THE ARBOR OF amorous Devises. Wherein, young Gentlemen may read many pleasant fancies, and fine devices: And thereon, meditate divers sweet Conceits, to court the love of fair Ladies and Gentlewomen By N. B. Gent. Imprinted at London by Richard johnes, dwelling at the sign of the Rose and Crown, near Saint Andrew's Church in Holborn. 1597. To the Gentlemen Readers: health, wealth▪ and welfare. R●ght courteous Gentlemen, your absence, this long time of vacation hindered my poor Press from publishing any pleasing Pamphlet, to recreate your minds, as it was wont: ●et now, to give you notice that your old Printer forgetteh not his best friends, he hath thought i● meet to remember his dutiful good will he beareth to you all, publishing this pleasant Arbour ●or Gentlemen, being many men's works excellent Poets, and most, not the meanest in estate and degree: and had not the Phoenix prevented me of some the best stuff she furnished h●r nest with of late: this Arbour had hi● somewhat t●e mote handsomer trimmed up, beside a larger scope for gentlemen to recreate themselves. Please it you (sweet Gentlemen) to take it in worth as it is, though nothing comparable with your pleasant Arbours of the country: view it over I pray you, and praise it as you find it: in the mean time (I beseech you) pardon me▪ and protect me against cau●lling Find faults that never like of any thing, but what they do themselves, and that, ●or the most part, is nothing at all: so shall I acknowledge myself most bounden vn●o your flourishing d●gr●●, and pray unto God to keep you al● in health: and such 〈◊〉 are in the country, God send them a happy and speedy returns to Lond●●, to the pleasure of God, their h●rts content, ●nd to the rejoicing of all Citti●ins, and specially to the comfort of all poor men of Trades. Yours, most bounden, R. I. Printer. A LOVER'S FAREWELL To his Love and joy. AD●e mine only joy whose absence breeds my smart, whose parting did amaze my mind & damped m●ch my heart▪ Adieu mine only love, whose love is li●e to m●▪ whose love once lost▪ no life can taste within my corpse to be. Adieu mine only friend whose friendship cannot fade, whose faith is firm upon the which my health and hope is stayed, Adieu the vital spirits o● these my ●ences all, for dead each part will still remain until I hear thee call. Farewell myself and all, farewell more dear than li●e: Farewell the constant da●e on earth: farewell Ulysses wise. Sith spite ha●h played his part, to part us now in twain, my help ●h●l rest in h●ppy hope, till we two meet again: W●ich hope doth he●●e my heart above the haughty heaven▪ and carrieth m● with good success above the Planets ●eo●en. Si●h that the Sun m●st lodge within the Ocean seas. As of time as the hours be with in four complete day: So must Danae's face be round and horned thrice and for h●r light a debtor be unto Sir P●ebus wise: Before I shall enjoy the presence of my choice, till which time comes, I'll cloy the skies with plaints & bitter voice▪ That Fortune now which frowns with all her fatal dames, shall h●ue for praise most piteous plaints, and infamy for names: Until the rhyme that she doth turn her face again. and give me her that m●y redress my grievous pinching pain: God grant that none behold thy face a●d beauty brave, thy comely co●ps and featured form and countenance so grave, Thy hairs in tresses tied, thy veins so Azure blue, thy Lily with the rose in che●kes doth show a gallant hue: Thy eyes wi●h smiling babes, thy lips vermilion like. thy dimple in thy chin so brave, thy teeth as Crystal white, Thyneck so white and fairt, thy breast so ●ound and so●t, thy fingers fine and body small which I embraced so oft. No pen can well describe▪ no● wit can well declare, thy feature, form and comeliness, thy beauty passing rare. apelles cease to paint, Pygmalion leave to grave, Da●e Nature hath despised your works, and hath made one more brave. The graces all attend the Muses make request, still for to wait upon my dear, and be at her behest: Blush now you bashles dames that vaunt of beauty rare, for let me see who dares come in, and with my dear compare▪ No, no, you are all fled, you walk like owls by night, my dear so fair, that of the world she is the only ●ight: Then farewell heart and joy till time hath run her race▪ farewell delight, welcome annoy, till that I see thy face. Which will delight my heart, which will revive my mind which will delight my senseless corpse, which joy none else can find, Take here my speech last spent▪ until thy home return. take here my heart, but leave the corpse which shall in torments burn▪ My scalding sighs I'll send throughout the skies to thee, my tears shall water still my couch, vn●ill thou be'st with me. Finis. A lovers complaint. THe restless race that I have run, the peril and the pain That I from time to time have past, and daily do sustain, Doth make me deem that when I first this light began to see, The starry sky no planet had, that happy was for me. The fatal Sisters three, alas, my file do twist awry, And Fortune, she in frowning sort from me doth swiftly fli●: Which makes my carking cares abound, thus am I wrapped in woe, But how to find relief, alas, poor man I do not know. When that Sir Phoebus decks the sky with his fair fulgent light, I wish alas to gain with tears the dim and darksome night▪ And when that V●sp●r with her vail exiles the glittering Sun, I will against the dawning day the night might overrun▪ Thus neither day nor night can serve to mitigate my grief, But still I pine and live in woe, and cannot find relief. Such torments toss my senses sure and ransack every vain, That I do wish to end my care, the grave I might obtain. The cause that coucheth care, alas, with in my secret breast. Is fell Cupid●es dreadful wound. chief cause of mine unrest: My suits, my plaints and friendline●. is guarded with d sdaine: And woefully which Iphis I must pass my days in pain. I live and love, I serve in hope, yet day by day I die, Yet doth my love disdainfully her friendship sure deny: The want whereof in forrowing sort, to mourn doth me constrain, Ye Gods above grant grace to me. abate my carking pain. And suffer Cupid God of love, to d●aw his regent da●●e, And piercing joys to wound my dear that she may rue my smart: And salve my wound that now am priest to die in seas of woe▪ You heavens, your helping aids I crave, to me your favours show. Finis. A poem of a Maid forsaken. AS late I lay within an Arbour sweet, ●he ay●e to take amongst the flowers fair: I heard a Maid to mourn and sorely weep, That thither used to make her oft repair. Alas, poor wench, quoth she, drowned in despair▪ What folly ●ond doth breed me my unrest? Will spitful love increase continual care, To work her wrath on me above the rest. And will she still increase my sorrowing sighs, With pinching pain of heart, with torments torn▪ Are these rewards, or are they Cupid's slights, To kill the heart which is with sorrows worn? Then witness bear, you woods and wastes about▪ You craggy rocks, with hills and valleys low, Recording birds, you beasts both strong and stout, You fishes deaf, you waves that ebb and flow. Hear have in mind that love hath slain a heart As true as truth unto her froward friend, Whose dying death shall show her faithful part, What so my dear hath always of me deemed. The red breast than did seem to be the Clerk. And shrouded her under the moss so green, He calls the birds each one to sing a part: A ●ight full strange and worthy to be seen, The Lark▪ the Thrush and Nightingale, The Linnets sweet, and eke the Turtles true, The chattering Pie, the lay, and eke the Quail, The Thrustle-Cock that was so black of hew. All these did sing the praise of her true heart, And mourned her death with doleful music sound: Each one digged earth, and plied so their part, Till that she was close closed under ground. Finis. The counsel of a friend to one in love. Climb not too high, for fear thou catch a fall, Seek not to build thy nest within the Sun, Refrraine the thing which bringeth thee to thrall, Lest when too late thou findst thy sel●e undone: Cause thy desires to rest and sleep a space, And let thy fancy take her resting place. The Tiger fierce cannot by ●orce be tamed, The Eagle wild will not be brought to fist, Nor women's minds at any time be framed, To do aught more than what their fancies li●t: Then cease thy pride▪ and let thy plumes down fall, Lest soaring still thou purchasest endless thrall. Finis. A Lady's complaint for the loss of her love. COme follow me you Nymphs, Whose eyes are never dry, Augment your wailing number now With me poor Em●lie. Give place ye to my plaints, Whose joys a●● pinched with pain▪ M● love, alas through foul mishap, Most cruel death ha●h slain, What wight can well, alas, my sorrows no● indite? I wail & want my new desire I lack my new delight, Gush out my trickling tears, Like mighty floods of rain, My Knight ●las, through foul mishap Most cruel death hath ●laine▪ Oh hap alas most hard, Oh death why didst thou so? W●y could not I embrace my joy, for me that bid ●uch woe? False Fortunu out, alas, Woe worth thy subtle treine, Whereby my love through foul mishap, Most cruel death hath slain. Rock me a sleep in woe, You woeful Sisters three, Oh cut you off my fatal thread, Dispatch poor emily. Why should I live, alas, And linger thus in pain? Farewell my life, sith that my love Most cruel death hath slain. Finis. The lamentable complaint of a Lover. ACcord your notes unto my woeful songs, You chirping birds which haunt the cloudy sky, Cease off your flight▪ and come to hear my wrongs Compelled by love▪ mixed with crue●●●●▪ Leave off I say, and help me to lament My woeful days, until my time be spent. With sorrow great I pass a way the time▪ The which too long I feel unto my pain, Too childish is this fond conceit of mine▪ That void of hope doth helpless still remain▪ Yet will I rest till time doth further serve, That A●ropos doth me of life bereave. But fie fond fool, I complain of disease, And faultless Fortune I begin to blame, Venus herself doth seek me ●or to please, In causing me to love so rare a dame: But if (●aire Nymph) I might enjoy thy sight, Thy favour fa●re would force in me delight. But I am banished from thy comely hue, Oh thy sweet love, but yet I will remain For ever thine as perfect lover true, Without all guile, although thou me disdain: And th●s I end, although not rest content, Until such time wy wretched days are spent▪ Finis. A Poem bo●h pithy and pleasant. IF right were racked and overrun, And power take part wi●h open wrong▪ If force by fear do yield too soon, The lack is like to last too long: If God ●ot goods shallbe unplaced▪ If right for riches leaves his shape, If world for wisdom be embraced, The guess is great much hur● may hap Among good things I prove and find▪ The quiet life doth most abound, And sure to the contented mi●d, There is no tiches may be found▪ Riches doth hate to be content, Rule is enemy to quiet ease, Power for the most part is unpatient And seldom likes to llue in peace, I heard a Shepherd once compare, T●at quiet nig●●s he had more sleep, And ha● more m●rrie days to spare, Then he which ought his Flock of sheep. I would not have it thought hereby, The Dolphin swim I mean to teach, N● yet to learn the Falcon fly, I rove not ●o far past my reach▪ But as my part above the rest, Is well to wish and good to will: So till the breath doth fail my bsest, I shall not stay to wish you still. A Poem. THe time was once that I have li●ed free, And wandered here▪ and where me liketh best, But in my wandering I did chance to see A Damsel fair which caused in me small rest: For at her sight mine heart was wounded sore, That lived free and void of love before Which when I felt, I got me to my bed, Thinking to rest my heavy heart: but then There came strange thoughts in●o my troubled head, Which made me think upon my thoughts a gen: And thus in thinking on my thoughts did sleep▪ And dreamt that another di● her keep. With this same dream I suddenly awoke, A●d orderly did mark it every point: And with the same so great a grief I took, That as one scared, I quaked every joint: Yet at the last supposed it but a dream, My troubled spirits did revive again. Finis. Fantasma. IN fortune as I lay, my fortune was to find Such fancies as my careful thought, had brought into my mind, And when each one was gone to rest, full soft in bed to lie, I would have slept, but then the watch did follow still mine eye: And suddenly I saw a sea of sorrows priest, Whose wicked waves of sharp repulse brought me unquiet rest. I saw this world, and how it went, each state in his degree, And that from wealth granted is both life and liberty: I saw how Envy it did reign, and bore the greatest price, Yet greater poison is not found within the Cockatrice: I also saw how that disdain, of● times to forge my woe, Gave me the cup of bit●er sweet, to pledge my mortal foe▪ I also saw ho● that deceit, to rest no place could find, But sti●l constrained an endless pain, to follow nature's kind. I also saw most strange, how Nature did forsake the blood that in her womb was wrought, as doth the loathed snake▪ I s●w how fancy would remain, no longer then ●er lust, And as the wind how she doth ch●nge, and is not for to trust: I saw how steadfastness did fly, with wings of often change, A bird, b●t truly seldom seen, her nature is so strange: I saw how pleasant Time did pass, as Flowers in the Mead, To day that riseth r●d as Rose, to morrow lieth dead. I saw my time how it did run, as sand out of the Glass, Even as each hour appointed is, from tide ●o tied to pass: I saw the years that I had spent, and loss of all my gain, And how the sport of youthful playe●, my folly did retain▪ I saw how that the little Ant in Summer still doth run, To se●ke her food, whereby to live in winter for to come: I saw eke virtue, how she sat the thread of life to spin, Which showeth the end of every thing before it doth begin▪ And when all these I saw, with many more perdie, In me my thoughts each one had wrought a perfect property▪ And then I said unto myself, a Lesson this shallbe, For other that shall after come, for to beware by me▪ Thus all the night I did devise which way I might constrain. To form a plot that wit might work the branches in my brain. Finis. The complaint of one being in love. Leave me O life, the prison of my mind, Since nought but death can take away my lo●e▪ For she which likes me well is most unkind, And that which I love best my death d●th prove. Love in her eyes my hopes again revive, Hopes in my thoughts do kindle my desires, Desire inflamed through love and beauty strive, Ti● she (displeased with lou●) my death conspires: That love for me, and I ●or Love do call, Yet she denies because she grants not al. Finis. A lovers resolution. TRue, though untried, de●irous in despair, Patiented with pain, faithful though yet not sound, In car●s unknown my youthful days I wear, More s●re t●en safe my youth and beauty bound. What shall I say? the time serves not to wail▪ Let it suffice, my faith shall never fail. Finis▪ A Lovers complain●. TH● fir● to see my wrongs for anger bur●eth▪ 〈◊〉 air in ●aine for mine ●ffec●ion weary, The sea to ebb for grief his f●●wi●g turneth, The earth with pity dull the centre keepeth, Fame is with wonder blazed, 〈…〉 a way for so●●ow, Place stands still amazed, To see my n●ght● of evil which have no morrow. Alas, only she no pity taketh To see my miseries, but chaste and cruel, My fall her glory makuch, Ye●●●ll her eyes gives to my flames their fuel. Fire burn me quick, till sense of burning leave, Ay●e let me draw my breath no more in anguish, Sea drown me in thee, of tedious life bereave me, Earth take this earth, wherein these spirits languish: Fam● sa● I was not borne, Time d●aw my dismal hour, Place see my grave up-torne, Fire, air, sea▪ earth, Fame, time, place, show your power: Alas, from all their helps I am exiled▪ For hers am I, and death fears her displeasure: Oh death thou art beguiled, Though I be hers, she makes of me no treasure. Finis. A sweet lullaby. COme little babe, come silly soul, Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief, Borne as I dou●t to all our dole, And to thyself unhappy chief: Sing Lullaby and lap it warm, Poor sou●e that thinks no creature harm. Thou little thinkest and less dost know, The cause of this thy mother's moan, Thou want'st the wit to wail her wo●, And I myself am all alone: Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail? And knowest not yet what thou dost ail▪ Com● little wretch, ah silly hear●, Mine only joy what can I more? If there be any wrong thy smart, That may the destinies implore▪ 'twas I, I say, against my will, I wail the time, but be thou still. And dost thou smile, oh thy sweet face, Would God himselve he might thee see, No doubt thou wouldst ●oone purchase 〈◊〉 I know right well for thee and me: But come to mother babe and play, For father false is fled away. Sweet boy if it by fortune chance, Thy father home again to send, If death do strike me with his lance, Yet mayst thou me to him commend: If any ask thy mother's name, Tell how by love she purchased blame▪ Then will his gentle heart soon yield, I know him of a noble mind. Although a Lion in the field, A Lamb in town thou shalt him find: Ask blessing babe, be not afraid, His sugared words hath me betrayed▪ ●hen mayst thou joy and be right glad, Although in wo● I seem to moan. Thy father is no Rascal lad, A noble youth of blood and bone: His glancing looks if he once smile, Right honest women may begui●e. Come little boy and rock a sleep▪ Sing lullaby and be thou still, I that can do nought else but weep, Will sit by thee and wail my fill: God bless my babe and lullaby, From this thy father's quality. Fi●●●. A Poems. T THe work of worth that Nature finely framed, H Hope of the heart, that highest hearts aspire: R Reason set down that secret wisdom named, O Only the sweet that honour can desire, G Grace of ●he earth, and natures only glory, M More than most fair was spoke of long ago: O Oh heavenly star that is the shepherds stay: R Read who it is, but one there is no more, T This is the Saint that Wit and Reason se●ue, O Of such account as virtue doth regard, N Note who it is that doth this fame deserve, E Excellency gives each honour his reward. Finis. A Poem. M Muses attending all on P●llas train, A A 'mongst the rest was one, though not the least, C Carrying the mind that most might honour gain, K Kind yet wi●h care that might become her best: W Wise as a woman, men can be no more, I judge who it is, I may not tell her name, L Love of the life that virtue doth adore: L Life of the love that gains the highest fame. I join but the thought of love and life together, A And one may find another's excellence, M Mere love, dear life can sorrow never withe●, S Such is the power of heavenly providence, Fi●●●. Another. S SIlly poor swain pull down thy simple pride, A Angels are not for beggars to behold, R Reach not too high for fear thy foot doth slide, A And hapless hope do prove a slender hold. H Hold down thy head, thy hand is not thine own▪ A A sun, a sun hath put out hoth thine eyes. S See in thyself how thou art overthrown: T There is no comfort in extremities, I In high goodwill let honour be thy guide, N No cruel thought can rest in kind aspect, G Good-nature sees that reason cannot hide, S Sweet be the ends that follow such effect. Finis. Another. K KNowledge doth much in ●●re of most content, A And reason sees▪ when love hath lost his eyes, T Time hath his course, and virtue her intent, H Honour herself when other fancies dies, A A wonder lasts but only for a day., R Reason regards but honours worthiness, I In virtues love can honour not decay: N Nothing but heaven is perfect happiness. R Rare is the eye that never looks awry. A And sweet the thought that never ●ounds amiss, T True is the heart that guideth such an ●ye, C Careful the mind where such discretion is, L Long is the life where love doth draw the line, I joyful the hope that such a heart upholdeth, T Time is the thread no fancy can untwine. F Fair is the hap▪ that such a face beholdeth. Finis. Another. C CVrtesie carries all the world to love, A Affection serves, where virtue favour gives, N near to the heavens of highest hearts behove, D Deer is the thought whereby discretion lives, I joy of the eye, and jewel of the heart, S Saint of the shape that service doth adore, H High of the honour of Minerva's art: E Except▪ exrepted but one there is no more. Finis. Another. S SWeet is the flower that never fadeth hue, V Unmatched the mind that never means amiss, T Treasure the heart tha● cannot prove untrue H High such a saint in whom such honour is, W Where such a flower, as fair as sweet doth spring E Except but one, behold the only ground, L Love such a ground, a Garden for a King: L Look in the world, the like is hardly found. Finis. A pretty Poe●e. A Trembling hand, but not a traitor's hear●, Writing for fear and fearing for to write, Loath to reveal, yet willing to impart, Such secret thoughts as ●it not every sigh●. Must leave to you in sweet conceit to know ●he●, For I have sworn that I will never show them. I know not what, but sure the grief is green, I know not when, but once it was not ever, I know not how, but secretly unseen, And make no care if it be ended never, And yet a wound that wastes me all with woe, And yet I would not that it were not so▪ But oh sweet God, what do the●e humous move? Alas, I fear, God shield it be not love. Finis. A Lover in despair. BVrne burn desi, e, while thy poor fuel lasteth, Young wood inflamed doth yield the bravest fire, Though long before in smothering heat it wasteth With froward will to conquer his desire: But fire suppressed once breaking into flame, Doth rage till all be wasted in the same. Most tyrannous and cruel element, So to Envy the Substance of thy life, As to consume thy vital nourishment, Till death itself do end this mortal strife: Yet work thy will on me O raging fire, And lea●e no coals to kindle new desire. Ne let the glowing heat of ashe● left, Yield to my fainting senses fresh relief, But as my soul from comfort thou hast re●t, So end my life in this consuming griefet For well I see, nor wit nor will now serveth, To recompense desire as he deserveth. Finis. A Dream of the arraignment o● Desire. A Court was lately kept in secret of conceit. To call desire unto his death, or clear ●im of deceit, fair Beauty was the Queen, and love was all her Laws, Who had appointed per●em sense to sit upon the cause. The wretches that accused desire of ill desert, Where Envy, packed with Injury, to kill a careful heart▪ The whole Inditemen read against desire, was this, That where he most avowed best he meant not lest amiss▪ The Lawyers that did plead against this poor desire, Where wicked wit with eloquence, whom hate and wrong did hire. But to defend desire was plain simplicity, Who knew the bounds and kept the bonds of perfect amity: A grand Inquest in haste was panneld by the Court. Of whom Tom-troth was foreman made▪ and so begun the sport. Suspect did half affirm, that witness should not need, And yet self-will would feign have sworn that all was true indeed. But reason wild regard, the treason should be tried, And deep conceit should be the man that should the truth decide. Suspect in Nature's sense laid shrewdly to his charge, But care had bridled Nature's course, love never lived at large, And conscience plain replied in reasons secret thought, That good wines need no juie-bush, and eloquence is nought. ●o sound the depth of all did senses all assemble, And poor goodwill came swearing in, that love could not dissemble▪ When patience fully heard the pleading of the case, She called to reason to reveal who had deserved disgrace, Goodwil was earnest still▪ and ●ware that live or die, Suspect did sore abuse desire, for lovers could no● lie. With that the people laughed, and reason charged Tom-troth To give up unto perfect ●ence the verdict of his oath. The jurors were the thoughts that did posse the mind, Where flattery was but fancy's fool while faith did favour find▪ Who when they had at full considered of the cause, Gave Envy up for enemy to love and all his laws. And wit was but a fool to follow false suspect, And eloquence was little worth to carry such effect. And hate and Envy both were had in great disgrace, And eloquence for taking part, was hissed out of place. And sweet desire was clear, in Reasons secret sense, And perfect sense gave judgement so, and quit him of offence. And beauty that before was thought did quite disdain him, Did grant him favour by desert, and love did entertain him. Suspect to silence put, good Nature g●n to smile, To hear them judge to loves disdain that would desire beguile. And sweet desire the force of envies overthrow, And therewithal the Court broke up, & I awaked so. Finis. Britons Divinity. FRom worldly cares and wanton loves conceit, Begun in grief and ended in deceit: I am conjured by hope of happy bliss, Where heavenly faith and highest favour is, To call my wits and all my thoughts together, To write of heaven, and of the highway thither. The holy spirit of eternal power, Vouchsafe his grace to guide my soul aright, That patiented heart may find the happy hour▪ When I may see the glory of that sight, That in conceit so fully may content me, As nought on earth be able to torment me. I ask no aid of any earthly muse, Far be my fancy from such fond affect: But in the heaven where highest Angels use, To sing the sweet of faithful loves effect, Among those spirits of especial grace, I wish my soul might have a ●itting place. Where first the tears of true repentant heart, With faithful hope may happy favour move, And sighing sobs of sorrowe● bitter smart, May see the life of undeserved love: Thence would I crave some excellence divine▪ To set my foot in this discourse of mine. To judge of heaven it is a place of joy, Where happy souls have their eternal rest, Where sweet delights do suffer no annoy, But all things good and only on the best. Where comfotts moer then ●an can comprehend, And such contents as never can have ●nd▪ It is the Throne ofhigh 〈◊〉 sweet, The God of power, of glory and of grace, Where virtue dwells, and her adherents meet, In joyful fear to see his heavenly face▪ Where holy saints and highe●● Angels sing▪ An Alleluia to their heavenly King. There is the day, and there is neue● night, There ever joy, and there is never sorrow, There never wrong, bu● there is ever right, There eue● have, and never need to borrow. There ever▪ love, and there is never hate, Never but there was ever such a state. There all the graces do agree in one, There liveth brethren in one ●inke of love, There all the saints do serve one King alone, Who gives the bliss of highest hearts behove. There is the place of perfect paradise, Where conscience lives and comfort never die●▪ There is the Sun, the beauty of the sky, The Moon and Stars, the candles of the night, Th●re is the essence of that heavenly eye, That blinds the proud and gives the humble light, There is the rain●bow bended by his hand, Who doth both heaven, earth, se●, & hell command There sitteth God in glory of hi● throne, With Virgins, saints and Angels all attended, Who in his ●re hath Kingdoms overthrown, And in his love hath little things defended, Whose glory more than may by man be known, And glory most is in his mercy shown. There doth he sit in highest of his power, Calling the poor unto his ●ich relief, Sowing the sweet that killeth every sour, Giving the salve that healeth every grief: Makieg them live that lo●g were dead before▪ And living ●o, that they can die no more. By him alone the dumb do speak again, O● him alone the blind receive their seeing, With him alone is pleasure without pain, In him alone have blessed hearts their being: To him alone, and only but unto him, All glory due that all the world may do hi●▪ Now have I writ, though far beneath the worth, Of highest Heaven, what happy heart conceiveth Now will I try in order to set forth, Direction such ●s never hope deceiveth, How care may climb the hill of happiness Where is the heaven of highest blessedness. Grace is the gro●●d of every good that is, The ground once good, how can the work be ill▪ Then that the mind may not be lead amiss, Beseech the help of his most blessed will: Whose only word ●●ts down the pa●●age be●● Of humble souls ●o their de●i●ed ●est▪ Begin to leave, and make an end to love, Such wanton thoughts as woeful sorrow give, Be once resolved and never do remove, To live to die, as thou mayst die to li●●: Which hell to hate, and seek for heavenly bli● Read of the world, and tell me what it is. The world (in ●rueth) is b●●● woeful vale, Where grief for grass, and sins do grow for feed, Where substance, sense and souls are set to sale, While hoorders heap that naked people need: And for the gain but of a simple groat, One man will seek to cut another's throat▪ What is the●e here that can con●ent the heart? That knows content or what it doth contain: What thought so swee● but brings as sour a smart? What pleasure such but breeds a greater pain? What thing so good but proves in fine so evil? As (but for God) would bea●e men to the devil▪ What is the earth? the labour of the life. What is the sea? a gulf of grisly lakes. Wh●t is the air? a stuff of filthy strife. What is the fire? the spoil of that it takes. Since these are all whence every thing doth spring What is the world, bu● even a woeful thing? What thing is man? a clod of miry clay, Slime of the earth, a slave to filthy sin, Springs like a weed, and so doth wear away, Goes to the earth where first he did begin: Think with thyself, when thou thyself art suc● What is in man that man should be so much? What hath the world to lead thy mind to love? In true effect, a farthel full of toys, For weigh the pith what every man doth prove, The perfect Gems are most unperfect joys: Consider all what fancy bringeth forth, The best conceit will fall out nothing worth. What worldly things do follow fancy most? Wealth beauty love, fine diet, honour, fame What finds affect? both love and labour lost, Desdaine▪ disease▪ dishonour, death and shame. Where care and sorrow, death and deadly strife▪ Do rule the roast in this accursed life▪ What thing is beauty? a colour pu●cklie gone. And what is wealth when riches fall to rust? What thing is love? a toy to think upon▪ Fine diet, dross to feed a filthy lust: What worldly honour oft unworthy praise? What ease, the cause whereby the life decays? What is disdain? the scorn of proud conceit, And what disease, the death of discontent? Dishonour next the fruit of fond deceit. And what is death? the end of ill intent. Now what is shame? a shameful thing to tell▪ What is the world but wickeds way to hell? For beasts, for birds, for fishes, flowers and trees, And all such things created for our use, What thing is man to take such things as these, By want of grace to turn unto abuse? Oh wretched world, when man that should be best In beastly things proves worse than all the rest. Thus have I show'd the world and wh●t is, A wicked place and full of wretched woes, A sink of sin shut out from heavenly bliss, Where lack of grace doth wit and reason lose: So vile a thing as who in kind doth prove it. Will soon confess he hath no cause to love it. Now how to leave this loath some life of outs, The hateful hell the ground of every grief, Implore the help of those assured powers, Who never fail the faithful soul relief: Lay by these thoughts that are to be abhorred, And set thy heart upon the heavenly Lord. First know thy God, and what a God he is▪ Without beginning and can have no end, Who in his love created only his, And by his hand doth eue● his defend▪ Whose glorious essence of his excellence, Makes highest powers to tremble at his presence▪ He made the world and what it doth contain, Only but man he made unto his love, And man's good will was his desired gain, Till proud attempt did high displeasure move▪ He plagued his pride, yet when he saw his pain. He gave the salve that healed the wound again. He gave the rules to guide the soul aright, What it should do, and what it should not do, He show'd the sum of his desires delight, And what the heart should set itself unto: And in t●e good of his most gracious will▪ He show'd the good that healed every ill. He gave the sun, the moon and stars a course, That they observe according to his will: He makes the tides to take their due recourse, And sets the earth where it doth settle stil●▪ He made the substance of each element, And sets his foot upon the firmament. He gives us knowledge, and we will not know him He bids us ask, and we will never move him: He bids us come▪ and we are running from him: He gives us life, and yet we never love him: He is our King, and we do not respect him: He is our God, and yet we do neglect him. And nought but man that can o● dare devise, How to offend that holy will of his, In only man that cursed humour lies, That makes no care ●o run his course amiss, But day by day doth more and more offend him. Whose only hand doth from all hurt defend him▪ Ungrateful man whom God did only make, In love to love, and with his love preserveth, And for his love endured for his sake Such death of life as dearest love deserveth: What cursed heart would in displeasure move him That giving all, asks nothing but to love him. Oh love, sweet love, oh high and heavenly love, The only love that leads to happy life, Oh love that lives for living hearts behove▪ And makes an end of every hateful strife: How happy he that kindly can attain it, And how accursed that dare for to disdain it. Love was the cause that first we were created, Love is the life that we have given to lead, Love is the cause we never can be hated, Love is our life when other life is dead, Love is ●he grace that highest good doth give, Learn but to love, and 'tis enough to live. First love thy God that taught ●hee how to love, Then love the love that he in love hath taught thee. That love so fixed as nothing can remove. The hope of life that highest love hath wrought thee Thus if thou love, thy love will be a friend, To gain the life where love will never end. Finis. A lovers complaint. TO love, alas, what may I call thy love, Thy uncouth love, thy passions wondrous strange A mischief deadly such as for to prove, My heart would shun if power I had to change. To change said I? recant again that sound, Recant I must, recant it shall indeed. Sith in my heart ●o many things abound, As yields desert how ere my fancy's speed. Sweet is the lure that feeds my gazing eyes▪ Sweeter the looks that whet me hot desire▪ Sweet is the harbour where my quiet lies,▪ But too unsweet the means for to aspire. Yet must I love I love, and so I do, Suppose it hard the thing whereat I retcht, Who doubts but pearls are for the best to woe, And greatest minds to highest actions stretch. Be witness yet my friends of all my pain, And powers divine that know my just complaint, Let all my love within my bark remain, Whom harmful force hath never power to taint. Finis. A dialogue between Charon and Ama●o●. A. COme Charon come with speed: C. What haste? who calleth me? A. A woeful wight drowned in despair, which now hath need of thee. C. Who craves my help wants hap: But what afflicts the so? A. My hope is turned to despair, My friend become my foe. Who vowed herself to me, But perjured of her faith, Performeth not she promised, As careless what she saith, C. Ah tyrant that she is: But what dost thou intends▪ A. That with one death ten thousand deaths might have their final end. C. Oh man for ferry boat, Go do what is assigned, Despairing souls of Lovers feigned May here no passage find. A. Oh Charon cruel wretch, That thus hast mocked me: These hands of mine shall make a boat To pass in spite of thee. These eyes that stand with ●●ares Shall make a flood to flow▪ This heart shall stuff my sails with sighs, And force my boat to go. Finis. A Sonnet. Give me leave to love thee lass, give me leave to love thee: Thou seest that I can do no less, then give me leave to love thee. THy golden hair, thy forehead fair, Thy dainty brows, thy eyes so clear, Those pretty dimplets to them near, Do cause me thus to love thee. Give me leave, etc. Thy comely cheeks like damask rose, Y●mixt with Lilies I suppose, Even parted by thy comely nose, Would cause a man to love thee. Give me leave, etc. Thy mouth from thence divided is, By such proportion ofblis, What treasure can be like to this, that makes me thus to love thee? Give me leave, etc. Thine Amber breath, thy pretty chin, Indimpled where it doth begin, Doth make me think it were a sin, If that I should not love thee. Give me leave, etc. Thy Lily neck, that pillar dear, Like Alabaster white and clear, Twixt upright shoulders doth appear, To make a man to love thee. Give me leave, etc. Thy long smooth arm, thy silk soft hand, I wish were to my neck a band- So might I let thee understand, how well that I do love thee. Give me leave▪ etc. Upon thy breasts more white than snow, Two pretty pamplets evenly grow, O● venus' gifts the richest show, to make a man to love thee. Give me leave, etc. Thy middle sm●ll, that curdie rock, That there lieth hid under thy smock, Do move my spirits, I do not mock, Exceedingly to love thee. Give me leave, etc. Thy hidden parts I recommend, To his conceit who is thy friend, Whose labour sure doth only tend, in part and whole to love thee. Give me leave▪ etc. Thy brawned thigh, thy whirled knee, Thy leg, thine ankle prettily, Do give such comfort unto me that I of force must love thee. Give me leave▪ etc. Thy heel, thy foot, thy toes so strait, That trip and tread with such a sleight, Do with my senses all so freight that needs I must thus love thee. Give me leave, etc. Each comely part from top to toe, Will breed my silly heart much woe, Unless it please thee for to show that thou again wilt love me. Give me leave, etc. Then said my love, sith that you say, And do protest to love me aye. My love to you I'll not denay, in sort as you do love me. Give me leave, etc. So had I leave to love my Lass, So had I leave to love her, Now should I be too much an Ass. If I would not then prove her, Give me leave etc. Finis. A Poem. MY Mistress all alone my service I did vow, She swore, as she a woman was, no love she did allow. Alas, then grew my pain, it greu d me to the heart, My senses then so senseless were, as that I felt no smart. And standing in a maz, as Aspis on the charm, She said and swore (to save my life) she wished no good nor harm, Alas, what bitter sweet, alas what pleasant pain. What shivering heat, what chilling cold, did pass through every vain And when I would have sworn her heart would never move, By jesus Christ she took that oath, that she did never love. Alas what was I then? alas what am I now? Too weak to love, too strong to die▪ quick, dead, I know not how. Finis. A Poem. Wear happy I as others are, Then might I live as others do: But fortune gives a sundry share, And more to one than others too, The mind doth yet content itself▪ What ever fortune do befall, And makes no count of cankered pelf, Nor cares for any care at all. For health it is the gift of God, And give him thankts, and so have done, And want of wealth a heavenly rod, To punish nature's eldest son. Is friends do frown, then farewell they, This worldly love will never last, And if it be a rainy day, The sun will shine when storm is past, If troubles come athwart thy mind, Why 'tis a rule, there is no rest, And he that seeks and cannot find, Must take a little for a feast▪ If Ladies love, then laugh for joy, And if they do not, farewell love: If thou be lost, 'tis but a toy, And if it hold, it will not move. Fair b●a●tie soon will fade a way. And riches quickly fall to rust, Thy youthful years will soon decay▪ And age will soon give over lust. The greatest horse is but a beast, The highest H●wk is but a bird, The sweetest banquet but a feast, The bravest man is but his word. To promise much doth please th● ear, B●t to perform contents the heart. And where performance cometh, there A vowed love can never part. But they that have the world at will, And shrinketh at a shower of rain, May h●p to wish and want there will. Unless their hands have greater gain, But hap what will my heart is set▪ I am resolved of this conceit, If by desert I cannot get, I loathe to live upon deceit. For stayed mind is of that state, As every fortune cannot find, For hope nor fear, nor love, nor hate, Can ever change an honest mind. ●ut either die in secret grief, Whe●e care shall ever be concealed▪ Then send abroad to seek relief, And have a hurt unkindly healed. And only trust in God on high, For in the world there is no friend, And loath to live and long to die, And know the world sh●ll have an end. But if I die, and you do miss, The sweet con●ention might command, Then think but what a death it is▪ To want d●sert without demand. And think upon t●● nights and days. When beat●n brains and broken heart. Did ready serve at all assays, For to discharge an honest part. And if that you do hap to need, As other men do now and than. Think w●en that virtue stood in steed, I. R. was a right honest man. The time draweth on▪ I hear the bell, That calleth for death my dearest friend, But live or die I wish you well, Though your unkindness were my end. Finis. A Poem upon this word truth▪ IN truth is trust, distrust not then my truth, Let virtue live, I ask no greater love, Of such regard repentance not ensueth, And hope of heaven doth highest power prove. In truth sometime it was a sweet conceit, To see how love and life did dwell together▪ But now in truth there is so much deceit, That truth in deed is gone I know not whither. Yer liveth truth, and hath her secret love, And love in truth deserves to be regarded, And loves regard in reason doth appear, Approved truth can nevet be discharged: Then try me first▪ and if that true you prove me, In truth you wrong me if you do not love me. Finis, A Poem upon the word sweet. SWeet is the life▪ that is the sweet of love, ●weet is the love, that is the sweet of life, Sower the conceit that doth unkindness move, But kind the sweet that endeth such a strife▪ Then for the sweet of sweetest lovers vain, Sweet if thou lovest me, sweetly come again. Oh sweet and sweet, where nothing is but sweet, Sweet be thy motions, and sweeter be thy mind, Which shew●● 〈◊〉 sweet where sweet affections meet In sweet content that cannot prove unkind: Then sweetest heart that to this humour moovest me, Sweet come again, that I may see thou lovest me. Sweet I began, and so with sweet I end, There is no sweet unto the sweet of love, Nor love so sweet as in so sweet a friend, Which shows the sweet no sourness can remove, Let tha● sweet thought unto this sweetness move thee, Sweet come again, for by my sweet I love thee. Finis. A Lover finding ●is love unconstant, maketh his last farewell. NO faith on earth, sweet fancy then adun, No fancy firm, why then there is no friend, No friend but feigned, what vice will then ensue, Since trust doth prove b●t treason in the end, Farewell false love, thy trial is not just, No faith on earth, there is no friend to trust. Fancy farewell, which I have loved so, And farewell love that makes me loath my life▪ And life adieu which bred me all my woe, And farewell woe, the forger of all strife, And spite adieu, which breedeth all contempt, Contempt adieu, whose mischief I repent. And thus I end, repenting still my life, Craving for death to make a speedy end, To rid me soon from all this cursed strife And ease my heart which sorrow still doth rend: With some contempt to shoulder off my pain, Whose faith still stands in spite of all disdain. Finis. A Poem. Love makes me loath my life, Yet do I live by love. This life brings death, and death brings life. Both these and that I prove: I sigh and sing for joy, I laugh in pain to lie, Thus moan works mirth, and mirth weaves woe▪ Twixt both I live and die. My colour shows my care, My care doth work my pain. My pain my grief, my grief my death, My death mine endless gain, In vain is beauty's blaze. If beauty want her meed. The blossom fruit, the fruit his flower▪ The flower will have his seed. My youth doth show my years, My years should show my joy▪ I haste to wed, I have no will, I stoop, yet am I coy, Though outward face doth show Mine inward heart not pained, Yet doth mine inward heart well know, Mine outward face is feigned. I fast, I pray, I play, What diet can I prove? But ah I see the ripest wits▪ Are soon thrall to love. Sith so it is, I sigh, And to myself I sing, Heygho, my heart▪ heigho▪ alas▪ Love is a cruel thing. Finis. The moan of a Lover in despair. Go paper all be blurred▪ be blurred, with bootless tears in vain▪ Go tell, go tell the heavy news. Of my consuming pain: Go tell go tell unto my friends, But if they a●ke thee why, Let this suffice, it is enough, I am re●ol●●d to die. My head can take ●o quiet rest, Mine eyes receive no sig●ht▪ My mouth no taste, my nose no s●ell, Mine ears hear no delight, My silly panting heart doth faint: but if they ask thee why Let t●is suffice, it is enough, I am resolved to die▪ My feeble han●s withhold their help, m● feet do let me fall, My t●●gue ca● harbour no delight▪ to comfort me at all, My wit and senses all do fail, but if they ask thee why▪ Let this suffice it is enough, I am resolved to die. I have bespoke the Clerk in haste, to toll my passing knell, I have in order as I ought, myself set down my will: I cannot long time here remain: but if they ask thee why, Let this suffice it is enough, I am re●olu'd to die, I have prepared my shrouding sheet, my grave I have begun, I have almost performed the race my weary corpse must run▪ I tarry but a little while, but if they ask thee why, Let this suffice it is enough, I am resolved to die. Finis. A Poem. A lively face and piercing beaut●y bright▪ Aath linked in love my s●●e senses all, A comely port, a goodly shaped wight, Hath made me slide that never thought to fal●▪ Her eyes, her grace, her deeds and manners mild So strains my heart that love hath me beguiled. But not one dart of Cupid did me wound, A hundred shafts light all on me at once, As though dame kind a new devise had sound To tear my flesh and crash a two my bones, And yet I feel such joys in these my woes, That as I die my spirit to pleasure goes. These my fond fits such change in me doth breed. I ha●e the day, and drive to darkness, lo, Yet by the lamp of beauty I do feed, In dimmest days, and darkest nights also: Thus altering state and changing diet still, I feel and know the force of Venus will. The best I find is that I do tonfesse, I love a dame whose beauty doth excel, But yet a toy doth breed me my distress, For that I dread she will not love me well: Thus all my sweet still turn to bitter bale▪ Ready to kill me ere I end my tale. Oh Goddess mine▪ yet hear the voice of ruth, And pity him that heart presents to thee. And if thou wilt but witness for my truth, Let sighs and groans my judge and record be, Unto ●he end a day may come in haste, To make me think I spend no time in waste▪ For nought prevails in love to serve and ●ue, If full effect join not with words at need What is desire or any fancies now, More than that which is spread abroad indeed: My words and deeds 〈…〉 in one agree, To pleasure her whose sir●●a●e would I be▪ Finis. Of his Mistress love. To try whose art and sttength did most excel My Mistress, L●ue and fair Diana met, The Ladier three forthwith to shooting fell, And for the prize the richest jewel set. Sweet Love did both her bow and arrows gauge, Diana did her beauty rare lay down, My Mistress pawned her cruelty and rage, And she that wan had all for her renown: It fell out thus when as the match was done. My Mistress got the beauty and the bow, And straight to try the weapons she had won▪ Upon me heart she did a shaft bestow. By beauty bound, by Love and Vigour slain, The loss is mine where hers was all the gain. Of a discontented mind. POets come all, and teach one take a pen, Let all the heads that ever did indite, Let Sorrow rise out of her darkest den, And help an heart an heavy tale to write. And if all these or any one can touch, The smallest part of my tormenting pain: Then will I think my grief is not so much, But that in time it may be healed again. But if no one come near the thought, Of that I ●eele▪ and no man else can find, Then let him say that dear his cunning bought, There is no death to discontented mind. Of his Mistress Beauty. WHat ails mine eyes, or are my wits distaught, Do I not see, or know not what I see, No marvel though to see that wonder wrought, Tha● on the earth another cannot be. What meant the Gods when first they did create you, To make a face to mock all other features, Angels in heaven will surely deadly hate you, To leave the world so full of foolish creatures. Che●kes that enchain the highest hearts in thrall, Is it set down such fair shall never fade you. Hands, that the hearts of highest thoughts appall, Was not Minerva made when she had made you, Fair: look on you, and farewell beauty's grace, Wise: why your wits the wisest doth abash. Sweet: where is sweet but in your sweetest face, Rich: to your will all treasure is but trash. Oh how these hands, are catching at those eyes, To feed this heart that only lives upon them, Ah, of these hands what humours do arise, To blind these eyes that live by looking on them. But heart must faint th●t must be going from you, And eyes must weep that in you lose their seeing, Heavens be your place, where Angels better know you▪ And earth is too base for such a Goddess being. Yet where you come a●ong those highest powers, Crave pardon then for all these great offences, That when you dwelled among these hearts of ours, Your only eyes did blind our wits and senses. Now if you s●e my will abo●e my wit, Think of the good that all your graces yield you: A mazed Muse must have a madding fi●, Who is but mad that ever hath beheld you. A Sonnet. THose eyes that hold the hand of every heart, That hand that ho●ds the heart of every eye, That wit that goes beyond all Nature's art▪ The sense too deep for wisdom to descry. That eye, that hand, that wit, that heavenly sense, Doth show my only Mistress excellence. Oh eyes that pierce into the purest heart, Oh hands that hold the highest thoughts in thrall, Oh wit that ways the depth of all desert, Oh sense that show the secret sweet of all. The heaven of heavens with heavenly power preserve thee. Love but thyself, and give me leave to serve thee. To serve, to live, to look upon those eyes, To look, to live, to kiss that heavenly hand▪ To sound that wit that doth amaze the mind, To know that sense, no sense can understand. To understand that all the world may know, Such wit, such sense, eyes, hands, there are no more. A Pastorell of Phillis and Coridon. ON a hill there grows a flower, Fair befall the dainty ●weet: By that flower there is a bower, Where the heavenly Muses meet. In that bower there is a Chair, Fringed all about with gold: Where doth sit the fairest fair, That did ever eye behold. It is Phillis fair and bright, She that is the shepheatds joy: She that venus did despite, And did blind her little boy. This is she the wise, the rich, And the world desires to see, This is Ipsa quae the which, There is none but only she. Who would not this face admire, Who would not this Saint adore, Who would not this sight desire, Though he thought to see no more: Oh fair eyes yet let me see, One good look, and I am gone, Look on me for I am he, Thy poor silly Corydon. Thou that art the shepherds Queen, Look upon thy silly swain: By thy comfort have been seen, Dead men brought to life again. The complaint of a forsaken Lover. Let me go seek some solitary place, In craggy rocks where comfort is unknown: Where I may sit and wail my heavy case, And make the heavens acquainted with my moan, Where only Echo with her hallow voice, May ●ound the sorrow of my hidden sense: And cruel chance the cross of sweetest choice, Doth breed the pain of this experience. In mourning thoughts let me my mind attire, And clad my care in weeds ofdeadlie woe: And make disgrace the grave of my desire, Which took his death wh ereby his life did grow, And ere I die engrave upon my tomb, Take heed of Love, for this is Lo●ers doom. A pretty fancy. WHo takes a friend and trusts him not, Who hopes of good and hath it not, Who hath a Item and keeps it not, Who keeps a joy and loves it not. The first wants wit the second will, Careless the third, the fourth doth ill. An Epitaph on the death of a noble Gentleman. SOrrow come si● thee down, and sigh and sob thy fill, And let these bleeding bitter teare●, be witness of thine ill. See, see, how Virtue si●s, what passions she doth prove. To think upon the loss o● him, that was her dearest love. Come Pall●● careful Queen, let all thy Muses wait, About the grave, where buried is, the grace of your conceit▪ Poets lay down your pens, or if you needs will write, Confess the only day of love hath lost her dawning light▪ And you that know the Court, ank what beseems the place, With grief engrave upon his tomb, he gave all Courts a grace▪ And you that keep the fields, and know what valour is, Say all too soon was seen in this untimely death of his. Oh that he lived in earth, that could but half conceive, The honour that his rarest heart was worthy ●o receive, Whose wisdom far above the rule of Natures teach, Whose works are extant to the world, that all the world may teach Whose wit the wonder-stone, that did true wisdom touch, And such a sounder of conceit, as few or never such. Whose virtue did exceed in Nature's highest vain. Whose life a lantern of the love that surely lives again. Whose friendship faith so fast, as nothing could remove him, Whose honourable courtesy made all the world to love him What Language but he spoke▪ what rule but he had read? What thought so high? what sense so deep but he had in his head. A Phoenix of the world, whom fame doth thus commend, Virtue is life, Val●r his love, and Honour was his end. Upon whose to●be be writ▪ that may with tears be red: Hear lies the flower of chivalry that ever England bred. Oh heavens, upon the earth was never such a day, That all conceits of all contents should all consume away. Me thinks I see a Queen come covered with a vail. The Court all stricken in a dump, the Ladies weep & wail. The Knights in careful sighs bewail their secret loss, And he that best conceals his grief, bewrays he hath a cross Come Scholars bring your books, let reason have his right, Do reverence unto the c●rse, in honour of the Knight. Come souldi●rs see the Knight, that le●t his life so n●ere ye Give him a volley o● your hearts, that all the 〈◊〉 m●y ●●are ye, And ye that live at ●ome, and pass your time in p●●c●, To help ye sing his doleful dirge, let sorrow never cease. Oh could I mourn enough, that a●l the world may see, The grief of love for such a l●sse, as greater cannot be. Our Court hath lost a f●●end, ou● Country such a Knight, As with the to●m●●t o● the thought, hath turned day to night, A man, so rare a man, did never England breed, ●o excellent in every thing, that all men did exceed. So full of all effects, that wit and sense may s●an As in his heart did want no part to make a perfect man. Perfection far above the rule of human sense▪ Whose heart was only set on heaven, and had his honour thence Whose ma●ke of highest aim, was honour of the mind, Who both ●t once did worldly ●ame, and heavenly favour find Whom virtue so did love, and learning so adore, As commendations of a man, was never man had more, Whom wise men did admire, whom good men did affect. Whom honest men did love and serve, and all men did respect. Whose care his Country's love, whose love his Country's care, Whose careful love considered well, his Country could not spare Oh Christ what ruthful cries about the world do ring, And to behold the hea●ie sighs it is a hellish thing. The camp, the doleful camp▪ comes home with all a Mort, To see the Captain of th●ir ●are, come home in such a sort▪ The Court, the solemny C●u●t, is in a sudden trance, And what is ●e but is amazed to hear of this mischance, T●e City shakes 〈◊〉 head, as it had lost a pillar, And kind affect is in such care, a little more would kill her, 〈◊〉 Oxford sits and weeps, and Cambridge cries outright. To lose the honour o● their love, and love of their delight. The Clergy singing Psalms, with tears beblot ●heir book, And all the scholars follow on, with sad and heavy looks. The Muses and the Nymphs attired all in black, With tea●ing ●eares & wring hands, as if their hearts would crack. The father, wife and friends, and servants in degrees, 〈◊〉 blubbered eyes bewail the life that faithful love did lose. Myself that loved him more, than he that knew him much, Will leave the honour ofhi worth, for better wits to touch: And said but what I thi●ke, and that a number know, He was a Phoenix of a man▪ I fear there are no more. To set him down in praise with men of passed fame, Let this suffice who more deserved: I never read his name. For this he was in right, in brief to show his praise, For Virtue, Learning, Valour, Wit, the honour of our days▪ And so with honour end, let all the world go seek, So young a man so rare a man, the world hath not the like. Whose only corpse consumes, whose Virtue never dies, Whose sweetest soul enjoys the sweet ofhighest Paradise. The sum of the former in four lines. GRace, Virtue, Valour, Wit, Experience, Learning, Love, Art, Reason, Time, Conceit, Devise, Discretion, Truth▪ All these in one, and but one only prove, Sorrow in age, to see the end of youth, In the praise of his Mistress. POets lay down your pens, let fancy leave to feign, Bid all the Muses go to bed, or get a better vain. There musics are to base, to sound that sweet conceit, That on the wonder of the world, with wonder may await. But if as yet unknown, there be some dainty Muse, That can do more than all the rest, and will her cunning use▪ Let her come whet her wits, to see what she can do, To that the best that ever wrote, came never near unto, For Venus was a toy▪ and only feigned fable, And Cresed but a Chawcers ●east▪ and Helen but a babble. My tale shallbe of truth, that never treason taught, My Mistress is the only sweet, that ever Nature wrought. Whose eyes are like those stars that keep the highest skies, Whose beauty like the burning Sun▪ that blinds the clearest eyes, Whose hairs are like those beams, that hang about the Sun, When in the morning forth he steps, before his course be run And let me touch those lips, by love, by leave, or luck, When sweet affect, by sweet aspect may yet some favour suck▪ They are those little folds, of Nature's finest wit, That she sat smoothing while she wrought▪ & willbe smacking yet. And for that purest red, with that most perfect white, That makes those cheeks the sweetest chains, of lovers high delight. What may be said but this, Behold the only feature, That all the world that sees the face, may wonder at the creature I will not stand to muse as many writers do. ●o seek our Nature's finest stuff to like her limbs unto. Foe if thou wert on earth that could in part compare: With every part of every part, wherein her praises are: Either for Nature's gifts or Virtues sweetest grace: I would confess a blinded heart, were in unhappy case. But what doth Nature▪ Sense, and Reason doth approve, She is the only saint on earth, whom God and man doth lou●▪ Let this in sum suffice for my poor Muse and me, She is the Goddess of the earth, and there is none but she. FINIS.