that fought in Helen's▪ band,  
Small weighed their lives, their Lady to preserve,  
What doubt, what death, what hell should me withstand,  
To work C. will the captain that I serus,  
Who doth in deed, as far fair Helen pass,  
As good, doth bad, or gold the corsest brass.   

For first she hath in feauture, form and face,  
What Helen had, or beauty could devise,  
And therewithal, she hath so chaste a grace,  
To hold them back, with fancies fond that frie●,  
That (lo) they choose to pine in secret pain,  
Before their suits, should move her to disdain.   

She shows them grace, that sorrows their amis,  
Beyond desert, her bounty doth reward,  
Her modest mind, by virtue guided is,  
Her sober looks, doth work a rare regard,  
Although in court, her room is high, she knows,  
Yet likes she not, to feed on curious shows.   

A care she hath (which shows, a loving wife)  
To love and like, but what contents her fere,  
With these good gifts, commended is her life,  
Such one is Q. whom I have praised here,  
Even she, is she, deny it who that dare,  
That doth both kinds, and virtues jewels ware.    

In praise of mistress A. H.  
Vain is the vaunt, that runs beyond desert,  
Small is the praise, that proof will not commend,  
Shame is their fall, that mounteth fames by arte,  
Truth is the guard, that writers doth defend,  
And Truth I have, my naked Verse to cloth,  
But skill I want, this peerless piece to praise,  
In fairness who doth pass the Dame in troth,  
Whose beauty wrought, the Trojans bloody frails,  
Withal to show, what nature did pretend,  
In framing her, an endless fame to find,  
She wrought such means, as virtue doth commend,  
Her gallant shape, with worthy gifts of mind,  
What would you more, then fair and virtuous both,  
That both she is, but search where she doth live,  
(Beyond my reach) report their telling troth,  
This modest maid, a matchless praise doth give,  
Lo this is all (though further would my will,)  
I writ of her, for want of able skill.   

The saucy pesaunts present, unto his sovereign mistress.  

LAdy receive thy peasant's gift in gree,  
(Whose will is much, although his worth be small)  
A gift it is, that best beseemeth thee,  
Whose virtues hold, thy beauties rare in thrall,  
So that, sith that, your liue without a match,  
Guard you your fame, with this well meaning watch.   

Think that you live in gaze of envies eyes,  
Whose sight ●oth search, in secretest thought of mind,  
Think false suspect, about you still hath spies,  
Will forge offence, where they no fault can find,  
Think deep disdain, would blot your life with blame,  
For that alone you wear the peerless of fame.   

And yet fair dame (encountering all their might)  
These following rules, if you imprint in mind,  
Your envious foes, shall pine away with spite.  
First choose a friend, whose words in works you find,  
With courtesy, a stranger entertain,  
But loving suits cut off with chaste disdain.   

Think sugared words as Siren's songs, do wound,  
All is not gold, in sight that sémeth gay,  
In careless trust, is ever treason sound,  
Then shun the baits, that philed tongues do lay,  
With proud revenge, rack not your yielding foe,  
Jest nettles do, among sweet flowers grow.   

Mount with your mind, by Virtue to the skies,  
Uaile yet your ears, the miser's moan to hear,  
From all extremes, in spite of envies spies,  
In calm delight, your days, so shall you wear,  
Thus (sovereign) ends, your saucy peasant's song.  
Accept it well, or else you do him wrong.    

Epilogus.  

Lo Ladies hear (if you can use it well,)  
An Arbour fenced, from burning fire and frost,  
A place it is where pride shall never devil,  
Nor fortune work a maze, do she her worst,  
A place wherein the worthy dame should live,  
Whom no extreme, may change from virtuous thought,  
Even such a place, my Muse (fair dames) doth give,  
To you, the which, with double toil is wrought.  
Here may you see, by lamps of others lives,  
A precedent, to live in worthy name,  
Here may you see, when death your days deprives,  
In spite of death remembrance of your fame.   

Virescit vulnere virtus.     

The Ortchard of repentance: Wherein is reported, the miseries of dice, the mischiefs of quarreling, and the fall of prodigality.  
Wherein is discovered the deceits of all sorts of people.  
Wherein is reported, the sudden ends of four notable Cousiners.  
With divers other discourses, necessary for all sorts of men. The whole work, the invention and collection of George Whetstons Gent.  
Formae nulla fides.   

am nothing dismayed with such nice findfaultes misliking. Sufficeth me, if the learned and well disposed, take my pains in worth: among the which, I chief seek to please your worship: the authority of whose patronage, will both defend and commend my travel, desiring you to take it, as a testimony of the faithful zeal I bear towards you, and being encouraged, with your favourable acceptancu, I will not fail (God willing) to enterprise some work, that shall better deserve your countenance, content the reader, and commend my pains. From my longing in Holborn, where I daily pray for the prosperous health and hap, both of you, and your good Lady. The 15. of October 1576.  
Your worship's most bound G. Whetstons.   


The honest minded man's adventures, his largesse: and his farewell to the world. A work discovering, the subtleties of all sorts of men.  

Repine not, friends, to view the form of scorn,  
Skew not to see, a figure fresh of ruth,  
A crooked piece, with withered age for worn,  
In drooping days, whom begg●ri● pursuth,  
A sorry crop, for seed of all his youth,  
Who moylde, who toiled, who gaped after gain,  
When loss ensued, a poor reward for pain.   

2  
Though strange at first my tale may seem in sight,  
Yet wisely weighed, the cause appeareth plain,  
Why backward hap, my forward hope did quite.  
Why loss I found, where I did look for gain.  
Why poverty, I reaped in lieu of pain,  
For try who list, and he by proof shall see,  
With honest minds, the world will hardly 'gree.   

3  
Which of itself, 
The kingdom of the world described.  a kingdom is of sin,  
The devil is prince, whose pomp doth never fade,  
Deceit and Craft, his chiefest counsellors been.  
Extortion foul, 
The devils officers.  his treasurer is made,  
Covetousness, is merchant of his trade.  
Vile Usury, his racking rents doth rake,  
As auditor, account doth Bribery take.   

4  
Within his court, these vipers beareth sway:  
First false suspect, high chamberlain they call,  
Who raps then down, which mount by honest way,  
Disdain controls, the wights which be in thrall.  
Then grudge the guard, doth place them in the hall.  
Mistrust and spite, doth daily watch and ward.  
And malice is, the captain of the guard.   

5  
Envy and Hate, the presence door doth keep,  
Which elvish elves, dame Virtue still deride,  
Or if she knock, the sots will be a sleep,  
Next to the devil, the court doth Lechery guide,  
On whom attends, dame Pleasure, Lust, & Pride.  
What office bears, the Glutton with the rest,  
Or drunken sot, to show it were a jest.   

6  
Debate and strife, the coasts doth daily scour,  
Well meaning minds, to see they do repine,  
Though Fortune laugh, the world on them doth lower,  
Her subjects sleep, and snore like fatted swine,  
When hunger sterude, with want the virtuous pine,  
No wonder though they lead this loathsome life,  
For worldly rule, with virtue is at strife.   

7  
But I too long, do tire you with this tale,  
To wray the rule, the worldly wretches have,  
Who bath in bliss, when others boil in bale,  
Who do command, when others gladly crave,  
Yet shame and all, they leave to fill their grave,  
I meant and mean, to show his overthrow,  
Whose honest mind, become his chiefest foe.   

8  

His first adventure in the court.  I first by cost, did seek in court to mount,  
A needful help, in court to purchase grace,  
But foully short, I fallen upon account,  

The flatterer thriveth in the Court.  I quite forgot, to flatter and to face,  
The thrall to scorn, the best for to embrace,  
I sued I served, I did attendance dance,  
And still I thought, desert would me advance.   

9  

Note.  I looked aloft, and braved it with the best,  
The charge mine own, no countenance did I lack,  
Whilst pennies were rife, I was a welcome guest:  
I aided those, whom spiteful scorn did sack,  

In unkind recompense.  Which one advanced, were first that threw me back,  
With congees kind, the gallants would me grief,  
With cap and knee, the meaner did me meet.   

10  
The sneaking curs, by bribery laid a train,  
A mile to catch, before they fallen the crumbs,  
I thought desert, perforce would fasten gain,  
On me which gape, but gained naught but plumbs,  
For former grants, still nicked me oore the thumbs,  
The drawlatch thrived, myself who helped to grace,  
As well as he, which bore the proudest face.   

11  
Ne envied I, of either part the thrift,  
Since Fortune smiled, upon the silly sot,  
I thought aloft, no doubt she would me lift,  
So spent in hope, for fear I spared not,  
By cost I said, that worship still was got,  
But I so long, did spend upon the store,  
That all was go, then could I spend no more.   

12  
Then countenance strait, 
For sakt bravery, and leave thy credit in the court.  with sour face did frown,  
And credit next, began to slip aside,  
Disdain and spite, with speed than threw me down,  
In this distress, whom erst I helped I tried,  
Who gave good words, but no relief applied:  
Thus quite forsook, I in the briars stuck,  
And cried perforce, a vengeance of ill luck.   

13  
I thought mishap, my fortune did withstand,  
And mere good hap, to others gain assigned,  
I little thought, that Item in the hand,  
Remembrance was, a friend in court to find,  
Or some for some, could lead a stately mind,  
Ne flattery I, did fear should be preferred,  
Ere service true, had reaped his full reward.   

14  
I could not think, 
Description of the court.  the court two faces had,  
In favour fair, fresh, sweet, fraught with delight,  
When in disgrace, the wrongside turns as sad,  
Sullen, sour, sharp, the show of deep despite,  
As Siren's songs, bewitch the simple wight,  
I quite forgot, in short to show you plain,  
The proverb old, fair words do make fools feign.   

15  
I simply meant, but subtly was beguiled,  
A Crocodile, deceives with feigned tears,  
But pray obtained, it turns to monsters wild,  

Feigned friends  With feigned friends, in fine even so it fares,  
Which snarled be, in froward fortunes snares,  
They crouch & creep, till they have that they wish.  
In your distress, they weigh you not a rush.   

16  
But certes they, which never ta●ted bal●,  
Persuaded be, that all men bathe in bliss,  
So sure he thinks, truth seems each sugared tale,  
Whose honest mind, did never mean amiss,  
The speech of craft, he count's a mockery is,  
Both loss and gain (he says) doth Fortune give,  
And still he hopes, on after hap to live.   

17  
Myself the proof, which reackt my courtly fall,  
A backward blast, a fit of froward fate.  
Some other way, to hay she would me call,  
With double mends, to vaunce my poor estate,  
As gleams of joy, do follow clouds of hate,  
Thus lights I held (bewitched with fair words)  
Or bushes beat, while other limed the birds.   

18  
I still relie'ud, the wights that were distressed,  
Although they would, they could ●● me no good.  
Which cold excuse, soon cut off my request,  
A night cap sure, or else a lined hood,  
Beséemde my sconce, I swore by sweet S. Rood,  
Which like a fool; on would and could di● feed,  
When simple I with deed, relieved their need.   

19  
These hashards hard, might honest minds defile,  
What Harvest worse, 
Misery can hardly win the virtuous to vice.  than weeds to reap for corn?  
But though the lewd, do laugh if Fortune smile,  
And frown as fast, if that the fyxsen scorn,  
Yet wealth, ne woe, no friendly mind can turn,  
For hap they leave no honest way unsought,  
But feeds on hope, by value of their thought.   

20  
Well, thus perforce, I left the costly Court.  
Hie time to trudge, when coin, and clotheses were spent,  
The soldiers gain, was rounge with sweet report,  
By them which witted not, what their losses meant,  
At ventures yet, to see the wars I went,  
Resolved by them, to rise or lose my breath,  
For servile life, I worse despised than death.   

21  
Appointed well, 
His second adventure in the wars.  and soldier like arrayed,  
I left my friends, and thronged amid my foes,  
Although at first, the thundering shot me frayed,  
In fine sans fear, I lent such lusty blows,  
That soon my fame, throughout the Camp arose,  
With better pay, to credit than I grew,  
And thus a flaunt, to care I bad adieu.   

22  
In desperate frays, gave charge my band & I,  
By manly force, our eager foes to foil,  
Not one then fly, but rather chus'de to die,  
And where they foiled, I let them fleece the spoil,  
For truth to say, that tithe, deserved their toil,  
I never nicked the poorest of his pay,  
But if he lacked, he had before his day.   

23  
They chéerisht thus, 
A good captain makes good soldiers.  when need enforced them fight,  
On foes they slew, in face of all the shot,  
As wolves the sheep, do spoil or sore affright,  
Their enemies so, did fly or go to pot,  
Such lyll they laid, upon their pates God wot,  
Sigh fame I reaped, thus by their restless pain,  
I could not choose, but let them glean the gain.   

24  
Such was my hap, to reach the honour still,  
In high attempts, I gave the overthrow,  
Thus fortune long, did frame unto my will,  
But I forgot, how soon she plays the ●●rowe,  
Even where of late she favour most did show,  
I overslipped the time that served for thrift,  
As though the wars, ne did their chances shift.   

25  
In poor repasses, whose courtesy is such,  
To leave to cut, till lurchers old have carved,  
They seldom say, shall surfeit of too much,  
Yet haply may, with want be hunger starved,  
Who so in spoil, so stays till all be served,  
Besides his blows, an easy burden bears,  
Each for himself, where soldiers shifted and shares.   

26  
But whilst I stood in tickle fortunes grace,  
And swum in wealth, of want I never thought,  
I took no heed how age drew on a pace,  
Or bruised bones at home for safety sought,  
To live upon the gain that youth had caught,  
But when I could, sith than I would not thrive,  
When feign I would, then could with me did strive.   

27  

The sowure sauce of sweet reported war.  For when the wars, any chiefest strength had worn,  
When wounded flesh did faint at bloody blows,  
When fortune thwart, her fawning face did turn,  
When faithful friends, were reft by raging foes,  
When foul debate among our soldiers rose,  
When treason foiled, where force could never speed,  
When hollow hearts did droop away at need.   

28  
When thus of wars, I felt the sour taste,  
Which seemed sweet; by speech I herded of yore,  
For worn with toil, I homewards trudgst in haste,  
My skin well paid, with wounds and bruises sore,  
But sure of pennies, I had but slender store,  
Thus did I spend the time that served for thrift,  
And left old age in drooping days to shifted.   

29  
Yet simple I, did thus persuade my mind,  
How that the wars do nought but honour yield, 
His last adventure in the country made him a stark beggar.   
And cost in Court, did cast me far behind,  
My way to thrive, was tilling of the field,  
A charge God wot, unmeet for me to wield  
A farmer fresh, I fallen then to the plough,  
And cost abridgst, yet cares I had enough.   

30  
I then did trust, the truth of every swain,  
And thought that I, a sight of lubbers kept,  
When others housed, my hay lay soused in rain,  
My corn did shed, 
Ill seruaunds.  before the same was reaped,  
Or spoiled with beasts, whilst lazy Robin slept,  
I bought at worst, yet sold I under foot,  
A poor increase, can spring of such a root.   

31  
Thus long with loss, the Farmer stout I played,  
Till out of house and home, pure need me priest,  
With beggary bit, than was I sore dismayed,  
To try my friends, yet I myself addressed,  
With squaymish looks, who entertained they guest,  
With sour shows, 
An old proverb, beggars must be no choosers.  my want could well endure,  
For small relief, then, none was better sure.   

32  
In what I could, my host then did I please,  
With quips, 
In what contempt the rich have their poor friends.  and nips, who cut me o'er the thumbs,  
But flouts in faith, could not me so disease,  
That from the board, I gathered not the crumbs,  
For poor men pinched, are glad to pray on plumbs,  
Hayted and baited, time thus did I wear,  
Hard lodged, worse clothed, not cloyed with costly fare,   

33  

This companion was Craft.  And fettered thus (God wots) in chains of wo●,  
I sleeping once, me thought before my view,  
A mate I saw, that erst I did not know,  
God speed (quoth he) quoth I the like to you,  
Acquainted thus, such friendship did ensue,  
As I to him, my former Fortune's shoe,  
My hap, my harm, my want, my weal, my woe.   

34  
Which to discourse, a tedious tale I told,  
Which well he marked, and smiled in his thought,  
Good friend he said, thou waxest very old,  
For whom foresight, some succour should have sought,  
But well I see, thou youth hast spared naught,  
Yet all thy life, thou moyldst and toil'st for gain,  
Hard was thy hap, that loss still aunsweard pain.   

35  
Not fortune yet, but folly in thyself,  
That loss thou reap'st, in recompense of pain,  
Thy course was wrung, a pace to prowl up pelf,  
For falsehood must, or flattery compass gain,  
Or else in faith, thy moiling is in vain,  
Desert is dasde, with direful envies drifts,  
And honest minds, are put unto their shifts.   

36  
But listen well, and I will shortly show,  
How that thy want in drooping days shall die,  
The way I know, how every state doth grow,  
From base degree, to wealth and honour high,  
Thy conscience yet, must bear with bribery,  

Lewd counsel  With falsehood, fraud, fear not to use deceits,  
To fish for wealth, those are the sweetest baits.   

37  
If thou dost love, a faithless priest to be,  
If Courtiers life, in thee hath liking wrought,  
In merchant's fraud, if thou wouldst deeply see,  
If Lawyer's gain, doth tempt thy greedy thought,  
If through the wars, aloft thou wouldst be brought,  
In country cares, if thou wouldst beat thy brain,  
If Cheters craft, thou weanst, is full of gain.   

38  
If by these trades, relief thou meanest to reap,  
Do thus, and thus, and thou with wealth shalt swell,  
With that he wrayed, of huge deceipts a heap,  
The lest whereof, would sand a man to hell,  
At which amazed (quoth I) good friend farewell,  
I like thee not, thy counsel is full evil,  
I lived well, I will not die a devil.   

39  
At which adieu, my mate to sigh I saw,  
Who sorry was, 
Note.  he had bestowed such talk  
On me, whose tale, to no deceit could draw,  
And in this chafe, away the man did walk,  
And waking then, I up and down did stalk,  
Who in myself, did find a hell of thought,  
To see what wiles, to compass wealth are wrought.   

40  
Desire of wealth, 
Desire of goods draw our minds from goodness.  forthwith my heart did wound,  
My honest mind, did blame my greedy venye,  
Thus in myself, a heap of harms I found,  
Afraid of fraud, yet glad to compass gain,  
Thus both I blamed, and thanked the cozener's pain,  
But as by chance, 
The remembrance of death, hindereth us from wickedness.  I looking in my glass,  
Me thought I see, how death by me did pass.   

41  
With that (quoth I) away with golden glee,  
Avaunt desire, 
The godly conremue riches, compassed by deceit.  of greedy gathering gain,  
Wouldst thou him bind, which whilom lived free,  
Away go trudge, thy toiling is in vain,  
The world I scorn, with my sweet Christ to rain,  
No subject I, of satans Emiyre came,  
Christ is my league, to serve the devil I shame.    

¶ A Largesse to the world.  

42  
My knowledge yet, unto the world y known,  

The knowledge of decceite, is necessary for the good.  May haply warn, my friends to shun this bait,  
Among the lewd, this seed is hugely sown,  
They daily take, this bitter sweet receipt,  
For why their food, is rapine and deceit,  
My largesse yet, to all I frankly give,  

A large largesse.  Within this world, that have desire to live.   

43  

The Cleargi.  The Clergy they, no worldly creatures are,  
They cost contemn, their weeds but homely be,  
Heaven feeds their souls, their paunch hath power fare,  
They goods despise, but what with Scriptures 'gree,  
To help the poor, whose want they daily see,  
Well these I see, esteemeth not my gift,  
To get their thanks, and have I near a shift?   

44  
Yes, yes forsooth: (well far the fruits of fraud)  
They wedded are (a needful help 'gainst sin)  
Their sons full often, desireth more a gaude,  
Then at their books, their father's fame to win,  
Their daughter's scorn, to knit, to carded, or spin,  
They Gentles are, as brave as is the best,  
They roist in silks, and gad to every feast.   

45  
With small expense, this pride is not maintained,  
And when you die, your living bids adieu,  
If nought you spare, their bravery then is stained,  
They must forsake, their wont Courtly crew.  
Or make some shift, though shame thereof ensue.  
Which to prevent this counsel Craft doth give,  
To proule for them, whilst you in wealth do live.   

46  
Scorn you the Pope: scorn not to claw his coin,  
His titles leave: lease not the self same gain,  
(You colours have) how so you pennies purloin,  
Decayed schools, you may erect again,  
You may relieve, the needy miser's pain,  
With many more, whom penury doth pierce,  
For lack of skill, which escapes my worthless verse.   

47  
The Courtier he, 
The Courtier  will thank me for my gift,  
He spendeth much, yet little hath to spend,  
Some say this course doth seldom compass thrift,  
Yet freely here, his state for to amend,  
To brag it out in bravery to the end,  
The Courtier young, a lesson lo I tell,  
The elder sort, doth know the form full well.   

48  
For credit sake, you needs must bravely serve,  
And credit won, is quickly worn away,  
Get up your crumbs, therefore, ere grace doth swerver,  
Fawn still on them, that bear the greatest sway,  
Attendance dance, when others ply their play,  
The mightiest please, how so their minds are led,  
For wisest wits, with some conceits are fed.   

49  
With lawyer soon, see thou thyself acquaint,  
Which knows what gifts, are in the Prince's hands,  
What lies concealed, by reason of attaint,  
What fee, what farm, among his leagues lands,  
Draws to an end, that clerkly understands,  
What office yields, a gain above the rest,  
What penal law, to beg for thee is best.   

50  
UUho finely draws a patent for a need,  
And Patents see, you always have in store,  
A time may serve, when haply you may speed,  
Which fitted not so well a year before,  
And by the way, this care have evermore,  
Well to foresee, to whom you wray your mind,  
Lest in your suits you slender favour find.   

51  
Your charge is great, shifted therefore for yourself,  
For fashion sake, yet flatter to their face,  
But use no course, in prowling up of pelf,  
And if mishap, doth throw one out of grace,  
be ready priest, to press into his place,  
For why your joy, comes by your neighbour's thrall,  
Then be not nice, to rise where he doth fall.   

52  
The soldier stout, whom fortune still doth toss,  

The soldier.  To shadow fraud, forsooth hath finest shoe,  
His sweetest gains are sawst, with sour loss,  
Yea life full often, to reach relief must go,  
Her faints his friend, there fights his mortal foe,  
Here bullets touse, at unawares him meet,  
There hawlberds hew, here bilmen doth him greet.   

53  
If in this dole, he chance to reach a rap,  
In faith at home, he finds a could relief,  
Best therefore then, whilst fortune fits for hap,  
He shifted for one, for fear of future grief,  
The soldier once, is never termed a thief,  
How so he wrongs, how so he spoils and spends,  
And reason good, his life often makes amendss.   

54  
The poorer sort, yet seldom compass, thrift,  
To help whose want, Mast Craft doth use this way,  
(A petty help) for such as love to shifted,  
To watch and ward, to filch his fellows pray,  
To sack the wight, that gladly would obey,  
To spoil his friend, as one he doth not know,  
If aught be said, he took him for his foe.   

55  
But now to you, which have both charge and sway,  
You must be brave, for fame and credit sake,  
Yet must you pinch, no soldier of his pay,  
Jest nipped with need (poor slave) his heels he take,  
In heat of blows, before his head doth ache,  
What then (well kept) a few will do more good,  
Then store of lowtes, which fear to lose their blood.   

56  
Dead pays will help, to cherish all the rest,  
And likewise you, shall find therein some gain,  
And when to filch, your soldiers are addressed,  
Fleece you their prey, them chide them for their pain.  
For straggling out, from resdue of their train,  
Ne spare to spoil, when force doth foil your foe,  
Take time and tide lest fortune play the shrew.   

57  
The lawyer he, 
The Lawyer.  with doubts that dulls his brain  
For ten years space, his time in study spends,  
Ere practise his, doth purchase store of gain,  
Too long a plague, so long to fawn on friends,  
And spend on store in hope of after mends,  
And therefore sure, deceit deserves no curse,  
For working means, mean while to fill his purse.   

58  
And yet in ●ooth, a groat will buy his gift,  
A book of notes, remembrance 'tis to ease,  
Wherein is written full many a pretty shift,  
Post facto stuf, and Non est factum please,  
By larger grants, the lease away to fease,  
Conditioned releases, how to frame,  
By former words, the latter for to lame.   

59  
Such quillets nice, when thus you noted have,  
Some practice needs, must print them in your thought,  
Set such at Law, in words as late but strove,  
And when they both in backhouse ditch are brought,  
To paul them both, let some devise be wrought,  
Forget not this, when writings hit your hand,  
(If youths them own) with doubts to lame his land.   

60  
With hope of gain, his greedy mind else move,  
To void some grant, or work some leases wrack.  
A lease of trust, then must the title prove,  
At leisure yet, this timeless trust turn back,  
Your interest small, his greatest right will sack,  
For once in proof, this proverb still doth last,  
A little lime, A foul will fetter fast.   

61  

Physicians.  Physicians now, that ways how weak we are,  
New cures must search, our griefs are now so strange,  
Old Galen'S drugs, our time unfitteth far,  
Augmented then, his cures abroad must range,  
For healthless men, on every hope will change,  
But once retained, be sure thou use this course,  
Another blame, although thyself be worse.   

62  

The practice of a lewd Physician.  See your receipt, some lightning yield at first,  
To work conceits within your patient's thought,  
Persuade him still, his pain is at the worst,  
Yet heal and harm, till wished gain be wrought,  
But for the poor, see some relief be sought,  
And for your pains, let rich men (grieved) pay,  
No cure performed, your custom will decay.   

63  

Officers.  But now to you whom office doth advance,  
For your behoof, I (forced) employ my pain,  
You come deuaunt, upon a sorry chance,  
Yea stock you set, upon a tickle main,  
Durant levy, no longer lasts your gain,  
And ere you sway, some thousand pounds must fle●,  
Which is not raised (in haste) upon your fee.   

64  
In ten years space, five hundred marks a year,  
Unto his heir, who purchase not to leave,  

One officer by honesty, discovereth the deceits of the lewd.  Shall sure be blamed, of misers every where,  
If truth cause lack, most say the rest deceive,  
If all be false, few will such faults conceive,  
Once wrong you must, a thousand for this gain,  
How void you then, the penal statutes pain.   

65  
You are forbidden inroulements for to raze,  
To fit your friend, or foil your hated foe,  
To save old seals, to give forged writs their grace,  
To change records, a friendly turn to show,  
For once you may both help and overthrow,  
Yet use you must, both means by sly devise,  
But frosted be, for fear of slippery ice.   

66  
Provide a cloak, to colour still your crime,  
Then work your will, Apollo often doth sleep,  
But if your wiles, do come to light in time,  
To salve such miss, 
A notable cloak.  some careless servant keep,  
Plague him with blame, when you the profit reap  
What if sharp checks, do put you in some fear,  
The gain remains, the taunts in time doth wear.   

67  
Mas gaylor, 
Gaylors.  needs, must taste of this my gift,  
Extortion cries, against his iron fees,  
What then in hold, this is your only shift,  
With shackles huge, your prisoners to displease,  
Thus pinched (good souls) they will pay, pray, and please,  
Pennies pouched ne dread, although they stoutly crack,  
To use redress, poor prisoners unde lack.   

68  
Now gallants learn, whom bravery still consumes,  
To roist in silks, 
Young Gentlemen.  to flaunt in colors gay,  
To prank your wives, up in their Peacocks plumes,  
To snuff to scorn, to look beyond your sway,  
To find a mint, to feed your minds with play,  
To hawk, to hunt, to boast, to brawl, and fight,  
Which are the thoughts that feed you with delight.   

69  
This cost is more, then careless, youths forethink.  
But cost, ne care, their haughty minds can vail,  
sith not, see ●ines, your farmers Eofers shrink,  
Of timber trees, then strike the lofty sail,  
The bodies next, will serve for board and pale,  
If all these helps, your charge will not defray,  
But still your names, in merchants iornalls stay,   

70  
To float your minds, if house and land must flee,  
To two or three, the same give grant, and cell,  
Caue emptor, to thy assurance see,  
Hap well, hap ill, some spéedeth pretty well,  
The rest must take their fortune as it fallen,  
Shifted you for one, the world to fraud is bend,  
Coin stays your friend, when fleering words are spent.   

71  
Come merchants come, and take in worth my gift,  
Whose Lynxes eyes, in young men's state do pry,  

merchants.  Their loss your gain, their spending is your thrift,  
They broche your bags till all their living fly:  
But holla ho, a bug is Usury,  
He holds you back, from three times ten to take,  
On mortgage good, lest no return you make.   

72  
What rests then, your coin will rust sans use,  
And statute loan, cannot content your thought,  
Well far a shift, both law and them t'abuse,  
You know in prime, each thing is easily wrought,  
The dog to draw, the horse to order brought,  
The skilless youth, is won with every gaude,  
The reason is his thought is free from fraud.   

73  
To work this feat, see that you use this course,  

Religion without devotion.  When doleful knell, doth bid a churl adieu,  
Sand straight to know, on whom death used this force,  
Not to this end your neighbour's fate to rue,  
But of his heir in haste so 〈◊〉 a ●ew,  
If he be young, well left and easily won,  
To feed his dame▪ see words and works be done,   

74  
Some pretty sum on small assurance lend,  
If youth be slow, at leisure bid him pay,  
Some times bestow, 
Crosbytinge, a cusnage under the colour of friendship.  good counsel as his friend,  
But help him to each toy, to make him gay,  
To pay for all, at length, will come a day,  
By péecemeales thus, in lash he willbe brought,  
In danger once, let this devise be wrought.   

75  
Get some to rest, 
Note this policy.  and vex this thriftless youth,  
Not at thy suit (although by thy consent)  
To free himself from catchpoles little ruth,  
For thy goodwill, to thee his mind is bend,  
To moon his state, his time and coin misspent,  
To feign thy heart, to his behoof is fixed,  
Then let advise, with pretty taunts be mixed.   

76  
But to conclude, 
Be dasigerous to enter into a statute to a merchant.  lend him his turn to screw,  
Yet bind him sure, lest he do slip away,  
In statutes, which, lands, goods and body starve,  
Twenty to one, he forfeits at his day,  
The vantage then, will double usance pay,  
Extent on land, the sale will slander so,  
That fee in fine, on easy prize will go.   

77  
You Burgoses, 
Burgoses.  which cell the costly stuff,  
That wares to ebb, our gallants goods and land,  
This lesson learn, and utter wares enough,  
Beyond the price, of paying down in hand,  
His state and stay, 
To take ware on trust, a notable usury.  first wisely understand,  
Close fisted then, deliver him thy ware,  
But bind him sure, if thou his payment fear.   

78  
If day he break, 
A worthy custom in London.  let Commons' be no leech,  
No forfeit once, the city custom gives,  
In the hoystinges, an outlaws note him teach,  
Bear with his talk, his cracks, and ireful taunts,  
Law will him stoop, 
Selling wares on credit, collusion.  in spite of all his vaunts,  
Collusion thoe, this dealing some do reek.  
Yet jump thou thus, a penal law to break.   


Scriveners.  Come Scriveners come, the fry of all abuse,  
Deceit beseems you best of any men,  
Why blush you so, you need not frame excuse,  
You are to help a thousand with your pen,  
Chetors, Cousners, merchants, yourselves like men,  
Good reason you have store of subtle skill,  
Sigh you are means, each miser's bag to fill.   

80  
be sure you have, the grounds of law by ro●e,  
What words unlose, and what as fast do bind,  
Each quillet nice, see that you nearly note,  
In paper book, as tends to fraud you find,  
In mortgages, leaves, covenants unkind,  
Conditions, bonds, feoffments, Grants, & cetera,  
In some one point, the crafty lack still play.   

81  
For craft is that, that doth you credit gain,  
Rich Burgoses, your chiefest clients are,  

Money takers  They lay the plot, but you must take the pain,  
Money takers to meash in meats of care,  
They fast, farewell, such will no vantage spare,  
Thus sith your trade, doth tend to falsehood vile,  
Good reason you, acquaint yourself with guile.   

82  
This monstrous mate, had need of thousand shifts,  

Cousiners.  To feed the thoughts of those whose form he bears,  
A lawyer's head, he hath full stuffed with drifts,  
A simple look, to free rash youths of fears,  
A flatterer's tongue, to feed believing cares,  
A harlot's face, to witch with wanton sight,  
A tyrants heart, to wound the harmless wight.   

83  
A scriveners fist, a lackeys leg to trudge,  
A merchant's mind, to mountains that aspires,  
A glutton's throat, to show he is no snudge,  
What gain may be, ungleand, this monster than desires,  
What youth unspoilde, whose wreak this fiend conspires,  
And sith this mate, so manyes turn must serve,  
This course, for cheats, Craft wills him to observe.   

89  
First flattery thou, must pry abroad for pray,  
Thou wily must, each gallauntes' state escry,  
Companion like, with them, thou needs must play,  
If able youth, Dice need, to nip thou spy,  
Unto his helps, be sure thou have an eye,  
And one some loose, draw near and note his moan,  
And proffer him, supply on easy loan.   

90  
Now merchant hide, thy hook in golden bait,  
In plain, john's name, yet let this dealing be,  
His simple show, 
Note this policy.  will colour foul deceit,  
To make false deeds, let master Lawyer see,  
To get them sealed, use scriveners policy,  
To meash him sure, let flattery still assay,  
But be not yet, to eager of your prey.   

91  
With friendly show, first work him in conceit,  
Then Epicure, thy bounty, let him feel,  
To witch his wits, make mistress Mynxe a bait,  
He snarled once, ring out the Cousners' peal,  
To forge, to raze: such stuff then make him seal,  
As over soon, will put him to his shift,  
No force for that, he might have eyed his thrift.   

92  
But fraud bewrayed, 
By the imprisoning of the complainant, the cousiner agreeth without open shame.  if wronged youth complain,  
Then tyrant start, to save the rest from shame,  
To stay his suit, by catchpoles lay a train,  
With Actions huge, his crazed credit lame,  
In prison popped, there is no laughing game,  
There friends do fail, if money ebbeth low,  
His suit is cold, his lawyer willbe slow.   

He nipped with need, and rest of freedom both,  
As one half dead, in haste will sue for ease,  
First make it coy, as men to gréement loath,  

Right Cousiners stand upon their credit.  His slanderous plaint, so doth your truth displease,  
As trial must this foul report appease,  
In fine yet come, and ere you go agree,  
And featherlesse, let my young master flee.   

94  

Make shifts.  An other sort of cheating mates there are,  
By need enforced, that sues to Craft for aid,  
Whom thriftless life, hath wrapped in heaps of care,  
In prison thrown, of succour clean dismayed,  
Whose wealth is worn, of friends, whose woe unwayde,  
Whose haughty hearts, 'gainst thraldom yet do spurn,  
Need works for these, some shifts, to serve their turn.   

95  
If any such, ripe wit, or learning have,  
Want joined with Craft, this counsel doth bestow,  
(To flaunt it out, in outward show full brave)  

Counterfeit Astronomers.  To feign each act, yea thought by art they know,  
A salve for love, fools fortunes for to shoe,  
Goods stolen or lost, with a vengeance for to fetch,  

Physicians  Or feign thou art for every grief a leech.   

96  
But at the first to make your cunning known,  
A bawd or two, sand prying round about,  

Bands.  Where loving worms, or sickly wights are thrown,  
Old churls some have, some love and reap a flout,  
Some sickness catch, by keeping revel rout,  
To wights thus grieved, though slender help you give,  
Use show of skill, in hope to make them live.   

97  
If fortune hap, to hit some hearts desire,  
You need no trump, your knowledge for to spread,  
But by the way, give mother be her hire,  
Then will she prate to bring a patch to bed,  
And vouch for proof, how such and such have sped,  
Although in truth, this shifting is but theft,  
Your coats for this, the hangman silde hath reft.   

98  
You holy girls, 
Courtesans.  the hindmost in my gift,  
Be foremost yet, in fraud and foul abuse,  
While beauty lasts, in blooming years to shifted,  
For your behoof, this counsel craft doth use,  
To make it nice, large offers to refuse,  
Alooft to stand, if Vobis (rich) do sue,  
The more you flee, the more he follows you.   

99  
If careless boys, your coyness cannot brook,  
Such gallants win, with outward show of grace,  
They swallowing up, with sugared bait the hook,  
With careless toys, their fancies can not chase,  
And when you stoop, their hot desires t'embrace,  
Look to your match, the world is full of wile,  
And well you wots, how sugared words beguile.   

100  
Still have an eye, to beauties vading blaze,  
And pry for dames, which soon in prime will be,  
On painted stuff, 
Painting, may help a courtesan, but their end is a band and a begged.  though often gallants gaze,  
The wily sort, your surfling strait will see,  
To fit their turns, strick not to play the be,  
Scorn not for gain, in age to hold the door,  
They once were young, that were your bands before.   

101  
And now (my largesse given) farewell foul guile  
Farewell (O world) no wile shall make me rich,  
My mind abhors, wealth wone by falsehoods vile,  
To mount by fraud, I loath such lofty pitch,  
I can not scratch, the harmless, ere they itch,  
If due desert, proud Flattery pineth still,  
I list not fawn, play hypocrite that will.   

102  
Far well, 
His farewell to the world, a degression that shows a of all this covetousness▪  far well (O world) farewell again,  
Thou now God wots, from wont course dost reel  
The clergy once, in preaching took great pain,  
Whose words in works, bore witness of their zeal  
Most now in words, but few in works reveal,  
They teach with tongue, when thought on tithing is,  
O wicked world, thy wealth is cause of this.   

103  
O world accursed, in court thou settest pride,  
Whose minions are, fraud, flattery, and disdain,  
They pine desert, before his truth be tried,  
They forge offened, well meaning minds to stain,  
They cast at all, yet seldom loose amain,  
woe worth the world, thy bravery works the wrack,  
Of such in court, as well deserve, and lack.   

104  
The soldier stout, foreseeing small relief,  
For service done, if spoiled honre he comes,  
As forced to play, no soldier but the thief,  
When fortune fits, to gather up his crumbs,  
For once at home, poor store of pennies he thumbs,  
O world thy wealth, with rulers worketh so,  
As what they have, they hardly will forego.   

105  
The law first made, to weed out wrongs for right,  
To yield amendss, unto the poor oppressed,  
●s wrested now, for favour or for spite,  

Arbitrament, best for poor men.  Now money, so corrupts the Lawyer's breast,  
That daying is, for poor men's suits the best:  
Yea such effects, in worldly much doth lurk,  
As judges harm, where help they aught to work.   

106  
Fine fare and sloth, diseases strange do breed,  
And grieved wights, will spare, no cost for ease,  
But golden fees, so doth Physicians feed,  
As séelde or near, they rich men's pains appease,  
With drinks and drugs, they still do them displease,  
O wicked world, thy wealth first wrought their grief,  
Thy wealth again, doth hinder their relief.   

107  
Desire of gain, make offices so heap,  
As sold they be, not given, who best deserves,  
Who buyeth dear, séelde thrives by selling cheap,  
Who wrongeth yet, from honest getting swerves,  
No force for that, few now such course observes,  
Thus pelf (O world) first makes the Donor foul,  
To levy mends, the Done needs must paul.   

108  
Each pleasant pain, each sweet enticing sour  
O world thou workest, our wanton years to witch,  
And not content, we should ourselves devour,  
But churls thou sett'st, to claw us ere we itch,  
Thou burnest the bird, and bastes the bacon stitch,  
O spiteful world, thou hap frank hearts dost grudge,  
And grievest churls, by giving of too much.   

109  
The merchant once, bend all his care to seas,  
In foreign soil, he sought desired gain,  
Then was his toil, 
Usury, a new trade of merchandise.  to common wealth an ease,  
And he deserved, his wish in lie of pain,  
But now at home, he finds a sweeter vain,  
Sans venture now, he will in wealth abound,  
Fowl fall the wight, this second trade that found.   

110  
The reckless heed, youths have in large expense,  
To flaunt it out, their cost, no care, to thrive,  
Enticeth churls, with show of good pretence,  
In prime of pride, 
Cousiners not without friends of calling.  their maintnance to deprive,  
For limed once, small boots (the wronged) to strive,  
Right Cousners have such helps, & friends at need,  
As struange it is, to see how ●leare they speed.   

111  
Thy pride, O world, doth breed such wanton thought,  
As most men now, receive dame Venus' hire,  
To stoop fair dames, such sharp assaults are sought,  
Such proffers large, such wiles to win desire,  
As wonder 'tis, what forts are set on fire,  
Who sinneth not, is such a gnawing bone,  
To raise this siege, that few will throw a stone.   

112  
Fie on the world, fie on thy soul deceits,  
Fie on thy fraud, thy flattery and thy pride,  
Fie on thy shifts, thy subtleties, and sleites,  
Fie on thy cloaks, thy filthy crimes to hide,  
Adieu, adieu, I can thee not abide.  
And thee O God, for evermore I laud,  
For keeping me, untainted so with fraud.   

113  

A comfort to the godly in misery.  For though I have, consumed my days in thrall,  
Now death draws near, my count is quickly made,  
And well I wots, death doth all sorts appall,  
The prince, the poor, yea men of every trade,  
Who lewdly lives, with reckonings huge is lad,  
Thus worldlings grief, where mine doth ebb, doth flow,  
A sorry sweet, to end with sour woe.   

114  
Through conscience, I feel no thought of hell,  

A bold challenge.  I conquered have, of dreadful death the fear,  
Where is thy sting, where doth thy fury devil?  
Where is thy force (O Death) where is thy spear,  
Assault say I, that with my Christ I were?  
I ready am, both evening, noon, and morn,  
The devil, the world, and all their works I scorn.    

lenvoy.  

115  
YOu worldlings chief, to you this tale I tell,  
God grant my words, be to your wounds a leech,  
The fruits of fraud, untold, you know too well,  
Yea better then, my naked Muse can teach,  
But to this end, this dreary plaints I preach,  
That henceforth you, to getting have such eye,  
As you may live, as though you daily dye.   

116  
And lest the lewd, should wrist my word amiss,  
I do exempt the good of every trade,  
The which I trust, will not repined at this,  
To show thy praise, this checking verse was made,  
The Clergy first, at whom a glance I had,  
Of them there be, great store of preachers good,  
To show the truth, that will not spare their blood.   

117  
There are in court, that live in worthy fame,  
And well deserve, renown, and credit both,  
Some officers, will take no bribes for shame,  
Some laweyers, are to sow dissension loath,  
And citizens, with whom I seemed so wroth,  
I needs must grant (how so my Muse did square)  
Of every trade, a number honest are.   

118  
The soldier now, whom I do honour much,  
(How so I touched) their faults that do offend,  
I grant we have, of noble soldiers such,  
(As maims to fame) that will those vices shend,  
I blame none such, the rest I wish amend,  
Physicians good (as many sure there be)  
Will not repined, the lewd reproved to see.   

119  
How so I touched, some scriveners faults at quick,  
There are of those, I know of honest fame,  
Such have no cause, against my Muse to kick,  
Nor yet the lewd; that wisely ways the same,  
I blaze abuse, yet touch no creatures name,  
Yea to be shore, ●●ypt no foot of men,  
That truly can, w●th malice charge my pen.   

Veritas non querit angulos.    

G.W. opinion of trades (as touching gain) written to his especial friend, master R.C.  

MIne own good friend▪ since thou so feign wouldst know,  
What kind of trade, doth yield the surest gain,  
My judgement now, of some I mean to show,  
And after toil, which quiteth best thy pain,  
The merchant he, which cuts the mounting seas,  
With course direct, as lies his best avail,  
The Spanish mart, whose mind sometime doth please,  
With further reach, some hoist their hovering sail.  
Some pass Marroccoes straits, by painful toil,  
Some seek to reap, the fruits of Cyprus' soil,   

But how or where, they roam with oaken blocks,  
Their lives, their goods, doth rest in Neptune's hands,  
In rage some times, who rolls them on the rocks,  
Or driven unknown, they sink on Silla's sands,  
The gotten gain they looked, thus hapless lost,  
In lieu of toil, themselves be quite undone,  
Now unto him, which furrows on the coast,  
And hazard gains, on weltering waves doth shun,  
Who gropes the ox, who shears the sheep for gain,  
Is often dost, with dews of rotting rain.   

The handy craft, who wins his bread by toil,  
With sweat of brow, he gropes for others gain,  
He tylles the ground, he sows with seed the soil,  
When others reap, the harvest of his pain,  
To lodge the Lord, who builds the stately hall,  
Yet glad to couch, in cabin clad with need,  
For others joy, who lives himself in thrall,  
Who kills the sheep, yet of the ●oad doth seed,  
His summer's toil, doth serve for winter's store,  
From hand to mouth, good soul he hath no more.   

The captain he, which climbs for high advance,  
By piercing shoulder-blade, imbrued in enemies blood,  
In martial shows, who foremost leads the dance,  
His soldiers trained, in warlike order good,  
The pike men placed, to stay the horfemens' rage,  
The Musket wild, aloof, to souse them down,  
The bill men fresh, when handy strokes must gauge,  
When gallants having charge, doth cry Alone,  
Then tantara, he bids in battle ray,  
Be mearching mates, in hope of happy day,   

But when to join, the bloody trump doth sound,  
The horsemen fling, to break the pikemens' ray,  
The roaring guns, doth terrify the ground,  
The feathered flights, the enemies face doth fray,  
The currier swift, doth rid the sconce of ache,  
With streams of blood, the joining valleys flows,  
And wounded wights, for life their heels doth shake,  
Who scapeth then, next brunt may go to pot,  
Thus dangerous stands, the soldier state God wots.   

The courtier now, which hops up by degree▪  
And haply heaved, to height of high renown,  
If he do swerver, from top of tickle tree,  
His courtly friends, will help to throw him down,  
Who fawned erst, then wrayes the form of hate,  
(He honoured late) now glad to crouch and creep,  
Yet Envy vile, with spite and foul debate,  
So wreastes his guilt, that grace doth always sleep,  
Expeuterand toil, is guerdoned with disdain,  
A bore reward, in recompense of pain.   

The clown doth claw, more coin out of the ground,  
Then he whose skill, doth reach the state of stars,  
Of yore though men, though learning were renowned,  
Wealth with those wit●●● now at mortal wars,  
By Physic 〈◊〉 to credit many amount,  
Where lack of 〈◊〉, 
The three following, are the trade of surest gain.  doth murder many one,  
A sorry trust, tied to so hard account,  
To lend him pennies, that pays the death for lone,  
And yet no doubt, his gain is galled with grief,  
When conscience his, doth call him murdering thief.   

Great be the rents, the Clergy doth receive,  
Moore great their charge, the count if conscience take,  
If errors their, the simple doth deceive,  
For both their miss, amendss their souls shall make,  
This desperate cure, agrees not with my mind,  
Although the gain, doth tempt my greedy thought,  
If so it be, that my●●es of feaude doth blind,  
Or falsehood faith, from former grace hath wrought,  
If trades of gain, be spyste, with deep deceit,  
The Lawyer's hook, lies hide in sweetest bait.   

It choketh fools, which hunger after strife,  
Suppose that craft, doth fore abuse his skill,  
He sleas the purse, the others soul and life,  
By learning's lack, and error often doth kill,  
He roystes in silks, which merchants fetch a far,  
Him glad to please, the simple soul doth moil,  
His sugared charm, witch Angels to the bar,  
His piercing pen, the soldier often doth soil,  
For solace sake, if he will to the court,  
If any be, he soon shall see the sport.   

He little ways, so law be on his side,  
The thundering threats, which Lordly might doth move,  
If that his cause, with country men be tried,  
Moore hearts he hath, for fear than they for love,  
He often pulls, a parsonage from the priest,  
And overrules, by law, both might and right,  
A kildowe sure, whom no man dare resist.  
God shield, that I with such a b●g should fight:  
And thus thou hearst, of trades what I can say,  
The law for game, doth bear the bell away.   

Formae ●ulla fides.    

R.C. answer to G.W. opinion of trades.  

I Thought (my George) thy Muse would fully fit,  
My troubled mind, with hest of settled doom,  
And tell the trade, wherein I sure might sit,  
From nipping need, in wealth walled room,  
But out alas, in tedious tale,  
She tells the toils of all,  
And forgeth fates, t'attend estates,  
That seld or never fall.   

Bereaving so, the hope that erst I held,  
To find at last, a sight to set me sure,  
In profits path, my thriftless feet to weald,  
Or walk the way, that age might well endure.  
Sigh hapless haps, or conscience cracks,  
Or toils of tedious weight,  
She proves the fees, of all degrees,  
Each course with cares affraight.   

And yet I smell, whereto thy tale doth tend,  
And smile to see, thy quaint conceit therein,  
I writ not here, thy meaning to amend,  
Against thy words, this answer I begin.  
In prime to touch, the merchant's trade,  
Which furrows fishfull floods,  
Whose hap thou sayst is lightly hurt,  
With loss of life and goods.   

Thou sayst his ship, sits sinking on the sand,  
Of Silla's seas, or on Charybdis' rocks,  
When nothing less, the sea more sure than land,  
Then fenced forts, more trusty hollow blocks.  
Let Neptune rage, with wayward waves,  
A fig for Aeolus winds,  
By anchors stay, in harbour gay,  
The merchant's succour finds.   

As for the man that furrows in the field,  
Distrusting gains, that weltering waves afford,  
The fees that ox, and fruitful sheep doth yield,  
And parched fields, and northern dews accord,  
His pains do passing pleasure quit,  
When gréenie lands appears,  
He smiles in sweat, when harvest heat,  
Dries up the corned ears.   

The crafts man, he that lives by handy skill,  
By toil and trade, obtaineth needful gains,  
Ynough's as good, as any feast, sith will  
And quiet mind contented so remains,  
He lives at rest in mean estate,  
Contemning fortunes blast,  
While such as high aloft to fly,  
He sees to fall as fast.   

The noble heart, whom nature pricks to prank,  
In martial fields, amid the clattering crew,  
For high renown, to furnish up the rank,  
Thy Muse to daunt (o) how the same I rue.  
Sigh pen, ne tongue, nor mind can match,  
With due deserved hire,  
The facts of those, which force their foes,  
By helmets help retire.   

The courtier he, that hops for high degree,  
At last attains, his well deserved hap,  
For service done, he must rewarded be,  
And guerdon his, the mark he leveled at,  
Which got, if he lose again,  
The fault ascribe his own,  
But settled wits, escape the fits,  
To careless courtiers known.   

The masking mind, that mounts amid the stars,  
And wakes to writ, by skill of planet's course,  
Foretells of dearth, of plenty, peace, and wars,  
Of temperate times, of hoary Hiems force,  
Not only skill, but lasting fame,  
When death deprives his days,  
He reaps with groats, to guard his coats,  
Art thrives at all assays.   

Physician's dregs, who tasteth not betime,  
May come too short, if faintness fear to bleed,  
Mas'doctours drink, deserves this praise of mine,  
I never knew the man, it stood in steed,  
Yet one kind tale, and one kind drink,  
One doctor sure hath got,  
A tawny velvet coat and pouch,  
What others get God wots.   

Though rents be great, that runs to clergies share,  
And more th'account, their souls doth rest upon,  
Yet Christ his truth, to preach if near they spare,  
But feed the flock, the account is cast anon,  
And in reward of service done,  
At last appointed hour,  
Where Christ doth reign, they shall attain,  
To shroud in heavenly hour.   

The Lawyer he, the man that measures right,  
By reason, rule, and law, conjoined in one,  
Thy roving Muse, squares much with his delight,  
Whose only toil, all states depend upon:  
For Lawyer go, good right adieu,  
Dick Swash must rule the rest,  
And madding might, would banish quite,  
Tom Troth from English coast.   

In corner close mid books of crabbed sense,  
For ten years day, sith sore he beats his brains,  
To find the right, of things from soul offence,  
Who can deprive such toil of hoped gains.  
In doubtful dooms he reaves the right,  
And throweth force along,  
With doubtful praise, his fame to raise,  
In faith thou dost him wrong.    

A brief discourse, of the discommodities of quarreling written at the request of his especial friend and kinsman, master Robert Cudden of Gray's In.  
AS manhood is a virtue great, where wisdom rules the sword,  
As great a vice it is to brawl, for every trifling word,  
The railing speech, the fearless oaths, the standers by affright,  
When quarrelers like curtal curs, do bark before they bite,  
But if their brawling turn to blows, his count comes very scant,  
For six pennies strife, to buy a sword, and buckler if he want,  
A reckoning worse to catch a lick, but worst the loss of life,  
One of which evils, lightly haunt, the man which lives in strife,  
Who so is hurt doth feel the smart, who hurts in fear doth live,  
His foe to seek a sharp revenge, some desperate stroke will give,  
If luckless blow should plerte the heart, the one to death gives place,  
The other lives in slender hope, to have the prince's grace.  
Though suit of friends, his pardon gets, appeal doth pinch his purse,  
But gnawing of the conscience guilt, than all will grieve him worse,  
What greater spite than spoiled limbs, with houghed less to limp,  
Or with a wood, or iron hand, the maimed arm to y●●e.  
This moan he finds at strangers hands, a cold amendss in faith,  
A proper man, as one shall see, see what mishap he hath,  
But they that know his brawls, doth say, no force, it skilleth not,  
His hazard hap, hath hit the white, at which his sold shot,  
His friends do count, by this mischance, how he doth nothing lose,  
Who else would kill, or sure be killed, a sorry choice to choose.  
But (ah) good couse, at this my verse, the reader smile I see,  
Who says, behold how far from words, his deeds do disagree,  
If half this reason ruled his rage, his rashness had not caught,  
A maimed hand (which true I grant) nor trial had me taught,  
The goodness half of such a limb, which by the loss I find,  
But sith mishap would have it so, this shows an honest mind,  
To warn his friends the vice to shun, whose proof bewrays the woe,  
If late repentance wrought him help, he would no more do so.   

The unhappy man contemneth Fortune, and cleaveth to Hope, assured once to reach good hap by virtuous Industry, in the despite of Fortune:  

Sweet is the thought, where hope persuadeth hap,  
Although the mind, be fed with faint desire,  
The dunghill drone, would mount to honour's lap,  
If forward thoughts, to Fortune could aspire,  
The venturous knight, whom Valour doth advance,  
First cuts off dread, with hope of happy chance.   

If hope of fame, suppressed not fear of death,  
In face of shot, the soldier would not run,  
Or reck so small, the loss of lively breath,  
If spoil thereof, a slender glory wone.  
Nor merchants would, so seek out foreign soil,  
If hope of gain, ne recompensed their toil.   

The murderous mate, the traitor, and the thief,  
By conscience guilt, that baths in bitter tears,  
In hope of grace, doth suck out sweet relief,  
Which wears to ebb, their flowing tide of fears,  
Then sith she feeds, the wights forworn with woe,  
Why should I faint, though Fortune be my fo.   

Whose thought doth climb, by virtue, not by vice,  
To whom perforce, proud Fortune yields a thrall,  
Suppose (sly hap) may hinder my device,  
Fear feeds the heart, that faints for every fall,  
If first come short, then frame a new account,  
The forward mind, a thousand ways may mount.   

Thou seest that doultes, whom only hap advance,  
Dare overrule their betters far in wit,  
Which veiled their hope, to every sorry chance,  
What may he then, whose hap with skill is knit,  
Bore sway by will, as well in wrong as right,  
Grudge may his foes, but not withstand his might.   

Yet hardly men▪ by virtue do aspire,  
Spite sows suspect, till their desert be tried,  
But once advanced, is that the wise desire,  
In favour they, for fortunes change provide,  
Then though at first, thou light in envies trap,  
Small were thy loss, which never erst hadst hap.   

If so it be, in hope I forward set,  
To range the world, as fortune shall me drive,  
A happy toil, if credit so I get,  
As sure I shall, for what is he alive,  
But hath good hap, within so large a scope,  
God and Saint George, sand fortune as I hope.    

How great a folly the conceit of excellency is.  
WHere as dame Nature hath bestowed, a special gift of wit,  
And learning wone by travel long, with nature's lore is knit.  
If wisdom then do rule his tongue, the trial of his skill,  
A passing praise among the wise, no doubt but win he will,  
But once infect, with fond conceit, how he doth others pass.  
So feeding on his painted speech, will prove a passing ass,  
Or if he seeks by reasons rule, the scoffer to disgrace,  
Which makes a scorn, of sound advice, and loves to flout and face.  
Or when his equals list to sport, to waste their sharp annoy,  
His glorious tongue, is gravely bend, to countermand their joy.  
If once they do espy his vein, their vice they will him take,  
Then sots will strait be on his top, the residue sport to make,  
If argument his betters move, how so the same doth grow,  
If he defend or prove with them, before their mind he know,  
Too malapert they will him reck, and so their tale adjourn,  
Thus too familiar speech in him, unto contempt will turn,  
Where haply else, to try his wit, themselves will him request,  
To show his reasons and his mind, which side he liketh best,  
For oft the best, the base choose, and leaves the high estate,  
But knows again, when to be strange, jest he should prove check mate  
In honest mirth, is wisdom seen, as time thereto doth fit,  
For gravest heads must have a mean, for to refresh their wit,  
Few words they say, in order placed, the wise man's tale doth wray,  
And silence is an answer fit, the noddy's tongue to stay,  
But over halt in seeking praise, some minds persuade the still,  
Their knowledge silence will conceal, what then avails their skill?  
When as between the both extremes, a modest mean doth lie,  
For to direct the wise man's tongue, as needs the use shall try.   

Against ingratitude.  
PEriander of Corinth sometime prince,  
A law ordained, ingrateful chuffs to pain,  
Which was on proof, who could a churl convince.  
To reap rewards, unrecompenst again,  
To levy mends, he should no longer live,  
For why (quoth he) such men deserves no grace,  
As gladly take, and grudge again to give,  
A needful law, this shameless sect to chase,  
For what may be, a viler fault than this,  
To be unkind, to father or to friend,  
Or how may men, amend their foul amiss,  
Which scorns the wights, which daily them defend.  
A Farmer once, a frozen snake did find,  
With pity moved, who laid her by the fire,  
The snake reviv'd, did show herself unkind,  
But what ensued, he slew her for her hire.  
A moral rule, ingrateful wights to warn,  
How thankless they, do quite a friendly turn,  
But out alas, those varlets be so stern,  
That viper like, they law and duty spurn,  
We daily see, the parents painful toil,  
Their restless care, their children well to train.  
We likewise see, how thankless children spoil,  
Their parents goods, or wish them dead for gain.  
The good man often, the friendless child doth keep,  
And fosters him, with many a friendly groat,  
who seeks his spoil, when he is sound asleep,  
Or gives consent, to cut his masters throat,  
We see some men, advanced to honours high,  
By help of such, which once did bear a sway,  
Which quite forget, what feathers forced them fly,  
If founders there's, by froward chance decay,  
The traitorous mate, whose prince doth call to grace,  
Is subject strait, to sow seditious strife,  
No marvel then, to root out such a race.  
If Corinth king, ordained loss of life,  
But if in ure, we now should put his doom,  
Ingrateful gnufes, each gallows so would cloy,  
That scarcely thieves, to hung should have a room.  
To ease the just, whom daily they annoyed,  
Yet doubt I not, some means would be prepared,  
To cut them off, for both may well be spared.   

The evil fortune of a covetous person, and what profit ariseth by the death of a churl.  
A Desperate wight, his fortunes foul to free,  
(By wilful death) to rid his cares did choose,  
But as he trudgd, to totter on a tree,  
Untimely there, his loathed life to lose,  
(A rare good hap) a pot of gold he found,  
The gold he rapt, his rope he left behind,  
Anon a carl, came sheaking through the ground,  
In steed of gold, a rope who there did find,  
Which hapless sight, so nipped him at the heart,  
That lo for woe, he pissed where he stood,  
At length (quoth he) this cord shall cure my smart,  
And so he hung himself in sullen mood.  
The sight were fair, if every bough did bear,  
Such kind of fruits, till caren churls were choked,  
Whose deaths enforce, a thousand well to far,  
Their lives the poor, as many ways hath yoked.  
The worms rejoice, upon a churl to gnaw,  
The poor man then, whom he did pinch of yore,  
Hath penny dole, and meat to fill his maw,  
Where scarcity was, forthwith appeareth store.  
Pray for his soul, the common people cry,  
As for his life, the world full well may spare,  
His hordes of gold, about the house then fly,  
Catch who catch may, his goods a hundred share.  
His heaps of corn, to every market sails,  
Which close he kept, in hope of some dear year,  
And where he spared, the parings of his nails,  
His son may spend and make his friends good cheer,  
If such increase, comes by a carrens death,  
Who would not wish, a cord to stop his breath?   

A brief description of death.  
DEath is a pillar to the Prince,  
true justice to uphold,  
A terror to the traitorous mate,  
his secrets to unfold,  
A steadfast stay to common weals,  
a web of worldlings woe,  
A father to the harmless wight,  
unto his friend a foe.   

¶ An epitaph upon the death of Henry Cantrell of Lincoln's Inn Gent. by his friend R. C.  

SIth virtuous life, death never may deprive,  
But liveth (aye) amid the glorious crew,  
Lament not then, our Cantrell is alive,  
In heaven, on high, with changed life a new,  
Then death no dole, sith life therein remains,  
But glad, he go, to bliss from worldly pains.   

From wreak of woe, from cut of cares annoy,  
From fainting friends, from dole of doubtful doom,  
From vain delights, the counterfeit of joy,  
From sobbing sighs, whence sorrows seeds do come,  
From dread to die, sith death doth clear us quit,  
Lament not then, good Henry Cantrells hit.   

The dallying days, that here we lead along.  
On earthly mould, fills up the sack with sins,  
Here mirth with moan, is always mixed among,  
To sour our sweet, here fortune never lins,  
Hence pleasure parks, no joy can here remain,  
No swallowed sweet, not purged with pills of pain.   

Then laud the Lord, lament no whit at all,  
Though it hath pleased, his will and heavenly ●est,  
From wretched us, this happy youth to call,  
For (sure I say) his soul him liked best.  
Thus best he calls, and leaves the worst alone,  
His mercy such, our heaped sins to moon.    

How great a vice it is either for the virtuous, or valiant man, to accompany himself with men of base condition, when as (acknowledging his duty) he may adventure into the company of the best.  

WHere virtue may, or valour one advance,  
To base his hap, a lout to live below,  
Or credit seek, with men of meanest chance,  
A fearful heart, a dunghill mind do show,  
On thorns no grapes, but sour flows doth grow,  
Even so by sots, no fame, but shame doth rise,  
A fair catch, for such to count thee wise,   

The forward mind, doth covet this at lest,  
To press, where he is poorest of the train,  
And not to live, with those (himself) the best,  
For sure he shall, a lousy kingdom gain,  
Where under him, do none but beggars rain,  
By learnings lore, who doth the idiot school,  
In fine will prove himself a passing fool.   

The highest trees, doth keep the under spray,  
From Phoebus' gleams, from, sugared dews that fall,  
So mounting minds, aloft doth bear the sway,  
When meaner wits, doth live below in thrall,  
They suck the sweet, when sots do gnaw the gall,  
They wrong, by might, their will makes right a mome,  
Who pricks at such, but seldom s●ooteth home.   

Such is their force, where credit beareth sway,  
A perfect tale, although the wronged tell,  
Their thwarting speech, what they mislike, will stay,  
The wronged wight, with wrath may haply swell,  
And pleads a fresh, though not so passing well,  
Then saucy knave, how ma●lapeart he is,  
Away go pack, your purpose you shall mis.   

But if the sot, which in their favour stand,  
Do slammer forth, a patched tale of lies,  
Their helping speech, will force him understand,  
The way and means, afresh for to devise,  
To frame his talk, from show of truth to rise,  
A virtue strange, their words can bring to pass,  
That fools seem wise, the wise in show an Ass.   

What freer life, than others to command?  
What happier state, then for to live in rest?  
What greater wealth, than what a man demand?  
What credit like, the countenance of the best?  
For thralls it were, a heaven to reach the left,  
But they aloft, whom virtue doth advance,  
If more may be, enjoy more happy chance.   

UUho will not then, both seek and double seek,  
To reach this hap, with hazard at the first,  
The forward wight, though fortune give the gléeke,  
A fresh will toil, till that his har● doth burst▪  
If still she frown, in faith the man is cursed,  
A fall (says he) who recketh such a loss,  
An ass shall ride, and no high stirring horse.   

For proof again, the huge and mighty oak,  
Whose withered root, from falling cannot stay,  
But down he comes, by sturdy Boreas' stroke,  
His fall god wots, doth crush the under spray,  
Even so it fares, with those that beareth sway,  
If by mishap they wrapped be in thrall,  
The poor doth bear, the burden of their fall.   

For where as minds, by mischief raised too high,  
Sedition sow, their native soil● to wring,  
When Princes might doth make such rebels fly,  
The leaders chief, well horsed away do fling,  
When pesaunts stay, and Sursum cord sing,  
They sue for grace, safe in another's land,  
When toiling thralls, are trussed out of hand.   

If in abuse, of both their states be best,  
Although the best, in faith is very bad,  
Deserving well, they are far better blest,  
They roist in silks, when clowns in rags are clad,  
They have their will, and what can more be had,  
Who will not then, how so sly hap says nay,  
Seek out this chance, if virtue says he may?    

¶ An epitaph on the death of the right worshipful master Robert Wingfield, of Vpton in the county of Northampton Esquire.  

TO show their cause of dole, whom Wingfields' death doth pierce,  
Good muse take thou a little pain, his virtues to rehearse,  
He well was known to spring, from house of ancient name,  
Yea leave his Arms, and blaze his acts, and you shall see the same.  
His zeal to serve his God, his care to save his soul,  
His stout contempt of Romish rags, their tax, their tithe, and toll.  
The Gospel, that he loved, his life that showed no less,  
Bore witness that in words and works, the truth he did profess.  
Believe his blessings else, which he received from high,  
The first long life, in happy health, till age enforced him die.  
And then this comfort sweet, to free his age from fears,  
He saw his children live and like, in credit many years,  
Sufficient wealth he had, enough he thought a feast,  
He had enough, he spent enough, and with enough deceased.  
His credit with his Prince continued from his youth,  
(A sight most rare) in office placed, he trust, returned with truth.  
Full fifty years and two, a justice place he used,  
For common peace, and profit both, he seldom pains refused,  
He wéeded wrongs from right; by law, and not by aim,  
He kept this course, to help the poor, the lewd again to blame.  
His life upright and just, he joyed in no man's thrall,  
His dealings were both loved, and liked, among his neighbours all.  
His bounty at his board, his store for every sort,  
The high, the low, the rich, the po●re, wrought him a rare report.  
And thus long time he lived, in credit and in love,  
Till death to work, his joy, our grief, his force began to prove.  
But yet he sickness sent, for to forewarn him first,  
Whose honest mind, whose conscience clear, strait bade him do his worst.  
And so with hope of heaven, unto the grave he veiled,  
Of which he glad, his friends as sad, if sorrow aught prevailed.   

Vivit post funera virtus.    

¶ An epitaph on the death of the right worshipful master john Ayleworth Esquire.  
IF men may wail their loss, that death hath rid from woe,  
Then give me leave to weep my fill, my sorrows so to show.  
And though to bathe in tears, small botes, now he is go,  
Yet none can leave, so firm a friend, and show no sign of moan.  
When brainsick I a bruise, with over bravery caught,  
He first did cure my need with coin, then sound thus me taught,  
be stayed: for rolling stones, do seldom gather moss.  
I tried his aid, I liked his words, and still shall rue his loss.  
His loss not I alone, but thousands more lament,  
His children, friends, & servants poor, with brackish tears are sprent.  
But O you silly poor, whom need doth nip and pierce,  
With heart, with hand, with might & main, your heaps of woe rehearse.  
Cry, out of cruel death, for reaving your relief,  
You are the wights, that have (God wot) the greatest cause of grief.  
When hunger faints your hearts, when you with cold shall frease,  
The lack of Ayleworths food and fire, your starved limbs to ease.  
When might would mar your right, his counsel sound and sure,  
His open purse to plead your cause, the pains he but in ure.  
When you (poor souls) shall miss, with him that was your stay,  
Then shall your griefs appear as green, as he had died to day.  
These were his fruits of faith, these alms he did of zeal,  
He weighed no show, his words, in works, the Gospel did reveal.   

EXHORTATIO.  
O life of much avail, O worldlings it ensue,  
So shall you not be led by gold, but gold be ruled by you,  
So shall you keep him bright, that mouldeth in your chest,  
So shall the world speak well of you, your conscience so in rest.  
The sweetest joys of all, though death your farewell give,  
So, so: your souls with his in heaven, your fames on earth shall live.   

¶ An epitaph in the order of an admonition, written on the death of his very friend john Note of Gray's Inn Gent. Untimely slain the 2. of November 1575.  

WIth tears in thought imprint, both frem and known friend,  
Three special notes of much avail, by Notes untimely end.   

1.  
Note first his honest life, of every sort was loved,  
Learned he was and virtuous both, his manhood thoroughly proved,  
A gallant wit he had the which he governed so,  
As did content all sorts of men, when cause the use did show.  
He had both health and wealth, his fortune was to hard,  
And yet in spite of froward chance, Fame shall his virtues guard.   

2.  
His life would followed be, his death forwarnes his friends,  
(A note of worth) of quarrelling, that still with mischief ends.  
And yet with such abuse, I mean not him to touch,  
But this I say (he proved it true) by once he fought to much,   

3.  
another note he leaves, the which to show I quake,  
His spéeding wound so reft his sense, as word he never spoke.  
God's pleasure in the cause, I leave for to dispute,  
He knew his thoughts, we know his life: then judge 'twere better mute.  
Yet learn you by his fate, (if you examples fear,)  
You have no charter of your life, then best you do prepare,  
Yourselves each hour to die, lest you be tarde took,  
You are here warned, with over proof, into your conscience look.   

Hora mortis incertissima.    

¶ An epitaph on the death of his especial friend, Thomas Cornelius Gentleman slain in the Prince of Orange his service in Holland.  

YOu lusty youths that sometime were his friends,  
Cornelius life, here may you lively read,  
In spite of death his virtues never ends,  
Whose worthy paths, are meet for you to tread,  
At home he seld, in any quarrels fallen,  
All sorts he pleased, he used himself so well.   

When Flushing frays, were roung with sweet report,  
Our English youths, post hast them thither high,  
Where as they found (God wots) but sorry sport,  
far from the speech, that of the gain did fly,  
With whom in hope, who hap did well deserve,  
Away he goes the Orange Prince to serve.   

And placed at length, among the drunken Dutch,  
He quite forgot, he went to fight for pennies,  
The mark of fame, was that he sought to touch,  
The which he hit, before he parted thence,  
With slender pay, at first he was content,  
And yet his mind, still with the foremost went.   

Though harebrained youths, at such preferment spurn,  
And gape for charge, ere they themselves can guide,  
Although he had, of friends to serve his turn,  
He l●●t such suit, till his desert were tried,  
In all Alarms, to fight he soon was priest,  
In heat of blows, as forward as the best.   

That he unsawe, syld, skirmishes there were,  
(Such pains he took, to scale the fort of fame,)  
The coin he had▪ he grudged not to share,  
For their relief, that sickly were or lame,  
Of every sort thus won he worthy praise,  
From best to worst, that served in Holland frays.   

Two years and more he tasted soldiers toils,  
And did escape when other men were slain,  
But keeping still a coil in bloody broils,  
(I sigh to show,) God wots he caught his bane,  
Who being dead, though no man may revive,  
Yet shall my Muse, his virtues keep alive.   

Mors honesta ignominiosae vitae praeferenda.    

Whetstons' invective against Dice.  

MY Muse to mount Parnassus' hill,  
Which whilom tokst delight,  
Fair Venus' joys to set to view,  
And wray blind Cupid's spite.  
Go shroud thyself in Limbo lake,  
This dreary tale to tell,  
Of Dice, to figure forth the fruit,  
A second show of hell.  
There crave the aid of wrathful spirits,  
The Authors of this art,  
And join with them such hellish imps,  
As waits to work our smart.  
For sure their plagues to paint aright,  
Beseemeth well the toil,  
Of him that penned the pains of hell,  
How Pluto's thralls do broil.  
The lusty youth, with living left,  
Whose woe is wealth and ease,  
To line his purse with polling fines,  
His tenants pennies doth fease,  
Then doth he bear a lofty sail,  
As one that dreads no want,  
These sneaking curs now range abroad,  

A cheating merchant looks like a sneaking cur.  To find this novis haunt.  
One bitten dog above the rest,  
Doth great acquaintance crave,  
Whose kindred blazed, and friendship vouched  
He treats of counsel grave.  
Trust me good cus, trust me he cries,  

Crossbiting a kind of cozening under the colour of friendship.  When first I left my guide,  
This town did weave my web of cares,  
Before that craft I spied.  
Each shifting slave, did search the mean,  
A mate to make me meet,  
Then he the names bewrays of some,  
Himself to make him sweet.  
The lusty brute which fears no fraud,  
Doth count his cunning blessed,  
Who thinks he hath a saint in hand,  
Yet shakes sir Satan's fist.  
Their friendship new, by greeting often,  
Now grafted in their breast,  
His kindred coined in cousner's stamp,  
Invites him as his guest.  
Who kindly thanks him for his cost,  
And craves amendss to make,  
Then trudge they to some tabling house,  
Their hunger for to slake.  
Where dainty far great store they find,  
Their napery fair and sweet,  
And gallants gay, with Congees kind,  
Their coming for to greet.  
A bouncing girl they seldom miss,  
To furnish forth their mess,  
Whose chirping tongue, with pleasant speech,  
Doth cheer her choose guess.  
There shall you hear described plain,  
Each foreign town and tower, 
The table exercise.   
Augmented news of warlike frays,  
Where fortune late did lower.  
As cold as snow, some couch their scoffs,  
And some to railing priest,  
In pleasant speech some play the K.  
And makes thereon a jest.  
And some so plainly figure's forth,  
The fruits of Venus' court,  
That honest ears doth scorn to hear,  
Their vain and vile report.  
Their dinner done, they leave this speech,  
The gamesters call for dice,  
Where posting jacke to rub the board,  
Doth come even with a trice.  
To you, you furies, now I leave,  
This foul abuse to wray,  
Their foisting shifts my Muse doth maze,  
Their oaths my pen doth fray.  
Ten mine aloud some cogger cries, 
The fearless oaths that dicers use.   
Three mine some youth doth say,  
God's blood eleven, (well sworn in faith,)  
The caster cries to pay.  
Six is the main, what do you set,  
Well ten to six I have,  
Two flues (gods heart) then for the house,  
The boxer straight doth crave.  
And nine: Come you and nine this crown,  
Well, chance at it I say,  
Aumes ace (gods wounds) 'tis not my luck,  
Two maynes to throw this day. 
Murderers of oaths.   
Some hypocrites, do murder oaths,  
Fair Gamesters for to seem,  
But of both evils, to choose the best,  
The doubt were hard I deem,  
Perhaps some gallant fortune haunts,  
Good hap his hand doth guide,  
His purse afloat, within his breast,  
Doth lurk disdainful pride.  

Money lightly won, is as lightly spent.  Then roists he in his rattling silks,  
And sorts with Venus' dames,  
Whose luring looks, enforce his heart,  
To fry in Cupid's flames.  
To train him in, he shall enjoy,  
Each outward show of bliss,  
In secret sport they willbe coy,  
They fear to do amiss.  
A suit of Lawn my Lady lacks,  

Luers to stoop a Curtisane.  Or else some trifling chain,  
A cawl of gold, and other knacks,  
My novis purse must glean.  
The haggard then that checked of late,  
Will stoop to fancy's lure,  
And inward bend at every beck,  
No storm shall change procure.  
Her crystal eyes shall still be fixed,  
To stare upon his face,  
Her dainty arms shall try their force,  
Her lover to embrace.  
Her Rub●e lips, by stealth she will,  
be joining unto his,  
With courage vaunst, her friend to force,  
To fall to Venus' bliss.  
Then will she play Galatheas part,  
To make his joy more sweet,  
By striving yield, who never thought,  

A rape unpunishable.  From such devise to fleet.  
To frame excuse for late offence,  
The quean will cog apace,  
She will allege his sugared words,  
His gallant gifts of grace:  
So wrought within her horish mind,  
As nought availed defence,  
For to withstand his sharp assaults,  
She lies it was his pennies.  
nought craving for her kindness shown,  
Save constancy in him,  
Then she that rues her chastise spoiled,  
In seas of joys shall swim.  
Which subtle speech doth force her friend, 
Fairewords makes fools feign.   
Within his mind to say,  
In beauty's show, my choice doth pass,  
Sir Paris peerless prey,  
Adventurous boy, now bathe in bliss,  
In scorn of Fortune's rage,  
Thy good success, in former suits,  
Good hap doth still presage,  
But all this while, his purse is sick,  
It purgeth more and more.  
Then runs he to his former vain,  
To cure his sudden sore.  
Where co-mates, if he chance to lack,  
The devil is in the room,  
The master will supply the want,  
Till more resort doth come.  
Who chiefly in this hellish house, 
Like master, like scholars.   
Doth God in pieces tear,  
With quick repentance than he cries,  
A beast he is to swear.  
Which words more true is then his oath,  
When most he cogs and scowl,  
For one may shape an Ox's sconce,  
By pattern of his jowl,  
My young man's purse, that erst was sick,  
Here reaps but small relief,  
His new receipt doth scour to fast,  
Cheap side must cure his grief.  
Then to the Goldsmiths strait he runs,  
Where most his credit is, 
A notable usury.   
Cracked Angels there be currant coin,  
Eight shillings worth a piece.  
Four pound in twenty, for a month,  
In faith is pretty gain,  
The lender may well live thereon,  
The payment is the pain.  
Then as a man with love once matched,  
At length yet won the fort,  
His Lady yielding to his lust,  

Both infections can hardly be cured.  Doth thirst for Venus' sport.  
So doth this youth to be at dice,  
Think every hour three,  
One bone was sure, the frame of both,  
In nature so they 'gree.  
Now fortune frowns, that late did laugh,  

There is no certainty in dicers fortunes.  To quite him for his scorn,  
Ill luck doth change his chance of gain,  
Good lot is quite forlorn,  
One by and main, at every throw,  
His Angel runs astray,  
He frets & fumes, he stamps & stars,  
He leaves a main to pay.  
His setters some, they losers be,  
They will not so be served,  
They willbe paid gods wounds his heart  
Forthwith shall else be carved.  
With money lost, his colour stirred,  
He bids them do their worst,  
And if they dare appoint the place,  
God's blood he willbe first.  

Dicers quarrels.  The box then at his bosom goes,  
His dagger now he draws,  
They parted are, they do agree,  
Abroad to try them daws.  
Then Smithféeld ruffians flock apace,  
And Fleetstreet hackster's hue,  
The enemies meet, of ircksom hell,  
They do present the show.  
Draw, draw, the villains kill, they cry,  
Then some do show their strength,  
Some thrust five yards ere foe do come,  
To keep him out at length.  
The broken blades they buss about, 
An ill wound that drives no man to profit.   
The more the Cutler's gain,  
Some hops for need, which feign would go  
Some lies in street nigh slain.  
Some siovins sleeves will buttoned be,  
That down their weapons fall.  
The Barber waits, the wounded wights  
Looks like the whited brickwall.  
To rue his hap on every side,  
His feigned friends do flock,  
His minion kind to wrap his wounds,  
Will now bestow her smock.  
Not all for grief of his mischance, 
Some visit the sick more in hope of gain, than devotion.   
This kindness they do show,  
But greedy gaping after gain,  
If death should ease his woe.  
His danger past, by surgeons art,  
They do present their bill,  
The which defrayed (with other charge)  
His feeble purse doth kill.  
He keeping home when debts were due.  
And payment none was made,  
Doth breed mistrust in Merchants minds,  
His credit gins to vade.  
To cell his land, full loath he is,  
A thread he fairly spins, 
What ensues after mortgaging.   
To mortgage it he fully minds,  
To thrive he now begins.  
Now blewberds bags doth bear the sway,  
Old snudges smell him out,  
Good simple souls they plainly mean,  
Yet traverse every doubt.  
An hundredth pound they venture will,  
On land five hundredth worth,  
In scriveners craft consist their law,  
Poor subtle men forsooth.  
The ruddocks red do tempt his eyes,  
The instruments be made,  
In faith to sour his sweet receipt,  
Before digestion had,  

A statute a perilous bond.  Some unadvised statute he,  
Without defesaunce wrought,  
Doth enter in, their gold to gain,  
Their guiles he fears naught,  
They perchment reap, he gold doth glean,  
Who toils in straightest yoke,  
For present state, I will not judge,  
Hereafter strikes the stroke.  
Now he for fear of sergeants sauce,  
That sickness late did feign,  
In every street, which sight presents,  
His presence you may gain,  
The Mercer's books for silks be crossed,  

A welcome guest.  His debts be now befraide,  
The remnant doth the dice consume,  
Of all, which worst is paid,  
Redeeming day, draws on a pace,  
His money clean is go,  

Credit once lost is not easily obtained again.  His creditors through late mistrust,  
Forsooth will lend him none.  
Then doth he trudge to Holdfastes house,  
His great distress to wray,  
Of him to get a longer time,  
His money for to pay.  
Who answers, fair, that God forbidden,  
My conscience I should stretch,  
To take advantage of a day,  
(O false dissembling wretch,)  
The feigned words he simply trusts,  
The merchant did accord,  
As though bore words were good discharge, 
Bore words an ill plea, against matter of record.   
For matters of record,  
Now is he forced to try his friends  
His money to provide,  
Where he on flocks may see them fleet,  
Which fawned in his pride.  
Yet some there be for his distress, 
Necessity tries frend●   
Whose hearts with bale will bleed,  
And finds the mean to lend him coin:  
Well far a friend at need.  
Advanced with joy, to pay his pennies,  
In haste now is he go,  
But cut throat gives a cooling card,  
For money he will none, 
A cooling card.   
His land is his, by forfeit plain,  
Which is too sweet to loose,  
For kindness yet, he will be frank,  
He plays now with his nose,  
Hold twenty pounds, besides to drink,  
How like you of this match.  
For five to have fifteen with him,  
In faith is but a snatch.  
The youth again, will have his land,  
Or else (Gods wounds) he swears,  
The pillory for cousining him,  
Shall moth eat both his ears,  
And in this chafe, he doth departed,  
Sub penas for to fetch,  
Which range abroad in every street,  
To catch the cousining wretch,  
Who caught, his pranks of deep deceit,  
The youthlings plaint betrays,  
And shows ere time of forfeit cam●,  
He gave him longer days,  
To answer which denying all,  
The crafty carl now speeds.  
With rough reply, the plaintine soothes,  
His plaint of truth proceeds,  
The gnawing worm, of conscience vile,  
Now bites at Blewbeards' breach,  
He fears sol fa, in cousner's cliff,  
His ears too high shall stretch,  
Which makes him trudge, to find his mates,  
The fry of Satan's crew,  
For to consult how to avoid,  
The shame that might ensue.  
The pack of knavery than they ope,  
Their crafty bonds▪ they view,  
One shifting knave, a forfeit finds,  
To make their enemy rue.  

Lewd counsel.  The rest with open mouth doth cry,  
To catch poor cousenée,  
By durance hard, to make him yield,  
Which else would not agree.  
Then lay they trains, of Coming seed,  

Coming a Gauntalias a Serpent.  To toll this pigeon in,  
Whose chiefest feathers soon be pulled,  
Once snarled in their gin.  
The counter serves, him for a cage,  
Where breeding holes there be▪  
But lover lights, to scape away,  
This dove cote lacks we see,  
For him that erst did range abroad,  
This air is not fit.  
The Bench he thinks, more freedom hath,  
For to refresh his wit.  
More haste than needs, he finds a mean,  
His cause● to reméeve,  
And that the body come with him,  
The writ doth charge the shréene,  
Well manned then comes he to the bar,  
The judge commands away,  
Then tipstaves snatch him up in haste,  
They make no long delay.  
Safe locked they leave him under charge,  
Until the court doth rise,  
Then guarded to the mershals' house,  
This lusty gallant hies,  
Who passing through the porters lodge,  
Then finds no jesting game,  
For Burton with his book of doom,  
Requesteth him his name.  
Roger Woodcock of unthrifts row,  
What gentleman or squire,  
Ten groats and two pennies you must pay, 
A gentle admittance   
I do but right require.  
Which paid, a while to view the house,  
He lets him go at large,  
But soon the vermin comes again,  
To give the second charge.  
Your worship knows the loss saith he, 
A gentle persuasion.   
My master should sustain,  
If any prisoner should escape,  
Their ease his little gain,  
And therefore each of you he may,  
By law in irons lay,  
Yet he for pity trusteth you,  
Your penance is to pay.  
For them three halfpence in the pound,  
Your actions yield thus much,  
Which trifle for your ease to give,  
Your worship need not grudge.  
Then may you in the garden walk,  
When you have paid your fees.  
Thus every way the poor is pinched,  
To pluck him on his knees.  
An answer fair the prisoner makes.  
Which doth content the time,  
Then he to seek his fellow mates,  
The stairs strait doth climb,  
Some subtle lawyer soon he finds,  

The King's Bench never without a subtle Lawyer.  Who great acquaintance craves,  
To whom he shows, his luckless lot,  
Enforced by shifting slaves.  
And lastly, to his skill commends,  
If iron fees be due.  
Extortion plain, the Lawyer saith,  
His words be very true,  
The statute here at large I have,  
Set down for prisoners ease.  
The Jailer can by law receive,  
A groat, no more for fees,  
And in your other causes I  
The snudge will sharply yoke,  
But look your counsel lacks no coin,  
For money strikes the stroke.  
Which money kills the heart of him,  
Whom present need doth pine,  
Yet he at first, do share him fees,  
As though he had a mine,  
And all on hoyh, he rashly reakes,  
His prisonment a scorn,  
And vainly vaunts, to plague his foe▪  

Saturday a heavy day to needy prisoners.  Till Saturday at morn.  
Corrections than be sharply given,  
To them which money lacks,  
Now Burton comes for iron fees,  
My youth now stoutly cracks,  
If he extort where is no right,  
The statute to prepare,  
And swears to make him pay the pain,  
And damage for his share.  

Might overcomes right.  But here no lawen nor right do rule,  
N● vaileth threats nor cracks.  
With bolts and shackles on his shins,  
His load & heels he shakes.  
Where late was gold, an iron chain,  
Do well beseem the neck,  
His wrists in stead, of bracelets brave,  
With manacles be decked,  
And now they will him cool his feet,  
He cloyed with irons great,  
For all his law, 
Necessity obeys not law.  is glad to pay,  
Yea more than that entreat.  
Thus he that thought Charybdis' rocks,  
By wisdom to escape,  
By folly fallen in Silla's gulf,  
His greater griefs to shape,  
How speeds he now in all his suits,  
When all his pennies be spent?  
Unféed do Lawyers ply his cause,  
Till new receipt of rent?  
Nay, 
Nihil dicet, a vantage a cousiner seeks.  Nicklas nihil dicet sure,  
To nip him to the heart,  
In execution lays him up,  
For fear that he should start,  
He fast, his feigned friends yet free,  
To see him be not rash,  
And Mynx his minion hath a mate,  
And leaves him in the lash.  
For Haggard like, she will not stoop,  
But where she gets her pray,  
His coin consumed, his courage cooled,  
In hope she will not stay.  
What rests now, to this luckless man,  
What pen his woes can wray,  
Of friends forlorn, 
A miserable estate.  of freedom reft,  
And he at beggars bay.  
Thus gaulde with grief his Lawyer yet,  
This slender shift doth use,  
And saith that prisoners be oppressed,  
And all men do refuse,  
To ease their wants, and therefore sure,  
The best is to agree,  
He may the better plague his foes,  
Abroad when he is free.  
Which freedom so doth feed his heart,  
Whom present bondage nips,  
That he through hope before his hap,  
For joy now hops and skips,  
And then in haste, for holdfast sends,  
Agreement for to make,  

A nice companion.  But once or twice he must be prayed,  
Ere he the pains will take,  
And then with one or two he comes,  
And up and down he jets,  
Now do I smile to show the speech,  
Betwixt these counterfeits.  


The one through necessity, the other through hypocrisy.  
The proverb verified.   The youth that roughly railed of late,  
A piteous plaint doth paint,  
The devil himself in Christian show,  
Doth counterfeit a Saint,  
But after many words of grief,  
That either part can say,  
The youth perforce the candle holds,  
And bears the blame away,  
And gladly yields himself in fault,  
Whose craving suit now is,  
That cutthroat will, release him of  
The penance of his mis,  
And take such order as they both,  
In friendly league may live.  
The more that he in prison spends,  
The less he hath to give,  
As though that conscience moved his mind,  
The merchant doth lament,  
Through peevish pride and haughty heart,  
His pennies and time misspent,  
And order takes his own the gain,  
The loss he leaves to him,  
Which thought without dame wisdoms bark  
In seas of joys to swim.  
From prison free he nothing minds, 
The law provides a remedy, for extortion, etc. but the lack of execution emboldeneth churls to break them,   
The statute to prefare,  
Nor for the cozening shifts he used,  
To cloy the churl with care.  
But runs unto his former vain,  
If aught he have to play,  
To posting than he somewhat puts,  
His commons to defray,  
Some Cheater haply will him teach,  
Some cogging tricks at dice,  
Whereby he may maintain himself,  
If therein he be wise.  
Then is he set a sale to toll,  
Some other younkers in,  
To make them bite at unthrifts bait,  
While he their pennies doth win.  
Some can not brook this servile life, 
Ventures barge.   
But needs in ventures barge,  
Will seek a price, but how they speed,  
I leave to show at large.  
The sweet report of soldiers gain, 
soldiers gain.   
By them that lack the sour,  
Persuadeth strait some venturous mind,  
To scale dame Fortune's bower.  
But Flushing frays, 
Flushing.  hath wrought such fear,  
That they suspend their hope,  
If one did gain, than two were slain,  
The third did stretch a rope,  
And beggars most returned again,  
Unto their native soil,  
For Holland yielded little thrift,  
In lieu of all their toil.  
And some with trifles seeks to thrive,  
But few do speed so well,  
And with a little haply learns;  
Repentance for to spell.  
The serving man, 
Of servingmen.  that plies this vain,  
A shorter cut doth make,  
He hath no fines to fill his purse,  
Nor racked rents to rake,  
His way for to supply his want,  
Is by the Scottish cog.  
But finely he must strike his dye,  
Lest irons do him clog.  
And worse than that, to make him sure.  

The hangman's cog.  In haste doth hangman speed,  
Where he in cogging wins the coat,  
For that he strikes him dead.  

Of husbandmen. etc.  The ploughman, and the poorest sort,  
Which toils and sows the soil,  
And six pennies by the day doth gain,  
In recompense of toil,  
If he at night, consume at play,  
The price of all his hire,  
His wife with hunger well may starve,  
His children freeze for fire.  
O horned hap, of hateful harm,  
O venom vile to tell,  
O greedy gulf of endless grief,  
O horror next to hell,  
O foul infection, fraught with care,  
O sink of such a scent,  
Which never leav'st thy poisoned thralls,  
Till all their wealth be spent  
For not in vain, Agrippa written,  
The fiends of ire you made,  
An Art most fit for hellish imps,  
And not for Christians trade.  

Pride.  A spring from whence all vice did flow,  
Of peevish Pride the nurse,  
For note the dicer, roystes in silk,  

Lechery.  When pennies be pert in purse.  
Then must he press in pleasures court,  
To be of Venus' train,  
Which soon will purge his foggy purse,  
From all their pinching pain.  
His body erst that able was, 
Sloth.   
To serve at each assay,  
By sloth, etc. is so weak,  
That faintness bids him stay,  
To show the valour of his mind▪  
Till natures grief be eased.  
His fearless oaths will fear the devil, 
Blasphemy   
When loss hath him displeased,  
When malice moves him to revenge, 
Wrath.   
His quarrels do excel,  
His careless slashing at his foe,  
Doth wray the form of hell.  
An Epicure for his fare, 
Gluttony. Covetousness.   
Such is his costly cates,  
His mind is bend to snatch and catch,  
Yea more to rob his mates,  
When all is spent and credit cracked, 
Despair.   
Despair then strikes the stroke,  
And makes him gape in hope of plumbs,  
For pennies will shun his poke.  
And thus you hear in ragged rhyme,  
For so be seems the work,  
What veins of vice, what lakes of loss,  
In dogged dice doth lurk,  
For lofty verse unfitly serves,  
To paint the plagues of hell,  
Though not the same, yet next thereto,  
This doggerel rhyme doth tell.  
How youths from rod, 
The sum of the whole discourse.  to freedom leapt,  
Are thrall to sharper whips,  
Whom cozener first, whom cutthroat next,  
Whom lawyer lastly nips.  
The branches of the cousner's tree,  
Are whoredom, theft, and pride,  
From rutthrotes rout, doth bondage spring,  
With loss on every side.  
The Lawyer licks that they have left,  
And lets him sink or swim,  
Pure need than makes him lean on those,  
That erst did live by him.  
Although at large I here do touch,  
Each vice in his degree,  

Exceptions  A special meaning hath my words,  
To grant that some there be,  
By rules of law, which rightly live,  
And not which rules the law,  
To wrist the sense to serve their turn,  
Their clients coin to clue,  
Some merchants rise by honest means.  
And not by crafty shifts,  
Some tabling halls in faith I judge,  
Are free from cheters drifts,  
The which I trust will not repined,  
Or quite my toil with blame,  
Nor yet the guilty well may grudge,  
Which wisely ways the same.   

Quod nocet docet.    

Fifty apples of admonition, late growing on the tree of good government: bestowed on his especial friends and companions, the Gentlemen of Furnival's In.  

Serve, love, and dread you God on high, obey your Prince on earth,  

God 1. Prince. 2. Officers. 3  Unto your betters duty show, be they by rule or birth.   


Law. 4. Expense. 5. Scarcity. 6.  Live you within the bounds of law, and tether of your fee,  
For lightly after one years store, of scarcity cometh three.   


Study. 7. Fraud. 8.  Use study when your wits are fresh, and aptest to conceive,  
But study not the fruits of fraud, your neighbour to deceive.   

Use exercise with such a mean, as works your body's wealth,  
And too much toil doth hinder strength, 
Exercise. 9 Sloth. 10.  & sloth impayreth health,   

Make choice to choose such company, 
Company. 11. Unthrifts. 12.  as are of honest fame,  
For to be seen with thriftless men, impayreth your good name.   

Use modesty in all your words, despraise no man too much,  
For lavish speech breeds great unrest, 
Modest talk. 13. dispraise. 14  in you and them you tuch.   

Make you no show of such conceit, 
The conceit of excellency. 15.  how others you excel,  
For if you do, the wise will say, wit with a fool doth devil.   

Enforce yourself, silence to use, when others tell a tale,  
For babble then, 
Silence. 16.  both troubleth them, and sets your wits to sale.   

Have care to use some recompense, 
Recompense. 17 Ingratitude. 18  where you beholding are,  
For trust me with ingratitude, no honest mind can bare.   

What so your friend commits to you, 
Secretness. 19 Tongue. 20.  be ever secret found,  
Who gives his tongue much liberty, doth all his body wound.   

Beware of tailors curious cuts, for they will shake your bags,  
The merry mean I hold for best, 
Tailors. 21. Apparel. 22.  tween roisting silks & rags.   

The tippling tavern, 
Taverns. 23. Drunkenness. 24  and such like, to haunt have small desire,  
Of all reports it is the worst, to be a drunken squire.   

Who quarrels much hath care enough, with mischief often he ends,  
Sans need throw not your selves in brals, 
quarreling. 25 Partaking. 26.  in need assist your friends   

Shun you the trains of wanton dames, 
Wanton dames. 27.  whose baits are sweet in taste  
But yet in truth, health, wealth, and fame, the courtesan doth waste.   

As high way unto beggary, beware of dogged dice.  
The greatest cause of blasphemy, 
Dice. 28.  a vain of filthy vice.   

Out of the merchant's iurnals keep, 
Wares on trust. 29.  buy seldom wares on trust,  
Such usury bites above the rest, do try it who so lust.   


Mortgage. 30. Cutthrots. 31.  In need make choice to cell out right, before you mortgage land.  
What so befalls, look for no grace, at any cutthroats hand.   


Sealing and safe keeping of writings. 32.33  Look what you seal, read ere you seal▪ therein trust no man's truth  
And writings sealed, keep safe your own, jest had I witted ensueth.   


Suretyship. 34. Friendship. 35  Have great regard to suretyship, all is not gold that shines,  
Yet stretch yourselves, to help your friend, with penury that pines.   

When wedlock life, doth like your mind, match with a virtuous maid  

Marriage. 36. An ill wife. 37  The mischief of the contrary, a plague next hell is said.   


Country. 38. London. 39  And married well, the city leave, sing then Pierce Ploughman's song,  
For women used, to London once, will ever thither long.   


Neghbors. 40 Good report. 41.  Where so you live, have great regard, to use your neighbour well,  
A good report in my conceit, doth riches far excel.   


House keeping. 42. Poor. 43.  What some consume in painted pride, good house keep you withal.  
Relieve the poor in any case, let chaps walk in your hall.   


Servant. 44. Flatterer. 45.  Entreat your honest servant well, give him his hired due,  
The flatterer and the make bate wretch, in any wise eschew.   


Wrangling in the law. 46.  Accounted that wrangling in the law, is enemy to rest,  
A spoil of fame, a loss of time, a thief that robs your chest.   


Duties of an honest man. 47  This reckoning make to serve yourselves, you are not only born,  
Your country, friends, & children look, each one for some good turn.   


Relief. 48.  Three sorts of men, with special care, salve you their needy grie●e,  
The scholar forced from his book, abroad to seek relief.   

The soldier spoiled in the wars, whose hazard works your peace,  
And next the simple husbandman, who toils for your increase.   

So spend your time, 
Fame. 49. Death. 50.  as you may leave, some monument of fame,  
Prefer an honest death, before a life prorogued with shame.   

Quod cavere possis, stultum est admittere.    

A caveat to G. W. at his going into France, written by his friend R.C.  

POst haste, since so thou makest, the coast of France to see,  
Thy friends advice in barren verse, good George yet take with thee,  
Have thou a haught disdain, which art a Bryttan bread,  
At thy return, to prove how that, French follies fills thy head,  
In native soil disguised, thyself God shield thou show,  
In coat, in cloak, in hat, in hose, a French man like to go,  
French shoes, made fast with points, in doublets side and wide,  
Which French men wear (God wots) for ease, suit not thyself through pride  
What tendeth to thy thrift, to follow, not refuse,  
Keep thou one servant and no more, but not as french men use,  
For wages pay not words, as is the guise of France.  
Array him not, in tattered rags, french like, or nakt to dance.  
One meal, no more a day, is pittance very small,  
To like well of, such french like fare, few English yeomen fall,  
Let gesture, words, nor weeds, enforce thy friends to say,  
Behold a frenchman where he flaunts, if face be turned away.  
Which face french like to suit, good George take special heed,  
In taste the baits are very sweet, that do such cankers breed.  
For to pronounce thy words, yea french and all first loose,  
Afore thou spoil thy English tongue, with snuffling in the nose,  
Thou knowest what I mean, thy wit is good and quick:  
Yet wise men often before they look, fast in the mire stick.  
But ere thou rashly leap, the ditches I reveal,  
The plainness of my Muse bewrays, my warning is of zeal.  
My joy thy profit great, if thy return do show,  
Thy travel tends to country's good, not french man like to go.  
The rage of reckless youth, thy travel did alloy,  
And not thereby with proudest show, to roist in garments gay,  
That thou canst yield account, what is the country's state,  
What news of note, do run abroad, as well of love as hate.  
These fruits thy friends expect, at thy return to reap,  
But stay I here, into advice, my Muse too far doth creep,  
She meant not to direct, how thou shouldst use thy time,  
She meant french follies, for thy heed, to touch in naked rhyme,  
Well, since she roved so far, allow what she hath said,  
M● inward wish (for thy avail) she hath no more but wrayde.   

Vive & vale.    

Whetstons' Dream.  

I Weighing once, my harms by others health,  
By just account, I found the self same thing,  
Which woven my woe, did work another's wealth,  
Which wrought my pain, to some did pleasure bring  
Thus cloyed with care, to s● my luckless lot,  
My senses failed, as though I ●ere a sot.   

Yet Sopors beams, so could not clear my breast,  
But storms of care, did shower in my thought,  
Thus slumber sweet, did yield but little rest,  
For pinching pain, suppressed that pleasure wrought,  
But as my woes, did wander here and there,  
My thought I saw, an aged man appear.   

Yet such a one, as care me seemed to cloy,  

Patience.  And Patience, he did name himself to me,  
Who bade me strait, to banish all annoy,  
And of these doubts, I soon an end should see,  
Then I with him, pursued the most resort,  
Unto a place, which seemed a prince's court.   

Whereas my thought, sat crowned a famous queen,  
By due desert, to bear the regal sway,  
Whose princely rule, hath seldom erst been seen,  
As though the Gods, dame nature did obey.  
That justice should, degrade them of each grace,  
Her to invest, with rule of virtues mace.   

Upon whose grace, did nobles grave attend,  
By whose foresight, in peace her subjects live,  
And valiant peers, were ready to defend,  
If foreign force, would once adventure give,  
By warlike frays, to work our great unrest,  
With fire, sword, and piercing spear in rest.   

Within this court, clothed in honest show,  
Was Envy, Hate, Ambition, and Deceit,  
On whom to wait, whereas these fiends did go,  
Base minded wights, were ready at the gate,  
Which never sought, that virtue should advance,  
Their haughty minds, to height of happy chance.   

There might I see, of men another race,  
Which seemed to wail, their woes with weeping eye,  
Whom these same spirits, had shaken once of grace,  
By false suspect, and filthy flattery,  
And well I marked, how they did crouch & creep,  
And all for grace, which evermore did sleep,   

Then I espied, another valiant crew,  
Which looked aloft, by virtue to aspire,  
Unto the room, to their desert ydewe,  
If due desert, had reaped deserved hire,  
But virtue gaped, and gained naught but plums,  
For flattery catched, before they fallen the crumbs.   

Quoth grayberd then, such once was my good hap,  
To be advanced, to height of great renown,  
But I too soon, was caught in Enui●s trap,  
Where false suspect, by flattery kept me down,  
Then patience I, perforce a virtue made,  
And left with loss the country's tickle trade.   

The forth we go, into another place,  
By outward show, where saints my thought did sit,  
Whose gentle speech, presaged endless grace,  
There lose their gain, they vouched by sacred writ,  
These prelate's were, their words deserved their room,  
But sure their deeds, I leave to others doom.   

Hypocrisy did bear a vengeance sway,  
His double tongue, did blear the clergies eye,  
He still affirmde, 'twas true that they did say,  
'Gainst their device, a thousand woes did cry,  
Mas Ignorance, a minister was made,  
Who babbled much, yet witted not what he said.   

Yet sure this clerk, did so in scriptures creep,  
As vouched the same, to cloak each crime he could,  
Pasce oves, he took for grazing sheep,  
Which well he fed, and daily viewed his fold,  
And yet this sot, with pennies procured such grace,  
As often he wrought, true preachers out of place.   

Then out we go, into a pleasant plain,  
In armour bright, where gallants we espy,  
The captain stirred, the soldiers raw to train,  
Of some unwished, unwares their foes drew nigh,  
The cannon cracks, like thunder claps did sing,  
At trumpets sound, the horse men forward fling.   

In foremost front, the fearless youths did fight,  
Which honour sought, and so with honour died,  
The fencer there, proved not the forwardst wight,  
Base minded Dick, the spoil, not blows applied,  
The coward yet, a loof did catch a lick,  
As soon as he, which thronged among the thick,   

When fearless blows, had driven their foes away,  
To slash and slay the cowards did not spare,  
When spoil was given, the soldiers pains to pay,  
Who best deserved, did reap the barest share,  
Thus valour fought, and falsehood fléest the spoil,  
The coward thriu'de, who least of all did toil.   

These bloody broils me thought, we then forsook,  
And soon we slipped into a stately hall,  
Now well apaid about the same I look,  
For glad I was, I scaped the soldiers thrall,  
And proudly then, I thronged amid the press,  
For that their weeds bewrayed, the men of peace.   

Within this hall, were kept the Prince's courts,  
Where Lawyers sat, as judges in the same,  
To show their griefs, more haste than needs resorts,  
Both high and low, the rich and poor of name,  
Pro et contra, for pennies at every bar,  
In right and wrong, the lawyers were at jar.   

In faith quoth I, these men deserveth praise,  
For justice cause, which thus employs their pain,  
But I to high a note, their names did raise,  
In right or wrong, they still did gape for gain,  
And as I walked, I see one wrapped in woe,  
Which much complained, of matter de post facto.   

Speak English man, what means these words (quoth I,)  
O sir he said, a quillet in the law  
Alas it is, which makes me howl and cry.  
And looking back another man I saw,  
Of whom I asked, why he did look so glum,  
He plagued was, with pleas of non est factum.   

I smile then, to hear the clownish drone,  
By need enforced, to talk he witted not what,  
But as I learned the cause of all his moan,  
Moore pity sure, a lawyer's friend how that,  
To pay him pennies did enter into band,  
The which he sealed, and livered with his hand.   

But after catched, by craft the self same bill,  
The former seal, he falsely took away,  
An other sealed, the same which he did spill,  
And unsuspect the bond there down did lay,  
Which forfeit once, in law they fall at jar,  
The seal was off, was pleaded then in bar.   

There might I see releases finely framed,  
Provided yet, that if such things were done,  
Which latter words, by former force were lamed,  
Who so released, a fair thread than he spun,  
With thousand toys, which I do here omit,  
Did cozening Craft within his capcase knit.   

I lately feared, to see the fearless blows,  
The proud attempes, assayed by desperate men,  
Here rolled books, my manhood over throws,  
I dared not bide, the truncheon of a pen,  
Yet well I marked, how mercy bared sway,  
The conquered wights, were prisoners sent away.   

But for this grace, their ransom sure was great,  
The gaylor fléest, the lawyer had a share,  
If pennies were spent, cold irons made him sweat,  
Hard beds well paid, poor cheer was costly fare,  
aggrieved much, extortion bore such sway,  
To patience, I, me thought these words did say.   

Can cozening shifts, thus conscience foil in sight?  
Where is no right, may hellhounds thus extort?  
Shall perjury condemn the guiltless wight?  
And may it be, suborning, should support?  
The lewd in lies, when grace is not their stay?  
Can justice rule, a right, with partial sway?   

Content thyself, quoth patience then to me,  
Good laws are made, to punish their amiss,  
But pennies their wrong, doth colour often we see,  
And want doth ware, the poor man's right I wisse,  
And thus thou seest, presented to thy sight,  
The proverb old, how might doth master right.   

Then out we go, I glad to leave this hell,  
But soon we shipped into as hard a vain,  
Where Usury with bags of gold did swell,  
Who much complained of penal statutes pain,  
And joined with craft, the same for to prevent,  
Now this, now that, the miser doth invent.   

On casual chance, I may my money lend, 
A perilous casualty.   
Yet hazard small, shall happen by my mart,  
If I my wife, my servant, child or friend,  
Do go to Paul's, and home again revert,  
Then twenty in the hundred you shall pay,  
This gain is small, forsooth doth Holdfast say.   

Collusion then, did catch him by the back,  
And feasde his pennies, which song loath to departed,  
To levy mends, the harmless went to wrack,  
Thus salved was his sore by others smart,  
Covetousness, went mitching up and down,  
His jacket piled, and threadbare was his gown.   

But banckrowte sure, did brave it with the best,  
His cape of clot, with velvet lined within,  
His hose of silk, with stitches strangely dressed,  
Moore cost he said, more worship did him win,  
But well I marked, how soon this pride decayed,  
his heels he took, when debts should be defrayed.   

Some kept their house, and dared not show their face,  
Some were betrayed, and came in cutthroats hands,  
Then pleas of need, did purchase, little grace,  
Past starting now, they tide in darby's bands,  
In prison vile, of force must lie and rot,  
Till they have paid, their debt and cost God wot,   

Then forth we go, into a paltry town,  
Where underprops, each stagering house did stay,  
I chaunste to meet, a silly country clown,  
Of whom I asked, what wrought their towns decay,  
Who answered strait, your mast●ips honour seas,  
Yond goodly place, that plucked us on our knees.   

Yond stately walls, our chiefest stones did steal,  
Which were the stay unto our feeble farms,  
For want of strength, than did our houses real,  
And worse then that to work our greater harms,  
Enclosures great, so in our commons creep,  
Where cows we kept, we scase can keep a sheep.   

Yet racked rents, increase our landlord's gain,  
UUée moil, we toil, we work, both morn and Even,  
Our landlords reap, reward for all our pain,  
To pay our rents, and make the world even,  
Do what we can, we compass very hard,  
With farmers now, the wont world is marred.   

When he did raise, besides his Landlord's rent,  
Old gold good store, to serve him at his need,  
The cribel loaf, about his board then went,  
Salt beef, good souse, their hungry maws did feed,  
A stand of ale, he ever had in store,  
Well come gossip, a cruse of ale to the door.   

Then droiling Dick, and toiling Tom did stir,  
To muck his ground, to make a fatter crop,  
To serve his hogs, poor Madge his maid did spur,  
For winter's cold, he hedge rows large might lop,  
To ride abroad, he seldom lacked a mare,  
And in this sort the farmers life did ware.   

But now god wot, our rents we hardly pay,  
To barley crusts is turned our cribel bread,  
Where beef, brawn, souse, our hungers did alloy,  
On cruddes and cheese, we hungerly do feed,  
A peck of malt, doth make him ale good store:  
Welcome gossip, no drink now to the door.   

Where Hicke and Tom, his boys about did moil,  
He delves, he digs, he labour's for his hire,  
And joane his wife, perforce herself doth droyle,  
In steed of wood, now pestrow makes good fire,  
Where erst he rid abroad upon his nag,  
For falling now, on ten toes he doth lag.   

Thus john Adroynes, did wray the farmer's woe,  
And I me thought did pity much their want,  
Quoth patience then, now time doth serve to show,  
The cause why care, thy heavy heart doth haunt,  
Thou sayest thy want, is weade with others wealth,  
Thy harms are payste, with weighs of others health.   

Good reason why, thou viewedst in courtier's trade,  
Both good and bad, a like did gain expect,  
A like, not so▪ the good by virtuous aid,  
The bad did s●●ke by trains of false suspect,  
The best to throw, from grace despite to spell,  
Whilst they by craft, did catch such crumbs as fell.   

How hypocrites with show of honest life,  
In favour creeps, when goodmen be disdained,  
How soldiers win the field with bloody knife,  
When cowards filch, which their adventure gained,  
How cutthroats thrive, where conscience bears no sway,  
When simple men, with want are worn away.   

Lo thus thou seest the toil of good and bad,  
Thy own the choice, their want or wealth to shun,  
The good with care, when craft with cost is clad,  
Yet if thou meanest the good man's race to run,  
Of patience here receive dame virtues shield,  
Which to thy fame, a sure force will yield,   

No poor man's cry, the conscience large shall blame,  
Ne common speech a cutthroat will thee call,  
Report of craft, then shall not wrong thy fame,  
Ne men will say, thy pride will have a fall,  
This bone he cast, for me to gnaw upon,  
And said Adieu, of force I must begun.   

I waking then amazed in my mind,  
Through this my dream, 'gan check my busy brain,  
But better weighed, some fruit therein I find,  
Which answers full, of this report the pain,  
And craves a place, of duty with the rest,  
Provided yet, the reader do not wrist,   

My words amiss, which do no evil import,  
To taunt the lewd, to praise the good a work,  
A fancy framed, to teach the simple fort,  
What huge deceit, in honest show doth lurk,  
A toy to warn, the lewd by others shame,  
To shun such faults, as breedeth filthy blame    

¶ Inventions of P. Plasmos touching his hap and hard fortune, unto the which is annexed the sundry complaints 〈◊〉 our notable cozeners, the instruments of his greatest troubles: which in the prime of their mischievous enterprises, with sudden death and vexation were strangely visited. At the end of every of the said inventions, for the more plain knowledge of them, is the reporters admonition in prose both pleasant and profitable.  

The reporter.  
I Have (good Reader) at large reported the adventures of P. Plasmos intermixte with these following inventions, together with the complaint of certain cozeners. And sure the labour stand very well with my own contentment, for that the accidents of his evil fortunes, might have forewarned other young Gentlemen to have shunned the like follies: and that the fall of the said cozeners might have taught other greedy carrens, to have respect unto their consciences. And now to the condition of P. Plasmos in the Prime of his unthriftiness it appeareth by his fond triumph that he was infected with (self lous) the overthrow of many young Gentlemen, who seeing sufficiency in themselves to be advanced, to win credit and acquaintance, so far pass the bounds of their ability, that long before, countenance taketh notice of their deserts, by the enforcement of necessity, they are glad of mean maintenance, at home with their friends. Such Gallants by the sequel of P. Plasmos Fortunes, may learn to understand their mishaps, and in reading of his fantasies may likewise see the counterfeit of their own follies: whose fond triumph in this sort beginneth.   

P. Plasmos triumph.  

Parish usurped room resign, in Lady Pleasures Court.  
Thy apparel choice in such a slurte, deserves a foul report,  
Whose kytish tricks, in gadding mood with every check to stray,  
God knows I want both Art and wit, in colors fresh to wray.   

Sufficeth yet, thy mart to mare, she bit at every bait,  
Where one good turn, in toil thou reap'st, thy passage was not strait,  
Why wrong I thus, poor Helen now, she was to good for thee,  
Whom fate did cast from Priam's court, a shepherd poor to be.   

Whereas in Ida mount, thou wraydst thy wilful will iwis,  
Which wealth and wisdom didst refuse, to bathe in wanton bliss,  
Yet sure thy bliss was brewed with bale, thyself will judge the fame,  
What blush not man to blaze a truth, in faith it is no shame.   

Thy jealous thought suppressed thy joy, thy foes increased thy fear,  
Thy love in Arms, loved alarms wild, embracements to forbear,  
Thy kinsmen slain, thou rest of love, and life in little time,  
What peevish pride than moves thy thought, dame pleasures mount to climb?   

Avaunt, avaunt, give place to him, whom fortune still doth guide,  
Whose choice doth pass without her plague, fair Helen in her pride,  
Within whose heart doth pity rule, in whom dame bounty dwells,  
To whom fair Venus yields her ball, her beauty so excels.   

Her constant love, long wished I won, she moved no God's ire,  
She shed no blood, she slew no friend, she set no town on fire,  
Her modest life eriles mistrust, and jealousy doth chase,  
In faith I fear no loud Al'armes, when I my love embrace.   

And yet I dare with Paris join, if Paris scorn her praise,  
I enter now the lists of love, my ladies fame to raise,  
And proudly there my gauntlet throws, a quarrel straight to snatch,  
With him y● dare maintain she lives, which may fair Lymos match.   

Let lingering lovers reft of rest, whom scorn hath left in lash.  
Let careless suitors try their force, to praise their painted trash.  
Let happy wights, which bath in bliss, my sharp encounter prove,  
UUhom Venus with aspect of grace, hath linked to yielding love.   

And let them eke through passing joy, which stands in pleasure's grace,  
Bestow their force if that they dare, my fortunes to deface.  
UUho baths in waves of wished bliss, with brave delight who masks:  
UUho finds amendss for every miss, who hath but what he asks.    

The reporter.  
It seemeth by this devise following, that Plasmos triumph was but a voluntary invention, otherwise if it had been devised of any certainty, his pleasures would a been of longer continuance. Likewise it seemeth his Lady Laymos that he so highly commended, was in very deed as fair as Flora, as faithful as Faustine, as loving as Layis, as meek as Medea, as honest as Helen, as constant as Cressida, and as modest as Maria Bianca, and therefore worthy of estimation. But digressing from the cause of the invention, for that the circumstances be long and not greatly material, the Reader may view the vanities of a number: who either bewitched with the outward blaze of beauty, or blinded with the desire of riches (never examining the behaviour of their best beloved) hap well, or hap ill, adventure to marry, who for the most part are haunted with Plasmos hard fortune, who prettily toucheth his Laymos inconstancy as followeth.  
I Dreaming once (me thought) dame beauty bade me crave,  
The thing that fed my fancy best, & I the same should have.  
My choice was quickly made, I beauty liked so well,  
And yet I sued my mistress might, her seemly self excel.  
Who smile in her thought, to see my small foresight,  
Such one (quoth she) thou shalt enjoy, make much of thy delight:  
Unto which end forsooth, for fortune strait she sought,  
UUho did present a sightly girl, unto my wanton thought.  
My promise is performed (quoth she) sweet friend adieu,  
My fancy rendered forth with thanks, as though it had been true:  
But when I woke and mist, this passing lovely wight:  
A murdered sigh, the fancy checkte, that raised my late delight,  
And fretting, forth I go, fond fancies for to chase,  
But lo by Lady fortune signed, I chanced to spy thy face.  
Then to myself I said, cease Plasmos to be sad,  
This is the Dame, thou didst possess, in dream that erst thou had,  
Acquaintance for to crave, adventurous boy assay,  
Thou wert not nice, ne I abashed, my secrets to bewray,  
I showed thee all and some, what I in vision saw,  
Thou wart mine own by beauty's doom, unless thou scorndst her law,  
My words did like thee well, or praises that I used,  
And smile saidst, Damn beauties hest, must no ways be abused;  
Thus after slender suit, thou know'st, whom I evioyde,  
But easily won, as soon thou wert, through sullen will accoyde,  
And in thy wrangling rage, I saw thee range for new:  
I chafed through sight, Dame beauty blamed, cause Laymos was not true.  
Which soon I did recant, and yielded for to have,  
My suit performed at beauty's hands, in form as I did crave.  
I askest a gallant girl, which veiled at first assault,  
I asked no faith, nor none I found, in whom was then the fault?  
In him who now will learn, to make his match more sure,  
And as for thee thou dost but kind, to stoop to every lure.   

The reporter.  
This wrangling hate seemeth to be but a passion, proceeding of Plasmos passing love, the which digested, made his affection more perfect: Nevertheless this following invention, wrayeth the evil fortunes of rash belief and choleric revenge, after which (for the most) ensueth repentance: yet for that the Sonnet itself, foreshoweth but a fit of disquiet mind by love occasioned, it shall pass for me without any preface.  
Fowl fall thee false suspect, so thrive thou jealous thought,  
UUoe worth you both, you reared the hate, that all my harm hath wrought:  
You did envy my hap, when late I lived in joy,  
You slander forged, you moved mistrust, you made my sovereign coy.  
She wronged sans offence, good reason hath to hate,  
But you no cause of filthy strife, twixt friends to set debate,  
But sith my heart did yield such motions to believe,  
Both heart, head, and every vein, with fretting thoughts to grieve:  
First love renew thy force, my joys for to consume,  
And when desire hath blown the cools, till all my fancy's fume:  
Then conscience guilt, detect my folly's day and hour,  
And base desert exile remorse, see dread, my sweet thou sour,  
Disdain, persuade my mind, my Ladies passing love  
Is changed to scorn, from scorn to hate, from hate revenge to prove.  
Tormenting passions eke, abate my pride in show,  
Then scalding sighs present my state, unto my friendly foe:  
Which when she once hath seen, with wreck of my delight,  
Despair, end me dole with death, in my sweet mistress sight▪  
But lest she bear the blame, of this my bloody hand,  
I crave upon my timeless tomb, this epitaph may stand.  
Lo hear doth lie his corpse,  
Himself for woe who slew,  
That jealous thoughts, his Lady blamed,  
She ever living true.   

The reporter.  
These passionate verses wittingly lost, whereas fair Laymos might found them, of likelihood she perceiving his singular good love, having sufficient cause of quarrel, waxed every day more stranger than other, until poor Plasmos purse to make atonement, provided some pretty devise, that appeased her anger: these lovers thus reconciled, it seemeth Plasmos to requited the friendship of his purse, in praise whereof, he written these verses ensuing.   

P. Plasmos in praise of his Purse.  
COme pretty purse, the jewel of my joy,  
The dainty soil, wherein delight is sown,  
Thou well deservest the title of a joy,  
Who doth not fear, whereas thy force is known?  
UUho dare rebel, where thou dost rule and reign?  
Thou foylest kings, by force of treason vile,  
Thou clokest craft, with flattery, fear or gain,  
When justice should uncase his crooked guile.  
By thee escapes the traitor and the thief,  
The murderous mate, which languished late in woe,  
Thou wert to ebb, their tossing tides of grief,  
And graftest mirth, where moan but late did grow.  
To mask with pride, thou art a vizard fit,  
Thou heavest him up, which held the plough of late,  
Thou tellest his tale, which wants both Art and wit.  
Thou woodcock setst, before the wise estate,  
The wily churl, which wrongs the wretch full often.  
The cozening mate whose mischief never ends,  
Should sol fa sing in cozeners cliff aloft.  
But that thou cloakst their craft with wealthy friends,  
The thriftless child by thee doth look full high,  
Whose sparing friends at home the plough doth hold,  
In Court thou art the badge of bravery.  
UUho doth not fawn on gentle master gold?  
Deformed girls, by thee are made full fair,  
Dame Venus stoops through thee to Vulcan's lure,  
The coughing churl, doth match with beauty's heir▪  
Such strange consents can Lady Coin procure,  
Why stay I then, sweet purse thee to embrace?  
Whose aid I used, when fortune most did lower▪  
My clouds of scare, thou cleardst with gleams of grace,  
My bale to bliss, to sweet, thou chaungst my sour,  
Thou sa●'dst my life, with passing love nigh pined,  
Which friendly turns, are written in my mind.   

The reporter.  
It is high time to digress from the report of Plasmos wanton devices, unto other his inventions, touching his miseries, and repentance, which immediately followed, his wanton expenses: and for that want, is the contrary unto wealth, I thought good to pla●e after the praise of his purse, his complaint of want, the commodities of the one, and the discommodities of the other duly considered, are means to persuade the wise in prosperity, to have an eye unto adversity, and once in favour to make provision for Fortune's change. For few are so happy, but in their time they are visited with misery: so well beloved, but once in their life they are as deadly hated: so highly favoured, but are as unhappily scorned: not withstanding all these chances and changes, Coin in the coffer is an assured friend, whereas if thou have respect, but to serve thy present turn, in prosperity thou art so over prodigal, that when poverty pincheth, the remembrance of thy former sweet delights, doth increase thy sour passions: proof appeareth by Plasmos, who being nipped with need, calleth to remembrance what pleasures he had received by his purse, and crossed every of the said commodities, with the inconveniences occasioned by his want as followeth.   

P. Plasmos complaint of want.  
I Whilom written a jest, what joys my purse did plant,  
But now I wray with little lust, the woes of withered want.  
When Purse with pennies did flow, a thousand friends I found,  
Now wont wealth doth wear to ebb, their friendship runs aground.  
When Coin I had in claw, my wrongs wear doomed for right,  
Since need did nip, my rightful suits was ouer● aid with might.  
When wealth I had at will, my wished joys were wrought,  
Now want doth choke those jests with care, & cloys my brains with thought.  
With wealth I freedom won, by wealth my woes did wear,  
Through lack, restraint of liberty, doth foil my hope with fear.  
With Coin I servants kept, which served for mine ease,  
By need enforced, now am I feign, to pray, to pay, and please.  
I ratlted then in silks, by bravery of my bags,  
But pouer man, now am I glad, to roist in rotten rags.  
My purse me often prelerd, to play, in pleasure's lap,  
Well may I wish, but want I shall, by want to reach such hap.   

The reporter.  
This complaint following, sufficiently showeth that Plasmos being somewhat behind hand by reason of his former unthriftiness, having notwithstanding very proper living, unhappily hit in acquaintance with certain cozeners, who seeing his sufficient ability, supplied his want from time to time with money, till they had wrapped him in very dangerous and cumbersome bonds, so that he had no way to wind himself out of their danger, but either by long leisure, or selling some parcel of his land: but by reason that it was entailed, none would deal with him, until a recovery were had thereof. Plasmos having no experience in those causes, and reposing a great confidence in one Liros, one of the said companions committed the trust of his recovery unto him, 
Note.  who traitorously persuaded and instructed by Frenos his confederate by changing and counterfeiting o● deeds, had purchased all Plasmos living for nothing, if he and his fellows eager desire of the possession, by Plasmos untimely destruction, had not deciphered their devilish deceits. But sith the circumstances be long, and in reporting them I should pass my purpose, I leave their lewdness unto their own reporting: who in the prime of their mischiefs, worthily visited with miseries, to disburden their consciences of a number of villainies, hereafter shall make discourse of their own dealings. In the mean while Plasmos having new knowledge of (and not yet remedied) their indirect practices: and also being a little before maimed on his right hand, by reason of a certain quarrel that Liros had raised between certain youths, and himself, the said Plasmos joining the said mischiefs with other his evil fortunes, complaineth as followeth.   

P. Plasmos to his mishap.  

HOw should I frame my plaint, how shall I tell my tale?  
Whom should I blame, whom shall I bane as worker of my bale?  
Sigh heaven and earth, are bend to bruise me with their hate,  
What boots me (wretch) to rage's at fraud, or rail on luckless fate?   

Whom never hap did haunt, but thousand harms afraid,  
In prime of youth, untimely death, first took my surest aid,  
Then rose a lawless friend, that liked my roving youth,  
He gave me will, to suck my wealth (alas the more the ruth.)   

I loathed forced thrift, he liked no expense,  
And Tutors love not for to toil, without reward of pennies,  
Which lack to late I rue, The greater mischief mine,  
But yet my thought, at which offence, perforce doth thus repined.   

Why scorned I merchants trade, with baits of fraud to fish?  
Sigh craft doth only compass wealth, and wealth is that we wish,  
Or placed at my book, why plied I not the same?  
Why sought I not by moral rules, my madding years to tame.   

Sigh rule must lead our life, or else we live awry,  
Why Aristotle's wise precepts, than did I not apply?  
Why liked I not the Law, where huge deceits are sown,  
Sigh we by law, do hurt our foe, and hold that is our own.   

But leapt to liberty, that long I did desire,  
Why was my heart, so set on hoygh, beyond my reach t'aspire?  
Why was I wedded so to peevish will and pride?  
Sigh pride are will and foes to wit, and wit our ways should guide.   

But most of all to love, why was I wretch so thrall?  
Why sought I so, by raging lust, my gadding years to gall?  
Sigh neither love nor lust, doth yield a quiet rest,  
Why made I choice of both the evils, when bad was very best?   

Ah (Laymos) once my love, by froward fate my foe,  
Ah (Laymos) first by the I known, the workers of my woe,  
But (Liros) most unkind, both spoiled of love and ruth,  
Ah (Liros) thou dost wound my heart, to think on thy untruth.   

Why did I trust thy faith, or fearless oaths thou swore,  
Thy feigned vows, thy sugared words, of my welfare thy care,  
Sigh faith is turned to fraud, and words to works unjust,  
Why liked I wretch thy wily tongue, sith treason quiteth trust.   

And did I thus deserve? in faith thyself be judge:  
If Plasmos had, did Liros lack? O not he did not grudge,  
To give thee what thou wouldst, yea more than thou couldst crave,  
What cankered thought than moved thy mind, his life and all to have?   

Whose murderous mark (aye me) my maimed fist can show.  
Although thou fearedst, to strike the stroke, the strife thy heart did sow,  
And should I spare thee then, of death to stand in awe?  
O, No, my conscience bids me strike, betid what may of law.   

Although the worst befall, death quites but death again,  
And sure there is no joy to death to such as pive in pain,  
Why mist my heart the blow, that hit my harmless wrist,  
My heart it was that wrought offence, and not my faultless fist.   

My heart did trust these mates, my heart did stir this strife,  
My hand did nought, but make defence, to save my silly life,  
My heart devised the toys, which puffed me up with pride,  
My heart enforced my eye to love, which manly fist defied.   

And yet my hand, not heart, is plagued for others mistress,  
Too partial sure, in my conceit, the heavens were in this,  
Too partial (wretch) not so, 'twas neither heaven nor hap,  
But harebrained youth, which leapt the hedge, and left the open gap.   

'Twas youth which stooped first, to Laymos wanton lure,  
'Twas youth that liked the wily words, which Liros put in ure,  
'Twas youth through small foresight, that wrought poor Plasmos thrall,  
'Twas youth, so present want were scrud, that feared no future fall.   

'Twas youth that made him mask, with vizard of delight,  
Delight (not so) but dreary dread, to shun the merchant's sight,  
And Dread the scourge of youth, for safeguard of me wretch,  
Did lodge me up with needy grief, while craft did play the leech,   

In deed he played the leech, to ease my present lack,  
But what should serve for future store, his physic put to sack.  
He toiled in my behalf, God wots I dared not steer,  
Lest, crafty train should tol me in, the merchants wily snare.   

And dread did daunt me so, that death I did desire,  
Before a life of freedom reft, my heart did so aspire,  
A tail yet cloyed the land, which should me frolic make,  
Where (Timeless trust) to curtoule it, did so the joint mistake.   

That land will bleed to death, if conscience work no cure,  
Such waste wrought haste, for freedoms sake, to trust ere I were sure,  
A pestleuce blow, forsooth it hurt not land alone,  
But spoiled my fist by filthy strife, and maimed my heart with moan.   

Of which I youth may thank, he snarld me in this snare,  
Of force to trust, or else to starve, with dread, distress, and care,  
Where Trust for best I choosed, although it proved the worst,  
Such backward hap, doth ever haunt, the man that is accursed.    

The reporter.  
Plasmos digression from one action of misery unto another, yea unto all the actions of his mishap, (although it be some what tedious) duly considered, is tolerable for the nature of the distressed man, is to call to remembrance every special matter of his misfortune, to the intent (although too late) he may know the commodities of their contraries: and sure, although it was invented to ease his mind of grief, there be a number of caveats therein, to forewarn other young Gentlemen, to forestand with good government, their following ill fortunes, especially the reprehension of his youth, for this is once, brainsick bravery (besides his own great expense) enticeth the greedy churl, to hunger after the gallants living, and for truth, if his conscience be corrupted with craft, it is an easy matter for him, to overthrow the mistrustless and well-meaning man. But the mischief is ensuing shame, without a cloak to cover his deceits, who can have no better colour, to answer any complaint of cozenage preferd-against him, then to say the compleynant is an unthrift, a quareler, a proud and prodigal person. etc. Who to maintain his bravery, departed, bona fide, unto him being defendant, such & such parcels of land, the compleynants' money wasted by unthriftiness, & knowing the defendant, to be desirous of quietness, to wring more money from him to have the matter quietly ended, surmiseth these true and slanderous complaints against him, etc. and although that wise men upon the ripping up of matters, will smell out such merchants, yet at the first show, yea during the trial, the wronged youth is blamed, so that in the mean time, the greedy carrion by unkind verations, enforceth the compleynant to agreement, some proof appeareth by this invention following, wherein Plasmos supposeth justice to be divorced: and Lady wrong, to be matched with might. It seemeth on this occasion, being wronged by divers lewd and deceitful companions, he preferred his complaint to certain Commissioners, against them the defendants colouring their cozenage, with the report of his unthriftiness, & having their answers soothed with the countenance of more wealth than honest friends, with such cheating varlets, have evermore in store, lead the said magistrates with such indifferency, that in stead of redressing, they increased his injuries, by giving countenance to his enemies, which Plasmos perceiving, (provoked to impatience) whereas he came to complain of one of the two, he departed exclaiming on them all, and at leisure, invented as followeth.  
WHy do I live (quoth he) to see this loathsome light,  
Sigh justice is this day divorced, and wrong is matched with might,  
Where cozenage was the clerk, where pollage was the priest,  
Where deep deceit, which gave this dame, was father of the feast,  
Where bride men were abuse, where bribery bore the cup,  
Where greedy earls as chiefest guests, in every bowl did sup,  
Where coin was cater made, where cost the cookery dressed,  
Where catchpoles false did fill the cups, at this great marriage feast,  
Where parasites did prate, to free each sullen mood,  
Where cheating churls did fill their paunch, where poor men starved for food,  
Where countenance once bind, and might have cheered his mates,  
Wide open then, but not before, the porter set the gates,  
Yet thousands priest to see, the res'due of the sport,  
Some cloyed by craft, lome foiled by force, for succour did resort,  
But well I saw (quoth he) which sight I sore did rue,  
How blasts of scorn the belly Gods, among the needy blue,  
How wealth did smile at want, how riches railed on right,  
How virtue was suppressed by vice, how pity by despite,  
How false suspect did forge, a thousand flim-flam stays.  
In rightful suits to tire the poor, with cost and long delays.  
Anon the music sounds, and force his office showed,  
Well meaning minds he wrapped so hard, that they his heart beshrewd,  
First falsehood makes his choice, next flattery takes his chance,  
Then tag and rag about the house, deceitful measures dance.  
A curious mask at night, the bridemen doth ordain.  
With shows of fraud to feed their thoughts, which care not how they gain,  
Abuse did lead the bride, extortion masked with craft,  
To see deceit come hobbling on, a hundred carrens laughed.  
Pure need to get a place, was glad to hold a torch.  
But justice during all this sport, was placed in the porch,  
Good Lady then (quoth he) alas and well away,  
You sometime did possess this place, this whilom was your day.  
How happeneth Lucre, hath infected so your mate,  
How chanceth Truth, did suffer Craft, to enter in your gate,  
What though that gain did sow, some seeds of jealousy,  
Might not (Remorse) atonement make, between thy fear and thee?  
Is Conscience now exiled, who sometime counselled Might,  
For to regard dame justice suit, and not to strive with right?  
Are honest minds now fled, doth rigour rule the roft?  
Is justice now divorced from might, doth wrong now scour the cost?  
Doth countenance cloak such crimes, as justice did uncace?  
Dare cozeners false defend their faults, with show of honest face?  
They dare and do God wots, by maintenance of might,  
Why live I then alas, he said, sith no man favours right?  
With that adieu good hope, and welcome woe (quoth he)  
I see no gleams of grace appear, my clouds of scare to free.   

The reporter.  
It is more than strange to see, the filthy confederacle of cozeners, how the wealth churl, to save himself from shame, when his deceits are discovered, useth the names of such lewd and careless people, as to compass gain have a regard neither to open shame, nor to their secret consciences: and to tire the compleynant with delays, such as with bold countenance (bolstered with the credit of the wealth cousiner and his friends) will abide the trial of the matter, be●ide the worst that may, he can be but punished, for once the benefits of the deceit, is in holdfastes handling, so that lightly, he that is wronged, is like to reap but a cold amendss, by his complaint. Among which fellowship of fiends, there is ever an odd lawyer, who secretly draweth their subtle deeds and crafty conveyances, and privily giveth them instructions, how to deal in their lewd causes, to forewarn all men of this pack of pickpurses (making proof by his own hindrances) Plasmos describeth a cousiner as followeth.   

P. Plasmos description of cozeners.  

A Lawyer's head, to draw a crafty deed.  
A Harlots look, to witch with wanton sight,  
A Flatterers tongue, with sugared words to feed,  
A Tyrant's heart, to wound the harmless wight,  
To toll with cheer, a greedy glutton's gorge.  
A Merchant's mouth, of falsehood truth to forge.   

A scriveners fist, by nimbleness to race,  
To scrape, to forge, to counterfeit a name,  
A Lackeys leg, to trudge in every place,  
A desperate mind, which dreads no kind of shame:  
These limbs well linked, and set on cozeners soil,  
A work were sure, of all the devils the toil.   

For each of them, a fiend in force can bind,  
Yet some I grant, by virtue guides their place,  
But seldom 'tis, that Kit ne follows kind,  
If one be good, a score doth want the grace,  
But all in league, their dealings lewd beware,  
For than they do, the devil and all of scare.    

The reporter.  
The Philosopher Diogenes saith, that Nature to this intent bestowed two eyes, and two ears, and but one tongue on any man, that he should hear and see, more than he should speak. And sure, who soever unadvisedly slandereth another, hurteth himself. In matters of controversy, who so feeleth his suit cold, strait seeketh by pretty trains, to take some advantage of his adversaries words, to which effect, the crafty churl complained on, for any notable cozenage, to know the compleynants' secrets, worketh means to bring him into extreme passions of choler, who being greatly wronged, will not only give knowledge, by what countenance, and in what court he will trounse the defendant for his deceit, but lightly unadvisedly voweth to strike him, or calleth him craftle knave, cozening churl, etc. Whereupon the defendant, to work the compleynants discredit, declareth to some justice of account, in what danger of life he stood in the compleynant being mischiefously & ruffenly disposed, & having colour of wrong for slanderous words he claps such unkind actions on the compleynant, that will he, or nill he, he enforceth him to agreement: who so, is so wronged, may take warning to temper his tongue, by Plasmos penance, who being hugely abused, gave out hard (yet true) speeches of one of his adversaries, not withstanding, by his own negligence, together with the extremity of Law, he paid roundly for recompense, who to discharge his stomach of grief, a ●orrie amendss in faith, blamed his tongue as followeth.   

P.P. invective against his tongue.  
THy rash revenge (O tattling tongue) I rue,  
Although with truth, thou slaundredst late thy foe,  
The proverb old, by proof I find too true,  
Who fights with words, doth wound himself with woe,  
The civil law, so favours fame and name,  
As strumpets known, by wantoness often resort,  
Are seldom put to any open shame.  
Les open sight, makes proof of Venus' sport,  
Who so is touched, with any foul abuse,  
Though common speech, the same for truth confirm,  
The common law, the guilty will excuse,  
If proof by oath, ne makes the knowledge firm,  
Thus wanton filths, and wily churls are scused,  
If secretly, they work their foul amiss,  
Yet néedely they, which are by these abused,  
Must have a means, to use revenge iwis,  
Where often their tongue, is first addressed to fight,  
Whose furious threats, forewarns their foe of ire,  
Which known he strait, doth seek to match their might,  
And first gins, their griefs for to conspire,  
Myself by such makes proof, this tale is true,  
Who wéend to fear, with threatening words my foe,  
At which he smiled, preventing what he knew,  
Would be a m●ane, to work his overthrow,  
Yea worse than that, he tryst me for me tongue,  
With actions huge, for slandering of his fame,  
For which my purse, an honest quest so stuong,  
That ever since, in faith it hath been same.  
Thus loss to me, no hurt to him at all,  
O babbling tongue, thy rash revenge hath wrought,  
Else blows in law, had given him cause to brawl,  
Of both the best, though best revenge be nought,  
For bobs do fear, when words not joined with deed,  
In wrangling minds, more ●nackred thoughts doth breed.   

The reporter.  
I may now without offence, enter into the plain discourse of Plasmos, following for tunes, and inventions, for I have hitherto, laid the cause of his miseries, unto his youthful unthriftiness, the which I confess was an instrument: but there were overthriftie executioners of his hard fortunes, whose names and doings, for that it was supposed some of them were alive, according to my commission, I have left unreported, wishing them well to far, upon their recompense and repentance.  
Now returning again unto P. Plasmos estate, who being wrapped in a thousand miseries and mischiefs, bard of the benefit of his own living, to work his quietness, forsaken of friends in his distress, & daily tormented with his enemies unkind vexations, looking unto the condition of his former life, his exercises and studies, and finding his life full of lewdness, his exercise to be dallying, dancing, and such counterfeit delights, his study. Wanton Comedies, Tragedies, and discourses, acknowledging the●e 〈◊〉, the instruments of his mishap, sought if the reforming of these abuses, would be a mean of his better fortunes, so that using one day the reading of scripture for his study, and lighting on the 102. Psalm, entitled, Domine exaodi orationem meam, employing his Muse unto a more better use. then of yore, he made his humble submission unto the highest, for the release of his miseries, as followeth.  
IN jail of grief in clos●e, of worldly friends forlorn,  
Thy mercy Lord to ease my moan, unto my prayers turn,  
Hide not thy heavenly face, from him that lies in thrall,  
High time and tide good God it is, to hear my plaint & cast,  
My days consume with grief, my mirth is maid with moan,  
My heart doth waste like withered grass, my grave & I am one  
My flesh with thoughts doth fret, in show I am a ghost,  
I drenched in bale, my foes in bliss, I harmed, of hap they boast,  
The world commends their wealth, & spites my withered woe,  
Yea dooms my doings by my dole, there's by delight in show  
Thus wronged, and scorned I am, which cross I do embrace,  
Attending when thy mercy (Lord) my miseries shall chase,  
Which join with justice thy, to foil my foes in sight.  
So shall I praise, and others fear, thy majesty and might.   

The reporter.  
Plasmos in time, wring himself out of all the troubles and mischiefs, that his enemies had wrapped him in, and seeing his estate for his troubles; so sufficient, as with good government, he might live in indifferent good credit. On the contrary part, seeing some of his enemies, through their lewdness stark beggars, and other some of them, to dye soudenly, and miserably, as well to give God thanks for his delivery, as for the overthrow of his enemies, made this sonnet following.  

TO thee (O Lord) with heart and voice I sing,  
Whose mercy great, from dole to sweet delight,  
From moan to mirth, my troubled spirit did bring,  
Yea more thy ire, hath foiled my foes in sight,  
They live in want, that flourished late in wealth,  
They groan with grief, yea lack both help & health,   

Their conscience guilt, doth gall them through their gain,  
And yet they waste, more faster than they win,  
Thus sweet proved sour, their pleasure turned to pain,  
Yea living died, to think upon their sin,  
Their shadows feared, so sudden was their fall,  
But more their death, when destiny did them call.   

Their moan amazed, a thousand wretches more,  
Who sight and shrynkt, through motions of deceit,  
To hear report, this thundering threat to throw,  
Fowl fall the fraud, to breed our bale a bait,  
A bitter sweet that rots, ere it be ripe,  
A living care, to souls a deadly stripe.   

But how with hap, the pikes of harm I passed,  
Of murderous mates, of minds on mischief set▪  
Whose snares for me, themselves did fetter fast,  
Whose baits for me, them measht in beggars net,  
Enforced men say, of God, lo here the might,  
Which heals the harmed, and lames the lewd in sight.   

But I whose scare, thy heavenly help did clear,  
Will daily sing, with mind, with heart and voice,  
To thee (O Lord) be honour, laud, and fear,  
Which foyldst my foes, and mad'st me to rejoice,  
Laud for thy grace, and honour to thy name,  
Fear cause thy wrath, doth put the lewd to shame.    

The reporter.  
After that P. Plasmos had thoroughly passed the pikes of his troubles, he forthwith professed, a new course of life: to witness which reformation (making poverty his excuse) he sent this following farewell, unto fair Laymos, and other fine dames, of his old acquaintance▪ which invention, he termed his farewell to wanton pleasures.   

P. Plasmos farewell to wanton pleasures.  
DAme Venus be content, thy servant should departed,  
Who long hath bathed in brauties' bliss, yet swum in seas of smart,  
And willing now with loss, to leave his wanton sport,  
Repentance hath reclaimed him, from pleasures stately court,  
Good love my governess, thy charge that erst did range,  
Is well content, to careless youth, to leave his choice in change,  
My colours fresh and gay, my pride in peacocks plumes,  
I now resign to Cupid's thralls, whose head with fancy fumes,  
My sugared words that erst, did wray my suits at large,  
My scalding sighs, to quench mistrust, when jealousy gave charge,  
I will to salve their sore, whom false suspect doth bite,  
My vaunting speech I give to those, which sojourn with delight,  
And fancy erst my friend, of force I must forsake.  
And lust my choice, I leave to those, which rows in lechers lake,  
For wisdom rules my will, and reason bids retire,  
Lest frozen fears, through faithless love, doth follow hot desire,  
Expense doth nip my purse, my pride is pinched with pain,  
Aspiring mind hath caught a fall, my lack is linked with gain,  
Yet loss this lesson learned, how pennies my pleasure wrought,  
Not pleasure pennies, but purses pain, when need the bottom sought,  
A noddy for the nonce, for faithless flurtes to flout.  
Poor want was raid, in ragged clotheses, amongst dame pleasures rout.  
Which picture when I saw, in favour like my lack,  
Disdain my thought, did drown my joy, despair did bruise my back.  
Pure need than pricked me forth (in faith) good mistress mine,  
Ere scorn should work me out of grace, my service to resign.  
For if you rightly weigh, my want by former wealth,  
Yourself will judge, I can not serve, without the aid of stealth.  
Then wrong will seek revenge, with trial of his band,  
And justice soon will sentence give, to truce me out of hand.  
Then conscience will accuse, my cost in Venus' court,  
And warn my friends by these my woes, to shun dame pleasures sport,  
And (loath to dye) will curse, the causers of my smart,  
Thus with your blame, my one the shame (perforce) I shall departed.   

The reporter.  
After P. Plasmos had bid adieu to these counterfeit delights, he made this ensuing recantation, and sith it behoveth every man that recanteth, to show with what errors he was led, as well to discharge his own conscience, as to forewarn others of the like, P. Plasmos in the said recantation, maketh discourse of love betwixt fair Laymos and himself. Wherein is discovered the subtle sleights of a cunning courtisane.   

P. Plasmos recantation.  

BEfore the world, I here recant my life,  
I do renounce, both lingering love and lust,  
My wanton will, with wisdom once at strife,  
Hath lost the field, the type of fancies trust.   

My sugared tongue, bepoudred all with tears,  
To chase mistrust, from my sweet mistress mind,  
With simple speech, from humble spirit now wears,  
That favour I, with my sweet Christ may find.   

My seattered sighs, which I on earth did strow,  
I gather up, and send them to the stars,  
As messengers, of my lamenting woe,  
Twixt sine and soul, so mortal is the wars.   

Sigh I repent, no shame it is to wray,  
My former life, how far from grace it swerned,  
Although from truth, I silly sheep did stray,  
As good men God, so I my Goddess served.   

Her favour heaven, I recked her frowning hell,  
I swum in joy, when I attained her grace,  
I sunk in noy, when she with wrath did swell,  
Such strange effects, were shrouded in her face.   


The religion of wanton lovers like the papists.  Saint Pander then, my advocate I made,  
Who pinned my purse, yet feed my foolish vain,  
A thousand scorns, with my fond sight did fade,  
My suit in words, such slender grace did gain,   

As Gods of old, my Goddess honoured is,  
Which sacrifice, of cows and calves did crave,  
But she injoind, in penance of my mis,  
For fashion sake, that first I yield her ●laue.   

With vow of faith, my suit then must I show,  
But suits of lawn with toys of deeper cost,  
The duties were, which I for grace did own,  
Such costly grace, then found were better lost.   

But mi●●es of love, did so bedim my eyes,  
That wealth was slave unto my wanton thought,  
Glad was my purse, when he the toy espies,  
Which with my love, a perfect liking wrought.   

But I too sharp, did spur so free a wretch,  
He pinned to nought, to please her peevish mind,  
Then lack too late, this lesson did me teach,  
I served no saint, but one of Satan's kind.   

Who when she saw, pure need to play his part,  
With jealous speech, 'gan strait to feign debate,  
My second choice she said, possessed my heart,  
As though pure love, had hatched this sudden hate,   

But well I saw, despite did forge suspect,  
And jealous speech, was set to colour scorn.  
My charge not change, did frame with foul defect.  
She feigned grief, I wretch with woe forworn.   

My pleas of want, then purchase little grace,  
She willed me love, where I my wealth did waste,  
For my nice choice, she recked herself too base,  
Which here and there, in change a new was placed.   

Fond fancy then, presented to my will,  
In desperate pangs, to pine away with pain,  
Or purchase pennies, on top of Shooter's hill,  
If I escape, my booty grace would gain.   

For him that erst, both hope and hap did vance,  
To desperate thoughts, to veil his former bliss,  
Blame not his mind, to cure this sorry chance,  
If ventured life, did work amendss of miss.   

And sith (quoth I) I must a martyr be,  
Then burn to nought, with blaze of Cupid's brands,  
A gentler death, is hanging on a tree,  
I may escape, the bowget makers hands.   

In spite of scorn, which haunts my Lady's heart,  
Then shall I swim, in seas of former grace,  
And sorrow shall find, recompense of smart,  
With folded arms, when I my joy embrace.   

These drowsy dumps, which drives me to despair  
Shall purged be, with drugs of droynses store,  
I glad, he mad, then mumping in his chair,  
When steed is stolen, too late shall shut the door.   

Thus I vile wretch, led on by wanton lust,  
A triumph made, within my wicked thought,  
How I by hap, the harmless threw to dust,  
Ere I escaped, or had the mischief wrought,   

But o (sweet Christ) thy grace this folly stayed,  
Thou cleardst my sight, which mists of love did blear,  
Unto whose praise, my conscience hath bewrayed,  
My former life, devoid of godly fear.   

Thou crav'st (good Lord) no other advocate,  
But prayer mine, to purchase heavenly grace,  
The which thou sayest, doth never come too late,  
If I repent, when prayer pleads my case.   

A contrite heart, is the sweet sacrifice,  
That thou dost seek, ere we thy favour win,  
The which, dear God, with sighs & weeping eyes,  
I offer up in recompense of sin.   

Attending still, when trial of my faith,  
Shall tread down death, & Satan force to reel,  
And boldly say, till latter gasp of breath,  
My soul through faith, the joys of heaven doth feel.    

The reporter.  
To make this recantation or repentance more perfect in show and in deed, he written this following admonition, unto himself, which he termed his farewell to folly.   

P. Plasmos farewell to folly.  

FArewell you fading joys,  
Which fancy forced me love,  
Adieu'go trudge, your tickle toys,  
Though late, too soon I prove.   

O wandering head leave off,  
Fond fancies to embrace,  
And sugared tongue now cease to scoff,  
Or others to disgrace,   

Forsake, O luring eyes,  
To feign the loving art,  
And scalding sighs be you no spies,  
To wound a woman's heart.   

O mind with verses vain,  
No more thyself acquaint,  
Forsake in time, fair Venus' game,  
Ere age doth thee attaint.   

O heart on hoyh y set,  
Be warned by wisdoms law,  
So shalt thou scape blind Cupid's net,  
Of which thou stoodst in awe.   

Beware of ten and four,  
Which be the cheaters far,  
Lest hassards hard, thy sweet do sour,  
And make thy purse full bore.   

This double charge I give,  
To you unhappy hands,  
From quarrels fond, y free to live,  
As foe to life and lands.   

Now last to you my legs,  
Which be my bodies stay,  
Frame not your gate as men on eggs,  
Whom busting doth affray.   

Nor yet so stoutly stride,  
As men's that bears would bind,  
For stately steps bewrays the pride,  
Which harbours in the mind.   

My other members all,  
Be ruled by reason's lore:  
Let virtue reign, where vice did stall,  
And former faults deplore.   

Lest future plagues you prick,  
To work your greater pain,  
For why against the thorns to kick,  
I count it more than vain.   

Nunquam sero.    

The reporter.  
I think it good to leave P. Plasmos in this good mood, until time fitteth (he thus forewarned) for the report of his better fortunes, natheless for others heed, I will make discourse of the sudden fall of four of his enemies, whom God's justice worthily cut off, in the prime (or before the accomplishment) of their lewd desires: the first of them was Lyros, the only executioner of all his copartners deceits, who upon the revealment of his and their mischiefs, fallen into an extreme quartern ague, which haunted him until his death, he having but one only child, which soudenly, without any show of sickness died, he for fear of arrest, forsook his house and lived in corners. And yet to comfort his solitary life, he often song a counter tenure, he being before a lusty and able man, become soudenly a most weak and miserable creature to accompany which, he lost the use both of memory and wit. And to make an end of his miseries, in stead of drink, he drunk poison, so that shortly after he was in show a most loathsome lepre, who thus distressed, forsaken of friends, and vexed with his foes, for want of succour miserably (yet repentauntly) died, whose complaint almost in order as he confessed ensueth.   

The complain● of one Lyros a notable Cozener, supposed at the hour of his death.  

Among their falls, by filthy fraud which fallen,  
Let my mishap, registered be I pray,  
Whose wanton toys, whose wily tricks to tell,  
But chief of all, whose woeful plight to wray,  
Not doubt the lewd, will bring to better stay,  
For whose behoof, lo here I paint my thrall,  
My hap, my harm, my life, my death and all.   

No shame it is for me to show my evil,  
Though graceless life, from wisdoms lore did swerver.  
A sin it were to live and die a devil,  
So soul and all, with Tantal's hope should starve,  
My warning here, for others heed may serve:  
Fresh harms they say, will force men to beware,  
When had I witted, comes after still the fair.   

Then cozeners first, to you my tale I stretch,  
God grant my words, to heal your wounds avail,  
But you will say, myself doth need a Leech,  
To heir my head, to help each perished nail,  
To rid my scabs, my Leprosy to scaile,  
To clear my eyes, which are now dark and dim,  
My numbed joints, to make both lithe and trim.   

I need God wots, if need could favour win,  
But out alas, too late doth come the cure,  
When God is bend to punish filthy sin,  
Though long he stays in fine he striketh sure,  
Best therefore then, ere you his wrath procure,  
You see your help (with his precept agree)  
Ante languorem, medicinam adhibe.   

Provide a salve, before that sickness come,  
Provide a mends, for sin and foul amiss,  
Before God's wrath, your due desert doth doom,  
For note dear friends, I whilom bathed in bliss,  
I swum in joy, my heart at woe did hiss,  
I then had strength, with health, and wealth at will.  
My hap was clear, I saw no clouds of ill.   

Then muse you will, to see so rare a change,  
As manly force, to fail in prime of youth,  
As fair to foul, as health to scabs and mange,  
As hap to harm, as joy to grief and ruth,  
But listen well and mark what words ensueth,  
And you shall see what forced me to fall,  
What wrought my woe, what turned by joy to thrall.   

First ween that wealth did puff me up with pride,  
Next form and force, enforced me to aspire,  
Then love and lust, into my breast did glide,  
Last fretting thought so set my heart on fire,  
That marriage needs, must cool my hot desire,  

He was a wanton liver.  My choice was good, if change had been exiled,  
But folly, faith and fancy, truth beguiled.   

My wandering will directed me this course,  
Which brainsick youth, did duly tread and trace,  
And entered once, I fallen from bad to worse,  
I made a prey, of every yielding face▪  
Such wanton lust, doth follow want of grace,  
Ne was this life, defrayde with small expense,  
And I (God wot) had not a mine of pennies.   

While coin did last, yet careless did I spend,  
A poor increase, can spring on such a root,  
When coin was spent ne did my fancy's end,  
With youth to strive, for reason 'twas no boot,  
No lack could tread my follies under foot:  
While land did last, my want I did supply,  
With purchases, 
A backward purchase.  of Dedi, concessi.   

My living sold, and money in my purse,  
My lavish mind, had never thought of lack,  
To ge●t or save, I quite forgot the course,  
For every toy my Testours went to wrack,  
Which did my bags, unto the bottom sack,  
My coin consumed, and yearly rents thus gon●▪  
What refuge then? once credit had I none.   

Yet live I must, need doth obey no law,  
To work for wealth, yet wi●t I not the way,  
The scourge for sin, did keep me still in awe,  
I dared not steal, for fear of Tyburn play▪  
And other shifts, I knew not to assay,  
But to be short, to soon, to soon 'twas known,  
My will was good, to take more than mine own.   

Then wily mates, whose subtle eyes did see,  
In younker's states, and marked, their youthful vain,  
Made choice of me, 
He was made an instrument to execute other cozeners' devices.  the Instrument to be,  
In wanton tracks, unwayed youths to train,  
Their wiles, my wish, so sweet was speech of gain,  
My tongue was good, my manhood had in price,  
My life was lewd, I knew and used each vice.   

Companion fit, for rufflers now adays,  
Whose wills rule wit, and rage, doth reason yoke,  
Of which I searched, a crew of thriftless strays,  
Whom lewdly I to lewdness did provoke,  
They bit my bait, but other did them choke,  
I bore the name, when others laid the bane,  
The shame was mine, and others gleaned the gain.   

But, 
Plasmos the man he abused,  O, I sigh, to wray what wrought my thrall,  
O Plasmos now, I swoon through thought of thee,  
I must confess, the goad that did the gall,  
Was too too sharp for friendship thy so free,  
I turned my coat, ere thou couldst fettered be,  
My wanton toys, could hardly thee entrap,  
My falsed trust (ay me) wrought thy ill hap.   

And must I show, wherein I was injust?  
Shame says, conceal, my conscience will not so,  
I was a friend, whose treason quited trust,  
A counsellor lewd, that wrought my clientes woe,  
Where I was loved, I hated save in shoe,  
Yea twice accursed, for muck his life I sought,  
Whose blood and good, for me he ventured often.   


He forged deeds.  I forged deeds, when failed free consent,  
I razed rolls, to mend what haste did mar,  
I put in ure, what co-mates mine invent,  
My words, were grave, as firm my friendship ware,  
And yet forsooth, to show what mould I bore,  
I proved it true, how Cito ad suam.  
Redierint, res fictae naturam.   

For though my weeds, foreshewde a settled mind,  
God knows, my works, my wanton humour wraide,  
The wiser sort, my follies soon did find,  
They saw full well, my fancies were not staid,  
Yet Plasmos he of fraud was not afraid,  
And truth to tell, I baind him with such bait,  
As hardly he, could smell out my deceit.   


Officers about the recovery of P.P. land suspected the deceit.  Wise officers, my falsehood yet suspect,  
To purchase land, they thought my store to small,  
And all to late, to Plasmos they detect,  
(As they supposed) I sought to work his thrall,  
Their sorry news, did nip him to the gall,  
Who like a man of hope, of help dismayed,  
Reports the trust, through which I him betrayed.   

Our foul deceit amazed the hearers much,  
They Plasmos wild, from greement kept aloof,  
That open shame our villainies might touch.  
Our falls would be a warning of behoof,  
Our fraud thus found, before it came to proof.  
What course were best? should we confess our fault?  
No, Noah: we meant to bide the first assault.   

In every Court our cousinages did ring▪  
Which boldly we, 
Perjury.  upon our oaths denied,  
For we that dared commit so foul a thing,  
Upon our oaths, ne cared though we lied,  
Yet dared we not abide till truth were tried,  
In cozeners cliffs, we feared sol fa to chant,  
How so we seemed, on honesty to vaunt.   

Yea (wretched) I, that bore the blame of all,  
Peccavi sung, through prick of conscience grief,  
How others scaped, I saw my shameful fall,  
I moved my mates, to salve our great mischief,  
In time: or we, should suffer much repreafe,  
But they that used, their ●on●enage in my name,  
If worst befallen, knew I ●hould bide the shame.   

To make amendss, would never yield consent,  
What should I do? still Plasmos shot at me,  
False Frenos, 
Frenos the Scrivener tha● devised the cozenage.  yet the mischief did invent,  
I plowde the land, the profit reaped he,  
He bound me so, sans him I could not 'gree,  
And thus through need (which I to show abhor)  
Against my will, look what he would I sworn.   

Our cozenage known, our likelihood of pain,  
My earnest suit, to some good end to grow,  
Once moved him not, to leave ill got gain,  
He never blushed, in conscience nor in show,  
But craft on craft, he laid to heap our woe,  
'Twere strange to hear, the wealth friends he found,  
Which joined with him, to make our fraud seem sound.   

And bolstered thus, for slandering us with truth,  
Our actions huge, poor Plasmos gainsaid,  
We knew in need, friends failed, the more the ruth,  
Thus double wronged (his huge distresses weighed)  
To clear his land, good store of coin he paid,  
Lest share whereof, in faith, to me did fall,  
Yet of this end, I was the glad'st of all.   

From open shame, myself I judged free,  
I took no heed, to salve my conscience gall,  
But God that doth all secret dealings see,  
Provided whips to scourge our sins withal,  
And I that bore the blame of Plasmos thrall,  
As sure I was the instrument of it,  
The first man was, that God with vengeance smit.   


His miseries.  My only child, which should have had the land,  
With Plasmos blood, that feign I would have bought,  

His son suddenly died.  Not sick in sight, first died out of hand,  
Which heavy hap distempered so my thought,  
As strait I was into a quartern brought,  

A quartern ague.  Whose frozen fits, brought down my youthful pride.  
Do what I could, it held me till I died.   



He brought himself in danger, to play the cozener for others commodity.  
His instrument   A house I kept, till I to cozening fell,  
But lo beguiled, even with mine own deceit,  
My house I left, and did in corners devil,  
To lay me up▪ still Plasmos lay in wait,  
Sometimes I was caught with a Sergeaunts baife.  
And through a grate, Presta quesimus sounge,  
With care on care, thus daily was I stounge.   


He lost his wit He lost his memory.  I that sometime, had wily wit good store,  
As one bestrackt, forgot what late I spoke,  
For all my cheats, 
His friends forsook him in poverty.  still was I very poor,  
My friends did fail, none would relieve my lack,  
On every side, I (wretched) went to wrack,  
Yea Frenos he that drew the cozening plot,  
Devourde the gain, and gave me never a jot.   

Two years well nigh, I lived in this woe,  
God wots, not worth the ground whereon I went,  
And when I thought, my joys again would flow,  
Unhappy I, (that Plasmos murder meant)  
Unto such ire, the high jehova bend,  
That (ah) in steed of drink my thirst to slake,  
I poison drunk, my timeless end to make.   

See cozeners see, my present loathsome state,  
Lo here the end of all my wanton race,  
Behold the man, that was so frolic late,  
A leper foul, in body, legs and face,  
At point of death, cries out to God for grace,  
A warning fair, a mirror full of moan,  
For greedy churls, a bone to gnaw upon.   

amend in time, before God's wrath you stir,  
Beware by me, false Frenos and the rest,  
Quod diffeertur, be sure, non aufertur,  
Unless even from the bottom of your breast,  
You both repent, and to amendss are priest,  
Lo here my tale, and life will have an end,  
God pardon me, and grant you to amend.    

The reporter.  
The miserable end of Liros, rather wrought a fear in strangers unto the horrible cozenage, than any repentance in false Frenos, and other his confederates: So hardeneth, the devil the hearts, and blindeth the sights of the raprobate, as neither the example of other men's miseries, nor prick of their own consciences, can reclaim them from lewdness. And yet although a while they wallow in their wickedness, and seem to hold the enticing dr●sse (I mean wealth) of this world at will, in the pride of their prosperity (the most part of such worldlings) through God's justice are divorced from their vain delights. The sudden fall of this Frenos, proveth both the one and the other, for notwithstanding he saw the wretched death of Liros, and known that Liros did execute nothing but his devise and direction, yet seemed he no ways to be vexed in conscience for this offences, being the author and only advantage reaper of his deceit: and yet in the heat of his unconscionable provision, he was soudainly arrested with death: Whom you may suppose as one amazed with such sudden visitation, striving for life, to tell this disordered tale following.   

Frenos complaint.  

I See (quoth he) death spares no sorts of men,  
Our bags of dross, may not withstand his might,  
To moil and toil for pelf what boots it then?  
No whit, God knows, if we could see aright.  
But worldly cares our minds bewitched so,  
As thoughts of heaven, silde in our breasts do devil,  
The proverb says (the more such father's woe)  
Happ'is the child, whose father goes to hell.  
But such proverbs, more common are then true,  
seld children keep, that fathers lewdly get,  

Goods ill got are lewdly spent.  And trust me wealth, if after want ensue,  
With double grief, the needy thrall doth fret,  
To what end then, for muck, take we such care?  
To damn ourselves, and work our children's scare,   

O wicked world, so sweet thy torments seem,  
That when men taste, thy drugs of vain delight,  
Their only heaven, thy thralls do thee esteem,  
With mists of muck, thou blindest so their sight,  
That (wretched) they, whilst that in health they live,  
As Swine in mire, do wallow in their faults.  
another fall, nor conscience can them méeve,  
To wail their sins, till grisly death assaults,  
The thought of whom, as thorns do prick me (wretch)  
Alas, 
When death attacheth the wicked, the thought of their sin is more grievous than death.  me thinks, I see his ghastly shape,  
What did I mean, to name him in my speech,  
And can I not his furious force escape,  
O Noah, my sins, beginneth now to swarm,  
To match with him, myself how should I arm?   

My conscience cries, confess thy wicked life,  
My wicked life, such monstrous fraud presents,  
As in myself, I find a hell of strife,  
My graceless deeds, the hope of grace prevents,  
I see, I see, how fiery fiends do yell,  
Before high jove my wicked soul to have,  
My secret sins, 
Our own sins give evidence against us afore the highest.  condemns me (wretch) to hell,  
They be so huge, that nothing can me save,  
Where is the book, wherein Gods will is written?  
They say there in, is balm that sin can cure,  
What meant I (wretch) I never studied it?  
The book is large, 
Bible.  my life will not endure,  
So long, as I may read, and reap such grace,  
The fault is mine, I might, while I had space.   

I faint, I faint, my life will needs away,  
False Frenos now, of force must yield to death,  
These farewell words, good friends yet note I pray,  
Prepare yourselves ere latter gasp of breath,  
So spend your lives, as if you daily died,  
lest tarde you, by death (perhaps) be ta'en,  
Note well my fall, in top of all my pride,  
Before I witted, he gave me (wretch) my bane,  
My worldly wealth, for which I took such care,  
I needs must leave, in no good order set,  
A sudden change, the chance yet nothing rare,  
This is the proof of goods, that fraud doth get,  
Lo this is all, that death will let me say,  
But what is short, may best be born away.    

The reporter.  
This disordered complaint of Frenos, is answerable unto his disordered dealing, but most of all unto his sudden death, who having his conscience unprepared, tormented with the multitude of his sins, stood amazed what to say: and yet howsoever it hang together, it containeth matter of note, which I leave to the censure of the discrete reader. And now to the rest of this report, the next that death met with, in this Tragedy of cozeners, was Caphos a merchant, whose name Frenos used in divers of his crafty conveyances, for that (if need so required) he had friends to countenance, money to defend, and an indifferent honest report, to colour their lewd practices. But notwithstanding his money, colour, and countenance, to set an honest show in the sight of the world, of his subtle practices, now that death attacheth him, to make his account before the highest, you shall hear in what arrearages he finds himself.   

Caphos' complaint.  

THe Proverb says, as good we eat the devil,  
As sup the broth, wherein his body boiled,  
As good we do, as give consent to evil,  
Which sorry doom, my coloured excuse hath foiled,  
My conscience throbs, though I no fraud devised,  
My only name, that shadowed foul deceit,  
In God his sight with Frenos fall is pris'de,  
I feel my sins, plucks down my soul with weight,  
Yea Lyros and false Frenos both I know,  
But lead the way, that I must shortly go.   

far yet I am unfit for such a journey,  
My count falls short, that I to God must give,  
If he charge me, with filthy perjury,  
It will not serve (to save me from reprove,)  
To say how that, for fear of after shame,  
A manifest untruth, 
A pretty kind of perjury.  I dared not swear,  
But Frenos got, a post knight of my name,  
In steed of me, that did both swear and steer,  
I must confess, I gave thereto consent,  
And God no doubt, will punish my intent.   

My subtle steightes, to shadow foul abuse,  
May well lie hide, and no man know the same,  
But God doth know, the fraud I put in use,  
(For others heed) deserved open shame.  
The man that is with sickness never vexed, 
No●●.   
Hath seldom care what kind of meat he eats,  
When such as are, with surfeits often perplexed,  
Seem dainty still, to feed on divers meats,  
In worldly churls, observed is the like,  
They feed on fraud, till infamy them strike,   

Mark well my words, you (worldlings) of all sorts,  
But citizens, your nature's best I know,  
There are of you have meetly good reports,  
For riches sake, and outward honest show,  
But how you get, your monstrous heaps of gold,  
Your conscience knows, and I can somewhat tell,  
Your secret craft, so seldom is controlled,  
As what you get, you think you get it well,  
But how so here, your reckonings seemeth true,  
A day will come, when you shall count a new.   

be you reclaimed, by others sudden fall,  
Sigh for your own, when others shames you see,  
Think that they are but patterns of your thrall,  
If justice should on you avenged be,  
A thousand ways, the highest seeks to win,  
Our worldly minds, from love of worldly joys,  
But if we still, will wallow in our sin,  
The plagues are sharp, with which he us destroys,  
To stay whose wrath, I hold the next way is,  
While we have space, to sorrow our amis.   

Death comes God wots, even like a mitching thief,  
With conscience clear, some wards his wily blow,  
And some again he gawls with sudden grief,  
Whose thoughts of sin, doth work their double woe,  
Had I but weighed, the half, that now I wray,  
My co-mates ends, had made me fit for death,  

A sweet comfort.  But that is past, this is my only stay,  
God's mercy salves, at latter gasp of breath,  
And yet thereof, let no man hope to far,  

Presumptuous sins.  Presumptuous sins, of all, the greatest are.    

The reporter.  
It seemeth by the deposition in Caphos complaint, that the direction from time to time, (as concerning the afore reported cozenage) came from some subtle head. But whose devise or direction soever it were, there is yet an other (a lawyer it seemeth by the order of his complaint) that finds his conscience infected, with Lyros, Frenos, and Caphos fellowship: who likewise attached with death you may suppose with a troubled mind, to wrest out this following complaint.   

Pimos' complaint at the hour of his death.  

Ay me (quoth he) the case is altered quite,  
My wily skill, that changed the sense of law,  
My cunning Pleas, that made a wrong seem right,  
Are now the bones, whereon my conscience gnaw,  
They force me grant, the good from evil I knew,  
The good I left, the evil too late I rue,   

The common law, 
The common law, was taken out of God's la●●  the which I studied long,  
I find condemns me wretch of many a crime,  
The law itself (how so we wrest it wrong)  
Of God his law, was founded in the prime,  
Then since in one, they both agree in troth,  
Abuse of one, must be abuse of both.   

And sure the one I turned as I list,  
If I were wronged, the law amendss could make,  
If I did wrong▪ the law such power mist,  
The case was chang'de the wronged might go pack.  
Such helps I had, such quillets of delay,  
That all seemed true, that (subtle) I did say,   

But now I am, attached to appear,  
Afore a judge, at no man's faults that winks,  
The devil declares, 
The devil declares our offences before God, our conscience is the witness of our wickedness.  how I have lived here,  
My conscience guilt, gives evidence me thinks,  
To learn the law, sith study I did vow,  
For breach of law, I am indicted now.   

Before my God me seems I charged am,  
For aiding those, with credit, coin, and skill,  
Whose lewd deceits, deserved whips of shame,  
And that to make me guilty of their ill,  
Consentientes (your law saith Io●e doth say,)  
Et agentes, plectentur pari pena.   

My guilty mind, confesseth straight the act,  
False Frenos fraud, was boulstered up by me,  
Condemned of this, straight comes an other fact,  
I wronged men, against all equity,  
When law doth say, Hoc facias alteri,  
In right and wrong, quod vis tibi sieri.   

This bitter doom, given by the doom of law,  
Mae sinful wretch, as guilty striketh mute,  
The men I wronged within my conscience gnaw▪  
I spared none, through pity, nor through suit,  
What law did give, since I for vantage took,  
In breach of law, should I for favour look?   


Note.  O Noah, I must, in proper person plead,  
Plain not guilty, or guilty of the crime,  
No foreign Plea, may now delayaunce breed,  
Untraverst goes, the Venu and the time,  
No advocate, or letters here may serve,  
The judge is bend to judge as I deserve.   

I guilty am, I must of force confess,  

Ignorance will not serve.  By ignorance, these faults, yet would I 'scuse,  
But I, vile I, that had men in distress,  
And did their Pleas of ignorance refuse,  
Me thinks that God, doth rule me over with this,  
Non excusat, ignorantia juris.   

And thus I lie, with deadly sickness pined,  
Yea more, my soul besenged, with sinful grief,  
The more I seek, to pacify my mind,  
The further off, I (wretched) find relief,  
My dealings great, or rather great deceit,  
Fall out so lewd, as I no count can straight.   

Do what I can, the cause that caused my joy,  
When flesh, and blood, was fed with worldly gain,  
Is now the cause, that causeth my annoy,  
Now fear of hell, in place of flesh doth reign,  

The soul & flesh are at continual war.  The soul, and flesh, impugns the other so,  
As what likes one, doth work the others w●e.   

What mean we then (sith th'one we must displease,  
To serve the flesh, that bears no lasting sway?  
And leave the soul, that covets still our ease,  
Who (foiling flesh) in heaven doth live for ay,  
What worse match, can any creature make,  
Incerta then, pro certis thus to take.   

O sinful wretch, had I this end foreseen,  
I had not now, come short upon account,  
I would have liked, and loved the merry mean,  
Which ever doth, to reckoning best amount.  
For violents, do seldom long endure,  
They always come, from fortune most unsure.   

O wicked man, had I seen heaven in thought,  
Had I served God, like as in show of zeal,  
I had not thus, for poor men's livings sought,  
Nor purchased hell, for land for others weal,  
Had I well weighed, how tickle was my life,  
I had ere this, appeased my conscience strife.   

Or had I thought, (O most unhappy wight)  
Look what I gave, that measure should I reap,  
I sure had given, to every man his right,  
This wicked world, had not lulled me asleape,  
I had not then, been careless of my end,  
My soul had watched, deaths fury to defend.   

But (o) in me, the contrary was placed,  
I was intyste, on baits of sin to feed,  
Which charmed receipts, seemed sugar sweet in taste,  
But (o) they say, sweet meat sour sauce doth need,  
Need or not need, I prove the proverb true,  
My brittle joys, my endless woes do brew.   

My conscience loathes, what liked well my life,  
My conscience rues, the gain I got by guile,  
My conscience feels, the woes of wrangling strife,  
My conscience weeps, at that my life did smile,  
My conscience bleeds, through that life thought a bliss,  
My conscience wails, what life thought not amiss.   

Well, sith my life, this wretched woe hath wrought,  
Would God my life, (nay death through foul abuse)  
Were noted so, as all men might be taught,  
By scriptures rule, their talents here to use,  
And specially, about their study's brickwall,  
For lawyer's heed, would God were written my fall.   

Through sight whereof, no doubt they would refuse,  
To fish for gain, with nets of foul deceit,  
To work delays, they would no plead use,  
They sure would think, they had accounted to strait,  
My vexed mind, at death still in their eye,  
Would will them live, as they did daily dye.   

If to such good, my sudden fall would prove,  
Would life would last, to tell a larger tale,  
But how it prove, in vain for life I move,  
Death now assaults, and (wretched) I must vale,  
My breath doth fade, the bell doth sound away.  
From whence I came, I needs must turn to clay.    

The reporters conclusion, as touching the report of Paulus Plasmos adventures, and Lyros, Frenos, Caphos, and Pimos falls.  

WHo tells a tale at large, of others smart,  
In his report, some error needs must shape,  
Some blamed are, some praised, beyond desert,  
In this discourse (such slander to escape)  
It seemed me best, to use but notes of heed,  
And leave at full, for to report the deed.   

Yet some will say, I wrong poor Plasmos here,  
To make his youth, the cause of his mishaps,  
When he good soul (who fraud did little fear)  
Was slily snarld, in sneaking cozeners traps,  
In deed, my heart did bleed, his plaints to show,  
And much I blamed, the workers of his woe.   

And yet forsooth, what so of him is said,  
In my conceit, is nothing said but truth,  
For sure his woes, if they be wisely weighed,  
Some ways may be, imputed to his youth,  
For first of all, his bravery was the bait,  
These cozeners minds, that egged with deceit.   

Then sith himself, was guilty of his thrall,  
His fortunes wrayd, may wanton gallants warn,  
From rash climbing, for fear they catch a fall,  
And by his woes, unwayed youths may learn,  
To trust themselves, few others out of sight,  
For timeless trust, wrought Plasmos much despite.   

And for their falls, by fraud that sought to mount,  
Although that they, not half their faults report,  
Yet in their plaints, are notes of good account,  
Forewarnings fair, and words of mild exhort,  
And for the rest (how so they lived awry,  
Let it suffice, they did repentant die.   
R.u.    

Epilogus.  


Vide fol. 38.  Lo here the fruits, that grow of self conceits,  

Vide fol. 80. usque. 96.  Lo here their falls, that leap before they look,  
Lo gallants here, the sweet inticeing baits,  

Vi. 24. A. &. 50  Wherein lies hide, the cozeners poisoned hook.   


Vide. 50. us. 66  From masks of pride, here are the vizards plucked.  

Vide. 50.  Of dogged dice, lo here the deadly ill.  
See here how dry, the lovers purse is sucked,  

Vide. 98. &. 99  That yields to please, a wanton Ladies will.   


Vide. 87.  Who noteth here, what treason lurks in trust,  
Before he trust, may haply learn to try.  

Vide. 7. A.  Who sees fair words, saust here with works unjust,  
May have in scorn, the shows of flattery.   

Who marketh here, the bitter end of frays,  

Vide. 36.47.  Of more emprise, may hold a quiet life.  
Who seeth here, 
Vide. 73. B.  in law the long delays,  
May love the worse, to live in wrangling strife.   


Vide. 6.  Without good heed, who so in court doth plant,  
May here perceive, his beggary in the end.  

Vide. 85.  Who weigheth here, the woes of withered want,  
Were worse than mad, beyond his bounds to spend.   


Vide. 17. C. usque. 25. &. 49. us. 66. &. 70. us. 78. Vide. 66.78. Vide. 46.  Who would avoid, the snares that worldlings set,  
And who would know, their wiles and foul abuse,  
Who hath desires, an honest fame to get,  
Who in his kind, enticing gold would use,   

May here find rules, his life for to direct,  

Vide. 45. us. 49  Here lives their fames, that virtues soldiers ware,  
And here again, 
Vide. 16.49.70.  their dealings I detect.  
To swim in wealth, that will no vantage spare.   

Here here discoursed, 
Vide. 105. A. usque ad finem.  may worldlings see their falls,  
Which weigh not how, so riches they may win,  
Here may they see, how sore God's vengeance galls,  
When he is bend, to punish filthy sin,   

All this and more, my Muse at large reports.  
All this my Muse (for your avail) did hit,  
In 〈◊〉 whereof, she friendly you exhorts,  
To take in worth, what of good will is written.   

Quod cavere possis, stultum est admitter●.    
FINIS.   

¶ Imprinted at London for Robert Waley.  
Anno. 1576.