CHURCHYARDS Challenge.  
LONDON Printed by john Wolf. 1593.   

To the right honourable Sir john Wolley Knight, Secretary for the Latin tongue to the Queen's Majesty, and one of her privy Council: Thomas Churchyard wisheth increase of honour, blessedness of life, and abundance of worldly felicity, and heavenly happiness.  
THe long travel and tracing out of life in this wearisome pilgrimage (right honourable) having brought me now almost to the end of my journey, makes me glad (with a restless desire) to be rid of the burdens of my mind and the labours of my body, the one never free from study, and the other seldom void of toil, and yet both of them neither brought great benefit to the life, nor blessing to the soul: in which small rest and unquietness, many sorrowful discourses in my days I have written, and numbers of books I have printed: and because they shall not be buried with me, I challenge them all as my children to abide behind me in the world, to make them inheritors of such fame & dispraise as their father (which begat them on sweet invention) here enjoys or deserves: hoping they shall not be called bastards, nor none alive will be so hardy as to call them his babes, that I have bred in my bowels, brought forth and fostered up so carefully at mine own charges, and hazard of an envious world. And now indeed for that divers (of disdainful disposition) do or may hinder the good report of those labours which I think well bestowed among my friends, I have set forth while I am living a great number of my works in this book named my Challenge, that after my death shallbe witnesses they were mine own doings: not for any great matter in them, but for the justness of troth and true trial of all my honest exercises, and so to purchase credit and the more friends and favourers to prop up my poor reputation: I not only dedicate this book (and all therein) to your honour, but have made also in the same book divers dedications to sundry honourable and worshipful personages, protesting that there is nothing herein but came from mine own device, which inventions (spoken as becomes me) shall be in all honest sort defended by pen or any way I may to the uttermost of my breath or ability, joying much (with all gladness of heart) that they are presented to so honourable a parsonage and one of such singular learning, whose worth and value by a worthy and virtuous Princes is seen into, and thoroughly considered of, which gracious Queen hath always made her princely choice in such an excellent and unspeakable manner, as God himself should divinely appoint and direct to our great wealth and his great glory: and in whose r●re commendation all the pen men of the world may write. Now good sir under your excellent favour and countenance, I shield my presumption and boldness, that hath offered a book of so many discourses, to the judgement of such a multitude that quickly can discover the weakness of my labours: but having ventured so far as to publish them in print, I must now of necessity commit them to the common opinion of the world. So in hope the best will fall out, I present you with my studies and take leave of your honour, desiring of God what goodness can be wished, to be always at your commandment.  
Dutifully and loyally in all at commandment, Thomas Churchyard.   

To the worthiest sort of People, that gently can read, and justly can judge.  
GOod Reader, if my presumption were so great that I thought my book might pass without your favourable judgement, mine error were as much as my overweening: and yet to use persuasions in purchasing your good liking, I should pass the bounds of common reason, and fall into the danger of adulation: for your good wills are rather won with good matter then bare words, and say what I can to gain your affection toward my work, you will speak what seemeth best in your own conceits. For among many thousands are many of deep consideration, and some undoubtedly of as shallow judgement: so that the one or the other cannot nor will not be led and carried away with any device of my pen, though all the high spirits and excellency of Poetry might drop out of the quill I writ withal: wherefore now I must as well abide the hazard of your censure, as I have boldly unfolded myself to the world: there is now no craving of pardon, nor pleading for your furtherance to increase my good fame: my works must abide weight, they are thrust into the balance, and I of necessity must content me with your allowance, and what price pleaseth you to set on my merchandise: but if they prove too light in the scales, I pray you help them with some grain of good skill, that they be not condemned as trifles, because they have cost me great labour and study, and put me to no little charges. I freely offer them to you for three or four causes, the one to keep the reputation of a writer, the second to pleasure my friends with the reading of new inventions, and thirdly to desire my foes to give me true report of those works I have made, and last of all to affirm that every thing in this my book of Challenge is mine own doing, which justly no man can deny. Not boasting thereof as matter worthy memory, but claiming a better regard than envy would give me, I stand to the praise or dispraise of all I have done, marveling much that in my life time any one would take from me the honest laudation I deserve. I strive no further in that point, but commit to God and good people the indifferency and justness of my cause, and the best is (which shall bear itself) the wise of the world and worthiest of knowledge and capacity, are the only judges shall yield me my right: the rest are but hearers and lookers on, whose voices may make a great noise, but gives so uncertain a sound, they can do no great harm, because of nature and condition they never do no great good. Now my pleading time is past, my book must appear in that bare fashion as I have form the matter, I hope it shall not walk so nakedly abroad, but shallbe able to abide the coldness of ill will, and the extreme heat of hateful men's disposition. God the giver of goodness, guide my verses so well that they never happen into their hands that loves me not, and make my prose and plainness of speech be as welcome to the Reader, as it was well meant of the writer. So with double and triple blessing, Farewell.  
FINIS.   

My next book shallbe the last book of the Worthiness of Wales.  
And my last book called my Vltimum Vale, shallbe (if it please God) twelve long tales for Christmas, dedicated to twelve honourable Lords.   

Hear follows the several matters contained in this book.  

THe tragedy of the Earl of Morton.  
The tragedy of sir Simon Burley.  
A discourse that a man is but his mind.  
A discourse of the true steps of manhood.  
A discourse of the honour of a Soldier.  
A discourse of an old Soldier and a young.  
A discourse and commendation of those that can make Gold.  
A discourse and rebuke to rebellious minds.  
A discourse of hospitality and consuming of time and wealth in London.  
A discourse of misfortune and calamity.  
A discourse of law and worthy Lawyers.  
A discourse of the only Phoenix of the world.  
A praise of that Phoenix and verses translated out of French.  
The tragedy of Shore's wife much augmented.  
A discourse of the joy good subjects have when they see our Phoenix abroad.  
The tragical discourse of the hapless man's life.  
The adieu the writer made long ago to the world.  
A discourse of a fantastical Dream.  
A tragical discourse of a dolorous Gentlewoman.  
A tragical discourse of a Lord and a Lady translated out of French.   
I hope you look not that I should place every Knight & Lady in their degree, for I must of necessity follow my matter.   

The books that I can call to memory already Printed: are these that follows.  

FIrst in King Edward's days, a book named Davie Dicars dream, which one Camel wrote against, whom I openly confuted. Shore's wise I penned at that season.  
Another book in those days called the Mirror of man..  
In Queen Mary's reign, a book called a newyears gift to all England, which book treated of rebellion.  
And many things in the book of songs and Sonnets, printed then, were of my making.  
Since that time till this day I wrote all these works.  
The book of Chips dedicated to sir Christopher Hatton, after Lord Chancellor.  
The book called Chance, dedicated to sir Thomas Bromley L. Chancellor then.  
The book called my Charge, to my L. of Surrye.  
The book called my Change, in verse and proes, dedicated to all good minds.  
The book called my Choice, dedicated to the L. Chancellor sir Christopher Hatton.  
The book of the siege of Leeth and Edenbrough Castle.  
The book of sir William drury's service, dedicated to sir Drue Drury.  
The book called the golden Nut, dedicated to the Qu. Ma.  
The book of receiving her highness into Suffolk, & Norfolk.  
The book before of her highness receiving into Bristol.  
The book of the Earthquake, to the good Dean of Paul's.  
The book of the troubles of Flanders, to sir Francis Walsing.  
The book called the scourge of rebels in Ireland, to my Lord Admiral.  
The book called a rebuke to Rebellion, to the good old Earl of Bedford.  
The book of a Spark of friendship, to sir Walter Rawley.  
The book of Sorrows, to D. Wilson when he was Secretary.  
The book of the winning of Macklin, to my Lord Norrice.  
The book called the Worthiness of Wales, to the Qu. Ma.  
The book given her Majesty at Bristol, where I made all the whole devices.  
The devices of war and a play at Awsterley, her highness being at sir Thomas Greshams.  
The Comedy before her Majesty at Norwich in the field when she went to dinner to my Lady Gerning●ms.  
The whole devices pastimes and plays at Norwich, before her majesty.  
The devices and speeches that men and boys showed within many prograces.  
The book of King Henry's Epitaph, and other princes and Lords, to Secretary Wolley.  
The book of my Deer adieu, to M. john Stannop.  
The book called a handful of gladsome verses, to the Qu. M. at Wodstocke.  
The book called a pleasant co●ceite, a new years gift, to the Queen's Majesty.   

These works following are gotten from me of some such noble friends as I am loath to offend.  
Aeneas tale to Dydo, largely and truly translated out of Virgil, which I once showed the Qu. Ma. and had it again.  
A book of the oath of a judge and the honour of Law, delivered to a stationer, who sent it the L. chief Baron that last died.  
A book of a sumptuous show in Shrovetide, by sir Walter Rawley, sir Robart Carey, M. Chidly, and M. Arthur Gorge, in which book was the whole service of my L. of Leicester mentioned, that he and his train did in Flaunders, and the gentlemen pensioners proved to be a great piece of honour to the Court: all which book was in as good verse as ever I made: an honourable knight dwelling in the black Friars, can witness the same, because I read it unto him.  
A great piece of work translated out of the great learned French Poet Signior Dubartas, which work treated of a Lady and an Eagle, most divinely written on by Dubartas, and given by me to a great Lord of this land, who saith it is lost.  
An infinite number of other Songs and Sonnets, given where they cannot be recovered, nor purchase any favour when they are craved.    

A new kind of a Sonnet.  
IN writing long, and reading works of war,  
That Homer wrote and Virgil's verse did show:  
My muse me led in overweening far,  
When to their Styles my pen presumed to go.  
Ovid himself durst not have vaunted so,  
Nor Petrarke grave with Homer would compare:  
Daunt durst not think his sense so high did flow,  
As Virgil's works that yet much honoured are.  
Thus each man saw his judgement high or low,  
And would not strive or seek to make a jar:  
Or wrestle where they have an overthrow.  
So I that find the weakness of my bow,  
Will shoot no shaft beyond my length I trow:  
For reason learns and wisdom makes me know.  
Whose strength is best and who doth make or mar:  
A little Lamp may not compare with Star.  
A feeble head where no great gifts do grow:  
Yields unto skill, whose knowledge makes small show.  
Then gentle world I sweetly thee beseech:  
Call Spenser now the spirit of learned speech.  
Churchyards good will.   

THE EARL OF MURTONS' Tragedy, once Regent of Scotland, and always of great birth, great wisdom, great wealth, and very great power and credit: yet Fortune envying his estate and nobleness, brought him to lose his head on a Scaffold in Edenbrough the second of june. 1581.  

MAke place for plaints, give room for plagued men,  
Step back proud minds, that praise yourselves too much,  
Let me appeal, to some true writer's pen:  
That doth the life, and death of Prince's touch.  
For my mishap, and fatal fall is such,  
That gazing world, which hears my woeful end,  
Shall marvel much, to see such matter penned.   

The restless race, that mortal men do run,  
Seems smooth to sight, yet full of scratting briars:  
Here is no rest, nor surety under Sun.  
Sour is the taste, of flowers that sweet appears,  
Our gentle joys, are in our tender years,  
For as the Child, to wit and reason grows,  
So judgement comes, and seeds of sorrow sows.   

Our wanton time, doth steal away with sport,  
But when that care, hath crept in curious brains:  
Long grief begins, and pleasure is but short,  
For heart and head, is vert with fancies vain,  
Then hoard brings hate, and gold breeds greedy gain.  
Desire of which, with pomp and glory great,  
So boils in breast, it makes man's brows to sweat.   

Ambitious mind, the busy bellows blows,  
The quenchless coals, of R●le that burneth still,  
And o'er the banks, the floods of folly flows:  
And private wealth, ●o blinds a worldlings will:  
That wicked wit, doth banish reasons skill,  
Climes up aloft, cries fame and rare renown,  
Till heavy stone, from top comes tottering down.   

The mounting heart, that daily doth aspire,  
With wilful wings, of pride to clouds would fly:  
And though he feels, his feathers singed with fire:  
He will not stoop, he holds his head so high,  
To bear a sway, and always casts his eye,  
(With eager looks) on honours stately throne:  
He likes no mate, but all would wield alone.   

The simple sort, that sees sore Falcon rise,  
Disdains to death, the bird that flies too far:  
Then as on owl, flocks, crows and chatring pies,  
So at great dogs, the little tikes do snarre.  
tween small and great, when spite ●nes moves the war,  
There is no rest, for rage runs all on head,  
Hate kindleth fire, and love grows cold as lead.   

A greater strife, is when two tides do meet,  
Both of one force, like mighty struggling streams,  
I mean when men, do strive of equal spirit:  
The rob is ripped, or rent through the seams:  
Great troubles grow, in sundry civil Realms,  
For whilst the one, in chiefest room is placed.  
The other comes, and hales him down in haste.   

There is no mean, where matches meet at shock,  
The strong shows strength, the stout stands wrangling still,  
About the ball, the finest fellows flock,  
They win the goal, that hath the greatest skill.  
The force of flood, turns round the Water-mill.  
So where two men, do wrestle for a fall,  
Most might prevails, the weak is turned to wall.   

But why do I, find fault with greatest band,  
My train was such, as I a King had been:  
In Court and Town, Earl Murton was so manned.  
As every day, I had a world to win,  
That was the fret, that did the war begin.  
For those that saw, me waited on so well,  
Did scorn the same, and so like toads they swell   

At my renown, and lo a greater thing,  
By chance befell, for I had secret foes:  
(That daily sought) my fall about the King.  
And as on steps, to stately stage I rose,  
So my decay, in Court and country grows.  
For privy hate, and malice matchth with might,  
took out the oil, that gave my lamp the light.   

Yet through great help, and friends as world may ween,  
Whose wisdoms was, well known both grave & sage:  
I regent was, when many a broil was green:  
And set abroach, in Court by revels rage,  
I ruled all, whilst King was under age,  
And where I saw, the people make offence,  
I scowrgd them sore, which kept them quiet sense.   

Some did I hang, and trust them up on high,  
That slaughters made, or murders did commit:  
Some were redeemed, that did for favour cry,  
And strongest heads, I held in hard with bits.  
With equal ears, I would in judgement sit.  
Yea bend my brain, to beat out right and wrong,  
And conscience bad, defer not justice long.   

The rich by this, were sorry to offend,  
The poor did dread, to hang that faulty were,  
And yet oft times, when falters did amend,  
I hanged but one, to bring the rest in fear.  
To suitors all, I gave a gracious ear,  
By gentle ways, and wisdoms modest mean,  
From filthy facts, I cleansed Country clean.   

By order good, I made them fear the law,  
I pinched the purse, and paused in shedding blood,  
I punished sore, where great abuse I saw,  
Strait rules I set, to learn rude people good.  
By which strong stays, my state in surety stood.  
So wealth came in, with goodly gold and gear,  
That paid for pains, and did the charges bear.   

Yea sure more wealth, and riches I possessed,  
Then twenty Lords, of Scotland any way:  
I might compare (for treasure) with the best.  
We call it Poess, in our plain Scottish lay,  
I had the bags, of Angel nobles gay.  
I had the chests, filled up unto the brim,  
With sundry stamps, of coin and treasure trim.   

My houses stood, in gladsome soils and s●ats,  
Stuffed with rich things, and Arras clothes ●now:  
My table spread, with dear and dainty meats.  
My ward rob stored, with change of garments throw,  
My corn in stacks, my hay in many a mow,  
My stable great, of gallant goldings good.  
And I like Prince, amidst these pleasure's stood●.   

What I would wish, I had with glory great,  
Each knee did bow, and make their bodies bend:  
Each: eye stood fixed, to gaze on honours seat,  
Each friendly face, a loving look would send.  
To stately throne, and I again would lend  
A Lordly grace, to keep the world's good will,  
Whereby increased, my fame and honour still.   

I built me bowers, sometime to banquet in,  
Made plots for walks, and gardens of delight:  
Sought sweet conceits, (not fowsing soul in sin,)  
With glutted gorge, at pleasures bait to bite.  
But pastime took, to put off world's despite.  
My streamers stood, in top of bark so brave,  
That flags of joy, with each good wind would wave.   

For worldly pomp, and worship waits at heel,  
Where rule and power, sets out gay glittering shows,  
Who follows not, the swinge of fortune's wheel,  
What fish forsakes, the flood that daily flows.  
Both great and small, with course of water goes.  
Where sun doth shine, both beast & birds repair,  
And what flies not, to pleasant weather fair.   

But well away, when we have all we wish,  
A house, a home, bedecked with gallant grace:  
A golden net, beguiles a careless fish▪  
We have no hold, of fortunes flittering face.  
For when we do, worlds flattering gifts embrace,  
We groope and gape, for more vain goods so fast:  
That graceless hap, sweeps all away at last.   

Our greedy mind, gains gold and tyens good name,  
Wins wealth yet works, a wicked web of woe:  
Breeds deep disdain, and brings a man in blame.  
Breaks bands of love, makes friend become a foe.  
Shutes spiteful shafts, from malice sturdy bow,  
Strikes dead good name, & rears up slanders brute,  
sows seeds of vice, and brings forth rotten fruit.   

All these de●e●s, doth follow greedy mind,  
But lo my skill, and sight in public state:  
For soaking sores, a sovereign salve could find,  
For where I feared, sharp wars & foul debate▪  
To cut off strife, great friends at hand I got,  
And by my wit, to keep the King in right,  
At my command, I freely brought much might.   

Which struck the stroke, and stoutly ruled the roast,  
Spent many days, in broils and making peace:  
Bestowed great charge, and card not for no cost,  
So that they could our common quarrels seance.  
And ever as, I saw our brawls increase,  
I helped the harms, by worthy wisdoms art,  
So planted peace, & rule in every part.   

For every years, some brawl was set abroach,  
Some treason wrought, some treachery ta'en in hand:  
Which without stay, would sound to my reproach,  
Such falsehood reigned, and raged in the land.  
In factions still, did run a bloody band,  
About the Realm, as wild as wolves for pray,  
But by my friends, I set these things in s●aye.   

In greatest storms, I stoutly stood to stern,  
And turned about, the ship to win the wind:  
And what defects, and faults I did discern,  
I ready was, a quick redress to find.  
And no man durst, restrain the Regent's mind,  
For were it good, or bade I would have done,  
Unto that side, would most of people run.   

Yet murmors rose, among the mighty flock,  
Whose hidden hate, hugged close in cankered breast:  
To undermine, my strong and stately rock,  
That stood on props, and did on pillars cest.  
For longer sure, in Court I could not rest,  
Then King might come, to perfect age and years,  
As things befell, and by my fall appears.   

The secret swarms, of ●lie and subtle snakes,  
That lurks in grass, and under fairest flowers:  
The flattering clouds, that oft fair weather makes,  
Great showers of rain, upon the people powers.  
The smiling face, that when it list it lours.  
Betrays the eyes, of them that well believes,  
When scorners flyer, and laugheth in their sleeves.   

My hedge stood stackte, with such weak sticks of wood,  
That many a gap, was made into my ground:  
I trusted much, to friendship, birth, and blood,  
But some of those, in fine were faithless found.  
Most spoke me fair, but least of them were sound.  
Some sought my ruin, that weighted hard at heels.  
For time so shaped, the world went all on wheels.   

What is enuid, but rule and high estate.  
The servant seeks, of● times his masters fall:  
The subject bears, to law a privy hate,  
The stubborn child, is silde at fathers call.  
The froward wives, finds fault with husbands all.  
The scholar hates, to hear his folly told,  
And each degree, abhors to be controlled.   

Rule wants no foes, the horse he hates the bit.  
The dog disdains, the leash that holds him in:  
The hawk desires, not long on perch to sit,  
Rule is despised, Rule doth no favour win.  
The man that hath, in courtly honour been.  
Can tell how oft, he was with flattery fed,  
And some there are, with blind affection led.   

Whose humour weak, the wil●e worldlings feed,  
They follow fast, and fawns like whelps a while:  
Till great men's means, hath served their turn in deed,  
Then gallants go, away and give a smile.  
Thus wa●ters on, do nought but friends beguile.  
And slipper lads, as false and fine as those,  
For no offence, become most mortal foes.   

With curtsy great, and kneeling on the knee,  
The harmless hearts, of noble states are trapte:  
They look so high, they can no trumpery see,  
Until the ●lye, in spider's web be leapt.  
And when by sleight, the simple is misshaped.  
The wandering world, but marvels at the case,  
And from the weak, the strongest turns the face.   

Who had more friends, or yet more wealth than I,  
Who sound less help, O fie on friendship's trust:  
My stock and race, did reach to starry sky,  
Yet world trod down, mine honour in the dust.  
And I was left, alone think what I lust.  
Weep sigh or sob, when Fortune gave checkmate,  
Fer●● friends were fled, and I in woeful state.   

Yet wisdoms grace, held up my noble mind.  
I scorned to think, when sorest tempests blewe:  
In face and cheer, my courage men might find,  
I counted all, and then the worst I knew,  
It was but death, (a payment that is due:)  
To yield to day, or else when date drew near  
To pay the shot, and make the reckoning clear.   

What needs more talk, amid my chiefest joys,  
A draft was drawn, to drive me out of grace:  
The news whereof, did fill my head with toys,  
But my stout heart, would give no practice place.  
I stiffly stood, in Court with manly face.  
And thought to thrust, them out that strove with me.  
And so in spigt, of world I would go free.   

Great banding then, began in Borough town,  
And to the view, I had the strongest side:  
For on my part, were men of great renown.  
Yea, as the fish, doth follow greatest tide:  
So people swarmed, and crucifige cried.  
On Mortons' foes, for daily every hour:  
In Prince's Court, with pomp increased my power.   

But when we met, that several ways did draw,  
Sweet words did walk, bespyest with feigned cheer:  
In dulcet shell, a kernel sour, I saw,  
That cunning craft, by cloud conveyed full clear.  
Our powdered speech, most fresh, would still appear.  
Till bitter taste, bewrayed our meanings all:  
Then honey comb, in proof became but gall.   

So angry bees, burst forth from quiet hive,  
And offered sting, to those that nearest stood:  
Then fearful folk, too feeble were to strive,  
They flock so fast, that daily sought my blood.  
Yet to the world, I made my quarrel good,  
And craved no more, but justice in my cause:  
And so to shift, by course of common laws.   

In open Court, I was accused straight,  
And straightly charged, to keep my chamber still:  
Where if I had, but used any sleight,  
I might have scaped, away and had my will.  
But destiny did, bewitch both wit and skill.  
And robbed me so, of spirit and feeling sense:  
That I was meek, and never made defence.   

But what I thought, and what I hepte for both,  
Is known to God, and some that liveth yet:  
In deed my fear, was small (I tell you troth,)  
For many things, in compass of my wit,  
Did clear me clean, and so though I should sit.  
In prison fast, a time till things were tried:  
In durance long, I hoped I should not bide.   

But lo in haste, I was from thence removed,  
And sent unto, the Castle there to stay:  
And then perchance, I was but finely proud,  
To see for fear, if I would fly away.  
For mine own folks, had there the whole convey.  
(Of body through, the streets) such grace I got,  
But woe is me, for than did th'old man dote.   

Had I but said, I would not be in pound,  
(I would be frank, and free from dangers doubt:  
I might have turned, the world in Scotland round,  
Like tennis ball, and thrust mine enemies out.  
But who can bring a sternlesse bark about.  
My wits were gone, that guided all before,  
My ship on ground, and I was set on shore.   

Lo, what God doth, to make his glory known,  
Lo, how man's life, is cut off like a bough:  
Lo, lookers on, how soon is man oerthrowne,  
Lo, where became, my worldly wisdom now.  
Lo here a glass, that shows your faces through.  
You greatest Peers, and Lords of peerless praise,  
Your pride is past, if God abridge your days.   

No sooner I, believed I was so well,  
But was conveyed, unto Don Bartyn than:  
So all my friends, (that did in scotlan dwell,  
Made sure a show, to raise up many a man.  
The King strait ways, before these broils began,  
Five ensigns chose, to keep the world in awe:  
For sure defence, of him and of his law.   

Those bands held back, some forward business strange,  
Yet in good faith, my friends were twice as strong:  
The force of whom, made world to fear a change,  
But on and of, alas they dallied long.  
And all the while, I thought they did me wrong.  
Yet vain it was, in arms to stand and strive:  
For they had not, that way found me alive.   

Long was the talk, of many a farlye thee,  
Long did I look, for that which did not come:  
But all those blasts, in sine did overbloe,  
I listened long, to here the sound of drum.  
Yet though I had, the great good will of some.  
God would not th●ell, for one man's sake alone:  
That broils should cause, a million make their moan.   

When bird is limed, farewell fair feathers all,  
The fish in net, may bid the sea adieu:  
When world beholds, a man is near his fall,  
It leaves him there, and follows fancies new.  
When all is said, the old proverb is true.  
Who cannot swim, must sink there is no boot:  
Who hath no horse, of force must go on foot.   

Thus ●yed to clog, and pend in prison fast,  
My hope decayed, my heart did heavy wax:  
So soldiers came, and brought me forth at last,  
The butcher then, began to wh●t his axe,  
All was on flame, the fire was flown in flax.  
There was no choice, I must a size abide:  
Prove foul or clean, and by my Peers be tried.   

To Edenbrough, the captive man was brought,  
Along the fields, where flocks of people were:  
The sight of whom, did trouble much my thought,  
But when in deed, I was arrived there,  
Both streets and stalls▪ and windows every where,  
Were stuffed full, to give on me the gaze:  
But that might not my manly mind amaze.   

Yet neither one, nor other, small nor great,  
Did me salute, So turned the moods of men:  
That cold device, (nay rather raging heat)  
Can not appall; my princely courage then.  
For I did look, as I did nothing ken.  
Yet knew the whole, that some in secret boar:  
So passed through, the throng, what would ye more.   

A russet cloak, (a garment rude and bare,  
For such a state: make what of me they would:  
With foul felt hat, and robes but base I ware,  
That people might▪ my great disgrace behold.  
Alas poor lamb, thy life was bought and sold.  
No force of weeds, to cover clott of clay,  
Morton was dead, full long before that day.   

Now Lawyers flockte, and swarmed in ilke a place,  
Now Lords repaired, and lords came daily in:  
Now learned heads, did long debate my case,  
Now did (in deed) my sorrows all begin,  
Now was the time, that I must lose or win,  
For I appeared, before the judgement seat,  
And there maintained, my right with reasons great.   

Made good defence, to many matters sure,  
Spoke boldly still, and did but justice crave:  
My pleading there, did four long hours endure,  
And Lawyers then, to me good leisure gave,  
But to what end, did I long pleading have,  
I was condemned, the world would have it so,  
A thing there was, but that the Lord doth know.   

And I that here, confess my former guilt,  
A murder than, was laid unto my charge:  
Which I concealed, yet saw a King's blood spilled▪  
A fowl offence, for which there is no targe:  
Nor could not claim, therefore to go at large:  
But byed the sense, and censure of the laws,  
For fowl (God wots) and filthy was my cause.   

The judgement was, a heavy thing to here,  
But what they did, I could not call again:  
The sentence past, too late myself to clear,  
Once judged to die, condemned I must remain.  
As silly sheep, in shop must needs be slain.  
Then to the pot, or pit our flesh must pass,  
All flesh is dust, vain ashes earth and grass.   

Then thought I on, some friend that absent was,  
And spoke some words, but ask● not what they were,  
So from the bench, to prison did I pass,  
And for to die, did make me ready there,  
The Preachers came, and shed full many a tear,  
To bring my soul, in perfect patience than,  
And make me die, a faithful christian man.   

In secret sort, the Preachers there I told,  
Great things of weight, that in my conscience lay:  
And so confessed, what right and reason would,  
But thereon paused, I would no further say,  
Ask what they pleased, I did but troth bewray.  
Whereat I knocked, my troubled trembling breast,  
And so desired, the Preachers let me rest.   

O brethren mine, your doctrine likes me well,  
(Qd. I) good men, bestow some prayers now.  
In your belief, look that you daily dwell,  
As you began, so still continue through,  
The blood of Christ, hath washed my blotted brow,  
As white as snow, (I have no doubt nor fear)  
Shall be my sins, that red as scarlet were.   

The Preachers glad, to bring my soul to rest,  
Brought Scripture in, and did the text unfold:  
And many a place, and sentence they expressed,  
Towards the death, to make my body bold,  
O my good Lord, you may not now behold,  
The pomp (quoth they) and glory that is past,  
But you must think, on that which aye shall last.   

Both wealth and friends, and worldly wisdom to,  
Are banished quite, and blush to come in place:  
When soul goes hence, those things have nought to do.  
With man that is, then newly borne in grace,  
The light of day, hath darkness still in chase,  
The heavenly thoughts, do hate all earthly things,  
And faith to clouds, doth fly with flittering wings.   

They prayed with me, and wiped their weeping eyes,  
My heavy spirit, stood troubled sore that tide:  
And as the sighs, from pan●ing heart did rise,  
My groaning Ghost, O Abba father cried.  
The sobs flew forth, the ●eares I could not hide,  
As babe doth weep, when he beholds the rod,  
So then I feared, the wrath of my good God.   

Full soon reformed, I was in godly wise,  
Gave over the world, forgot all earthly thing,  
Heaved up my hands, and heart, unto the skies,  
To God that did, this plague upon me bring,  
And then I sued, and sent unto the King.  
To scape the chord, by loss of life and breath,  
For heading was, for me more Nobler death.   

He granted that, and sad for my mishap,  
He let me go, where God and man assigned,  
Now every fault, lay open in my lap,  
Each small offence came freshly to my mind,  
The secret sins, that we in conscience find,  
A muster made, and passed for their pay,  
Before great God, that doth all things bewray.   

The wrong I did, to simple people plain,  
Bad heart forethink, the fury of mine ire,  
The greedy thirst, of glory rule and gain,  
Made soul afeard, of hot infernal fire,  
Myself I blamed, for fleshly fond desire.  
But falling thus, full prostrate on my face,  
From heavens high, I felt a spark of grace.   

Which warmed my spirits, that waxed faint and cold,  
The last conflict, that in this life we have,  
Then comfort came, and made weak body bold,  
Care not for death, for life mounts up from grave.  
(Qd. knowledge then) when Christ the soul shall save.  
With that I flung, behind all fearful dread,  
So called for book, and many a Psalm did read.   

In less than half, the time that I have spoke,  
Me thought I talked, with God whose face did shine,  
Who from a cloud, descend as thin as smoke,  
And entered in▪ my breast by power divine,  
O mortal man (said he) come thou art mine,  
Be strong and stout, to fight the battle throw,  
For my right hand, is here to help thee now.   

Blush not to see, the raging world's despite,  
The bloody are, nor scaffold full of bills:  
My mercy seat, shall be thy chief delihte.  
And though on earth, thine enemies have their wills,  
I am the God, that storms and tempests stills,  
In quiet calm, pass gently thou away,  
And suffer much, yet do but little say.   

Death is the end, of all that beareth life,  
Not one shall scape, this world is but a dream,  
The seeds of sin, brings forth but flowers of strife,  
In painted robes, lies many a rotten seam,  
It is but grief, to guide and rule a Realm:  
Great charge and care, a great account must make,  
And when I frown, the whole round world I shake.   

I cause one wight, to take another's place,  
To chop off heads, to kill, to hang and draw:  
And when I take, from rulers new my grace,  
His head again, shall yield to sword and law.  
Men blows the coal, but I put fire in straw,  
And where doth fall, the flame of my great ●e,  
All things consumes, to cinders in that fire,   

Come Murton come, and play thy pageant well,  
Thou goest before, perhaps a year or twain:  
But after thee, shall pass to heaven or hell,  
A number more, that mercy now remain,  
World hath no stay, I tell ●hee all is vain:  
Both reign and rule, and regal power most high,  
When bastards dream, in dirt and dust shall lie.   

My God thus said, with that my spirits revived,  
My wits were armed, my sense redoubled than:  
And with my flesh, the holy Ghost he striude.  
By Angel's force, but not by might of man:  
A marulous stir, in stomach than began,  
For to subdue, the darrein corpse of care,  
And burdened breast, that sinful body bare.   

Now hope in haste, made heavy heart full light,  
The fear was fled, that comes by course of law:  
Gods promise wrought, (through mercy grace and might,  
A noble work in me, clear conscience saw.  
A fig for death, his force not worth a straw:  
(Qd. I) a rush for world's reproach and shame:  
For written is, in book of life my name.   

The Preachers then, began to weep for joy,  
Your firm belief, my Lord shall make you free:  
(Qd they) and sure, your soul is from annoy,  
Both in this world, and where sweet Angels be.  
And where right soon, you shall God's glory see:  
Not with bare view, but with immortal eyes,  
As body shall, at latter day arise.   

Then knéeld I down, and to the clouds I look,  
The thought and care, the while of world was past,  
And I in God, such joy and pleasure took:  
That at my heels, all earthly pomp I cast,  
By this the hour, of death approached fast.  
The Guard gave sign, with halberds bright in hand,  
I must prepare, on Scaffold straight to stand.   

The streets were full, of soldiers armed well,  
With shot and match, and all belongs for war,  
I saw in house, I could no longer dwell:  
For people said, the day was spent full far.  
Then open the door, (qd. I) draw back the bar,  
I will go hence, to better home I trust:  
Here is no hope, I see, that die I must.   

To comfort sense, and strengthen vital spirit,  
I tasted foed, and drank a draft of wine:  
And paused a while, as I thought fit and meet,  
But sure no dread, of death within mine eine  
Was seen, for God by special grace divine,  
Held up my heart, and head as high to shoe,  
As when from home, I did a walking go.   

Mild words I gave, when bitter speech I hard,  
So passed through, them all with manly cheer,  
And did no more, this world nor earth regard,  
Then though in deed, I never had been here,  
But when in sight, the Scaffold did appear,  
My mind was bend, to fight the battle out:  
And conquer death, and banish fear and doubt.   

So stepped I up on Scaffold lightly than,  
Where sundry came, to ask me many a thing,  
I looked to God, and made small count of man.  
Save that aloud, I said God bless the King.  
God give him grace, in peace the state to bring,  
And shun the harms, and dangers o'er his head:  
To find on earth, long life when I am dead.   

Had I served God, aswell in every sort,  
As I did serve, my king and master still:  
My scope had not, this season been so short,  
Nor world have ●ad, the power to do me ill.  
But lo, I lived, against my makers will:  
That feels my flesh, that feels my soul alas,  
That fault I fear, where now my soul shall pass.   

That, that good Lord, forgive, whilst breath I have,  
It is the sin, that to this world I brought:  
It buried shall, be with my flesh in grave,  
It is a sore, and sickness of the thought.  
It is most vain, a wretched thing of nought,  
A wicked wound, that death doth heal alone,  
Dwells last in flesh, and first was bred in bone.   

Pray you for me, that sets your sins by mine,  
And such as do, profess the faith I hold:  
Mark who I am, that here by power divine,  
Am forced this day, my conscience to unfold.  
Look nearly both, to your own Faults untold,  
And pray as well, for me with humble mind,  
As for yourselves, that here I leave behind.   

My matter stands, before the judge of all,  
Men have condemned, my body to the tort,  
When that great judge, will for a reckoning call,  
Both you and I, (shut up in sentence short,)  
Shall soon be known, who gains the best report,  
There accuse, ne small nor great this day:  
My part is played, and I must pass my way.   

The faith this hour that all the Realm doth know,  
I die in here, and seal it with my blood:  
To other faith, beware bend not your bow:  
The r●tten string, will break and do no good,  
Whilst in this land, such trash a●d trumpery stood,  
God was not pleased, the King not served aright,  
And we did walk, in darkness stead of light.   

Good ●earers all, my babes and children dear,  
I brought you up, full long in this belief:  
Your regent ones, now preacheth to you here,  
Change not (my barns) religion to your grief,  
Serve first your God, next honour King as chief,  
This lesson keep, and so good friends, adieu:  
The dead from quick, so takes his leave of you.   

Thus full resolved, temptation to resist,  
Great time I stood, and talked in stoutest shoe,  
Of sundry things, as freely as I list:  
But weighing then, that hence the soul must go,  
And that my neck, must bide the bloody blow,  
I stretched arms, as high as I could heave:  
So turned my back, and did the audience leave.   

The heavenly hope that heart doth long uphold,  
Did hale me hence, and bad dispatch in haste  
As firm as rock I stood, say what they would,  
For after this, I spoke no word in waste,  
Then down I lay, and baleful block embraced.  
And there received, the blow as are did fall:  
That cut me cleave, from cares and cumbers all.   

The gasping head, as in the Lord I slept,  
A vision had, ye may the fame suppose:  
I dreamed it saw, how friend, & faurers wept,  
In head that tide, a stranger fancy rose,  
The eyes beheld, before the eyes did close,  
A writer there, and Churchyard lo he hight:  
Whose pen paints out, men's tragedies aright.   

In deadly dream, my tongue called on that man,  
(As headless ●olke, may fumble out a word)  
You must believe, the tongue a tale began,  
Of earnest things, and not a trifling board,  
Churchyard (quoth he) if now thou canst afford  
Me one good verse, take here thy pen in hand:  
And send my death, to thine own native land.   

Which in my life, I loud and honoured much.  
(A cause there was, let that pass oer with time:)  
Thou man (I say,) that didst Shore's wife so touch,  
With loving phrase, and friendly English rhyme.  
When pen & muse▪ (were in chief pride and prime,  
Bestow some pains, on him that was thy friend:  
Whose life thou knewst, & se●st me make mine end.   

These words pronounced, the head 'gan bleed anew,  
My body lay, along like lump of lead:  
The limbs stretched out, & sti●e as stake they grew,  
And under cloth of black was made my bed.  
On thick hard boards, that world might see me dead  
There did I lodge, till stars appeared in sky:  
And goring blood, had glutted gazer's eye.   

Thus Churchyard now, in wandering up & down,  
(About affairs, perhaps that touched him near:)  
Saw on Tolbothe, in Edinburgh town,  
My senseless head, before his face appear.  
Why Morton then, (quoth he) and art thou here.  
That long didst reign, and rule this Realm of late:  
Then ruin and wrack, oerreacheth each estate.   

An Emperor's life, puffed up with pomp & pride,  
May not compare, with plain ploughman (quoth he)  
The climbing foot, is apt to slip and slide,  
The studious brain, shall seld in surety be,  
A bitter blast, soon bites the bravest tree.  
At honours seat, blind bolts men daily shoot:  
And wretched hap, rives up renown by root.   

No wit nor wealth, prevails against mischance,  
Whom fortune hates, the people do disdain:  
As wisdoms grace, doth worthy wits advance,  
So privy hate, throws down high hearts again.  
The whitest cloth, will take the greatest stain.  
It is not strange, to see great men to fall,  
For too much trust, of world deceives us all.   

Why do we wish, to weald a world at will,  
What follows pomp, but hazard of good name:  
Why would wise men, in pleasure wallow still,  
The end of toil, makes soul and body tame.  
They take no rest, that runs still after fame,  
Great charge breeds grief, and brings on care apace:  
Great honour rules, and lasteth but a space.   

Who travels far, comes weary home at night,  
The mounting Lark, comes down to fowlers hand:  
Great birds are borne, about with feathers light,  
All great renown, on tickle props doth stand,  
All wordly bliss, is builded on the sand.  
Which when a puff, of wind begins to blow:  
In pieces small, the painted postee will go.   

To greatest trees, the birds do daily flock,  
On highest hills, we walk to take the air:  
And sudden storms, give greatest oak a shock,  
The ground is bare, where many feet repair,  
All people draw, unto a goodly fair.  
But where most haunt, is found with judging eye:  
There is least hope, and doth most danger lie:   

The fair itself, where all is bought and sold,  
Shows mere deceit, to him that buys and sells:  
The enemy's strength, strives still with strongest hold,  
Disdain doth draw, where greatest honour dwells.  
All flies repair, to flowers of sweetest smells,  
Each wicked worm to soundest kernel goes:  
Ten thousand weeds, do grow about a rose.   

Because the seat, of honour standeth high,  
The base sort, do bend the brow thereat:  
And honour is, a moat in envies eye,  
Who vilely thinks, and speaks he knows not what.  
By envies brute, that bitter biting gnatt.  
A blister grows, in soft and smoothest skin:  
So scars arise, where clearest show hath been.   

O malice great, thou monster sent from hell,  
The heavens hate, to hear thy naughty name:  
If world thee scorn, thou know'st not where to dwell,  
O fugitive, O son of open shame.  
No wisdoms lore, nor men of noble fame,  
Can scape thy scourge, it gives so sore a yark:  
And so thy bolts, are shot at each good mark.   

Men may not live, though great they are of race,  
For malice, rage, and envy now a days:  
Proud practice proules, about in every place,  
To breed debate, and cut of good men's praise.  
Where malice sows, the seeds of wicked ways.  
Both honour quails, and credit cracks with all:  
Of no●lest men, and such as fears no fall.   

At goodly fruit, that grows on tops of trees,  
The people gaze, and sometime kudgels fling:  
Disdain repines, at all good things it sees,  
And so like snakes, doth envy shoot his sting,  
The angry wasps, are still about a king.  
Who ●eekes by swarms, to hurt true meaning still:  
So works great harms, to those that thinks no ill.   

True honour may, full long in favour be,  
If rigours wrath, and malice did not meet:  
And malice might, lies not in mean degree,  
It closely lurks, in craft and cunning spirit,  
First fine device, can kiss both hands and feet.  
Then draw the knife, that cuts the harmless throat:  
Thus honour is, by drifts in danger goat.   

These deadly drifts, drinks deepest rivers dry,  
Sinks greatest grounds, below past help of man:  
Flings flat on floor, the stately buildings high,  
Shakes down great hearts, (let wit do what he can.  
Fine drift is he, that mischief first began.  
Against whose force, no reason may resist:  
That awful worm, on earth doth what it li●t.   

Then noble birth, and virtues rare must stoop,  
When day is come, and destinies strikes the stroke:  
This cunning world, may make great minds to droop,  
When we are cold, men needs must draw the yoke.  
When life goes out, our breath is but a smoke.  
When at the door, our dreary death doth knock:  
Take key in hand, we must turn back the lock.   

Who would have thought, Earl Morton should have fell,  
A grave wise man, and governed many a day:  
Ruled all at home, and used his wit so well,  
In foreign Realms, he bore a wondrous sway,  
Of worlds affairs, he knew the ready way.  
Yet knowledge failed, and cunning knew no boot:  
When fortune came, and tripped him with her foot.   

Lo, lookers on, what stay remains in state.  
Lo, how man's bliss, is but a blast of wind:  
Borne unto bale▪ and subject to debate,  
And makes an end, as destiny hath assigned,  
Lo here as oft, as Morton comes to mind,  
Despise this world, and think it nothing strange:  
For better place, when we our lives do change.   
FINIS. qd. T. C.   

SIR SIMON BURLEIS' TRAGEDY, who lived in the xi. year of Richard the second. Look Frozard the last part Fol. 108.  

AM I of blood, or yet of birth so base,  
O Baldwin now, that thou forgettest my name:  
Or doth thy pen, want cunning for that case▪  
Or is thy skill, or senses fallen lame,  
Or dost thou fear, to blaze abroad my fame:  
O show some cause, wherefore I sit in shade,  
And why is thus, my Tragedy unmade.  
UUho thinks great scorn, in silence still to sleep,  
And on whose fall, a world may wail and weep.   

Did Boccace live, or Lidgate writ again,  
Some hope were left, my lantern should have light:  
If any one, that had a Poets vain.  
Knew half my life, or had my case in sight,  
In colours fine, I should be painted right.  
But gaping grave, and gnawing worms below,  
Snapped Bocace up, and Lidgate long ago,  
And Poet's sleep, within Parnassus' mount,  
Where ●oe! of me, they make but small account.   

O Bauldwin yet, what blot was in my brow,  
That made thee blush, or fear to write my fall:  
With what offence, can world come charge me now,  
That I may not, for Baldwins favour call.  
Yea durst I claim, the help of Poets all,  
I doubt their skill, could scarcely show in deed.  
In this behalf, the cunning that doth need.  
Well Baldwin well, if headless men might chide,  
I know what check, and blame should Baldwin bide,   

How couldst thou read, in stories any while,  
And so skip over, my life and dest●●y strange:  
Thou know'st, how hap, on me full long did smile,  
And that my state, stood free from doubt of change.  
I sprung not forth, of such a simple grange:  
That I should dwell, in dust from mind of men,  
While others are, set ou● by art of Pen▪  
Thou dost me wrong, wherefore the wound to heal  

Sir Simon Burley complains to him that knows what sorrow means.  (That sloth hath made,) to Churchyard I appeal.   

Let him be judge, of all my doings throw,  
Let him unfold, my fortune sweet or sour:  
Yea unto him▪ I tell my sorrows now.  
Whose restless hand, is writing every hour,  
And so I leave, thee Baldwin in thy hour.  
Of Laurel leaves, where thou mayst sit and see,  
At open view, what Churchyard writes of me.  
But err he takes in hand this work of mine:  
I tell my tale, with weeping blubbering eyen.   

Give ear good friend, and hear what I shall say,  
And for the while, set all affairs aside:  
But sure I fear, too short I find the day.  
To show my grief, that hardly can I hide,  
Yet through I go, and hope with happy tide,  
Though hapless wind, hath blown my bark about  
And dangers deep, did drive my day●s in doubt.  
Since calm is come, and quiet ease I have:  
Hear his complaint, that late crept out of grave.   

How should I speak, that holds my head in hand,  
(Which senseless scalp, both life & speech hath lost:)  
Yet out of breast, though headless here I stand.  
I may blaze forth, the griefs of groaning Ghost:  
As from the Seas, that is with torments tossed.  
Comes roaring noise, when calms full quiet are:  
So breath I out, from breast my boiling care.  
Though head be off, a smoking fume proceeds,  
From quaking neck, & gushing veins that bleeds.   

Hear him I say, whose bowels speaks alone,  
And wants in deed, both use of tongue and wit:  
Hear him that must, by art come make his moon,  
And lakes therefore, the members meet and fit,  
●eare him that groans, & howls from hollow pit.  
Hear him whose voice, doth give a fearful sound,  
Hear him that long, lay rotten in the ground.  
Hear him whose plaint, may pierce the lofty skies,  
And for thy aid, and English verses cries.   

As naked sure, as he was leapt in sheet,  
With deadly looks, and grisly staring hear:  
Not like a man, but like a monstrous spirit,  
Sent from the pit, to whisper in thine ear,  
And make thee muse, of world an other where.  
For here as time, doth softly steal away,  
So life and laud, and all things doth decay.  
No birth nor blood, nor flocks of friends prevails,  
When sturdy storms, strikes down our stately sails.   

The ship must sway, aside or sink in seas,  
That shaken is, with shocking surges still:  
The gréenest grass, that grows in goodliest leas.  
To parching heat, must yield by reason's skill,  
What stone can stay, that rolleth down the hill.  
What foot can stand, that fortune daily trips,  
What living wight, can scape her scorging whips.  
No sooner out, of shell or mother's lap:  
But subject strait, to sorrow and mishap.   

The life that some, most sweetly do embrace,  
To troubled tears, doth turn or we be ware.  
We are in love, with fond Narcissus face.  
And drowned ourselves, in that whereon we stare,  
And feed the flesh, so long with dainty fare.  
That belly swells, or stomach belcheth up,  
The liquor sweet, that came from spiced cup.  
On days disgrace, doth breed an endless sore:  
And poise us home for all things passed before.   

Yet climbing up, the tree of tickle trust,  
We streache the arm, as far as reach may go:  
Disguised, with pomp, and pampered up with lust,  
We gaze alof, and never looks below,  
Till hatchet comes, and gives the falling blo,  
Then crack it cries, and all in shivers flies,  
That many a day, was mounting to the Skies,  
One stroke throws down, a thousand bows withal,  
And such as climb, are crushed by sudden fall.   

Was I not one, that in top Gallant stood,  
And bare great sway, with him that ruled the roast:  
Was not my house, sprung out of Gentle blood.  
And was not I, 
Sir Simon brought up at School with the Prince of Wales and Aquitaine.  long time in favour most:  
Yes sure I was, and therefore make I boast,  
At school brought up, with Prince of peerless race,  
A playfeere long, with him in every place.  
My childhood wan, such love and liking great,  
That in mine age, I sat in Senate seat.   

Was not my Sire, about a King esteemed,  
And highly placed, 
Into Galatia to conduct Don Petro King of Castille Sir Simon was sent as one of chiefest for that purpose.  (whereby he purchased praise)  
And near the King, in favour as it seemed.  
Yea much made of, full long before my days.  
Was not I sent, Embaster sundry ways.  
And did not I, my duty every hour  
With pain and purse, as far as stretched my power,  
The World well knows, what service I have done,  
And by the same, what honour I have won.   

My manhood made, mine enemies fly like sheep,  
(Before the Wolf, 
He appeased an uproar in the City of London.  that watcheth for his prey)  
My wisdom did, in peace the Commons keep.  
When john of Gaunt, they would have made away,  
My presence oft, could quiet many a fray.  
My council cooled, the rage of reckless heads,  
My stoutness served, the state in sundry steads,  
My noble mind, could never take no rest.  
For public wealth, I had such burning breast.   

In Poiteou long, against the French I was,  
Where frontier war, I held and did full well:  
And as I did, through many a peril pass,  
In coming home, in Enemy's hands I fell.  
And when in deed, my Prince thereat heard tell,  
He sorry was, and spoke of me much good,  
But as these things, in weight and balance stood:  
Our Soldiers took, a Duchess of great fame,  
Who at that time, of Bourbon bore the name.   


The Duchess of Bourbon prisoner, and did ransom Sir Simon Burley.  The Soldiers swore, that she should near be free,  
(Nor see her Son, nor find a spark of grace:  
Nor look for hope,) till she had raunsomde me.  
And set me safe, in good and quiet case:  
Lo what regard they had, in every place.  
Of me those days, lo? how I was on height,  
Lo? how I was, emploide in things of w●ight.  
At home embraced, abroad well liked with all,  
Yea loud and feared, among both great and small.   


One paschal was sent from the K. of Navarhether for saviour, and King Richard made Sir Simon answer the Ambasdor the Earl of Salisbury and other in presence  When foreign friends, did send for secure here,  
King Richard bad, me answer make therein:  
In presence then, there stood a greater Peer.  
But I was he, that did the favour win:  
To speak and thus, my credit did begin,  
And still increased, as one whose Lamp in deed,  
Can want no Oil, the blaze and flame to feed.  
My Candle blazed, so clear, as Star by night,  
And where I came, the Torch gave little light.   


King Richard sent him to conclude a marriage and the Duke of Tasson was sent hither with Sir Simon from the king of Beam & Almain about this matter.  And when the King, for causes good and great,  
devised to match, with one beyond the seas:  
'Twas I was thought, most fit to work the feat.  
And in this case, the King I did so please,  
Of marriage there, that knot was knit with ease,  
And so from thence, a Duke was sent with me:  
For this behalf, the state of things to see.  
Thus still I was, employed in great affairs,  
As hap herself, had hauled me up her stairs.   

An office here, I had of great renown,  
A place near Prince, 
He was Lord Chamberlain.  and still in Court to be:  
That might command, the people up and down.  
And thrust them out, or call them in to me.  
Bade I them run, on flocks than would they flee,  
Bade I them stand, in deed they durst not sit:  
I swayed them all, as Horse is ruled by Bit.  
I bore in hand, the Staff that kept the stur,  
And knocked their Pates, that priest too near the dur.   

Lord Warden lo? of the sink Ports I was,  
And Captain both, of Dover Castle tho:  
Through Lordly rooms, and places I did pass,  
As easily sure, as man can wish to go:  
I knew no Ebb▪ my Tide did daily flow,  
I kept the train, I had the lively troup,  
I held up head, I never thought to droop.  
I went no where, but I was waited on,  
And shone in Pomp, like Pearl, or Precious stone.   

Among the chief, yea chiefest was I held,  
My Prince preferred, me so for virtues sake:  
And what he saw, I able was to weld.  
I had, for which, I seldom suit did make,  
I stood beneath, whilst he did Apples shake  
Into my lap, when least I looked therefore.  
As somewhat came, so daily followed more,  
By heaps as though, great mounts of massy Gould,  
In my most need, should answer what I would.   

The floods of wealth, that doth refresh the mind,  
With gladsome thoughts, of threefold sweet delight,  
Came gushing in, against both Tide and Wind,  
On which fair baits, each Fish desires to bite.  
A careless eye, I cast, of World's despite,  
That spurns at such, that Fortune lifts aloft,  
A wicked Worm, that waits on worship oft,  
A swarm of Wasps, that useth nought but sting.  
On those that rise, and rules about a King.   

O hateful flies, ye hatched of wretched brood,  
On every dish, in haste ye blow and hum:  
O cankered men, of vile and naughty mood,  
You do infect, all places where you come,  
You make small show, yet sound as shrill as Drum,  
In people's ears, and still your Poison rests,  
On noble minds, and tender harmless Breasts.  
Ye malice much, the high and mighty sort,  
To kill good name, by brute of false report.   

If poor men rise, in favour any way,  
The rich repines, to see how they are placed:  
As Hounds do bark, that holds the Buck at bay,  
The people prate, and spend much speech in waste,  
Look saith the lewd, on new start-ups in haste.  
Look who rules now, look what this man hath found,  
Look how in Lap, doth Fortune's Ball rebound:  
They looked not how, to climb for virtues sake,  
But how of World, they may a wonder make.   

So lofty minds, with loathsome lowering looks,  
Salutes the good, that grows in Prince's grace:  
And watcheth close, in corners and in Nooks.  
How they by wiles, the worthy may deface,  
No marvel sure, it is a common case.  
To hear them snarre, whose natures are not like,  
What Greiund can rest, by currish country Tike?  
What Hawk can sit, in peace for carrion Crow?  
What tongue can scape, the skolding of a Shrew.   

The dolt disdains, the deep wise man ye wots,  
The blunt abhors, the quick sharp Wit in deed:  
The Coward hates, the hand that conquest got.  
The jade will winch, to stand by stirring Steed▪  
The Glutton grunts, to see the hungry feed.  
Thus things from kind, so far can near agree,  
No more than can, the Cat and Dog you see  
As choice is great, of wealth and worldly goods,  
Men differ much, in manners and in moods.   

One jewel stains, an other very far,  
And strife there is, in metals gross and fine:  
And sundry haps, belongs to every star.  
And Planets to, they say that can divine.  
One race and blood, do seldom draw one line,  
A grain of grudge, is sown so deeply here,  
That nothing scarce, can scape from malice clear.  
Thus malice makes, a murmur where it goes,  
And strikes out right, yet gives but secret blows.   

The greedy Gnat, and privy eating moth,  
(A monster small, that scarce is felt or seen:)  
Lies lurking still, in plaits of finest cloth,  
And little worms, whilst Nuts are fresh and green,  
Creeps in and eats, the kernel as I ween.  
So unto them, compare these peevish pates,  
That on small cause, do envy great estates,  
Yea envy oft, is couched and clokt as clean,  
In mighty folk, as found among the mean.   

The flashing flames, that from great Furnace flies,  
Casts forth such heat, as few men can abide:  
The rage whereof, doth dim the dainty eyes:  
And breeds great grief, before the harm be spied,  
Much mischief comes, by pranks of pouting pride,  
Which puffs and blows, as it would mountains move,  
And grows at first, on nought, but lack of love  
Whose spiteful sparks, doth spare no speech nor time,  
(Nor practise lewd) to pluck them down that clime.   

This Envy is, a mighty Monster great,  
That swims like Whale, among the little fry:  
Whose gaping mouth, would soon consume and eat,  
The gudgeons small, that in small corners lie.  
His thirsty throat, would drink all places dry,  
And sucks up all, and so of all leaves nought.  
Which should serve all, if all did bear one thought.  
O hungry Fly, that would be all in all,  
And Maggots brings, when men for feeding call.   

As greatest floods, most Gravel do retain,  
And strongest Tides, runs over the weakest walls,  
So highest States, do nourish most disdain.  
And at rebound, strikes out the tennis Balls.  
Yea they who thinks, them furthest off from falls,  
Are watching still, in Court, in Field, or Town,  
Like stumbling stocks, to trip their fellows down.  
And none do strive, and struggle for the goals,  
But such as have, their hearts most full of holes.   

Yea heaps of them, are harboured here and there,  
In golden hauls, that shines like Phoebus' bright:  
Where flatterers flock, who tattles in the ear.  
A thousand lies, that never comes to light,  
They work the wax, with fire both day and night,  
They spin the web, that takes the foolish fly.  
They bait the Hook, that bleres the simple eye,  
They shove them out, that should be called in,  
They make the match, that doth the wager win.   

And they breed strife, where all in quiet stood,  
They pack the Cards, and play most filthy pranke●▪  
They sharp the sword, that sheds the guiltless blood  
They least deserve, and always gets most thanks,  
They feed the stream, that breaks the mighty banks▪  
They are the shears, that mars the garment quite▪  
They have the tongues, that spares no speech nor spite,  
They are the Babes, still dandled on the knee,  
And those are they, roots up the soundest tree.   

If fawners ded, the house of mighty men,  
And 〈◊〉 folk, would frown on fawning curs,  
Deceit should shun, the noble houses then.  
And velvet weeds, should shake off cleaning burrs,  
But stirring steeds, are pricked that needs no spurs.  
Th●● Palfrey flings, and flounceth out of frame,  
That else of kind, were courteous meek and tame.  
A iombling job, doth strike the bowl awry,  
Which of himself, would close on bias lie.   

For noble blood, must needs have noble mind,  
And f●ie the gate, of falcon gentle mild,  
And sure it is, against their noble kind,  
To play the Kite, and cruel Coistrel wild,  
Till tattler come, with tongues full finely filled,  
And change their moods, and mar their manners clean,  
They scarce do know, what cankered hate doth mean.  
But when from best, to worst the good are wrought,  
By busy brains, all sorts of sleights are sought.   

Then burns the breast, as hot as Ethna hill,  
And rage bears rule, where reason dwelled before:  
The hasty head, is swift to slay and kill.  
The haughty heart, hurds up much hate in store,  
The altered mind, doth make the mischief more,  
The kindled coals, doth creep in straw so far,  
That quarrels rise, and peace is turned to war.  
One haileth back, another draws aside,  
And weakest bones, must needs the brunt abide.   

As I aspierd, by virtue and desert,  
And was by Prince, called unto credit still:  
So some by sleight, did seek to suck my heart.  
And of my blood, did thirst, to drink their fill,  
They sought to stop, the Water from the mill.  
And turn the wheel, and all the joints awry.  
Lo hear how close, the swelling Serpents lie,  
Lo how they cast, their venom as they may,  
And mark what hate, they gain that beareth sway.   


The Earl of Oxford called duke of Ireland favoured much 〈◊〉 Simon.  For that I grew, full great with Robert Vear,  
A Noble man, full wise and mighty both,  
And had the guide, of good Prince Edward's ear,  
To show therein, my duty, faith and troth,  
Great malice rose, as grudging daily growth▪  
tween many men, that cannot rule their rage.  
Almighty Duke, there was well stepped in age,  
That sought to reap, the corn that I had sown,  
And could not rest, till I was quite o'erthrown.   

My roulmes and rule, and things that I had got,  
My gain, my wealth, and glory as it grew:  
Was in his eye, so big a mighty mote,  
That lo this Duke, my plague did still pursue,  
With open mouth, he so the bellows blue  
That sparks of fire, as thick flew in my face,  
As in the sun, the gnatts do fly at chase.  
Or as the ball, rebounds at every stroke,  
So lo his words, 
The band that the duke made against the king, the duke of York, the Earl of Salisbury, the earl of Arundel, the earl of Northumberland, the earl of Nottinghan, & the archbishop of Canterbury.  did smote me up in smoke.   

The dreadful Duke, did drive a wondrous drift  
To work his will, with slippery sleight of hand:  
And sought to give, king Richard's friends a lift,  
For whom he did, prepare a secret band.  
Whose bold attempts, did trouble all this land.  
But few could find, the darnel in the corn,  
Or judge aright, the rose from pricking thorn.  
So close in cloud, was cloaked their cunning art,  
That none could know, who played the Fox's part.   

This Duke did raise, a brute the king would have,  
A fare most strange, of all the realm throughout:  
And to the Lords, 
A noble of every 〈◊〉 in England was the tax that the naughty duke said the king did demand.  and Commons council gave,  
Against the king, to stand both stiff and stout,  
This practice proud, was patched with many a clout:  
Hear did the wolf, lead silly lambs amiss,  
(And sucked their blood,) as wolvish manner is.  
Hear traitorous tricks, and triple trothless trains,  
In subjects breasts, began to spread their veins.   

The Duke of York, and divers noble Peers  
Forsook the king, and held with this uproar:  
By which great strife, was sown in sundry Shires,  
And corzies rose, that made a running sore.  
big viles braced out, where flesh was sound before,  
And though some time, the Surgeon salve did find  
To heal the wound, (the scar remained behind.)  
A common plague, doth creep along the Realm,  
As skulls of fish, swims up and down the stream.   

The greatest towns, and Cities of most name,  
As London, York, and many more beside:  
These Dukes did draw, with folly out of frame.  
And made some strive, against both stream and tide,  
Where banks be broke, the water cannot bide.  
Where floods flooe out, the fish do ●ollow fast,  
And then too late, to call again is past.  
The Swallow flies, no swifter under wing,  
Than men's device, that do forsake a King.   

For faith once stained, seeks strait for starting holes,  
As Prisoners do, that hath their promise broke:  
The seams once ripped, of shoe farewell the soles,  
The Ox set free, will seek to shun the yoke,  
The chimney burst, the house is full of smoke.  
The fleuce drawn up, down drives the dregs and all,  
The strongest tripped, the weakest needs must fall.  
There is no stay, to hold mean people in,  
When might with main, the mischief doth begin.   

The Lords alleged, the King was governed still,  
By such as came, from base and poor estate:  
And said he should, no longer have his will,  
By which bold speech, there grew so great debate,  
The land was bend, on murder, ruin, and hate.  
Now several ways, from hive slew out the Bees,  
Now tempests came, and tore up mighty trees.  
Now traitors flocked, and fell to factions strange,  
Whose fickle minds, still gaped for a change.   

O Uipers brood, and bloody bosom snakes,  
O Butchers curs, that would your master bite:  
O Hellhounds rude, of Pluto's loathsome Lakes,  
O cursed crew, more cruel than the Kite,  
O cankered hearts, so fraught with froward spite.  
O Tigers wild, O monstrous men most vile,  
Where was your love, and duty all this while  
How durst you speak, so stoutly to his face  
To whom of right, the stoutest ought give place.   

Among brute beasts, that savage are and wild,  
The Lion reigns, and rules with regal power:  
And so great birds, stoops down like little child,  
(To father's beck) if Eagle doth but lower,  
Than on a king, dare people look so sour.  
That they will force, their sovereign past their reach  
No scholar ought, his learned tutor teach.  
No member dare, presume to rule the head:  
None reigns & rules, but kings when all is said.   

Note how they shrink, that shapes to give a shock  
Against a king, and mark how traitors speed:  
Note how their heads do tumble off the block,  
That with vain hope, do people's humours feed,  
And note from whence, doth prince's power proceed.  
And note withal, how far doth stretch his fame,  
And falters quake, that do but hear his name.  
For at the brunt, say here a king doth come,  
Home run poor knaves, & down they fling the drum.   

Hark how this Duke, whereof I spoke before,  
By three estates, unto account did call:  
Their king and lord, whose mind they troubled sore  
And vexed thereby, his friends and favourers all.  
They fill in lash, they felt the bloody brawl.  
They l●st their goods, they got a great disgrace,  
They fled from Court, they were pursued in chase.  
They were full ●aine, for none offence or cause,  
At open bar, to plead their case by laws.   

Such are the haps, of those that hold with right,  
Such cureless wounds, they have that sores would heal:  
Such hate they heap, in huckster's hands that light,  
Such harms they find, that stands with common weal.  
And such know not, to whom they would appeal,  
When wrong will rule, and revel falls to spoil,  
The faithful flock, are forced to feel the foil.  
Dread drives deserts, that daily well have done:  
To sly from foes, or else through fire to run.   

Because the Lords, who looked to lead the dance,  

The Duke of Gloucester and Duke of York with others maligned those the king favoured.  Saw other step, on stage ere they could rise:  
By plain fine force, they would themselves advance.  
And for that feat, this drift they did devise,  
Desire of fame, doth so abuse the wise,  
They end like fools, that erst began so well,  
And soon smart, that rings the alarm bell.  
For wheels and all, falls down about their ears,  
(From rotten frames) who first stood void of fears.   

But we who were, besieged by fortune so,  

King Richard's best friends were by traitors frowardly handled.  Betrayed I mean, if troth may tell the tale:  
Were scourged & plagued, & feign to fawn on Foe,  
And sue to such, as set our lives to sale.  
We were shut up, they had the bouncing gale.  
That blew their bark, beyond our compass clean:  
With sails askant, and had no merry mean.  
They clapped on all, and went through stream & flood:  
When true men's feet, stood fast in mire and mud.   

I was the man, that most of mischief had,  
I was accused, and called to count in haste:  
I found most cause, to sigh and sit full sad.  
I was laid up, and thereby clean disgracste,  
Mine enemies said, I did the treasure waste  
And held in hand the soldiers money too,  
I was so nipped, I knew not what to do.  
My friends waxed faint, or ferd the like mischance,  
But I was he, must lead the doleful dance.   

A mitred head, a Bishop bold and brave  
Said I conveyed, 
The Bishop of Canterbury accused him of sacrilege & conveying money over the Sea by night to the king of Beam.  away Saint Thomas shrine:  
And that I meant, the king of Beam should have,  
The same from me, by privy practice fine,  
To hoist me up, he laid both book and line.  
And so by friends, he framed so flat a feat,  
That I was called to strait account in heat  
For this and more, a libel long and large  
(Of forged faults,) that he laid to my charge.   

No Clerk might come, to make my reckoning right,  
No tale could serve, to show my matter throw  
No deep discourse, could bring the troth to light,  
No man of law, could canvas cases now,  
Strong hand did all, I must both bend and bow.  
The king knew not, of half the wrongs I felt,  
Nor none could find, how finely cards were dealt,  
A pack was made, and one had got the ace,  
And trimely robbed, the trumps before my face.   

No boot to bid, the Players deal again,  
The game was won, and I had lost the stake:  
These Foysters fine, could nick both by and main,  
And cog out right, when they the Dice did shake,  
And of sweet spoil, a bitter banquet make.  
They called me in, and I the only Gheaste,  
Was bidden then, unto that bloody feast,  
I was compelled, to taste what dish they would,  
And in great heat, to drink up Poison cold.   

I mean my fate, and fortune was so hard  
I could not scape, their hands that sought my life,  
Who wreaked their wrath, on me without regard,  
Yet long in sheath, they kept the murdering Knife:  
For on my hap, at first rose all this strife.  
And on the friends, that I by hap had won,  
This end I had, and mischief was begun,  
For taking part, with such as liked me well,  
To ground full flat, from top of tree I fell,   

When in the tower my Foes had clapped me fast,  
Few friends I found, the world began to wink:  
And so at length, in Rerage was I cast,  
And Post alone, was left to swim or sink.  
And judgement was, as I was forced to think  
That I should pay, two hundredth thousand Frankes  
For all my toil, lo! here is all my thanks  
I did possess, my charges and my loss  
And pains abroad, came home by weeping cross.   

And wanting wealth, to pay this heavy sum  
With Bills, and ●layues, from prison was I led  
And so unto, the Tower-hill did I come  
To suffer death, where soon I lost my head.  
The King knew nought, of this till I was dead.  
Lo people here! how things about were brought,  
And what disdain, and mighty malice wrought.  
Lo! here is end, and sudden sliding down,  
That was both true, to God and to the Crown.   

As little twigs, o'er top of houses grow  
Whose branches big, spreads out a mighty tree:  
Or as small brooks, with Seas do swell and flow,  
Yet hath no power, to pass their bounds you see,  
Or as fair flowers, that in gay gardens be  
Sprouts out a while, and when they are at height,  
They fade and fall, & then declineth straight.  
So man doth mount, a while on stages hie,  
And at the best, shoots down like star from sky.   

When things are grown, as far as course is set,  
And have attained, the fullness of their state:  
They backward come, and can no further get,  
For clean expired ye see is then their date,  
The life we bear, of force must yield to fate.  
The steps we tread, wears out by tract of time,  
When ladder breaks, we can no higher clune.  
Where fortune sits, so fast, doth grind the mill,  
The Wheel turns round, and never standeth still.   

Long is the toil, or man to triumph comes,  
Large is the plot, where we our Pagantes play:  
Sweet is the sa●; and sour are all the Plums,  
That pain plucks off, the pleasant planted spray,  
Short is the time, of all our glory gay,  
vain is the hope, of hazards here in earth,  
Great are the griefs, of life from day of birth▪  
No surety grows, of all is here possessed,  
All comes to nought, when people feareth least.   

Lo! what it is, to stand on tickle stays,  
Where hatred heaves, the household out of square:  
And when it falls, the joints flee several ways,  
And joyful wights, are clad with woe and care,  
The servants howl, the wife and child is bare.  
The friends wring hands, the foes do laugh and flyre,  
Such changes chance,, to those that do aspire.  
The ground but gapes, who first shall fall therein,  
And who seeks most, at length the least may win.   

Lo! Churchyard now, my mirthless tale is told,  
A mourning verse, prepare thou strait for me:  
And in thy r●●e, some stately order hold,  
For that I sprung, not out of base degree,  
Let every line, a lively sentence be,  
To wake the wits, of such as world would know,  
And list to ma●ke, how worldly matters go.  
And when thou comest, to touch the gauled back,  
Leap over the horse, or use a rider's knack.   

Bear even hand, and hold the bridle right,  
Yet whisked the wand, sometimes for pleasure's sake:  
Yea spice thy speech, and terms with trifles light,  
That lookers on, may not thy mind mistake,  
When store is gone▪ yet do thy budget shake.  
Among the best, and feed their fancies still,  
No matter though, a mouse creep out of hill,  
Small toys may breed, great sport in great estates,  
And in great grounds, men walk through little gates.   

Do wisely warn and warily use thy pen,  
Speak english plain, and rove about the but:  
And shoot at will, and flaunt by wicked men,  
Shalt cut the shell, and bid them crack the Nut,  
Show some delight, and so the sentence shut.  
And bid the world, behold me in a glass▪  
That did to ruin, from Pomp and pleasure pass.  
Now I am gone, I wish the rest behind,  
(As they desire,) may better Fortune find.   
FINIS.   

THE MAN IS BUT his Mind.  

TO THE RIGHT Worshipful my singular good friend, Sir john Skidmoer, one of the Lieutenants of Haruordshire.  
I Am not forgetful good Sir john of a promise made touching The man is but his mind: Which work now I present you, though not so well penned as the matter requireth, yet as well meant as any piece of work in this Book, written as well to keep promise, as to show the circumstance of the mystery that belongeth to every man's mind, and to hope that all I writ thereof shall be as well taken as a dutiful writer can mean. I have plainly set down mine opinion in that behalf, doubting not but some one man or other shall see a piece of his own mind, in this my presumption of the same. So wishing your good and virtuous mind augmented in grace, and yourself increased in worship and contentation of mind, I betake you to God and fall to my purposed discourse.   

AS I was reading in the delightful discourses of jeronimus Cardanus his comforts, among many pleasant passages and special sentences▪ I found that he said A man was but his mind either in the value of virtue or vanity of vice. So weighing the worth of that conclusion, & knowing that Manhood or Cowardice consists in the self same opinion of the mind, I considered that common quarrels and private revengement of Injuries received, proceeded in a manner from this spring and flowing Fountain, that ever is fed and nourished with some settled conceit or other. For the mind is so noble, watchful, and worthy, that it is never unoccupied whilst the man is awaken, nor taketh any great rest when the body is a sleep, (as some dreams and visions manifesteth plain.) For even as a cunning Carpenter or Smith, is hammering and heawing some piece of wood or iron, to bring the same to such shape and perfection, as the artificer would have it: So the mind (the harbour of all secrets and mover of all good and bad motions) can at no season be idle or wax weary of devices. The Imaginations thereof are so many, and the innumerable conceits therein are so mighty, the fire is of such vehement heat and operation, that it must needs burn or consume any thing that long remains in it, so the mind is of such force and power, that it leadeth the man any way it listeth, and shapes all the senses and vital spirits in what form or fashion it pleaseth. For the longer the fancies of the head (by rolling to and fro are tired) and at length reposeth themselves in the constantness of the mind, the more is the man's reason subject to the minds resolution, and the less strength the judgement hath when it feels the forces of the body captivated and compelled to obey the greatness of the mind. Though learning, education, and good instructions, be a mean and restraint, that a perverse mind shall not draw the whole body to destruction, yet the mind being bend to some dangerous determination, hath overcome all the good causes rehearsed, and brought both the body, reputation, and life, into a shameful disorder, and made a cruel confusion not only of the man, but likewise brought a licentious liberty to the mind, experience of proud practices hath proved this argument no fable, but now to talk truly and probably of the mind, what can be named or thought on, (if they be things to be executed) but the mind dare attempt and the man may go about, it dare adventure the hazard of the soul, the loss of life and goods, and the cracking of estimation and credit, if any purposed mischief hale the mind forward to some odious enterprises, this shows but a weakness of judgement, naughtiness of nature, and a most wicked and wilful disposition of a desperate conceit, devilishly drawn and inclined and carelessly committing itself to every kind of practices and dangerous determination.  
But now to touch the nobleness of an invincible mind, that neither Fortune can conquer, power may command, nor worldly pomp nor wealth can win. The true discourse of this mind, craves a writer of a higher knowledge, for the unspeakable spirit that keeps life, and breatheth continual constancy in the breast where this mind makes his mansion house, is to be explained and set forth by the profoundest pen man of the world, that can lay open like an Anatomy the hidden and secret parts of the body, especially the divine nature (closed up in flesh and blood) and secrecy belonging to the virtue of this manly and valiant mind. Some men there are (and though they boast not much the number may be great) that with a strong heart can suffer afflictions, bear burdens, abide disgraces, and in their most torments seem careless of all the cross & counterchecks is offered them, yet they are armed within to withstand all outward assaults as it were a fortress manned with soldiers and munition, thoroughly to defend itself against the power of Princes, & practices of warlike people, yea as they in peace can use this approved patience, so in the hottest broils of the war the hope to overcome the cruelty of their enemies, doth redouble their courages, and so with a resolute mind, the Cannon they approach, the combat they present, and the present danger is presently forgotten, a present matter of great moment to be in the presence and presented before the universal people placed under the cope of the heavens. But yet I can not leave out the mind they have of honour in greatest extremities, for minding the preservation of Prince and country, they clap on such a mind as Mucius Scevola did, that burned his hand in the ●ire, for missing the kill of Porcena. They care not in like sort for imprisonment, penury, hunger, torting, racking, but can suffer all manner of misery, as want of meat, lack of liberty, and open air, and lie on the hard earth or bare straw, to keep their enemies out of the Fort or hold committed to their charge, yea and in respect of the love they loyally bear to their Country, they suffer many a mortal wound, and in the end offer themselves to the death, manifestly to show, that a man is but his mind, and the mind is it that makes the man, both famous & immortal. Now to the contrary come to the nature and condition of a Coward, whose mind is never to do any noble act, for he that can bear the infamy and blot of that name, to be called a Coward, lives careless of all other villainies, and no reproach, slander, shameful report, fowl fact, or what filthiness can be rehearsed▪ may make him blush, his miserable mind is so monstrous, that all soils, kingdoms, and countries are alike for him to live in, and as a country cur delights to gnaw a bone on a midding, so he is fed fat (among wretches of the world) with folly, beastliness, lewd behaviour, and a number of naughty conditions, neither fit to be followed, nor needful to be written of. The student that minds nothing so much as learning, takes such a pleasure and felicity in hearing and reading new devices and ancient authors, that his Books are only his companions, and solitary places, the sweet soils of his repair, and he holdeth time so precious an● dear, that he spends in Idleness no one hour of the day, and hath such glory in gaining of knowledge, shall he makes no account of any other Treasure, (knowing that he that hath virtue is next unto God) nor delighteth in any society or company, but such as are learned, wise, grave and honest, and when long labour and study hath gathered the sweet Sap of judgement (as the be hath sucked Honey from the flowers) he writeth new volumes, and setteth out such works and pamphlets, as may merit commendation, and purchase credit and benefit, and be accepted and embraced among all posterities, that mind hath a natural disposition in all divine graces, and that mind● is as a day watch to the body▪ and stands as a strong Guard to the Soul and everlasting renown.  
The ignorant mind that hates education, and despiseth knowledge, is an enemy to himself and all common wealths, most currish and rude of condition, barbarous and savage, as an vn●amed beast, he swells and pouts, like a Toad to hear the praise of a good man, and minds nor loves nothing but blockishness, ribawdry, and corrupt manners, and hath so naughty an inclination, and is subject to so many defects and deformities, that this nought and lewd mind is not necessary to be known among men, nor made mention of where noble minds are esteemed.  
Now in general, let every particular man here somewhat of himself. There are some kind of men, made of so fine a mould, whose minds may not suffer them to here, behold, touch, or come near any loathsome or unclean thing, such minds disdains to offend the sight, (which is a clear candle of life) with unseemly shoes, and will not have the Soul defiled with conceiving of filthy matters▪ that moves a general misliking in the whole judgement, and every part of the body and mind to abhor the understanding of any foul and infectious thing, either ministered by talk, or uttered by view in open assembly.  
Another sort of base minded fellows have their only joy in fruitless babble, foolish fancies and offensive words, that thunders in the air and corrupts good manners, that fills a house full of clamours and bruit, and makes a few Idiots laugh, and many wise men lower, but these haerbraine tratlers and fantastical minded mates striving to have all the talk themselves, (and glorying to here their own voice) do suddenly become so audacious and bold, that they are not only a trouble to the whole company, but likewise a disquietness to themselves, as apparauntlye falleth out, for when such vain glorious minded merchants are known and perceived, they are glad that first can be rid of their fellowship and society.  
A grave and modest minded man looks into a statelier kind of life, and scorns to open his mouth but in causes of credit, and matter of great moment▪ and then the well couched speeches (and sweet spised sentences) comes flowing from his tongue, as the fair water spouteth from the fountain, a man of that advisedness carries an easy hand over the rash multitude, and gathers to his mind a greater knowledge of the course of this world, and even as the piercing songs and musical harmony of the Nightingale rejoiceth the hearts of the hearers, so the sweet tempered talk of a wise Orator, draws the ears of the audience after him, and leads them in a string that have any motion and mind of virtue, or can consider the value & worth of such a well minded man.  
The merry and pleasant companion in his kind, bears another disposition, for his mind is so delightful, that his tongue is like a Taber and a Pipe, prettily playing and gibing on every man's manors, and he that carries this mind is continually tuning himself (as a Minstrel were tempering and wresting of his Instrument) to pleasure with sports the dumpish people, that sits listening to hear some strange pastime, but in this merry mind are many humours that are fed with some sharp and bitter conceits, which often turns to over bol● boarding, and yet a well ordered mind can smoothly cast a cloud cunningly on the matter, to avoid all suspicion, and to bring the world in belief, a merry fellow for the solasing of his own mind, hath free scope and liberty to ride by his neighbours, and yet keep every one clean from dashing, and he himself to be taken as a man, whose mind means always to make all the company merry.  
A greedy minded groaper of this world, looks solemnly on all things he goes about, and in a surly sort and fashion, stands bending the brows, and frowning at a number of accidents he beholds, his talk is of bargains, purchases, buildings, and prizes of each thing that cometh to the market, and mindeth so much his private gain and profit, that he forgets both common wealth and country, never merry but when his money and bags be under his Elbow, and always sad when he must departed with any great sumne and payment, though double benefit proceed from the same, a mind ready to do wrong, and a body never apt to do service in wars, nor live quietly without brabble in peace.  
The unthrift, or more properly called a player at all manner of games sets his mind so earnestly thereon, that he will los● meat, sleep and rest, to win somewhat by gaming, many times practising to pack the Cards, and cog the Dice, suddenly moved for a little loss to fall into a great fury, a mind that covets all, and makes no conscience if it be at play to beguile his companion, yet many of them have such mind to be called fair players, that they are as careless what they lose, as they are desirous to gain, but if the loss be great, full many a raw Pigeon lies wambling in their stomachs after their first sleep, and yet waking, they mind nothing more than a revenge, either to take a further foil, or give a greater blow, and of all the minds that men are subject to (before mentioned) there is no mind more to be marked then this in any man, for even as his loss or gain is, so are his looks and countenance, and so are his outward shows of gladness, and his inward conceits of sorrow.  
The Venerean, whose mind mastereth his body, and subdues all the good parts of the same, his fancies and imaginations flies swifter than the Swallow, and seldom or never satisfied with no one conquest or other, goeth drawing like a bloodhound after a strike Deer, and taking sent of some suit and finding perssy follows with open mouth, secret traps and chargeable expenses, till mind or body, or both be a weary, and credit be brought in question, or cracked so sore, that good name is past recovery. Then desperately he dare enter into any quarrel of a combat, and put in hazard and danger life and goods, and he that puts on this mind, dwells not only in a great overweening of himself, but commonly condemns all others that are not of the like nature and condition.  
The Flatterer that frames his mind to all manner of dissimulation, can play the Chameleon, to dazzle the eyes and understanding of the wise, and abusing the best sort of people, the base and meanest of degree, are brought quickly to believe that subtlety is simpleness, and great surety remains in muffled manners, the Flatterer finding his falsehood favoured, so bestirs himself like a Wolf among sheep, and finely feeds on the fattest flock, and the wily Fox carries no more craft in his head, than the fine flatterer bears in his double and deceitful mind.  
The thief that sets his mind wholly on robbery, spoil, and ransacking of the rich, or whosoever he may wrong, gropes out a wealthy man's budget, as a Rat smells out a roasted piece of cheese, and having a wretched mind to live on such cheats that are gotten by such chance, he chooseth no other trade to try what his villainous mind will bring him to, or what may happen on a resolute roisting, which comes to no greater regard but the reward of a gallows, the ill opinion of good men, and the open paltering exercises of a bad mind.  
The Shifter that shuffles up a borrowing life makes a purchase of picking his Creditors purses, his mind is ever to be needy because he minds never to pay piece of his det, and still cries out of Fortune, when his own folly plague's him, claiming recompense for service where no desert (nor ableness to do good turn) may plead in his behalf, yet by brags and boasts he makes a show to have done many wonders, having no great courage in wars nor good quality in peace, but as a graceless Groom, glad to shift and shield his feeble ability under the title of a Soldier, marvelous is that meaning and mischievous is that mind that lives and dies both in want of wealth, wit and all manly reputation, a beggary base mind scarce worthy the bearing about or harbour in any honest body.  
The Envious mind hides his malice, as smothering smoke lies lurking in wet stubble or straw, and when his fury bursteth abroad in flames some whole Family or household is burnt or blemished be slanderous brute, and this stinging & serpenting Snake, being long nourished in the wicked & warm bosom of a hateful man, bespreads his venom throughout all the vital parts of the body, so that no member nor lyneamint thereof serves to express any goodness, and the tongue is always clapping and caviling at every matter spoken off or ministered only to keep the cankered mind accustomed in maddnes and malice.  
The Princely and noble mind where bounty (the lock and key of love) is as busy as a Bee in a hive that brings forth honey for the benefit of others, and the bountiful mind thinketh itself dishonoured, if it receive any service, good turn, free gift or good will, and the same return not again with ten times triple fold thanks and reward. For this princely mind is ever imagining how it may get friends and make enemies reform themselves from malice, yea furthermore this mind is so honourable, liberal, and desirous to win the favour of good people, that it studies where it may bestow some acceptable gift, and fastening the same on a grateful person, this mind remains in such mollitie and gladness as it had won a whole world, and setteth more store by a Friend gotten in this manner, than of a hundred enemies overcome by perforce.  
The sparing and niggardly mind that spies out advantage of gathering and whording up riches, spends many words in fair promises (whiles he cunningly hold● his own) meaning small performance of many great offers, and yet in a kind of vain glory he entertains both the time and the people with trifles that makes a great show of a frank and free heart, when the mind is miserably bend to save and gather together ill gotten goods to lay up in coffer and corners for a prodigal son, or a riotous heir, whose mind is as much set on spoiling that he found as the father was inclined to spare that he got, but the nigards mind hath such quenchless thirst to drink up the dross and dung of this earth, that no kind of good Fortune, worldly wealth, or abundance can moderate and satisfy his covetous lust that Lucar hath set on fire, in the flaming dungeon and furnace of his niggardly mind.  
The prodigal mind that spends without respect, and gives without regard, as pu●t up in such a pride of itself, that it waxeth imperious, lordly, and lofty in a conceived conceit of lascivious charges, bestowed on the fawners and flatterers of our days, whose creeping and currying of favour, makes our young master believe there is no end of his spending, and that the more he flings and casts away, the more good fellows will follow him and the less his estimation and riches shall waste & diminish. For in giving either goods and lands to the daily feeders of his prodigal humour, he thinks he receives an everlasting renown, fame, and credit, among the lusty crew of good companions, and his mind carries him so far into the altituds that he hopes for unknown haps and trusts that mountains of Gold, & the conquest of the very Indians itself is allotted to be his portion, and whosoever restrains him from any piece of his purpose, enkindleth his mind rather to make a soon dispatch of all that he hath, than to be long in consuming the muck and dross of this world, which a prodigal mind will neither be taught how to use, nor how to consider well off but to his own liking.  
The rebellious mind that seeks but blood, sedition, change of state and government, makes a man run gadding like a Gosling to listen after news, and alteration of Religion, as nothing could please him but foreign follies, and strange tyranny, murmuring, and finding fault with Country's quietness, and desirous of troublesome servitude, or at least willing to see some sudden stir, and strange accidents. This mischievous and malcontented mind, is swift to sow discord and shed innocent blood, and slow to save his own credit & Country, ready and apt to forget God, and most unwilling to forgive any injury, a beginner of all brabble and contention, and a maintainer of all execrable acts and enterprises. Now passing over the rustical rabble of Rogues, Uacabounds, Ruffians, Roisters, and rank Rebels, (whose mischievous minds surmounts all the rest in villainy, filthiness, reveling, rudeness, treachery, and treasons, the fruits whereof are but beggary, banishment, and wretchedness, that brings the maislers of that misrule to Tyburn, & a shameful end,) I come to the malicious minds of our Foreign enemies (many in number) that are so drowned in a deadly desire of hatred, wilfulness, obstinacy, papistry, and old wormeaten Religion, that they cannot see nor well understand what they go about. There minds carries them headlong into many hellish & damnable devices, making account of that which never shall be there own I hope, and making their boast of conquest, victory, & triumph, before they dare fight for it, or attempt manly to try, who shall find Fortune most favourable, & what party hath God & the right of their side. And further to be marveled at (a matter most monstrous in judgement) they were come into our Coasts in ships of great burden, fraught & filled with great riches, munition, and men, having in the same ships to countenance their quarrel numbers of Noble houses, Friars, Priests, English Traitors, Spanish Women, and such like people, as were come to possess a Country & kingdom that easily should be gotten, which kingdom is so nobly peopled and furnished that I doubt not but the sight and bare view of this stout nation shall make the Spaniards abashed, and yet behold (to prove A man is but his mind) our Enemies have such minds to do wrong, and have such hope that they are appointed to be the scourge of God, that they say openly they have commission to kill man, woman and child, and to save none above the age of seven year old, lo here is a goodly mind, a goodly commission, and a goodly sort of Fools, that thinks so populous a Country as this will be so soon supplanted, a wise company of wild Geese, that with a little gaggling and thrusting out the neck, beleeus to bring to pass so great a matter, you never heard of more madder minded men than these are, that came to sit down in other men's houses, before they knew the good will of their Hosts, and bow dearly they were like to pay for the purchase, ere they should make their entry, or set their feet on any piece of this Land, and by my troth they go about a pretty Bargain to offer the shedding of so much blood, and especially do bring hither so paltering a Commission, so void of Christianity, and shall cost so many a broken head, before any jot or parcel of the same commandment be put in execution.  
Now here is to be spoken and treated of good and godly minds that peaceably shall possess their souls in patience, & these patiented minds, are those that sees other men preferred (as the affection of some will have it so) and beholds themselves abjects, that neither want, virtue, nor valiance, yea they find few good turns and suffer many injuries boasts little of their service, and are greatly to be praised, being men of good years, and experience, and yet of bad Fortune and ability, favoured of some that can do but little for them, yet helped or aided of no one body that have power to advance them, the men of this mind makes much of a little and seldom comes to any great portion, and so because mine own destiny is not the best, and being loath to put on a worse mind than now last I have spoken of, I knit up all this discourse in these few words, and thus I bid you farewell. Hoping that the minds of men, (though they are several in disposition) will now draw all in one yoke to hold out the enemies of our Country, and to stand together against all foreign invasions, and forget all kind of quarreling among ourselves, that often times hath bred in many kingdoms civil wars and sorrowful dissensions. The plagues and plain examples thereof being well weighed, will (I doubt not) make our noble Nation be not only mindful of their liberty and honour, but in like manner make us all of one good mind, resolution, courage, and manhood.  
FINIS.    


TO THE RIGHT Worshipful si● Edward Dimmocke Knight, & Champion by birth to the Queen's Majesty.  
I would have searched the bottom of my studies and chiefest of my labours (good Sir Edward Dimmocke) if my leisure had served, to have found out some piece of work worthy of your reading, but doubting that verse delights you not, & Tragical discourses breeds but a heavy conceit in a pleasant disposition, I thought it more fit to treat of a Martial cause (wherein great honour consists) that may move many considerations in a noble mind, and so not only stir up virtue but also beat down all occasions that hinders the quiet & sweet society of men, not meaning that I see any motion, cause, or action in this age, that may procure my pen to go beyond the compass of my reach in reforming the same: but to show there is no greater blessedness on earth then friendly fellowship and amity among men, and all the disturbers thereof are rather instruments of dissension, than maintainers of good will. And for that in your long travels abroad (where variance is moderated with wisdom) many quarrels you have seen or heard off, I have written a little piece of the nature of a quarrel compounded on many accidents, not teaching any man a new course & peaceable order to his life, but to nourish gentleness & kindly love among all our noble nation. So trusting no matter of mislike shall pass my Pen, I present you with this little piece of paper that follows, wishing you the good fame and honour your own heart can desire.   

A Discourse of true Manhood.  
AMid the wickedness of a naughty world quarrels, hatred, and headstrong people, a bridled mind knows not what pace to hotde, nor steps to tread, and where madness shows fury, & world mayntaynes folly, wise ‛ al●mon (were he here) could not reform the defect of this wilful age, which neither regards God, good Governors, nor natural love or order.  
And where liberty in man's wilfulness is proclaimed good rule and law is not known, and rud rashness runs so far beyond reason, that every sensible creature doth wonder at, and stands astonished at the stubborn wickedness of man's unstaid mind, which grows so blood thirsty and eager after life, that it seeketh nothing but death and destruction, in a manner of his own proper brother, which was horrible in Cain, and may be odious in all kind of Christians. Among beasts (that wants reason) remains no such cruelty. For now a days men may not meet without snarring, lofty looks, bitter words, haughty fashions, and froward behaviour, on which stoutness of stomach, malice is kindled, contention is breed, and quarrels are set abroach. The accustomed courtesy, sweet conversation, freindle gentleness, human manners, and civil humblnes in our common society, is almost forgotten, brought in contempt, and put out of exercise (if Noble Parsonages show it not) and in place of the commendable virtues are corrupt conditions and new-fangled vices closely crept, to the great disquietness of many, and commodity of no one person. And now briefly to come to the cause of this my bold argument, my short work shall only touch the terrible brawls, that lately (on the show of manhood) are sprung up among us, & nourished to long in the stout courages of men. A matter more meeter to be lamented than maintained, and a new devised wilfulness that our old Fathers taught us not, nor scarcely was known, till our youth began to travel strange Countries, and so brought home strange manners. It must be granted and necessary to be allowed that weapons shall be worn (always of equal length) and used in causes of defence. And further for slanders, naughty reports in absence, and present spitful speeches, men ought for the maintenance of good name, sometimes use an lawful manner of correction (this spoken not of the scripture) for the sharp sword makes a blunt blockhead beware how he useth his tongue, and if bold babblers were not snibbed for their sawsines, this world would be full of talkative merchants, and no man would care what he spoke, if words should not be wisely set to sale, and in the end of an ill market be dearly bought. For it is not fit that every man should go to Law (about a trifle) nor necessary blood should be shed, whatsoever in manhoods behalf I have spoken: well: to come to my purposed matter. In the old time the sight of England was dangerous but not deadly, courageous not cruel, valiant but not villainous, and most nobly used oftimes without any great harm, in which season men were as great Conquerors as they be now (let France and Scotland witness) as loath to offend as men be at this presence, when rapier fight is more desperate And generally then were as good men, as valiant and venturous, as now can be found, and yet they stood not upon such terms, and quarrels as men do now adays, a thousand injuries could then be forgiven, if they had eased their hearts a little at the sharp weapon, now life is sought in England for an Italian lie, and nothing but blood and death can pacify men's furies, men are become such Cocks of the game, they must fight in a sharp, scrat out each others eyes, and thirst so much for blood, that nothing can mitigate their wrath till one be out of the world, and the other be fled God knows whither. A pretty quarrel that compels men to be fugitives, for playing of beastly parts and bringeth such repentance as breedeth both beggary and extremity of Fortune, and namely when friends shall forsake you, and weeping can not help. For whilst law persecuteth the offender, the world is like a Labyrinth, & endless is the labour and trouble of that body that thinks every man follows him.  
In the old world when swords of one length and hearts of equal courage did meet, some in difference debated the matter, and few were put to foil, and many were worthily esteemed for their value. And now when the rapier and dagger dispatcheth a man quickly, neither he lives to hear his own fame, nor no man living can let fall a good word of the quarrel, begun of such trifles, maintained with such terror, and ended with such madness, not so manly as miserable nor so much praised among the fool hardy, as condemned in the consideration of the wise. And so to come to the right order of manhood, courage, valiancy, and stoutness of heart, it lieth more in the judgement then in the jarring, in the fortitude then in the forwardness, and rests more in the modesty then in the malice. For anger of itself is but a senseless monster, an unreasonable rage, a furious franzie, a distemperate imperfection, a privy passion of choler, and an open enemy of life. The discoverer of the frailty and naughty nature of man, and the discredit of as many as cannot master that outrageous disease of the mind.  
Then how should the fury of malice bring forth any other fruit, but such a pestiferous fire, as shall consume the beginners of hatred, and the last revengers of wretched wrath.  
For revenge is like a wind ball the more it is stricken (and remembered with force of hand) the higher it mounts, & makes the more rebound, so that endless becomes a quarrel, so long as the exercise of malice is had in ure, and men with evil disposition go about to store up mischief.  
Now is to be decided every degree and manner of a quarrel, and to show how and in what sort an unjust quarrel may be offered, and a just quarrel may be taken, both by law of arms and nature, and by a usual custom and manner among men, proving by antiquities and art military, the matter purposed to treat upon so that with patience you here out that may be spoken.  
As it is unfit for a Gentleman (that stands on reputation) to play the ruffian and roister, so it is most uncomely for him to stoop so low, as any way to abase his good calling, with the bad conditions of a rude and rustical fellow, by which prerogative the match is unmeet, the quarrel may be refused, the strife hath no equality, nor no honesty is gotten in brawling with inferiors or fight with men of so small temperancy and credit, but because most stoutness and courage (with hazard of life is between Gentlemen) and trifles not taken up grow to great business, their quarrels are most requisite to be spoken of, redressed, corrected, and brought to better order.  
First ye shall find among Soldiers, (that are of great minds) a kind of stately consideration in all quarrels they take in hand. They taking upon them in the art military (which well becomes their calling) to maintain honour, defend their country and credit, and to fight in no quarrel but Princes right and their own honest causes, have set down by certain ceremonies, what words may touch them, what manner of men they may deal withal, what occasions may force a combat, what scope & liberty pertains to a just quarrel, and what restrains a manly mind from doing injury to others or harming himself.  
On which resolution the Soldier sets up his rest, and commonly hazards the winning or losing, of as great thing as life may be worth, not with presumption procured to this danger, but with estimation of his honour haled forward (by danger of enemy) to leave good example to those that comes after him.  
But behold how this adventure happeneth, regard the circumstance of this hazard, way well what difficulty is about the matter, and mark the chief points (and grounds of advantage) that breedeth business, and bringeth forth a combat.  
Then must be noted, a simple Soldier (or mercenary man) may not challenge a Captain, a mean Captain or Centurion may not challenge a Corronell, a Corronell (though leader of a regiment) may not challenge a Lord Martial of the Field, a Lord Martial (having charge of life and death) may not challenge the Lord Lieutenant of the Army. A●d all these not only in time of service (for avoiding of mutiny) but at all seasons, are bound and aught to keep themselves from brawling, (yea though any one be nearly touched) and seeking the combat, except a lie hath passed, a slander is received, a blow be given, a man's name and credit be foiled, and a quarrel be sought so narrowly that no man can avoid. And yet all these degrees (as their office and honour is) one after another, may without reproach refuse in every place, the daungering of their lives by private quarrel, & not meeting one another by chance (whereon may business grow) look what so ever be passed, (villainy excepted) There is no kind of prejudice to any party, but malice may surcease, and society may revive friendship▪ and quietness should of all hands be sought.  
Now of matter ministered in despite, spoken to strike dead good name uttered for offence and bravery, let fall to disgrace any person, and maintained with threatenings (daring and other open iniu●ies a number) the case of quietness is altered, and surely no nature can so easily digest those extremities, but shall find occasion of dislike, and a great motion of quarrel.  
Then must be considered, the cause of those speeches, the persons credit that spoke it, & in what presence and place the injury was offered, for some places are of such honour, that no dishonesty may be suffered in, and some person that speaks injuries in base company (out of honourable presence) the speakers mean calling answers himself, for wise men ought to make no more account of a bad fellows babble, then of the barking of an old dog, whose teeth are gone and can not bite. An all the common kind of injuries are but as men do imagine them, as scolding of a co●queane, railing of a ruffian, taunting of a tosseblade, frumping of fine fellows, and the brags and threatening of a varlet, all these shameless rabble and senseless sort of shadows, are of so small substance and credit, that their voices makes but a noise in the air, like a thunder crack, that neither brings rain, nor argues any constant wind and weather.  
There is beside these ordinary causes, (and crooked conditions of people) a number of naughty natures, that never will be quiet in countenance nor words, but either with skrowling like conquerors, or scorning like vices on a stage, they strive with counterfeit courage to overcome Lions, and to be more terrible than Tigers, snuffing and puffing as all the world were too little to contain their great looks, and disdainful monstrous manners.  
And their tongues are so talkative (and filled with follies) that none may speak but themselves, on whose proud presumptions are many mad disputes wilfully begun and most wickedly ended. To contend with those glorious Images, is as a man should sound a Trumpet at the roaring of every bul.  
Thus with extraordinary manners, new fangled fancies, old stubborn nature, and fresh fine cunning, that wisdom condemneth, a good mind may be overreached, and a quiet man may be brought in some quarrellous brabble, for the sight and sufferance of these shadows, (whose substance is all in boasting) and the society or contention with such counterfeit conquerors, is an open enemy to all the good dispositions of men, and a privy worker of disquietness to those that beholds and hears any piece or jot of those vices before rehearsed, for nothing breeds more mislike, or offendeth so much every company, as the continual brags and audacious manners of the unbridled multitude, who are never free from quarrels, void of villainy, nor without naughty brabbles a number.  
Come now to general occasions in Court, Country town and so forth, but principally of Court we ought to have greatest regard, where not only the Prince hold residens with a continual majesty, but likewise by absolute power commands obedience, & restrains Courtiers many ways from offering of injuries. For plainly to speak, in Chamber of presence or any place near (or about a Prince's palace) men's tongues are tied either to keep silence, or civilly with reverence to use comely words, meet for such a place, and void of villainy or vicious intents, chiefly of quarrels that may move mischief, and stir up disquietness among the gentle Bees assembled together in a Hive for the honouring of their king, and public profit of their estate. The Court is no Cockpit to crow in, no shraep for cocking, no seat to be saucy in, no place of contention, nor no soil for brawlers and bragger's, that have currish conditions, and knows not their duty, but rather a place of royal dignity, princely entertainments, courteous behaviours, and fine and friendly fashions, that with orderly manner may set forth a Prince's regality. And though there some one (wanting temperance) rashly behave himself and with warm words stir the coals of a wicked quarrel, men's duties in general, (by wisdom) should either quench the heat thereof, or cast embers on the fire, that the fury and flame should not burst out there, nor be disputed of any other where to the prejudice of that place, and look what is offered in open hearing or secret whispering (that may sow seeds of dissension) should be trodden under foot, or passed over with sporting, among the best judgements, for fear lest a little branch of spite do sprout up on some rash speeches, and grow out of order, both past remedy, and beyond the bounds of good manner.  
If men in Court were as careful to keep peace, as they are desirous to creep in credit, or common society should attend to no other purpose, but to familiar behaviour, friendly affection, brotherly love, and blessedness of life, you shall behold a mutual agreement among all kind of creatures at their first meeting, the birds with their like flees and feeds together, and in their manner use a kind of rejoicing when they encounter one another, yea and taketh part with their fellows against all that shall offend them, flocking and crying as they may together in multitudes, to show their natural inclination, and how they all do suffer torment, by the disquietness of one bird in their company. The Bees seeing but one of their fraternity troubled or angry, fly all in a swarm on every thing offends them, and useth such fury for revenge, that they sting and hum out of measure. The Beasts not only agree in their fashion, but in like sort takes one another's part vehemently: and chief the very Hogs join in a battle against those dogs that biteth them. The Fish in the flood swim in skulls arming themselves against their enemies, and you shall read in Pliny that among the Dolphins was such amity▪ that a Dolphin being taken prisoner by a King (and closely kept) there assembled such a number of Dolphins together as is incredible, and they never left mourning and plaining▪ showing by sorrowful signs the dolour taken for the loss of their companion, by which means they recovered him again of the King.  
Thus if Fish, Fowle and Beast, agree in union with a wonderful league of amity, men may blush to behold their own defects and Serpentine natures, that never rests hissing, stinging and casting out of venom, bred in vain minds, and nourished in hateful breasts. The reason that man beareth, and the form and shape of his noble creation, should be an everlasting remembrance to move him unto quietness, especially the renown that is gotten by patience and fortitude, should always keep reasonable men from rages, and be a bulwark and target to bear of quarrels, the destruction of life, the hour glass of death, and the whole consumer of all good credit.  
It is to be presupposed that proud hearts grows so Princely, and every one (that is quarrellous) would seem a King or a conqueror, yet Princes take great advisement before they break peace, and cunningly put of causes of war, weighing the innumerable troubles, dangers, and losses that pertains to a quarrel, but the general number of men runs headlong into mischief, casting neither peril nor hazard, as all our life and fame, stood on slashing, cutting, roisting, and striving for vainglory. In our Elders days fighters were called ruffians, and ruffians were so loathsome, that no honest man could abide their company. If serving men which always should be civil, had quiet & sober masters, such bucklers with pikes, such swords like spits, and such long great daggers should not be worn The weapon and countenance (by maintainers of quarrels) may cause cowards to be bold, and cause courage to catch copper or creep closely in corns. And now in the chief and highest degree of quarreling, where see you jars, questions, brawls, banding, and the rest of disorders, but where some party is over great (playing on advantage) or weapons are not equal, except it be among noble great minds, whose valiancy can neither suffer injury, nor abide any blemish of honour. So even now to them this work is addressed, the base sort needs not my persuasions, nor but of good will and presumption, this needeth not I speak of. The whole world is fraught so full of malice, that the least occasion can be ministered, breeds such great business, that quarrels are so common (the custom thereof so old) it seemeth nothing strange to behold murders, odious practices, shameful poisnings▪ and miserable man slaughters.  
In Italy, a simple quarrel but once conceived, never ends till death hath dispatched peradventure both the parties, and so greedily they go to take away life, that all the mischief can be imagined is put in exercises without delay, taking breath, regard of God, fear of law, or shame of the world, so bloody is the mind, the body sleeps not, till the hands have done some abominable outrage. The mind cannot be in quiet, till open folly & monstrous madness have disturbed the whole senses, and brought the life and body in hazard of hell fire, or danger of worldly shame: these are the fruits of fury. The defects of nature, the miseries of man, and the brutish conditions of the counterfeit finesse in Italy. In France if a lie may be brought in by circumstances, or a fine quarrel can be sifted out of gross speeches,, present death follows, or perpetual hatred is set abroach, wherein murders are committed, and many a mischievous act is taken in hand, odious to behold, and a great horror to hear, but most unchristianly executed.  
And so generally, in all countries and kingdoms, a quarrel once begun, comes to butchery and bloodshed, and commonly grows after (in many generations and kindreds) to deadly foed, and shameless slaughters.  
A quarrel in property & nature, may be compared to many big barrels of Gunpowder, which once set on fire, flames so vehemently, that every little corn thereof, is throughout consumed, and the blast and business it makes, overthrows houses, beateth down great buildings, and shakes a whole town and the walls thereof in sunder. Yea even as a tennis ball, the harder is stricken the further it flieth, and the oftener it reboundeth, the more he labours that strikes it: so a spark of spiteful hatred, being blown with the busy bellows of malice (that kindleth coals which can never be quenched) increaseth such a smothering smoke and fire, that burns like the hill of Ethna, that never goeth out, nor wanteth heat, and fume to trouble a whole country.  
And one especial point is always to be noted (in the naughty nature of a quarrel) that whosoever hath done any injury or given a wound or a blow, never can avoid danger and utter destruction, without some amends made, craving of pardon, open repentance, or secret working of friends, that are wearied with the long debating of the matter.  
As one good turn doth crave another, so an Injury demands a quarrel, a quarrel breeds a thousand offences, offences hardly can be forgotten, and the more a wrong remains in mind, ●he less hope is of forgiving the fault, and the more mischief is put in proof and exercise.  
And whosoever duly considers the ill inclination of people, he shall find thousands so apt and ready to take in hand a quarrel, that in some sort it is held a cowardice and a kind of no courage to put up a trifle, so many desires to see bloodshed, so many sets men agog in unhappiness, and so many goes about with tales and bad devices, to stur up strife and contention.  
Well since our imbecility is much, our fury not little, and disposition so stout, that all things must be disputed of and drawn to the uttermost degree of dangerous quarreling: I wish peradventure upon some experience, that mildness might moderate the manner of our falling out, and if nothing could qualify the cruelty of courage, a regard of God, good reputation, just cause, and honest dealing may be used, exhorting all men to look to life, common society, mutual love, and the general peace of a christian Kingdom. For how so ever the World may imagine of fight and brawling, the very rout and ground of disorder in a common wealth, is unreasonable quarrels, wherein is maintained a kind of Turkish tyranny, and brutish boldness.  
This not spoken beyond the compass of duty, nor to the prejudice and hindrance of any man's manhood, which may be as well seen, and understood by the conquering of himself (and mastering his own passions) as in having the victory of others. Which triumph and victory cannot be gotten without great bloodshed and business. Thus Friend worshipful I have discoursed a matter worthy treating off, and I hope for the benefit of many: And so farewell.  
FINIS.    


TO THE RIGHT Worshipful my singular good friend, sir Michael Blount Knight, Lieutenant of the Tower.  
IN travailing abroad, & searching some secrets at home that closely would lurk in corners unknown, I found (good M. Lieutenant) many occasions to write off, but none more grievous to behold than the wandering minds of this world, & sowers of dissension, hateful to themselves & Enemies to their Country, & for reformation of their follies, & amendment of their lives, I drew certain verses fit for those causes, and I hope pleasant to read. And because your good mind and office of worthy credit, is as it were a curb & musrole to hold in such strong-headed wanderers wilfully bend, & wickedly disposed: I did on goodwill dedicate this little Volume to your view and good consideration, knowing that therein is no verse, nor meaning of any matter, but that attends only to the advancement of virtue, rebuke of vice, and loyalty to our Country. So wishing you much worship, I enter into the discourse already here mentioned.  
Yours in all at commandment T. Churchyard.   

A WARNING TO THE Night-wanderers abroad, that seeks to sow dissension at home.  

MIne eyes they weep, my heart it bleeds in breast,  
My soul doth sob, my body quakes for fear:  
My fancy's roll, my mind can take no rest,  
My senses blush, as spirits amazed were,  
My knowledge shrugs, at rumours in mine ear.  
My head doth muse, my reason sore doth rue:  
These quarrels old, that rise on brabbling new.  
These bold attempts, that Rebels set abroach,  
To God's dislike, and Countries great reproach.   

The rotten seams, that in fair garments are,  
be not espied, by sudden view of eye.  
The spoiling moth, that eats gay scarlet bare,  
In folds of cloth, full long doth closely lie.  
Time is the touch, that treacherous trash doth try,  
Fowl cankered flesh, by Surgeon's art is found,  
And healed sometimes, by searching of the wound.  
World's sickness must, with wisdom well be used,  
That Doctors may, see how was health abused.   

For tainted fruit, that is not sound at core,  
Smooth skin doth show, like apple ripe and good:  
A plaster fair, may hide a filthy soar,  
The painted face, sets forth no perfect blood.  
By proof the best, from worst is understood.  
Fair shows but blears, the judgement for a while,  
And colours can, not knowledge long beguile.  
Though salt be white, the sugars taste is sweet,  
And gall doth bite, when honey comforts spirit.   

Most bitter sour, doth foul Rebellion taste.  
It breeds on hate, that heart hath harborde long,  
And wicked will, that wisheth woe and waste:  
Whose raging mind, delights in open wrong,  
Stout stomach first, with snakish stinging tongue  
Stirs up the strife, and blows the blast abroad:  
Then malice comes, and looks like swelling toad,  
And venom casts, where mischief may be wrought,  
From mother spite, so monster forth is brought.   

Rebellion is, the monster that I mean,  
A serpent vile, that lines in stinking den:  
A grisly ghost, a graceless spirit unclean,  
That lurketh close, in shapes of vainest men.  
When it is bred, behold, what does it then?  
It sows discord, and fostreth up dislike,  
Makes sharp the sword, that ready is to strike.  
Lies listening still, for news and change of state,  
And cares not how▪ it bringeth in debate.   

A Turk or jew, a Pagan or a dog,  
A fiend of Hell, or else a spirit of the air:  
A venturous lad, that all can set a gog.  
A prattling boy, that fawns and speaks full fair.  
When Rebel falls, in rage of rude despair.  
Rebellion brings: so he revenge may take,  
The Devil himself, it will a Captain make.  
Rebellion looks, but how may blood be shed,  
And so wild minds, in mischief runs on head.   

Rebellion springs, of too much head and will,  
That riot runs, without rebuke too far,  
In suffering harms, great wrongs are offered still.  
On little broils, begins a bloody war,  
The wilful man, doth either make or mar:  
The harebrain head, a witless course holds on,  
Till fear of God, and worldly care be gone:  
All hope is past, run dog or Devil than,  
No reason serves, to rule the reckless man.   

But what foul shame, brings men to this lewd mind?  
What bold abuse is this, that breeds such bale?  
What vile device, draws nature out of kind?  
What mars good wits? what makes men pull and hale,  
To seek for death▪ and sets their lives to sale?  
Is't will alone? ●ie on that wayward heart,  
That for a toy, makes all the body smart:  
Fie on that trick, that turns all out of frame,  
Runs far a field, and brings home open shame.   

We see so long, as house together stands,  
From rain and storms, both man and wife do sit,  
So long as horse, remains in rider's hands  
He keeps his pace, and plays upon the bit.  
So long as men, be ruled by temprate wit  
Draw all one yoke, take part as brethren ought:  
So long, you know, they need not take no thought,  
But when they jar, and several ways they go,  
They draw too far, and break true friendship's bow.   

Come home wild heads, than gad no more abroad,  
To breed debate, that works your Country's wrack,  
Lay up your ships, and barks in quiet road:  
Cast anchor there, where cable cannot crack,  
Run not to Rheims, to learn a cumbrous knack,  
That smells of smoke, and savours of discord.  
Obey your Prince, and so ye serve the Lord.  
To duties bounds, reclaim yourselves again:  
Against the stream, who strives do lose their pain.   

Make Pope your head, the Prince ye do forsake  
Obedience bids, a subject leave dispute:  
Indeed you do, the scripture clean mistake,  
If that your tree, do show no better fruit.  
(But bring forth brawls, and raiseth slanders brute)  
Say what you please, your conscience is not clean:  
Where duty wants, men do some mischief mean.  
And such as speaks, against the Prince, and Law,  
Intends no good, but flingeth fire in straw.   

And when house burns, and flame begins to gloe,  
Your finger's ends, shall surely singed be:  
You smell on smoke: as you the bellows blow:  
Then put out fire, where rotten would you see,  
Clear sight cannot, with smothering sm●●ke agree.  
Good men are harmed, with wicked bad devise,  
Of naughty ware, you know full well the price.  
Make dark your shops, to blear the buyers eye,  
When all is seen, the light each thing shall try.   

If you do wrong, to Prince and public state,  
Your conscience shall, accuse you in the end:  
If legs and feet, begin the head to hate,  
Sick are the limbs, that should the head defend,  
The body weak, by medson may amend.  
Wherefore do fall, to physic for your grief.  
From candle clear, be sure ye take the thief:  
For if in snuff, be crept a little coal,  
Through week and all, is worn a cureless hole.   

And sooth light, that glad the lookers on,  
God wots is spoiled, before his kindly hour:  
When oil, or wax, or tallow clean is gone,  
The lamp or light, to burn hath little power:  
You would plant weeds, where grows a goodly flower.  
Let practice go, and play a subjects part:  
Plain troth ye know, bids ●ie on cunning art.  
One God, one law, one mind and manner now,  
In double world, shows subjects duties throw.   

All other drifts, do drawthe wire awry,  
And backward bends▪ the bow that should be straight:  
Come near no clouds, the reach is over high.  
Live safely then, no surety comes by sleight:  
Content below, doth hate to climb on height.  
Who knows his own, hath wealth and wit enough:  
He sound sleeps, that only looks to plough.  
And such as wakes, to overlook this age,  
May sing adieu, when foot is fast in cage.   

O Country sweet, persuade obedience here,  
Reform the fond, and still preserve the wise:  
No plot of earth, more pro●ious nor more dear  
Than native soil, that for her children cries  
And calls for chicks, where kites and puttocks flies,  
O Babes well borne, if you will bastards prove  
Bid welcome hate, and farewell Country's love:  
And this be sure, my friends go where you please,  
No goodness grows, by gadding o'er the seas.   

Note where you took, both breath, warm blood, and life,  
Your parent's care, and Countries right do way:  
Regard what broils, and brawls begin on strife,  
Mark how stout hearts, stand all on tickle stay:  
And birds of th'air, your folly do bewray,  
And mark how God, hath opened all your drifts,  
And in your pride, hath put you to your shifts.  
And chiefly note, how God and man doth know,  
For want of grace, wild heads a gadding go.   

Religion Lord, perhaps shall be your shield,  
Nay there a straw, you mean an other thing:  
You are so great, you would feign march in field,  
That world should judge, you feathers of one wing.  
So busy birds, together all would sing.  
Well waking Cocks, ye crow for day too soon:  
Ye neither look, on stars, ne sun, nor moon,  
But clapping wings, ye thrust out neck and throat,  
And cares not who, doth hear your midnight note.   

That sounds not right, of no Religion sure.  
Rebellion is, the string you play upon:  
O God forbidden, that hawk forsook the lure  
To feed on frog, that sits one every stone.  
I say not much, would God abuse were gone,  
Rebellion dead, and all her branches bare,  
Faithless were fled, and Country void of care,  
But since strange toys, breeds humming Bees in brain.  
I mean to touch, rebellion once again.   

When mother spite, to world this monster brings.  
A naughty nurse, vile nature than prepares:  
Who cradle rocks and lullaby she singes,  
Till reckless sense, be brought a sleep unwares,  
Then as in corn, do creep wild weeds and tars:  
So cockle seed, in common wealth is sown,  
Whereby good grain, is quickly overgrown.  
The cause thereof, is cunning crafty wits,  
That still works woe, and never idle sits.   

O wretched rage, that rives and rends a Realm  
In pieces small, and gains nothing thereby:  
O labour lost, that strives with flood and stream,  
And daily hopes, to drink great rivers dry,  
O cruel plague that, do for vengeance cry.  
O prive hate, that open mischief breeds,  
O shameless sleight, that honest people dréedes:  
Accursed I hold, rebellion is of kind,  
That never dies, but lives in cankered mind.   

The Country's weal, and Prince's honour both  
It clean forgets, and spoil and havoc cries,  
Takes no regard, to duty, faith, or oath,  
But claps on wood, where fire and flame may rise,  
Tells tattling tales, shows furious angry eyes,  
Makes brags and boast that all shall lie in dust,  
And hath no hope, but treason is his trust:  
The wife, the child, the friend and neighbour to●  
Rebellion hates, for he will mischief do.   

It findeth fault, with peace and civil Laws.  
Abhors good men, and such as governs well:  
Takes toy in head, bolts out when is no cause,  
Frames devilish drifts, to make this world a hell:  
And at the length, would King and country sell  
To wreak his wrath, O vile revenge most vain,  
When all is lost, what doth rebellion gain?  
joys it to see, the wrack of native land?  
Such fowl offence, is whipped with his own wand.   

Their goods, their rent, their honour and their lives,  
Shall under foot, be trodden every day:  
Their kind deflowered, their children and their wives  
Made captive slaves, in bondage many a way.  
And when the land, is made a strangers pray,  
Like Israelites, poor jacobs' house shall mourn,  
Draw in the yoke, and see their houses burn.  
Bear burdens still, and bend their backs to toil:  
While enemies laugh, and triumphs of the spoil.   

What can procure, a man to sell his life,  
Forsake his Prince, become a servile slave:  
What cause can be, in state to stir a strife?  
What joy or bliss, by thraldom can we have?  
When men are well, what devil would they crave?  
What makes men mad? why dote they in this age?  
To foreign foes, to run in such a rage.  
Their language sure, I trow is not so fine:  
Their love is gross, and tastes like troubled wine.   

Want thou but gilded, where they are masters still,  
There shalt thou starve, for all their goodly shows,  
With mocks and scorns, and many another ill:  
Poor hewlet stands, among a many of Crows.  
The wandering wight, that long a gadding goes,  
Comes home at last (by beggars weeping cross)  
Like rolling stone, that never gathers moss,  
A stranger doth, but stare in traveler's face,  
And smiles in sleeve, at silly soul's disgrace.   

Rebellion likes, the man he never saw,  
If bloody wars, upon that league may link:  
As to the sick, doth evil humours draw,  
And from fowl pits, comes smoke and noisome stink,  
So filthy floods, flow from rebellious brink,  
A troubled stream, of puddle mixed with mire.  
Doth quench the thirst, of rebels hot desire.  
The water clear, but skalds a rebels breast:  
For cruel rage, and riot takes no rest.   

It runs with hare, and hunts with bloody hound,  
It stands with strong, and leaves the weak at worst:  
In common wealth, it makes a mortal wound,  
It brags to fight, and yet retireth forced:  
It is a plague, that God himself hath cursed,  
For it divides, in little pieces small,  
Both kingdoms great, and mighty monarch all:  
Dissension works, to sow but Satan's seeds,  
And plucks up slowres, and plants in stinking weeds.   

It creeps in holes, and corners close by ribs,  
Provides for friends, to band it out for need:  
It banquets still, and freely quafs and bibs,  
And with lewd words, their wicked humour feeds.  
Prates much of Prince, makes boast of doughty deeds.  
When feeble hearts, lies quaking in their hose,  
Much like bold Cocks, that loud on midding crows.  
But yet cries creak, when that in sharp they come:  
For rebels can, not bide the sound of Drum.   

At May Powl mirth, or at some marriage feast,  
Or in a fair, where people swarm like Bees:  
These stinging wasps, but new come out of nest.  
Do fly for life, and so together grées,  
Like little mites, or maggots in a cheese.  
The humming then, that these wood wasps do make.  
Doth seem at first, as it would mountains shake:  
But out alas, those lawless loitering souls,  
Are hid in haste, or crept in Conny holes.   

The privy thief, that steals away our wealth,  
Is sore afraid, a true man's steps to see:  
The fearful wight▪ that doth misdoubt his health,  
Will blush to come, where that sound people be.  
The faithful stands, the faulty man will flee:  
The rebel shrinks, where rule and order sways.  
Troth bides the brunt, the Traitor runs his ways:  
Bold practice quakes, when power suppliants his pride,  
Where biles breaks out, there is rebellion spied.   

Among good Ewes, beware of scabbed sheep,  
The Wolf with Lamb, may not be matched aright:  
The flock is spoiled, where For the Geese doth keep.  
The sick with sound, is sure no comely sight.  
What needs more terms, who dares not bide the light?  
In darkness dwells, a blind rebellious mind,  
Is more corrupt, than any thing we find.  
Then either heal, the member that doth smell,  
Or cut him of, before he further swell.   

But far more fit, that flesh should be reformed,  
And san●de from harm, that else corrupt would grow:  
The itching hand, of force must needs be wormde,  
Lest skin wax rough, and pimples rise, ye know.  
If knife pair well▪ a corn upon the toe.  
The foot is eased, and man shall march upright.  
Take slime from eyes, the blind receives his sight:  
So cleansing clean, each part and member well:  
The state of man, in safety long shall dwell,   

So all things meant, that here doth pass the pen,  
Wounds to be healed, and searched as they ought:  
All to be done, for health and wealth of men,  
And nought amiss, in word, in deed nor thought:  
Yea when my verse, so great a work hath wrought,  
To link in love, good subjects all in one.  
To stand as firm, as rock or marble stone,  
Then shall my mouth, my muse, my pen and all,  
Be priest to serve, at each good subjects call.   
FINIS.    

THE HONOUR OF A Soldier.  
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPful Sir George Carew, Knight, Lieutenant of the Ordinance Thomas Churchyard wisheth worldly felicity, and heavenly blessedness.  
IN calling to mind, good Sir George, our meeting in Ireland a long while ago for the service of the queens Majesty, your good brother then living (to whom I was bound in good will,) I penned at that instant by his means the life and death of a Pirate, and promised a further work to yourself, which now I perform, because your Souldiour-like disposition is answered with the advancements of Fortune, and your ancient house and blood is beautified with an honourable place, the Prince hath possessed you of a sign and token as I believe, that a noble soldiers profession shall never go out of your remembrance, for the which cause, I have dedicated this work called The honour of a Soldier unto your protection, in hope that which you have seen and read for the commendation of Soldiers, shall be a sufficient testimony of their value and worthiness, and shall not only procure you and others like yourself to further their fame, but like wise willing to read that I have set down in their behalf, for as briefly as my small judgement can discharge a true discourse thereof, with good probable reasons and ancient authors of famous credit.  
I mind to express and set forth at large, how Soldiers were made off, and honoured in times past: and what prerogative they had above other people. And to declare how Princes held them in admiration, and gave them liberties, titles, and dignities: far beyond the rest of any, that lived under their laws and obedience. And this by the way is to be thought, that all my former discourse and rehearsal of wars, attended to no other purpose and effect, but for the advancement of Soldiers, and to be as it were a foil to set forth the matter, I presently mind to publish out. For now I will in a manner show, how Gentility began, and where and in what sort honour was first gotten and maintained, which argument as I hope, shall not only content the wise and well learned, but also please every degree, and make the simple sort pluck up their courages, and imitate (by some honest exercises) the lives of noble Soldiers.  
I trust I need not in this ready and ripe age (wherein good writers, great learning, and studious judgements doth flourish) rehearse by particulars every parcel and point, that belongeth to a soldiers profession. Nor that you look I should recite when, and where the Romans, Lacedæmonians, Athenians, and other nations, did prefer and extol men of Marshal minds, and noble courages. For their books and Commentaries, and the innumerable Libraries of great antiquity, are the very records of my discourse, and remain as mirrors for you to look in. And shall prove a thousand parts more in the commendation of Soldiers, then either my pen or tongue (by sufficient cunning) hath power to express. For it can not be, that from a little gut or Channel of water, you should look for so great a flood, as from a multitude of springs, from whence mighty Rivers takes original and recourse.  
And so I send you to the Wellspring of knowledge (I mean the ancient Father's works) to fetch true intelligence, of the things I make mention of, touching the worthy reputation of a good Soldier, and the antiquity of his credit, triumph and glory.  
First, look in the sacred Scriptures, and search from the death of Abel, coming down orderly to the birth of Christ: And see whether Soldiers were made of or no. And doubtless you shall find they were not only embraced and maintained, but likewise they are of a long continuance and credit. As all the Bible before john the Baptistes' time declareth. And Christ himself in a sort did utter, when he said, he had not found such faith in Israel, as he saw in a Centurion. Yea and in the Apostles Acts, there is a special point to be noted. Devout Soldiers were sent to Simon Tanner's house to find out Peter. Well, now I commit you to the Scripture, and I will follow profane Histories: & begin at the very Infidels (a scorn for a Christian to be taught by) which are no small number, nor of no little continuance, people always brought up in war, and Princes of great fame, power, and authority. Yea conquerors of the whole world, and Kings to whom all people did stoop and do homage.  
These Pagans, or as we may term them, lost sheep, to whom the great Shepherd would not be known, (and yet among them tormented and crucified) did make such laws and orders for Soldiers, as the Turk to this day observeth, and holdeth in great reverence. Regard but the liberties and authority of the janessaries: and that shall manifestly prove, that men of war are had in great admiration. But because you shall have the more belief to the matter: read the life of Alexander the Great: The Commentaries of julius Caesar, and the noble acts and victories of a number of other notable Princes. And then assuredly you shall be persuaded, that the renown of Soldiers hath reached, and spread as far as fame can fly, or good report could have passage.  
I pray you can any man deny, but it springeth of a great courage, and zeal to the common wealth: when a man forsaketh the pleasure of life, to follow the painfulness of war, and danger of death: and refuseth no toil nor travail, to purchase credit, and attain unto knowledge. Yea some such we read of, as Marcus Cursius, and Mucius Scevola, that refused no enterprises to do their Country pleasure. Yea some have sold their patrimony, and consumed their Treasure and riches, to enrich their Princes with glory, and everlasting renown.  
Were not this a madness, and more than a mere folly, to be a drudge to the world, (and a labourer for those that sits at rest) and to watch and ward, fight, strive, and struggle with strangers for victory: and then to come home and be rewarded as common persons, and walk like a shadow in the Sun, without estimation or countenance. Would any that had wisdom, value, and courage, be over run with vicious fools and cowards, or be made a footstool to their inferior, when they have climbed up the steps of honour, and are gotten into the top gallant of worldly glory, and warlike triumph.  
Among children that do but play at the bucklers, there is a pre-eminence, and one will acknowledge the other to be his better, when good bobs are bestowed: and suddenly a stout tall lobber will lay down the waster, and yield to him that hath more practice, and 〈◊〉 in the weapon than himself. Then shal● not a man that hath coped with Champions, buckled with Conquerors, and abidden the hazard of the Canon, stand on his Pantofles, and look to the steps he hath passed. Yes sure, and such a member of the state, (the base sort are Ciphers) ought to be made of, deserveth place and pre-eminence, and is no companion for punies, nor meet to be matched with Milksop, whose manhood and manners differs, as far from the grave Soldier, as a Donkite in courage and condition differs from a jerfaukon.  
As the duty to a man's country, and the wages that he taketh, binds him to do the uttermost he may: so were there not an other cause, that forceth further matter. Full coldly some would fight, and full slowly some would march to the battle, albeit the Prince's quarrel and wages received, commandeth much, and is a thing stoutly and wisely to be looked to. But I tell you, fame and reputation is the mark that men shoot at, and the greediness of glory and ambition, pricketh the mind so fast forward, that neither the man looks upon the multitude of enemies. Nor regards the danger of death, so he may be eternised, & live in the good opinion of the Prince and people.  
For he that but bluntly looks about him, and goeth to the war for wealth (which hardly is there gotten) is led on with a covetous desire of that he shall not have, and may fight like an Ox, and die like an Ass. But who so respecteth his credit, and paiseth in balance the worthiness of fame, that riseth by well doing, doth combat like a Lion, and either conquers like a man, or dieth like a conqueror, as many great Kings & Captains have done, whose ensamples (a long while ago) as yet remains freshly in memory.  
It may be thought that every mercenary man, and common hireling (taken up for a while, or serving a small season) is a soldier fit to be registered, or honoured among the renowned sort of warlike people. For such numbers of bezoingnies or necessary instruments for the time, are to fall to their occupation when the service is ended, and not to live idly, or look for embracing. For neither they tarry long in the f●elde, when they are priest to go forth. Nor are not often called again to the like journey, so great is our store of such persons: and so many shifts they can make, to put of any pain and hazard. But he is to be accounted the courageous Soldier, that is given by his own disposition, to delight and follow the Cannon wheel, whose countenance and cheerful face begins to smile and rejoice when the Drum soundeth, & whose heart is so high, it will not stoop to no slavery. But hath a body and mind able to answer that is looked for, and hath often been tried & experimented in Martial affairs: through haunting whereof he is become ignorant of drudging at home, and made a skilful Scholar in the discipline of war: which is not learned without some loss of blood, charges of purse, & consuming of time.  
And this may be judged, and plainly presupposed, that many of that sort of men are not found alive, to trouble or burden a common wealth, because they are cut off through dangerous services, or forced by seeking of Fame in the field, to sell that they have at home, and so to travel abroad, subject to all misery, and far from any friendship or prosperous estate. And sometimes through the greatness of their minds, that gallopp● after glory, are carried away to seek out new Kingdoms, and refuse their old habitation. A matter falling out well, worthy to be liked, but otherwise, a heavy tale to be told, and an experience bought with over much repentance. But every way occasions they are, that dispatcheth▪ many a good Soldier, & makes the number so little, that it is reason such as are left alive of that profession: should either be rewarded, or at the least reap up some such credit, as the common sort of people should have them in admiration, and offer them such courtesy, as the worthiness of their Experience and Service requireth.  
If in the old time our Forefathers used their men of war nobly, preferred them to promotions, & dealt honourably with them that served then Country, where wars were not so cruel. Why should not this world, wherein policies, murders, and bloodshed is followed (and hazards are marvelously escaped) to the uttermost of man's power, have more regard to a Soldier that shuneth no hazard, nor refuseth no peril. There is no more to say, for the answering of this great oversight, but the hackney horse is unhappy, having borne a burden all the day on his back, & is cast off at night to a bare common, there to seek for food, and abide a hard fortune.  
There is a worse matter th●n this to be treated off, yet nothing but that so far past remedy to be touched: let any one serving man get a good Master, and for following his heels at an inch, he shall be more spoken & get more benefit, than twenty of the best Soldiers that you can name, that have followed the wars all their life days, and knew not how to flatter & fawn, or crouch and coursse for commodity. Yea, such as serves at home, and cannot go out of the view of a fair house, and smoke of a foul Chimney, snatcheth up good turns, and steals away preferments privily: when those that merits more consideration, oft goes openly a begging, and findeth few among thousands that wisheth them well, or doth them any good.  
Some say the cause of this hard hap to the one, and good Fortune to the other, is a certain deadly dissension, fallen between the sword and the pen. By which mortal malice is bred and nourished in bosom, such a headstrong hatred and partiality, that the pen is ever giving a dash out of order, against the commendation of the sword, and the sword being disgraced, by a bald blot of a scurvy Goose quill, lies in a broken rusty scabbard, and so takes a Canker, which eats away the edge, and is in a manner lost for lack of good looking to, and consideration of a painful Cutler.  
And the pen (as many people are persuaded) is like the Pencil of a Painter, always ready to set out sundry colours, and sometime more apt to make a blur, then give a good shape and proportion to any invention or devise, that proceeds of a plain meaning. And as all pencils are as well occupied of a bongling painter, as a cunning workman. So the scribbling Pen is ever working of some subtlety, more for the benefit of the Writer, then commonly for the profit or pleasure of the Reader: yea, and the pen is waxed so fine, and can show such a flourish, that a Master of Fence, though he played with a two hand Sword, might be put to a foul foil: where the Pen is in place, and is guided by a sleight hand●, and a shrewd head.  
But under correcton, if a man may be plain, the Pen and the Sword can never agree, because the Pen stands in such fear of the sword, it would not come under the blow of the blade: & the sword is in such doubt to be moiled with ink, by the dash of a pen, that it loves not to come where the pen may annoy it. And so the dissension and quarrel between the Pen and the Sword, is never like to be taken up: the harms are so great that grows on their amity and meeting, and the advantage of them both is so much when they be kept a sunder.  
For the Sword is the best and in his most bravery when it is shining in the field, where blood may be shed, and honour may be won. And the Pen is in the chiefest pomp, when it lies lurking in the Town, where pence may be purchased, and peace and quietness may do what it please●h. And the Pen is so glad to rest in the pennar, till profit calls him out, that he cannot abide the hinderers of his commodity, nor the disquieter of his ease. Which cometh by wars, and proceedeth from the Sword, when the Drum and the Trumpet puts the pen out of credit.  
Now to speak roundly to the reason, may be alleged in the Pens behalf (and praises of those that have the use of the same) it cannot be denied, but the pen may both persuade war, and purchase peace. And those that here at home maintain good Laws: see justice ministered, uphold the public state: plead controversies at the bar, study to unfold doubts. Labour at their Book to be profitable members, and strive daily to excel in learning, and quiet the quarrelous people of their Country. Such I say that with Pen or tongue, advanceth virtue, and overthrows vice, are meet to be honoured, deserveth great laud, and aught to go in the rank and place of commendation and dignitiye. For there is but four sorts of true Nobility, or Gentlemen. The first Governors, by whom all States and Kingdoms are guided, brought to know order, and made to possess in quietness the goods that either good Fortune, or sweat of brows hath gotten.  
The second are Soldiers, whose venture and valiance hath been great, service and labour not little, and daily defended with the hazard of their lives, the liberty of the Country.  
The third are upright and learned Lawyers, that looks more to the matter they have in hand, than the money they receive. And are never idle in doing their duty, and studying for the quietness of matters in controversy.  
The fourth are Merchants, that sails foreign Countries, and brings commodities home: and after great hazards abroad do utter their ware with regard of conscience and profit to the public estate.  
And as from the beginning Governors and Rulers were ordained by God, and the rest of Gentility came in, and did follow as reason required, and desert did command. So ancient birth and blood (joined with good conditions) is a thing much to be honoured and esteemed, and beautifies not only the noble race, but brings likewise a treable beatitude, to the person so virtuously bend and nobly borne.  
And as for the Soldiers and their original, of honours, titles, and calling, the Romans' (which were the Fathers of all Martial affairs, and Conquerors of the world) have so much spoken of and praised, that no man can deny, but they are the men of greatest antiquity, and people that Princes first preferred, and gave stippendes unto. Yea, and the chiefest Conquerors that ever were before our days: had a great glory themselves to be called Soldiers, and Noble Captains. For they thought none so worthy as the Soldier, nor none so meet to compare themselves unto, as the man that stood on his honour, and would neither stoop to no kind of slavery, nor yield to no villainous action.  
But in very deed, to speak of every one in their order, there is none ●o much to be feared, loved, and honoured as the Rulers and Leaders of the common people.  
For the peaceable Governor, and such as are experimented in Worldly policies, knows how to make war, and how to avoid troubles: and as they are loath to fall from rest and wealth, to ruffeling War and wickedness, that breeds bloodshed and want: So they can break the bands of peace, and set men out to the field, when causes commands them, and opportunity doth serve. But since that my purpose is but to treat of Soldiers alone, (and that I lack skill to set forth the rest) I will return to my first Discourse and intent, and leave the wise to consider, what good matter may be said in the thing I leave off.  
The Soldier because his life is in balance, and his death is at the door, hath so many mischiefs to pass, & so few means to escape danger: that he is compelled to be honest, and be ready to make an account every hour of the day. For as the Cannon may call him before he be aware, or the policy of the enemy may cut off his years: so is he assured that the pot, which goeth often to the water, comes home with a knock, or at length is pashed all in pieces. Through which accidents or cross chances, he is held so hard, and kerbed so short (if any fear of God be in his breast) that he hath no scope to run at riot in: nor play the parts of a wanton, or prodigal son.  
Albeit some hold opinion, that Soldiers be given to spoil and offered to insolent life, by a number of inconveniences: yet may they so well be occupied in war, that they may be occasion of great good, and a great hinderer of many harms. For when houses are ready to be burnt, impotent persons, poor women and children ready to be slain: they may save what they list, and preserve an infinite number of things, that a man at home can do no good in, nor none but the Soldier in the field, hath power to comfort and secure. And for certame I know Soldiers of that disposition, that hath been occupied in these honest actions: when some Helhoudes have been spoiling and murdering, and found by their folly and over great cruelitye, a dispatch of their own days, and peradventure the terrible wrath of God, and damnation to their souls.  
My Prince may be well served, and the Enemy not always to the uttermost persecuted: the Lesson that Saint john Baptist gave the soldiers, may suffice for this matter, and carry men's minds from violence, and doing wrong, to qualify fury, and maintain right, with a regard to the innocent, that ought not to be touched, for the offence of an ambitious Leader, or one whose faults the ignorant may not answers This point though simply it is passed over, may contain a large volume: and is to be looked into with a divine 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 Christian consideration.  
Then if the soldiers (as few there are in number) be honest and is to be proved, they are not to be reproved: it follows that honour and reputation accompanies those soldiers, and that a singular privilege and liberty, may be had for those that have such regard of their fame, that they will do no any one thing prejudicial to their credit, in the compass of which regard is knit, valiancy, modesty, pity, & hope of another life to come: when th● affairs of this world shall dutifully and honestly be finished.  
And for that the reader hereof shall not think, but that great Princes thought their Soldiers to be honest, & men that were worthy the making of (whose doings & regard did argue and show a special hope of another place to go to, or a certain fame and credit here to be maintained) I will show you as I have gathered by translation, how triumphant kings & princely potentates, did ordain, set down, and deliver a law & rule for soldiers. By the which they had honour, liberty, & prerogative above, and beyond the Commoners, or common course of people. The translation I speak of is not long and tedious, but bringing willing minds to hear & know the truth you may read if leisure permit, and you peruse that followeth.  
First you must mark (and make a good note of) that Heralds were at the beginning soldiers, and were called ancient knights, as well it seemeth to be true: for they (I meant Heralds) being brought up in war, beheld who deserved renown, and had by their authority and experience, a power to give Arms and sign of honour to those, which for well doing in field or public state, did merit remembrance, which power and place of the Herald doth plainly express: that from the field, or honourable offices at home, sprung up our gentility, & generation of Gentlemen. For as every man's blood in a b●son looks of one colour: and when Adam was created, and a long while after, men were all alike. So virtuous acts that shines to the heavens, hath made them to be honoured and advanced▪ where vicious livers, and bloodthirsty wretches were accursed of God, and hated of man. And had a mark set upon them to be known by, and be a testimony to the world, that they were not worthy of honour, and were appointed to reproach. Let Cain that killed his brother Abel (by an unjust war) be a witness in this behalf.  
Aeneas Silvius doth derine Heralds of ab Heroibus, of Noble men:  
For Heroes were ancient Knights, otherwise called Soldiers, and an Herald signifieth Centonicum vocabulum (videlicet) and old man of Arms, or an old Knight, but at this day (said Aeneas a long while since) certain servile men, feeble and weak messengers, which never have played the Soldiers, do profess that office. The privileges and offices of the Heralds in ancient time, to this day continuing nevertheless. And the first author of them was Bacchus, which India being conquered, did call them by this name: I absolve you of Wars and travel, and will that you be ancient Soldiers, and to be called Heroes. Your office shall be to provide for the Common weal, to try out the original of causes, and to praise the wise: you shall call for greater rewards, in what place or Country you shall come. And the Kings shall give you meat and apparel. You shall be most honourable to all men. Prince's shall offer unto you many things, and shall licence you their apparel. Credit shallbe given to your sayings, you shall abhor lies. You shall judge traitors and Adu●●terers. These infamous persons ye shall punish: and in every Nation you shall have liberty, and sure egress and regress shall be unto you, if any man shall gain say any of you in word or deed, let him die with the sword.  
Alexander the Great hath annexed to these privileges of noble men after a long season, that they might use purple, golden and beautiful garments. And that they should bring in princely and notable Arms at every place, in any Country or Region soever it shall be If any man shall repulse these without respect, or secretly defame in word, he shall be accounted guilty of death, and deposition of goods. And so the same Aeneas doth say, Tucidides, Herodotus, Didimses, Magashones, and Zenophon together.  
Thirdly, than Octavian August, the Roman Monarch being established, hath beautified them on this condition: Who so ever (said he) hath played the Soldier with us, the space of ten years, and be of the age of forty years, whether he be horseman, or else footman, he shall have his wages▪ and afterwards be absent from wars, be a noble man and old Soldiers. No man shall forbid thee the Ctity, the Market, the Church, Hospitality and house: no man shall impute any fault to thee, thou shalt be discharged of that blemish or burden: no man shall ask any thing of thee, if thou make fault in any thing, only look thou for Caesar's vengeance: for what filthiness men shall impute, let them fear thee being a judge and corrector▪ whether they be private, or Princes: what so ever thou sayest, thou shalt affirm, and no man contrary. All journeys and places shall be free and plain to thee: let thy meat and drink be in the houses of Princes, and take daily of the common treasure, wherewithal to keep thee and thine house. Marry thou a wife of comely beauty, and esteem her above all other. Whom thou wilt check and reproach with infamy, thou shalt say this man is an infamous reprobat. Arms, Ensignee, names and ornaments of noble men bear thou. Do what things become Kings, and what thou wouldst do or say in every place and Nation, make mention of it: if there be any injurious person, let him die.  
And last of all Cha●les the Great, the name of the Empire being translated to the Germans, after the conquest of the Saxons and lombards. Caesar called Augustus, hath rewarded them with this honour, saying: My Knights, you noble men, fellows of Kings and judges of faults, live after your labour, without travail, provide for Kings in a common name. Take away vice. Favour women. Help children. Keep council of the Prince, and of him ask your apparel, & stipend: and if any deny, let him be accounted presumptuous and slanderous. If any shall do you injury, let him acknowledge himself guilty of impairing the Empire. But take you heed lest you defile such worship, and such privilege, gotten by just travail of war, either by drunkenness, bawdry, or any other vice: neither that we give unto you, should redound unto praise, or peace, which is to be taken of you. If perhaps you shall exceed us, and our successors Kings of the Romans for ever hereafter.  
These before rehearsed word for word, as I might I translated out of Latin, finding therein a marvelous commendation of Soldiers, and so is thereby to be perceived, that in all ages, times, and public governments, Kings and mighty monarch, took care as much for their men of war, as for their Commonweal: and to bring them in heart if any despair or mislike, should grow through slackness of looking unto. The Princes of their princely benignity, and mere good will borne to Marshal people, invested them with titles, names and honours, such as always plucks up a man's courage, and procures thousands to valiancy and service. For who will not venture boldly a season, when they know for ten years toil and hazard, he shall be honoured, sit at ease, live without danger, and remain in a perpetual privilege: neither subject to the malice of lewd people, nor worldly want, whose plague persecuteth many millions of men, and throws down in the dust the praises of such, as otherwise should shine like the Sun, before the ●ies of all nations.  
And as those Kings and Conquerors many hundred years ago, ordained by decree and virtue of a Law, that Soldiers should be made honourable, and possess great contentation of mind: So fell it out from time to time, their services were considered. And that soldier-like King and triumphant Conqueror, King Henry the eight, having trial of Soldiers and a warlike heart: to show the honour belonging to that profession, and to follow his noble predecessors: Made a Law as ye may read in the Statutes, that Soldiers might wear what they listed: And further to the comfort of all men of war, he left no one worthy Soldier unrewarded, in what place so ever of his dominion, or affairs the Soldier had been emploide.  
In France, our near neighbours makes so great account of Soldiers (namely those that they call Soldado Vetche) that the greatest Dukes or Princes in the field, Court, or Town, encountering a Soldier, salutes him with courtesy, takes him to his Table, and useth him with such entertainment and reverence, that it is a world to behold. And when service is to be seen, either in battle, or at an assault: The greatest Duke or noble man, thinks himself happy to be joined with a known Soldier: and commonly both old and young of their nobility, are foremost in the ●ight, and last that will retire. It is a thing incredible among some ignorant persons, to be told how soldier-like, and manlike in all points they behave themselves, and how little account they make of life, when death must be sought by service, and thereby their honour and liberty of Country, is to be preferred.  
The Spaniards, a Nation not inferior to any yet named, join so in amity at their meeting, make such courtesy, and show such fastness of friendship (especially among Soldiers) that every one in presence embraceth his companion, and in absence, let's fall good report of the absent. Yea, their love and constancy by custom and ceremonies, knits them in such an union, that no stranger can separate: and they give so great place one to another, that it is hard to know by their gestures and usages, which is the better of them. And they have their own Soldiers in such a liking, that no people in the world, shall be suffered to reap any piece of their glory.  
The Italians Soldiers of great antiquity, and of no less value with most humility and civil manner, enterchaungeth their talk: yielding for one gentle word, twenty good terms, smooth speeches, and philed phrases. And happening to come together, either in service, or otherwise: they agree like brethren, and departed without quarrel. And their great men and mightiest in power, if they repair where Soldiers are, shows themselves of little authority, as a man might guess by their courtesy: Refuseth to take any thing upon them, wh●re the Marshal man approacheth, and seemeth to be at the disposition of such as have served, so great is the reputation of a Soldier among them.  
The Scots men, a stout and manly people, beginning to take a savour in the war, seeks sundry soils to serve in: and have great delight to be in the company of soldiers, and prove themselves worthy of commendation in any place they repair. And for that they would become famous, and attain to some experience and credit, they shun no kind of service that is offered: and all the sorts of Gentility among them, esteemeth much a Soldier. Which is a sign that at the length, Soldiers will come to their ancient dignity and admiration, where the sound of Drum or Trumpet may be heard.  
Now to speak of our own Nation were superfluous, (although many have served well, and sundry are yet in the exercises of war) because I have named before diverse things wherein our country men have won desired fame and renown, yet for arguments sake, and to enlarge this volume. Further matter may be treated of, neither hurtful to the hearers, that favoureth well doing: nor hateful to any when nothing shall be touched, but that which is necessary for the advancement of virtue.  
Our sovereign Lady by God's providence (to make up the matter) I bring for a testimony of great regard to Soldiers, considering whom they are she hath helped, in some sort and respect, and what good things have passed among Soldiers, as her highness heard well of, or had intelligence given her to understand, the worthiness of those that have well deserved. Do but examine how many since her noble reign, of Soldiers have had Leases, gotten livings, been preferred to government, and gone from Court with full hands, that began with empty purses. And then tell the world openly, what secret suits were passed and what open wrong they do them, that bountifully bestowed good gifts, where any good cause appeared. Admit some by the report of their friends, stole away the benefits from the fountain head: yet look to the rest of things that worthily fell out, and you shall see the best sort of Soldiers worthily rewarded, and nobly used. What care we though some silly souls, or serviceable Soldiers watch at receipt, or are not spoken for by mean of some hinderers of good hap. Yet since other some, and many in number have found good Fortune, (say what they can) at her highness hands that now remaineth Queen over our Country, we cannot but confess that the candle is in, and not burnt so far, but may give a gracious blaze and a new light, to lighten the minds of Soldiers, and such as sit in the comfortless shadow of dark despair.  
So to make short and prove for the purpose, Soldiers in times past have been set by, and dearly esteemed, and presently in all places of the world embraced and made of. From whom sprung heralds, the erectors and publishers of Gentlemen, & all true fame and honour did rise: as for example, a Knight made in the field, especially for service sake, hath much more to rejoice of, than he that at home is called to worship, except in causes of government and honourable offices, which are to be preferred before all other dignities and calling. chiefly for that our whole public state and princely order, depends on their wisdoms without the which order, and Majesty of rule, the civil would become savage, and the world wax wild: so that the beasts in the field, and the people in the Town, should soon for naughty manners be alike in condition.  
Now here is to be noted, that Soldiers in old time of ten years continuance, being forty years of age, was suffered to live quiet, and bore the title of honour. Then reason will grant, that who hath served thirty years, without reproach or shame (and in a dangerous world and mischief) may claim by right a pension of the Prince, and stipend of the common Treasure. But what and if some of good birth and haviour, have been much more than thirty years a follower of the wars, and never out of warlike exercises, all this long season. And yet are as new to begin the world again, as they were the first day they came from their Cradle. For any preferment, favour of the Prince, or countenance and commodity of their country. Such Soldiers may say, they were borne in an unhappy season, or found but could friends in time of regard, and trial of good Fortune.  
The affection of this world is led with such liking, (and the cunning of the wily can so finely curry favour) that he that never came near the danger of the Cannon, with looking big, and turning up his mouchacho, makes men believe he is a devil, who fearing the monster will do some mischief. And carried away by affection (for the goodly show this kill Cow hath made) speak for him where goodness is to be gotten, and so a swad or a swirnpipe is called a good Soldier, (and goeth away with credit and living) when he that wants this cunning, and yet lacks no courage nor value lives unrewarded, and consumes his days in sorrow.  
Yet some holds opinion, it is but hap that helps, and neither cunning nor deserts that compasseth good livings, and attains unto benefit. Full bare and poor is that argument and reason, and men of such opinions, are as blind as a beetle: to believe he is happy that hath no worthiness in him, and he unfortunate that lacketh no virtues. But the world is most ignorant and much to be blamed, that helpeth a shadow to great substance, and lets the worthy shift for their living that deserveth reward. and they are not to be excused, that by a colour of hap, advanceth the vicious person, and favours not the forward Soldier, and men of virtuous disposition. For gold and silver are known by their weight and goodness: The flower by the smell: The horse by his pace, and every other thing is tried and made of for his value. And must the merits of men be subject to hap, where men do help men, and are the judgers of man's doings: that case is too cruel, and that hap is accursed gotten by such blindness, and purchased by such partiality.  
In Rome where noble minds were marvelously extolled, yet when diverse men came to be preferred: every Senator a part had 〈◊〉 many followers, that one would hinder another: and look who the best people favoured, the worst sort would hate. And look who followed Pompey was misliked of julius Caesar, and so by this factious dealing many great Soldiers, eloquent Orators, and noble members of the Common wealth, were put off from post to pillar. And few that were worthy of cherishing, found good chance, or possessed any part of the hap, that they justly might claim, by which frowardness and misery of the time, is plainly to be proved, that there is no hap certain. For man himself is the maker of hap, and the marrer thereof: even as his lust is to like, or his heart is bend to loath. For hap could do nothing at all among them, their affections were so far a sunder, and they haled such several ways, that their followers were left in the lash, or failed of their footing. Then speak not of hap, for God and good men are the distributers of desired Fortune, and the only causers of that which betideth, and must fall of necessity on some men's shoulders, as in the Book of Boetius de consolation, is manifestly to be tried.  
Now leave of hearing of hap, and note how nobly the Romans used their Soldiers, namely those that at any time had succoured a Citizen of Rome: and taken him out of the hands of his enemies. For such soldiers as had done that service, was crowned with a garland or hat, made of the leaves of Trees, as I find written in Pliny the xvi. Book the fourth Chapter, the chiefest whereof that serveth for my purpose, I have translated out of French. Pliny bringing many great authors to affirm his saying, the matter followeth.  
The greatest honour that could be done to a Soldier, was to Crone him with a Crown called Civiques, and likewise of long time this Crown Civiques was due unto Emperors, in sign of clemency. For since the civil wars had harmed the Romans', it was thought a singular good deed, to let a Citizen live in rest and peace. Likewise there was no Crown compared to that Crown: For those ●hat were given to that Soldier, that was first at the breach, or first on the walls, or ramparts of the enemies, was not so honourable, no, although they were of gold, and thereby were more rich. We have seen saith Pliny in our time, two great triumphs for the Sea service, the one was of Marcus Varro (the which Pompey did Crown, for having defeated the Pirates, and making the Sea clear of thieves) the second was of Marcus Agrippa, which Caesar did likewise Crown, for having defeated the Sicilians, and purged the sea in like sort of Brigands and Robbers.  
At the first foundation of Rome, Romulus did Crown Hostus Hostilius with a garland of leaves: because he was the first on the Walls, at the taking of Fidena. Now before a Burgoies should at any time enjoy this Crown Civique, he must rescue a Roman Citizen, and kill the Enemy that led the Citizen away Prisoner. It must be likewise that the Enemy did hold and possess the place, that same day that the Roman Citizen was rescued in. It is necessary that the man which hath been succoured, should confess the same before the people: For a Soldiers own witness in that behalf, serves to no purpose. And furthermore it is required, that he that was rescued, be known to be a Burgois of Rome. For if one do rescue a King, that cometh to serve the Romans', he doth not merit for the same the Crown Civique. In like sort, if one do rescue a general of an Army, he gets no more honour therefore, then though he had rescued a simple Citizen. For they which established this ordinance had no regard, but to the conservation of the Citizens of Rome, whosoever they were. The Privilege of this Crown shall be to give power, to wear a Hat of broad leaves, as oft as he pleased that had been once Crowned for his well doing. Further all the Senate had a custom, to rise out of their places, and to do honour to them that have had this Crown, when they go to see the common plays and pastimes. And it is sufferable and permitted, that they shall sit in a seat near the Senators. And they shall be exempt from all civil charges, not only themselves, but their natural Fathers and grandfathers: And now behold touching their Privileges, there was one Cicinius Dentatus, according as we have said, Crowned fourteen times. And one Capitolinus had six times been Crowned, for he rescued Servilius, than General of the Army: notwithstanding Scipio African would not suffer them to give him the Crown Civique, succouring his Father in the journey of Trebia. O ordinance worthy of immortality (saith Pliny) that assigneth no other praise for such great works, than this great honour, which surpasseth all other warlike Crowns.  
Thus far goes the very words of Pliny, & many (other ancient Authors that I could rehearse) in the commendation of men of War, which neither in Tholomeus time: Artaxerses days: nor any of the mighty monarch long reigning before, could be forgotten, but were so honoured, that laws ● orders was only devised for the enlarging of their Land, and stirring up their noble minds.  
Yea, Soldiers and heralds had power to denounce wars, insomuch as the ancient Romans': who were the Fathers of all Martial affairs, and conquerors of the world, held this for a most certain rule.  
Nullum bellum justum esse nisi pro rebus injust ablatis & quod fecialis Romani antea denunciabant. Which rule and order of the Romans', for the power and honour of soldiers and Heralds: declareth they are of great dignity and calling, & may compare by this there authority, to be no whit inferior to the best sort of Gentlemen.  
You may read in like manner, that there was a man among the Romans', that merely, or peradventure in contempt, put a crown Civique upon his own head: and looking out at a great window into the street, was espied. And thereupon apprehended, and brought before the Senate: where he was judged presently to be put to death, for touching and abusing that crown Civique, which was ordained for the wearing only of an honourable Soldier, and for such a one as had been by desert crowned with Triumph and Solemnity in open audience. So this foolish man (albeit he might mean but little harm) was had to the place of execution, and there lost his life, to the great terror of those that rashly meddle with things that become them not, and to the great honour of those that are advanced by virtue, and winneth with courage the wearing of this Crown called the crown Civique.  
Now coming down to this present age in the time of our peace, where Soldiers have nothing to do, there is enough spoken (and peradventure too much) for the Soldiers commendation, yet let me lead you a little further in that case, For now is to be proved what degrees of Soldiers (having served long, or borne any office of credit) are gentlemen, and may unrebukable be bold to take that name and title upon them. First you have heard, that serving ten years honestly and truly, he is not only past his prenticeship, but also above a journey man, and aught from all ioyrneis to be spared. As a man might say, (though unproperly compared) a good free horse after his long labour, and many great journeys is to be ridden but seldom, and kept in the stable till extreme necessity requireth: and then is to be used gently, lest his stiff limbs and old body deceives the Rider's expectation. So a Soldier coming to this age and perfection, or being past the jollity of youth and youthful actions: ought to be provided for, and may without presumption plead for arms, albeit he never gave any before, and can bring no great proof of his house, gentry, or dissent, and though he be the first of that house, stock, & name that gave arms: his beginning is allowed of all our ancient writers and Princes, and shall put his adversaries to silence, when in that point they seek to deface him.  
I remember once I saw and heard an Italian (being in the Emperor Charles the fifth his Camp) so stand on his reputation, that when a mean Gentleman quarreled with him, and desired the Combat, he answered he had been (Soldado vetch) an old Soldier, and had borne office, and passed through sundry Offices by order: and that the Gentleman was but a young man, and but of two years experience in War, and far unmeet to make challenge with him, that had passed so many steps of honour, and places of credit. But said the Italian to his adversary, go and do that I have done, or pass through the like, and when thou hast mounted up, and trodden on every step that I have passed: come to me and I will fight with thee the Combat. But to say I will stoop so low and abase myself (as a Lord may in fight with a Ruffian) beyond the compass of my calling, I will not, nor no Law of Arms can command me. The matter came in question before the Prince of Orrange that now is dead, and the Duke of Savoy yet living, and the challenger had a foul disgrace in the audience of a multitude: and the defendant had a reward of five hundredth Crowns allowed him by the Emperor, for preserving his honour and estimation so much. This was done and openly seen, a little before the siege of Renttie, and standeth for a good record. Then an old soldier is a Gentleman, both worthy to give arms and colours, and meet to be borne withal in causes of quarrel.  
another proof for the maintenance of my matter, I saw at the siege of Leeth, a Gentleman of great courage and birth (called Master John Soutch) quarrel with Captain Randall, than Mayor of the field. And Master Soutch did urge through ill words and stout language, Captain Randall very far: which might have moved any man living. But Captain Randall in a manner used those words that the Italian had done, before expressed: and going further on in communication, commanded the Soldiers to lay hands on Master Soutch, and swore he would execute him, and learn all other by his boldness, to know their duties. And when Master Soutch was stayed, well quoth Captain Randall since thou hast challenged me, I will not use my power and authority over thee: But by the faith of a soldier, when I am out of the Sergeant majors room I will meet thee, and make thy heart ache for those words thou haste given: except thou repent before of thy lewd demeanour. Master Soutch having digested, and wisely weighed this matter: being talked withal of the Captains in the camp, came like a Gentleman on himself, and acknowledged his fault most dutifully, and with great repentance: for which submission of his, he was the better thought on after.  
This shows and declares, that an ancient soldier and Officer hath a great Privilege, and not be compared with, nor offered any injury: because he carries the admiration of the people, and the honour of the field.  
Ye shall find written in the Spanish, and the Language of the Portugal (which Portugals found out the east Indians) that there was a mighty King of Calicute, and many other Kings in the Indians, whose Soldiers were all Gentlemen, and did live ever on the stipend that the King allowed them. And those Soldiers had many Privileges and titles of honour, and stood so much on their reputation: that they would not touch a Husband man's hands, nor suffer a Rustical fellow to come into their houses. And the Husband men were bound when the Soldiers go in the streets, to cry with a loud voice, to make place for the Soldiers. For if those Gentlemen did come, and bid the Common people go out of the way, and they do not obey their commandment therein: It was sufferable for the Gentlemen Soldiers, to kill those obstinate and proud people. And furthermore the King could not make Gentlemen: i● they were not borne of some Noble stock, of the race of Soldiers. They could not take their weapons, nor enter into Combat, before they were armed Knights. They must at the age of seven years be put to learn to play with all Weapons, and to the end they should be perfect, their Masters do hale their arms very far out (thereby to stretch their limbs) and afterward they teach them such Fence, as is apt for that purpose. They did by an ordinance and custom of theirs, honour and salute their Masters that had taught them at the Weapons, (which were Graduates and cunning men) wheresoever they met them in the street. They were bound two Months in the year to ply their school, and take a Lesson at their masters hands. By which reason they were very skilful of their Weapons, and for that cause they greatly esteemed themselves. They could not be knighted, but by the Kings own hands, who asked them before he laid his hand on their heads: if they could observe and keep the custom and ordinance of gentlemen Soldiers, and they said and answered the king. They minded to take that profession of Arms upon them: and so the king caused a Sword to be girded about them, and after embraceth those Gentlemen so knighted, than they did swear to live and die with him, and for him, which oath they would keep and observe. For if their Lord were slain in the War: they would fight to their last breath, and kill him that had slain their King. Or if at that instant they could not bring their purpose to effect, they would watch and spy out a convenient season, for the performance of their promiss and oath. And undoubtedly some of them would revenge their masters death. They had a great regard to their duty and endeavour. They thought nothing so precious as fidelity, and their Prince's favour. They cared not for life: so glory might be gotten by their death. They served most faithfully under them, that gave them entertainment. They spared nothing, but spent liberally. They applied their only studies for the maintenance of their king and Country. They would not suffer any dishonour, nor offer any injury. They thought it a double death to lose their good name. They made no account of their meat, money, sleep, or ease and little esteemed their own lives or persons when they should make proof and show of their manhood. Their wages and stipend was so much and so well paid, that every one of them might live gallantly: and the meanest might keep to wait on him a man or a boy. The Law was that they might not marry, and yet had Lemen and Women appointed by order, which they kept and used well, and all quarrels was avoided by that means. For they might not company with their women, but at certain seasons appointed. Thus they passed over their life time, without the care and trouble of Wife and Children. They might forsake upon a good cause any of their Lemen. And their Women might at their own wills forsake the men. All those that accompanied these Soldiers were Gentlewoman, and of good birth, but might not be married to any person after she had been at the Soldiers commandment. And because many men by their often changing, happen to have the company of one Woman, they fathered not any Child, though it were never so much like them: and therefore their Brother's children did always inherit their Lands and goods. And this Law that those Gentlemen Soldiers should not marry, was made by a King, that would not have a man of War to fix his love on a wife and children, nor thereby to wax feeble spirited and effeminate. But the king ordained, because these Gentlemen should have no womanish manners nor minds: that they should have all things at their wills, and live in such liberty, as no one thing might draw them from noble service, nor command them to servile drudgery. And because they should be the more animated to live in noble order, and encouraged to serve well: they were privileged, that no man might imprison them for any cause, nor they might not be put to death by any mean of ordinary justice. Howbeit when one killed another, or did sleep with a Country Woman, or did speak evil of the king then reigning. Then would the king having just and true information of the matter, make a Writing and send the same to a head Officer, commanding him to cut in pieces the offender, wheresoever he was found. And after he was dead, there should be hanged about him the kings Writing, to show the people wherefore he suffered: but no Law nor justice could touch him, before the king had justly condemned him.  
So by this Liberty and honour that Soldiers had, is well to be seen, that none by: Caesar might meddle with men of War. And it seemeth this liberty was fetched from Alexander's days, who called his old soldiers Noble men, and gave them noble privileges and rewards: to cause the World that did follow, to augment their renown, and spread their fame to the highest Heavens, that have been valiant on earth and Noble of mind. Which great foresight of Alexander and other great Princes to advance Soldiers: hath made men more like Gods, than earthly creatures, and done such good to the World thereby, that there is no World, but will make of men of War, and give place to the goodness of those, that strive by stoutness of heart, and labour of body to enlarge the limmets and bounds of his Country.  
The effect of this above expressed, was drawn out of Spanish, and remains among Christians, as a matter worthy noting, though Infidels did observe them.  
Now though a man have had charge, and borne a number of Offices: yet the name of an old soldier beautifies his title. But yet particularly I will go through the offices, as briefly as I may, and therein show who may justly be called Gentlemen among them. A Colonel, a Captain, and Ensign bearer. A Lieutenant, a Corporal, a Sergeant of the band, and old soldier though he never bore any office, are all gentlemen, granting and allowing that none of the officers were made for affection at home. But had their beginning by service in the Field, and a●e known of good courage and conduct, and well experimented in Martial affairs. The rest of other officers, that have noble rooms and places in the Camp, needs no setting out: for all men know such officers as are chosen, (and made by the most noble in any government) are not to be treated off, for that every soldier gives them due honour and place.  
You may not look for at my hands, the original & discourse of all gentlemen, albeit I go as far as I dare in that behalf. For I love not to meddle with thankless labour, and would be loath to rove beyond my reach and knowledge: in a matter that my betters, as yet have not dealt withal. For a doubtful attempt, brings a dangerous construction. And with drawing a strong Bow, a weak arm waxeth weary. Wherefore I go no further in this matter, desiring the Reader to bear with my boldness herein, and regard soldiers as they deserve.  
FINIS.   


TO THE RIGHT Worshipful, Sir john Savage Knight, one of the Lieutenants of Cheshire.  
MY good and affectionate Worshipful friend for many courtesies I promised to dedicat some verses unto you, and finding no subject better to write upon then the maintenance of Hospitality, I thought a little to touch the loss of time, and charges that a number of Gentlemen spendeth at London, not any whit thereby blemishing the good bruit of that honourable City (so I pray you understand me) but showing the inconvenience that cometh by over great charges bestowed and spent where nothing is gathered again, nor reaped at the last but repentance, or such cold acquaintance, as when money is gone will scarce know a man in time of necessity, this being spoken generally of all the places and Cities in the world, where men shall find but strangeness, when their own wealth and estate gins to decline.   

A Discourse of Gentlemen lying in London, that were better keep house at home in their Country.  

I Muse why youth, or age of gentle blood,  
Borne unto wealth, and worldly worship here:  
In London long, consumes both land and good,  
That better were, at home to make good cheer.  
In London still, they find all vittells dear,  
Hoist up a height, to bring our purses low,  
And send men home with empty bags ye know.   

The streets with fields, may never matched be,  
For all sweet air, at will abroad we find:  
What is it then, in London that they see.  
But Country yields, and better glads the mind.  
Perhaps some say, the people are so kind:  
And courteous to, in stately civil Town.  
As men thereby, wins credit and renown.   

First for they seem, in City fresh and fine,  
Most gay to eye, and gallant as a rose:  
But shall a man, for pleasure of his eyen.  
And pomp or pride, of painted goodly cloes,  
He sees abroad, at home his credit lose.  
Our Elders did, not so delight in trash,  
And tempting toys, that brings a man in lash.   

For when they came, to London there to stay,  
They sent fat beans, before them for their store:  
And went sometimes, a shooting all the way.  
With all their train, and household that is more:  
Yet were they not, at no less charge therefore:  
Kept house in Ins, and fed the poor thereby.  
That in hard world, may now for hunger die.   

They tarried not, in Town to card and dice,  
Nor follow long, lewd lusts that loathsome are:  
Which breeds rebuke, and fosters secret vice.  
And makes tame birds, to fall in Satan's snare,  
They loud plain robes, but hated purses bare,  
Made much of men, gave neighbours beef and bred,  
Yet left their airs, great wealth now they are dead.   

Their care was still, to keep good house and name,  
Spend they might spare, yet spare where cause they found,  
And librall be, when bounty purchased fame.  
And let flood run, where water did abound.  
Ruled all with wit, and wary judgement sound,  
Not bend in braves, great havoc for to make.  
But drawn and mo●de, to spend for virtues sake.   

Gave much to poor, that craved an alms at gate,  
Kept buttery door, for strangers open still:  
Made neighbours eat, that early came or late.  
By which they won, the countries great good will,  
Can serve the Prince, with coundit men and skill:  
With their own charge, and poor a rare thing now,  
That seld is seen, with love and power throw.   

They raised no rents, to make the tenant whine,  
Nor clapped no yoke, on friendly neighbour's neck:  
Nor made poor folk, find fault with cutthroat fine.  
But had the hearts, of people at a beck,  
As we have now, our servants under check.  
O how plain men, would follow Landlord than.  
Like swarms of Bees, when any wars began.   

Yea glad was he, that might with master go,  
Though charge and wife, be lest at home behind,  
In this fine world, the manner is not so.  
Hard handling makes, men show another mind,  
Then loyal love, made men's affection blind.  
Now can they see, and will do what they list.  
Cast of like Hawks, comes when they please to fist.   

What change find you, young masters in these days,  
What hath drawn back, the forward minds of men:  
What makes sometime, pr●st soldier run his ways.  
What makes this world, much worse than world was then.  
I dare not now, express the cause with pen.  
But lay your hands, upon your breast and wink.  
And you shall guess, what of these things I think.   

Gay golden robes, and garments pownced out,  
Silk laid on s●●ke, and stitched o'er the same:  
Great loss and play, and keeping revel rout,  
With grosser knacks, I list not now to name.  
Hath by abuse, brought world clean out of frame.  
And made them rich, and proud, that borne were bare.  
Yet lives by lust, and sale of paltry ware.   

Our fathers wore, good frees to keep them warm,  
And kendal green, in summer for a show:  
Might better to, take trifles for a farm.  
Then these that now, in silks and velvets go,  
The former age, made tenants duty know:  
To Landlords all, and so their cates they sold,  
As much for love, as now they sell for gold.   

Now is the case and custom altered clean,  
The tenant he, in deed will part from nought:  
For landlord's weal, nor lose by him a bean,  
Nor sell him thing, that is not dearly bought,  
At tenant's hand, what ever may be sought.  
bears double price, as though the farmer might,  
Live on himself, and set his Landlord light.   

This breeds contempt, in vassal past all cry,  
And makes the Lord, rack up his rents a height:  
And take great fines, you see wherefore and why.  
And load the backs of Farmers with great weight.  
This makes wise men, use many a craft and sleight.  
To punish churls, and pinch them near the bone,  
That doth small good, yet all would have alone.   

Why plead they want, where plenty is great store,  
And God hath blest, the earth with fruit and grain:  
They say because, they charged are so sore.  
To pay such rent, and take such toil and pain.  
Well well there doth, a fault in both remain.  
The one will not▪ let nought in market fall,  
The other still, in London spendeth all.   

Like one that flings, more water in the seas,  
Or casts away, his gold where it is lost:  
The Gentleman, is seldom well at ease.  
Till that he ride, to London all in post.  
And up and down, the dice and cards be lost.  
When he a while, about the streets doth room,  
He borrows pence, at length to bring him home▪   

O saith the boy, or girl that keeps the bar,  
This man is free, and frank where ere he goes,  
And spends as much, as doth a man of war,  
That comes from spoil, and conquest of his foes,  
Cries fill the pot, the ebbing water flows.  
The chencks are here, we have enough to spend,  
Set all agog, until bad world amend.   

O Lord how soon, a man is over his shoes,  
That wades and steps, in stream or water deep:  
How soon from town, in country we have news,  
That some spends all, for they can nothing keep,  
If such lads were, at home in bed a sleep.  
'Twere better sure, then lie in London thus,  
Upon the score, or like bankrupts iwus.   

Fine shops and sights, fine dames and houses gay,  
Fine wares fine words, fine sorts of meat is there,  
Yea all is fine, and nothing gross they say.  
Fine knacks costs much, costs spoils us every where  
Spoil is a worm, that wealth away will wear,  
A canker crept, in Court for some men's cross,  
That eats up lands, and breeds great lack and loss.   

Expense and spoil, waits hard on braveries heels,  
With daily debt, and danger of disgrace:  
A crew of Dickas, as world went all on wheels,  
With swashing Tom, and goodman Maple face,  
In sundry cloaks, and thread bare liveries base,  
That never ware, ne badge, nor sign of thrift.  
But certain signs and shows they live by shift.   

And in the neck, of all this reckless band,  
Comes thought and care, in sad and mourning weed,  
And sore forethinkes, that he hath sold his land.  
Or laid to gage, good leases and old deeds.  
No better fruit, we ce●pe of ill sown seeds,  
But heavy sighs, or 〈◊〉 thistles bare,  
That doth destroy, good ground where ere they are.   

Spoil brings home plagues, to wife & children both,  
When husband hath, at play set up his rest:  
Then wife and babes, at home a hungry goeth,  
(Thrice every week) where seld good meat is dressed.  
With rusty broach, the household all are blest.  
For potched eggs, in good hour be it spoke:  
Must for a shift, make kitchen chimney smoke.   

A fine devise, to keep poor kaett in health,  
A pretty toy, to mock an Ape withal:  
No matter much, though wife hath little wealth.  
She hath for n●●de, a mess of cream at call,  
A trim young boy, to toss and tirle the ball,  
A 〈…〉, and pretty pus or cat.  
And at a pinch, a great deal more than that,   

Gay gowns and gear, God wots good store enough,  
And fair milk maids, as dainty as a Do,  
That fares as well, as ●ob that holds the plough,  
Yea cheer in bowls, they have sometime ye know:  
Sw●te whey and cruds, a banquet for a Croe,  
Such rule she keeps, when husband is far of,  
Whiles children weeps, that seeds on hard brown loaf.   

Think you these things, nips not the pie crossed near,  
And rubs the gall, that never will be whole:  
The master may, keep revel all the year,  
And leave the wife, at home like silly soul  
What reck of that, who lists may blow the coal,  
Though some do starve, and pine away with want.  
Young lusty lads, abroad lives all aflant.   

Some come to Court, to break up house at home,  
Such keeps a cloak, until a rainy day:  
Some weaves their yarn, and cloth in other loeme.  
At tabling house, where they may freely play:  
Some walk to Paul's, where some makes many a fray  
The greatest sum, are sworn to spend and spoil,  
And riot run, at large in every soil.   

Great cheer is turned, at home to empty dish,  
Great bounty looks, like bare foot beggars bag,  
Great hardness brings, to board ne flesh nor fish,  
Great haste to give, comes limping lame and lag.  
Great show men make, of house but that's a brag.  
For if ten days, at home they keep great fare,  
Three months abroad, for that they absent are.   

England was called, a librall country rich,  
That took great joy, in spending beef and bred:  
In deed this day, the country spendeth mich,  
But that expense, stands poor in little stead:  
For they find nought, where hounds and hawks are fed,  
But hard cold posts, to lean at in great lack:  
Who wants both food, and clouts to clothe their back.   

Alms deeds are dead, and conscience waxeth cold,  
World scrats and scrapes, plucks flesh and fell from bone,  
What cunning heads, and hands can catch in hold,  
That covetous minds, doth seek to wield alone,  
The poor complains, and makes a grievous moan.  
The rich hears all, and keeps all safe in fist,  
As all were his, to spend it as he list.   

Well spend on still, a reckoning must be made,  
When he doth call, that sends you all the store:  
You will be taught, to use another trade,  
Or in the end, full dearly pay therefore  
I wish you well, you can desire no more.  
Way all my words, as you have reason still,  
I find no fault, but speaks this of good will.   

And you dear friend, that in Rocksavage dwell,  
For whom I have, these verses here set down:  
To you no piece, of this Discourse I tell,  
For you lie not, at charge so long in town,  
As others do, that are of like renown.  
Your house at home, you hold in better sort,  
Then thousands do, the world doth so report.   
FINIS.    

A Discourse of an old Soldier and a young.  

To the right Worshipful Sir Henry Kneuet Knight, one of the Lieutenants of Willshire.  
THE world cannot wonder, nor the wise thereof think strange, that experience commands me to keep friends, and my pen doth what it may to purchase me favour, for that is all the fruits of my studies. Which once taken from me I have neither prop to uphold me, nor foundation to stand on: so fea●ing the weakness of my feeble buildings that lies open to envies blast) which suddenly may be blown down, I seek many stays and crave many supportations for the maintenance of my honest mind, and works framed for the world to behold. So good sir Henry among the worthy company of my selected friends I honour you with a small discourse of age & youth, where a little is spoken of the old Soldier and the young, not in dispraise of any of them both, but in the commendation of knowledge, courage, & conduct, under which three virtues consists many noble actions, & so under your favourable sufferance I pass to my purposed matter.   


THere is a strife, a sweet dispute I trow,  
Between two sorres, of men in these our days:  
On which debate, doth many reasons grow,  
That sounds in deed, to each good Soldiers praise▪  
Whose fame my pen is ready for to raise.  
But my intent is first with flat plain truth,  
To treat a verse, or two of age and youth.   

Age is the fire, and father of great things,  
That hath begot, both science, rule, and wit:  
Brought great renown, and honour unto kings,  
And for man's wealth, may well in council sit.  
Youth is for field, and town a member fit,  
To use the sword, in countries cause and right,  
In whose defence, youth hath great force to fight.   

Age may command, because it knoweth most,  
And best can judge, of every thing it knows:  
Hath mighty mind, yet makes but little boast,  
On whose advice, men may their lives repose,  
The worth of youth, stands oft in outward shows,  
That fresh and gay, to world it seemeth still,  
Like bladder fair, that is blown up with quill.   

Age looks like tree, whose bark is rough without,  
When winters waste hath made green leaves to fall:  
But when spring comes, that branch should bud and sprout,  
With threefold fruit, the sprays are loaded all.  
Bare youth looks like, a picture on a wall,  
That stands both mute, and dumb like shadow weak,  
To seek for sense, whom age begins to speak.   

The brute in world, is how old things decrease,  
For that sweet sap, at length forsakes the tree:  
Yet men will ask, old wits in wars or peace,  
Of this or that, what the success shall be.  
In outward shows, young judgements well can see,  
When old men's sights, that wisely looks within,  
The end beholds, as s●one as they begin.   

A great old Oak, long time will acorns bear,  
And small young graffs, are long in sprouting out:  
Some say old wine, is liked every where,  
And all men know, new ale is full of growt.  
Old horse goes well, young titts are much to doubt,  
But sure old gold, is more esteemed than new,  
No hawk compares, with haggard in the mue.   

Old men knows much, though young men calls them fools,  
Old books are best, for there great learning is:  
Old authors too, are daily read in schools,  
New Sects are nought▪ old knowledge cannot miss▪  
Old guise was good, and nothing like to this.  
Where fraud, and craft, and finesse all would have,  
And plainest men, can neither paul nor shave.   

Old Fathers built, fair Colleges good store,  
And gave great goods, and lands to bring up youth:  
Young men loves not, to make of little more,  
But spends away, their thrift to tell the truth.  
Old men were full, of mercy, grace, and ruth,  
And pity took, on those that seemed to lack,  
Young gallants gay, from poor do turn their back.   

Old beaten ways, are ready still to hit,  
These new be-pathes, leads men on many styles:  
An old proverbye, hath no more wor●es than wit,  
New fangled heads, at each old order smiles.  
Old wisdom far, surmounts young foundlings wills.  
Experience is, the Doctor every day,  
That carries close, all knowledge clean away.   

Young hounds are fleet, the old huntes' slow and true,  
Old dogs bite sore, if all their teeth be sound:  
Old ancient friends, are better than the new,  
In younglings love, there is small surety found,  
For like a top, light fancy turneth round.  
Old cloth or silk, made in our elders days,  
Wears long and firm, when new things soon decays,   

Old soldiers are, the beauty of a state,  
Young branches bear, but blossoms many a day.  
Old Doctors can, deep matters well debate:  
Young punies knows, not what old doctors say,  
King Harry's crew, brought conquest home away.  
From Flowdayne field, from France and many a soil,  
And put the proud, by strength and force to foil:   

Old soldiers were, great allexander's aid,  
And chiefest joy, in all the wars he had  
The white grey head, made beardless boys afraid,  
Where grave men ruled, the country all was glad:  
And where they lacked, the fortune was but bad.  
As all things doth, to skill and knowledge yield,  
So old men bear, the honour of the field:   

What needs more proof, of ancient soldiers now,  
Both old and young, are needful members here.  
I want both time, and power to praise them throw,  
For service great, in country's quarrel dear:  
When cause requires, ye know the case is clear,  
These champions must, in field and open plain▪  
With shining sword, the right of kings maintain.    
FINIS.   

A DISCOURSE OF CALAMITY.  

To the right Worshipful my singular good friend Sir William Hatton knight.  
IN the remembrance of a sorrowful loss I had by the death of the last Lord Chancellor, (good Sir William Hatton) and considering your great countenance partly declined by that sudden accident, besides the great soms of money you were left to pay. For the parting from such an honourable friend, I thought (every piece of cause well weighed) you know as well what calamity is as a meaner man, and feeling the smart and weight of that burden, before you were ready to support it, your care and calamity could not be little. First for the loss of so great a comfort, & next for the sorrow & troubles that belongs to such a loss, though lands or livings helps to bear of a piece of the vexasion of mind, yet the body shall always bear to the death a sorrowful imagination of that hasty mishap, the impression thereof shall never go out of your memory, so long as life lasteth. So good sir, in sign of some consolation, I present you a discourse of Calamity, the right path to come to quietness, and the very high way that leads a good mind to think of the immortality of the soul, thus presuming your favourable acception of the same, I pass to the discourse of Calamity, wishing you much worship, hearts ease & health.  
T. Churchyard.   

A Description or Discourse, that declareth how that by tasting of miseries, men are become happy: written for that soldiers always bears the burden of sorrow and suffers more calamity than any other people.  
RIght worshipful, for that calamity and cumbersome chances, do seem intolerable too bear (and for our first father's offence, they are the burdens of life, and companions of man till the hour of his death) I being often charged with the heavy faddle of misfortunes: have taken in hand to treat of a troubled mind, and show what blessedness and benefit to the body and soul this worldly in felicity bringeth.  
As the common afflictions of mankind are many in number, and seem at the first feeling so irksome and weighty, that few can suffer them, or support them. So a multitude of miseries accustometh the mind so long, in the sharpness of sorrows, that a sound judgement is made the more able thereby, to abide the brunt of troubles: and attend for a short season a remedy of misch●e●e●, by proof ●he troth of this is tried. For let the labouring man, or ordinary porter (that daily carries great burdens) be often used to lift up packs: he shall better bear a great burden, than an other that is fine fingered, shall b●e able to heave a small piece of Timber. And there is none that laboureth so sore, but is sure at one time or other, to attain to rest and commodity. So that all sorrows are to be counted, but a sharp sauce to season the appetite, and bring the sweet and delicate dishes into such order, that it glut not the stomach.  
And now to consider how all pleasures are possessed, and profits take their beginnings. The very issue and original of those earthly commodities, springs only from continual care and pain: and laborious vexation of body and mind. The greatest glories, and chiefest seats of honour any where, are gotten and compassed by this kind of calamity, and the least or most sparks of man's delight is maintained (and at the length enjoyed) by the mean of studious labour, and painful exercises.  
But herein to be brief, pain and labour is the portion appointed for man in his pilgrimage, and they that are most persecuted (so they be not tempted above their strength) are most to be thought in favour with God, and happiest among men: if heavenly graces and correction, be measured by the earthly vessels of vanity, that we carry about, which without correction and reforming, would grow so full of filth and corrupt manners, that they neither could hold good liquor, nor serve to any good purpose.  
Do you not behold that the purest metal, with ill looking unto, becometh full of cankers and rust: if it be not scoured, rubbed and roughly handled, his beauty decayeth, and the worth and value of it is little, because it hath lost his virtue and estimation. So man's corrupt Nature, were it not searched with sundry instruments (that takes away the dead flesh, and toutcheth the quick) would putrefy, and wax loathsome to the whole world and to the creature himself, that bears it in his bowels. And for the avoiding of such an inconvenience, calamity must be tasted, and troubles are necessary,, for the keeping clean of a spotted conscience, and frail body puffed up with Pride, and vanity of curious conceits.  
And so I prove adversity, is the bringer home of good spirits, and gentle wits, that wanders after worldly follies, and runs a gadding beyond the bounds of measure, to the utter confines of danger and destruction. Yea, a little trouble and torment▪ produceth great goodness, and bringeth forth noble books, and goodly works, which the liberty of life, and wantonness of pleasure, denies and hinders. As a thing that draws man from the coveting of Fame, and true searching of immortality.  
Man's prosperous estate breeds but idleness, nourisheth vice, contemns virtue, and banisheth good studies and learning: albeit some one among the richest, at one season or other, may look on a book, favour writers and give good speeches of well doing. Yet seldom comes any great work from their hands that are in prosperity. And none in a manner but the afflicted, did at any time hitherto, yield benefit to their country: and knowledge to the universal world. Let Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Cleantes, and a number of poor Philosophers (yea princes of education) be witness of that I speak, from which Philosophers, the fountain of noble Arts & Sciences did spring, and abundantly flow.  
The body pampered, bedecked with beauty, full of ornaments, and set out to sale like flesh in the Shambelles: Either would be bought quickly, or will be tainted in hanging too long in the wind. So that as horses do wax reistie, for want of good usage: and cleanest things taketh corruption, by lack of looking unto (in season). Pleasure and liberty in process of time, makes a man wild, if calamity tame not th● body, and bring the mind in willing subjection.  
Sorrow, sadness, and other passions of this world, that comes by common causes, puts the wits and judgement to such a plunge, (secret shift and policy) that all the senses openly makes a muster, to defend the estimation, and upright body from falling, to which assembly comes Patience, Reverence and Modesty, that the matter is so well taken, injuries are put up, and wrongs that have been offered, works in a wise head, a world of devices, wherein virtue gets victory.  
To bear the comfortable cross of persecution, is the true badge of blessedness, whereby the servant is seen to follow his master, and all the vices of man he mastered, or reform by the crossing chances of this world, and virtuous operation of calamity, which miraculously worketh the distempered mind as the hot Furnace tries out the Gold, and the warm fire brings in temper, and makes soft the hard and coldest Wax. A divine secret to them that are chosen, and familiar example to those, that glories in worldly felicity who knows the natural causes of earthly things.  
If a man might ask wherefore was man made, sent from the highest dignity of pleasures, to this low dungeon of sorrows, and base soil of servitude. It may be answered: Adam was thrust out of Paradise, for offence he had committed, and for that he was form out of the earth, on the race of the earth he should get his food and living, as a vessel ordained to bear all manner of liquor, that is put into it: and as a Creature condemned to taste and feel torments, sorrows, and troubles, wherein man sees God's mercy, and his own infirmities. And refusing to bear and suffer, what is laid upon him, he seemeth to hold an other course than God hath appointed, and so seeketh that he cannot attain. For since the earth was cursed, it never could bring forth but cares, and grief of mind: The only fruit and painful portion, that was from the beginning, prepared for all Adam's children and posterity.  
Now some will reply and say, that the rich and wealthy of the world, that may wallow and tumble on their treasure: Have builded such bulwarks against the assaults of fortune, that no troubles can touch them, nor make them yield to the common calamity of our life, but who soever so thinketh, is utterly deceived. For riches is not gotten nor kept, but with much care and labour, and where it is possessed, it bringeth danger, dread, disdain and a thousand evils with it: Tempting man to riot, and lascivious living, and leadeth the soul to perdition, by a number of infinite follies, except a special grace do uphold it, it runneth headlong into hell, and looketh seldom unto heaven. And commonly when men do grow rich, they surfeit so often with banquets or bibbing, that they are full of diseases, and so shortens their days.  
Which liberty of life, and boldness in abuses (that springs on abundance, the root of disorder) puffs them up in Pride, pampers them in pleasures, and blindeth so their judgements, that they neither can see who deceiveth them, nor find out the right way of heavenly felicity. And yet the flattery of one, and falsehood of an other about them, breedeth such business, and raiseth such storms (where quietness is looked for) that the rich man's house is never without blunder, brabble, and brawlings. So that under the calmest shows & civilest manners, lurketh terrible tempests, and fearful suspicions, which in that kind is a domestical calamity, and misery incurable.  
And so all the jollity and pomp of the earth (enjoyed by inheritance, or purchased by fortune) are accompanied with pain, interlarded with dolor, & mixed with unquietness, and may be compared to a rotten painted wall, that under fair colours, hath many a foul fret, which deceiveth the eyes of them that looks on it▪ or gives those a great overthrow that leaneth against it. But this is no proof the riches is cause of sorrow, but this rather shows that sorrow care, & many misfortunes doth follow riches, & poverty (so it be not bare indigence) is void of hazard, free from fortune's mutability, & counted most happy, in comparison of the goodness that belonged to a blessed life.  
God, in beholding the vices of many, and sees some bent to esteem villainy, or offence: doth cut of their days by sudden mischances (or on a set purpose, through the Divine power) because their evil shall not hurt the good. And regarding the other sort that will, or may amend: leaves them to the touch of their consciences, with good respite and leisure to repent, sending them misery, trouble, and disquietness only as a restraint and bridle, to pluck them from vices. And so calamity may be accounted a precious purgation: and prosperity may be judged a Pestilent disease, which increased, or begun by disordered life, is rather to be called a calamity, & sickness of the soul, than a health of the mind, or good renown to the body.  
Many great personages, being overcome with the casualties of this world, and mutability of fortune, have after their fall into persecution, taken all things in good part, and made but small ado, nor account of their state when adversity approached, and been often time as glad to use the liberty of mind, in a service sort, as they were well pleased, when their bodies took most pleasure, and had the world at commandment. For of necessity storms follow calms: and calamity either last or first, doth visitte an earthly vessel. For some come to Kingdoms from endurance, and some fall to misery from wealth and honour. Dyonisius was glad to keep a School, after he had lost his Empire, and Andronico of Athens when his Country was subdued by the Romans, was feign to serve sundry miserable Masters: and after led a Lion about Rome, to the end of his days. But though I brought a Tyrant and and Infidel, to show that calamity must be tasted: so could I rehearse many Christian princes, that calamity hath touched, and made them as happy by those crosses they have borne, as some others are blessed that makes boast, that have never suffered torment.  
Calamity is like a suppling salve that heals a sore canker. A precious preservative, to keep the head from fury of folly. A gentle medicine to reform an infected conscience. A bitter draft of drink: that purgeth a stout corrupt stomach: A sour syrup or sauce that seasoneth a lewd appetite. And the sweet Salt of man's felicity, without the which no life can be well seasoned.  
Who feels himself afflicted, hath cause to conceive he is not forgotten (where favour is most to be desired) and be that is let alone, to follow his own pleasure, walks as a caste-away, and hath nothing to rejoice of. For his bad spirit leads him to destruction, and his good Angel hath forsaken his company, which is a sign he is given over, to his naughty inclinations, and is suffered to slide or fall down right, when the afflicted by a special grace, is kept from stumblidg.  
The horse that finds the Bridle cast in his neck, runne● out of order about the wild field: And such as loveth lewd liberty, and will not be bridebed, good order runs from them, and foul reproach wa●es at their heels. And if they chance to happen in any hazard, the suddenness of the mischief breaketh their heart, or the woundering of the world, makes the wicked a weary of his life. But such as calamity by custom hath reclaimed, taketh adversity as a qualifier of cursed conditions, and being content to kiss the Rod of perturbation, are made children of promise, and inheritors of the land they have long looked for.  
So blessed be those babes then, who in the trouble of their souls possesseth quietness, and makes account of calamity, to be the perfect way and good mean to felicity and good hap. The feeling of such a scourge and visitation, lately sent me (who got great benefit by his trouble) made me write this trifling treatise of calamity.   
FINIS.   

A Commendation to them that can make gold, showing that many heretofore hath found out the Philosopher's stone.  

To the right Worshipful my worthy great friend, Sir john Russell knight, one of the Lieutenants of Worcester Shire.  
I am bound in goodwill, detted in ordinary duty, and commanded for favour received (good Sir john) to publish openly in some little pamphlet, the great desire I have to be registered in your memory, so that I might merit by deserts, the least part of your affectionate friendship, not common to all but by a free election of mind offered to a few you think, worthy of it, in the purchase of which good liking I would bestow a great portion of my studies, accounting myself happy in dedicating a piece of my last labours to so worthy a knight. The truth is (good sir) in the first prime & presumption of the gift of pen, I followed the fortunate favourets of this world, as well to be favoured at their hands as to be enriched by their haps, being learned that wit by those that lack no wealth in observing that custom, but the higher those favorets were mounted the lower they left me, when some of them slew away I say not with my feathers, and sat on the top of their advancements, gazing on the baseness of my fortune, which strange accident ministered by the mutability of time, makes me choose faster friends, whose noble disposition, breeds greater regard, whose constancies will longer continue, and whose friendships brings forth better fruit. So good sir john knowing your good inclination towards the best sort of men, and faitfullnesse towards your country and friends, I (being tied by good turns to remember you) have devised a discourse I hope delightful for your reading, because in your sundry travels beyond the seas (besides your good exercises at home) you have heard of many excellent men and arts of divers natures and quality. The work I present you is a commendation of them that can or hath made gold, if any such be or hath been, the art whereof I have not only commended, but in some part touched, as far as my simple capacity can reach unto, touching & setting down in verse, with comely terms some sufficient cause how by transmutation of metals, many men have adventured the making of gold. Thus craving the world's goodwill and your favour for the setting forth this bold discourse, I pass to the matter, & wish you much worship, worldly felicity, and heavenly blessedness.  
Thomas Churchyard.   

A Commendation to them that can make gold, showing that many heretofore hath found out the Philosopher's stone.  

WHat words of worth, or ●●led phrase of men.  
May serve my turn, to show rare gifts of grace  
What piercing speech, what tongue or flowing pen  
Is fi● to blaze, the valour of this case,  
My wits are weak, my sense and skill to base:  
To talk or treat, on things of such great weight.  
That seems so drepe, and reacheth such a height,   

With Virgil's verse, and Homer's haughty style,  
In golden lines, should knowledge glory shine.  
Would God one man, were borne in this our Isle:  
Can catch from clouds, great arts and grace divine.  
As he were taught, of all the mu●es nine,  
To know the course of stars and stately skies:  
And how deep seas, and floods do fall and rise,   

If mortal man, may rob the gods of skill.  
And rule the son, the moon and planets all.  
And easily climb, the heavens when he will:  
Or make the spirits, below obey his call,  
Or clap the earth, into a compass small.  
Knowledge is he, nay rather better seed,  
A sacred power, hath knowledge in his head:   

That from the Lord, of life and glory came,  
No earthly gift, nor worldly wicked knack.  
For world is vain, most certain sure I am:  
And all foul arts, makes worlolings live in lack,  
The cleanest minds, are free from ruin and wrack.  
For virtue reigns, and rules this wretched mould:  
And draws from dross, huge heaps of massy gold,   

They never thrive, that works with hags of hell,  
Bare lives they lewd, bare robes and weeds they wear▪  
They seldom want, that in joys doing well.  
Great store of fruit, a happy tree doth bear,  
A blasted branch, but withers every where:  
A virtuous man, whose heart to grace aspires,  
Finds good success, of all his whole desires,   

Great studies gains, great grace and wisdom too.  
Great wisdom looks, into God's sacred throne:  
And few do know, what special grace can do,  
Such secrets great, doth rest in God alone.  
And God gives man, the Philosopher's stone,  
Than who hath that, hath all that can be got:  
And needs not care; for all the world a groat.   

Some say that knows, how god is pleased best,  
Good life helps much, to make men blessed here:  
If that be true, God doth bad life detest,  
where are we then, where shall soul life appear.  
Who hath fair face, who shows a conscience clear:  
Such as can purge, themselves with prayers still,  
Gets greatest grace, and gaineth greatest skill.   

Good arts are arms, to all our bodies throw,  
By force to work, by strength to strike all parts:  
To make stiff stones, or steel to bend or bow,  
As nothing could, escape the reach of arts.  
Scholars in schools, and merchants in their mar●●.  
Can ply their thrift, so they that maketh gold,  
By gifts of grace, have cunning triple fold.   

To catch the heat, of son or fire by light:  
And melt and mix, the metals as they are,  
And put by art, compounds together straight.  
As all should yield, to fine invention rare:  
When science leaves, all hidden secrets bare,  
No mastery then, to work on wax new wrought.  
A picture plain, to answer workman's thought:   

Most nearest God, the cleanest hearts do go.  
They cast of flesh, and Angels nature take,  
And than throw faith, they may move mountains so,  
Gold by that means, a mortal man may make,  
God doth great things, for his great glories sake.  
That world shall see, some vessels God hath chose:  
To whom he doth his hidden gifts disclose,  
seven. of Wisdom.  
The wise king said, he saw how world was made:  
How things began, and how they end again,  
How fruits and flowers, do flourish and do fade.  
How virtues rare, in herbs and roots remain:  
How out of stones, comes dew like drops of rain,  
And how dry dust, and earth that seems nought worth,  
Hides gold in hoard, yet brings great treasure forth:   

He saw what grace, and knowledge could discern,  
What wisdoms eyes, could see in darkest night.  
What God himself, to his elect did learn,  
What man might do, by God's clear lamp of light,  
What might be known, by simple sacred sight.  
And what poor men, by plainness might attain:  
And what fruit comes, by travel toil and pain,   

To gather flowers, and weeds where ere they grow.  
And take up fruit, from tops of trees that fall,  
And mix these things, with floods that ebb and flow:  
And at a beck, to change their natures all.  
Is art at will, and knowledge we it call.  
But to dig out, from dross the gold most fine.  
Is secret skill, and special power divine:   

To make fine glass, and give it form and shape,  
Was sure an art, that few at first did know.  
A painter made, quick birds to pick the grape:  
That pencil had, most finely painted so,  
In doom dead things, life hath been breathed you know.  
Who reads shall see, great knowledge under son:  
That was with men, by grace and virtue won,    

Mercurius Tres migistus king of the Egiptianes'.  

A king there was, of y●er that Hermies hight,  
Who fi●st found out, the cause how gold was made.  
Some at his torch, did there dime candles light:  
That erst did walk, for want of Son in shade,  
Since that in seas, full many wits did wade.  
To sound and see, how far weak feet might go:  
And some did find, the depth thereof I trow,   

G●bar a king, likewise of great estate,  
A volume large, of this great art did write.  
Throw study long, Gebar such knowledge got:  
That in his books, great princes did delight,  
Great things of him, great actors do recite.  
Greater than he, some say was never none,  
For he did teach, how men should make the stone.   

In a vision, much matter may you read,  
Of this rich art, that thousands hold full dear:  
Remundus too, that long lived here indeed,  
Wrote sundry works, as well doth yet appear.  
Of stone for gold, and showed plain and clear,  
A stone for health, arnold wrote of the same:  
And many more, that were too long to name.   

But Ryppley may, not scape my pen as yet,  
Nor Nor●ons books, that are in written hand:  
Two famous clerks, of ripe and ready wit.  
Mere Englishmen, borne both with in this land,  
In the records, of tower their works do stand:  
Let this suffice, how ere the matter seemed,  
Among the wise, this art was much esteemed.     

Hear follows the Tragedy of Shore's Wife, much augmented with divers new additions.  

To the right honourable the Lady Mount Eagle and Compton, wife to the right honourable the Lord of Buckhursts son and heir.  
GOod madame for that the virtuous and good Lady Carry your sister, honourably accepted a discourse of my penning, I believed your Ladyship would not refuse the like offer, humbly presented and dutifully meant, I bethoght me of a Tragedy that long lay printed and many speak well of, but some doubting the shallowness of my head (or of mere malice disdaineth my doings) denies me the fathering of such a work, that hath won so much credit, but as sure as god lives, they that so defames me or doth disable me in this cause, doth me such an open wrong as I would be glad to right with the best blood in my body, so he be mine equal that moved such a quarrel, but mine old years doth utterly forbid me such a combat, and to contend with the malicious I think it a madness, yet I protest before God and the world the penning of Shore's wife was mine, desiring in my heart that all the plagues in the world may possess me, if any holp me either with scroll or council, to the publishing of the invention of the same Shore's wife; and to show that yet my spirits fail me not in as great matters as that, I have augmented her Tragedy, I hope in as fine a form as the first impression thereof, and hath set forth some more Tragedies and Tragical discourses, no whit inferior as I trust to my first work, and good Madam because Rosimond is so excellently set forth (the actor whereof I honour) I have somewhat beautified my Shore's wife, not in any kind of emulation, but to make the world know, my device in age is as ripe & ready, as my disposition and knowledge was in youth, so having chosen a noble parsonage, to be a patrons to support poor Shore's wife's Tragedy again, I commend all the verses of her (old and new) to your good ladyships judgement, hoping you shall lose no honour ●n the supportation of the same, because the true writer thereof with all humbleness of mind and service, presents the Tragedy unto your honourable censure, wishing long life, and increase of virtues fame, to make your ladyships days happy.  
T. Churchyard.   

Hear follows the Tragedy of Shore's wife, much augmented with divers new additions.  

AMong the rest, by fortune overthrown,  
I am not least, that most may wail her fate:  
My fame and brute, abroad the world is blown,  
Who can forget, a thing thus done so late?  
My great mischance, my fall, and heavy state,  
Is such a mark, whereat each tongue doth shoot,  
That my good name, is plucked up by the root.   

This wandering world, bewitched me with wiles,  
And won my wits, with wanton sugared joys:  
In Fortune's freaks, who trusts her when she smiles,  
Shall find her false, and full of fickle toys,  
Her triumphs all, but fills our ears with noise,  
Her flattering gifts, are pleasures mixed with pain,  
Yea, and all her words, are thunders threatening rain.   

The fond desire, that we in glory set,  
Doth thirl our hearts, to hope in slipper hap,  
A blast of pomp, is all the fruit● we get,  
And under that, lies hid a sudden clap.  
In féeking rest, unwares we fall in trap,  
In groping flowers, with nettles stung we are,  
In labouring ●ong, we reap the crop of care.   

Oh dark deceit, with painted face for sho,  
Oh poisoned bait, that makes us eager still,  
Oh feigned friend, deceiving people so,  
Oh world, of thee, we cannot speak too ill:  
Yet fools we are, that bend so to thy skill,  
The plague and scourge, that thousands daily feel,  
Should warn the wise, to shun thy whirling wheel.   

But who can stop, the stream that runs full swift?  
Or quench the fire, that crept is in the straw?  
The thirsty drinks, there is no other shift,  
Perforce is such, that need obeys no law.  
Thus bound we are, in worldly yokes to draw,  
And cannot stay, nor turn again in time,  
Nor learn of those, that sought too high to climb.   

Myself for proof, lo here I now appear,  
In woman's weed, with weeping watered eyes,  
That bought her youth, and her delights full dear:  
Whose lewd reproach, doth sound unto the skies.  
And bids my corpse, out of the ground to rise,  
As one that may no longer hide her face:  
But needs must come and show her piteous case,   

The sheet of shame, wherein I shrouded was,  
Did move me oft, to plain before this day,  
And in mine ears, did ring the trump of brass,  
Which is defame, that doth each thing bewray,,  
Yea though full dead, and low in earth I lay,  
I heard the voice, of me what people said,  
But then to speak, alas I was afraid.   

And now a time, for me I see prepared,  
I hear the li●es, and falls of many wights:  
My tale therefore, the better may be heard;  
For at the torch, the little candle lights.  
Where Pageants be, small things fill out the sights.  
Wherefore give ear, good Churchyard do thy best,  
My Tragedy, to place among the rest.   

Because the truth, shall witness well with thee,  
I will rehearse, in order as it fell,  
My life, my death, my doleful destene,  
My wealth, my woe, my doing every deal,  
My bitter bliss, wherein I long did dwell:  
A whole discourse, by me Shore's wife by name,  
Now shalt thou hear, as thou hadst seen the same   

Of noble blood, I cannot boast my birth,  
For I was made, out of the meanest mould,  
Mine heritage, but seven foot of th'earth,  
Fortune ne gave, to me the gifts of gold,  
But I could brag, of nature if I would:  
Who filled my face, with favour fresh and fair,  
Whose beauty shone, like Phoebus in the air.   

" My beauty blazed, like torch or twinkling star,  
" A lively lamp, that lends dark world some light,  
" Fair Phoebus' beams, scarce reacheth half so far:  
" As did the rays, of my rare beauty bright,  
" As summer's day, exceeds black winter's night,  
" So Shore's wives face, made foul Browneta blush:  
" As pearl stains pitch, or gold surmounts a rush.   

" The Damask rose, or Rosamond the fair,  
" That Henry held, as dear as jewels be,  
" Who was kept close, in cage from open air:  
" For beauties boast, could scarce compare with me,  
" The kindly buds, and blosomes of brave tree,  
" With white and red, had decked my cheeks so fine,  
" There stood two balls, like drops of claret wine.   

" The beaten snow, nor Lily in the field,  
" No whiter sure, then naked neck and hand.  
" My looks had force, to make a Lion yield,  
" And at my form, in gaze a world would stand,  
" My body small, framed finely to be spanned,  
" As though dame kind, had sworn in solemn sort,  
" To shroud herself, in my fair form and port.   

" No part amiss, when nature took such care,  
" To set me out, as nought should be awry,  
" To fornish forth, (in due proportion rare)  
" A piece of work, should please a prince's eye,  
" O would to God, that boast might prove a lie,  
" For pride youth took, in beauties borrowed trash,  
" Gave age a whip, and left me in the lash.   

My shape some said, was seemly to each sight,  
My countenance, did show a sober grace,  
Mine eyes in looks, were never proved light,  
My tongue in words, was chaste in every case,  
Mine ears were deaf, and would no lovers place,  
Save that, alas, a Prince did blot my brow,  
Lo, there the strong, did make the weak to bow.   

The majesty, that kings to people bear,  
The stately port, the awful cheer they show,  
Doth make the mean, to shrink and couch for fear,  
Like as the hound, that doth his master know:  
What then? since I, was made unto the bow,  
There is no cloak, can serve to ●ide my fault:  
For I agreed, the fort he should assault.   

The eagle's force, subdues each bird that flies,  
What metal may, resist the flaming fire?  
Doth not the Sun, dasill the clearest eyes,  
And melt the ice, and make the frost retire,  
Who can withstand, a puissant king's desire?  
The stiffest stones, are pierced through with tools,  
The wisest are, with Princes made but fools,   

If kind had wrought my form, in common frames,  
And set me forth, in colours black and brown.  
Or beauty had, been parched in Phoebus' flames,  
Or shamefast ways, had plucked my feathers down,  
Then had I kept, my fame and good renown:  
For nature's gifts, were cause of all my grief,  
A pleasant prey, enticeth many a thief.   

Thus woe to thee, that wrought my peacocks pride,  
By clothing me, with nature's tapestry:  
Woe worth the hew, wherein my face was died,  
Which made me think, I pleased every eye,  
Like as the stars, make men behold the sky.  
So beauties show, doth make the wise full fond,  
And brings free hearts, full oft in endless bond.   

But clear from blame, my friends can not be found,  
Before my time, my youth they did abuse,  
In marriage yoke, a prentice was I bound,  
When that mere love, I knew not how to use,  
But well away, that cannot me excuse,  
The harm is mine, though they devised my care,  
And I must smart, and sit in slanderous snare.   

Yet give me leave, to plead my cause at large,  
If that the horse, do run beyond his race,  
Or any thing, that keepers have in charge,  
Do break their course, where rulers may take place:  
Or meat be set, before the hungries' face,  
Who is in fault? th'offender yea or no,  
Or they that are, the cause of all this woe.   

Note well what strife, this forced marriage makes,  
What loathed lives, do come where love doth lack,  
What scratching bri●rs, do grow upon such brakes,  
What common weals, by it are brought to wrack,  
What heavy load, is put on patients back,  
What strange delights, this branch of vice doth breed  
And mark what grain, springs out of such a seed.   

Compel the hawk, to sit that is unmande,  
Or make the hound, unraind to draw the dear,  
Or bring the free, against his will in band,  
Or move the sad, a pleasant tale to here,  
Your time is lost, and you no whit the near:  
So love ne learns, of force the knot to knit,  
She serves but those, that feels sweet fancies fit.   

The less defame, redounds to my dispraise,  
I was must, by trains, and trapped by trust:  
Though in 〈◊〉 force, remained yea and nays,  
Unto my friends, yet needs consent I must,  
In every thing, yea lawful or unjust.  
They break the bows, and shake the tree by sleight,  
And bend the wand, that mought have grown full strait.   

What help is this, the pale thus broken down,  
The dear must needs, in danger run astray:  
At me therefore, why should the world so frown,  
My weakness made, my youth a Princes pray.  
Though wisdom should, the course of nature stay,  
Yet try my case, who list, and they shall prove,  
The ripest wits, are soonest thralls to love.   

What need I more, to clear myself so much,  
A king me won, and had me at his call,  
His royal state, his princely grace was such,  
The hope of will, that women seek for all,  
The ease and wealth, the gifts which were not small,  
Besieged me, so strongly round about,  
My power was weak, I could not hold him out.   

Duke Hannibal, in all his conquest great,  
Or Caesar yet, whose triumphs did exceed,  
Of all their spoils, which made them toil and sweat,  
Were not so glad, to have so rich a meed,  
As was this prince, when I to him agreed,  
And yielded me, a prisoner willingly,  
As one that knew, no way away to fly.   

The Nightingale, for all his merry voice,  
Nor yet the Lark, that still delights to sing,  
Did never make the hearers so rejoice,  
As I with words have made this worthy King:  
I never iarde, in tune was every string,  
I tempered so, my tongue to please his ear,  
That what I said, was currant every where.   

Sweet are the songs, that merry-night crow singes,  
" For many parts, are in those charming notes,  
" Sweet are the tunes, and Pipes that pleaseth kings,  
" Sweet is the love wherein great Lordings dotes,  
" But swéetst of all, is fancy where it floats,  
" For throw rough seas, it smoothly swims away,  
" And in deep floods, where skulls of fish do play.   

" And where love slides, it leaves no sign nor show,  
" Where it hath gone, the way so shuts again,  
" It is a sport, to hear the fine night-crow,  
" chant in the queer upon a prick song plain:  
" No music more may please a princes vain,  
" Than descant strange, and voice of faurets breese,  
" In quiet bower, when birds be all at rest.   

" No such consort, as plain two parts in one,  
" Whose rare reports, doth carry cunning clean,  
" Where two long loves, and lives in joy alone.  
" They sing at will, the triple or the mean,  
" Where music wants, the mirth not worth a bean●,  
" The king and I, agreed in such concord,  
I ruled by love, though he did reign a Lord.   

I joined my talk, my gestures and my grace,  
In witty frames, that long might last and stand,  
So that I brought, the King in such a case,  
That to his death, I was his chiefest hand,  
I governed him, that ruled all this land:  
I bore the sword, though he did wear the Crown,  
I struck the stroke, that threw the mighty down.   

If justice said, that judgement was but death,  
With my sweet words, I could the King persuade,  
And make him pause, and take therein a breath,  
Till I with suit, the fautors peace had made:  
I knew what way to use him in his trade,  
I had the art, to make the Lion meek,  
There was no point, wherein I was to seek.   

" I took delight, in doing each man good,  
" Not scratting all, myself as all were mine,  
" But looked whose life, in need and danger stood.  
" And those I kept, from harm with cunning fine.  
" On Prince's train, I always cast mine ●ine,  
" For lifting up, the servants of a King,  
" I did throw court, myself in favour bring,   

" I offered aid, before they sued to me,  
" And promised nought, but would perform it straight,  
" I shaked down, sweet fruit from top of tree.  
" Made apples fall, in laps of men by sleight.  
" I did good turns, whiles that I was a height:  
" For fear a flaw, of wind would make me reel,  
" And blow me down, when Fortune turned her wheel.   

" I filled no chests, with chynks to cherish age,  
" But in the hearts, of people laid my gold,  
" Sought love of Lord, of master and of page:  
" And for no bribbe, I never favour sold.  
" I had enough, I might do what I would,  
" Save spend or give, or fling it on the ground,  
" The more I gave, the more in purse I found.   

If I did frown, who then durst look awry,  
If I did smile, who would not laugh outright,  
If I but spoke, who durst my words deny?  
If I pursued, who would forsake the flight?  
I mean, my power, was known to every wight,  
On such a height, good hap had built my bower,  
As though my sweet, should near have turned to sour.   

My husband then, as one that knew his good,  
Refused to keep, a Prince's Concubine,  
For seeing th'end, and mischief as it stood,  
Against the king, did never much repine:  
He saw the grape, whereof he drank the wine,  
Though inward thought, his heart did still torment,  
Yet outwardly, he seemed he was content.   

To purchase praise, and win the people's zeal,  
Yea rather bend, of kind to do some good,  
I ever did, uphold the common weal,  
I had delight, to save the guiltless blood:  
Each suitors cause, when that I understood,  
I did prefer, as it had been mine own,  
And help them up, that might have been orethrowns.   

My power was priest, to right the poor man's wrong,  
My hands were free, to give where need required:  
To watch for grace, I never thought it long,  
To do men good, I need not be desired.  
Nor yet with gifts, my heart was never hired.  
But when the ball, was at my foot to guide,  
I played to those, that Fortune did abide.   

My want was wealth, my woe was ease at will,  
My robes were rich, and braver than the sun:  
My Fortune then, was far above my skill,  
My state was great, my glass did ever run.  
My fatal throed, so happily was spun,  
That then I sat, in earthly pleasures clad,  
And for the time, a Goddess place I had.   

But I had not, so soon this life possessed,  
But my good hap, began to slide aside:  
And Fortune then, did me so sore molest,  
That unto plaints, was turned all my pride.  
It booted not, to row against the tide,  
Mine oars were weak, my heart and strength did fail,  
The wind was rough, I durst not bear a sail.   

What steps of strife, belong to high estate,  
The climbing up, is doubtful to endure,  
The seat itself, doth purchase privy hate,  
And honour's fame, is fickle and unsure,  
And all she brings, is flowers that be unpure:  
Which fall as fast, as they do sprout and spring,  
And cannot last, they are so vain a thing.   

We count no care, to catch that we do wish,  
But what we win, is long to us unknown,  
Till present pain be served in our dish,  
We scarce perceive, whereon our grief hath grown:  
What grain proves well, that is so rashly sown:  
If that a mean, did measure all our deeds,  
In steed of corn, we should not gather weeds.   

The settled mind, is free from Fortune's power,  
They need not fear, who look not up aloft:  
But they that climb, are careful every hour,  
For when they fall; they light not very soft,  
Examples hath, the wisest warned oft,  
That where the trees, the smallest branches bear,  
The storms do blow, and have most rigour there.   

Where is it strong, but near the ground and root:  
Where is it weak, but on the highest sprays:  
Where may a man, so surely set his foot,  
But on those bows, that groweth low always?  
The little twigs, are but unsteadfast stays,  
If they break not, they bend with every blast,  
Who trusts to them, shall never stand full fast.   

The wind is great, upon the highest hills,  
The quiet life, is in the dale below:  
Who treads on ice, shall slide against their wills,  
They want no cares, that curious arts do know.  
Who lives at ease, and can content him so,  
Is perfect wise, and sets us all to school,  
Who hates this lore, may well be called a fool.   

What greater grief, may come to any life,  
Then after sweet, to taste the bitter sour,  
Or after peace, to fall at war and strife,  
Or after mirth, to have a cause to lower:  
Under such props, false fortune builds her bower  
On sudden change, her flittering frames be set,  
Where is no way, for to escape the net.   

The hasty smart, that Fortune sends in spite,  
Is hard to brook, where gladness we embrace:  
She threatens not, but suddenly doth smite,  
Where joy is moū, there doth she sorrow place.  
But sure I think, this is too strange a case,  
For us to feel, such grief amid our game,  
And know not why, until we taste the same.   

As erst I said, my bliss was turned to bale,  
I had good cause, to weep and wring my hands,  
And show sad cheer, with countenance full pale:  
For I was brought, in sorrows woeful bands.  
A pirry came, and set my ship on sands,  
What should I hide, and colour care and noy?  
King Edward died, in whom was all my joy,   

And when the earth, received had his corpse,  
And that in tomb this worthy Prince was laid,  
The world on me, began to show his force,  
Of troubles then, my part I long assayed:  
For they of whom, I never was afraid,  
Undid we most, and wrought me such despite,  
That they bereft, me of my pleasure quite.   

" Brought bore and poor, and thrown in worlds disgrace,  
" Holds down the head, that never casts up eye,  
" Cast out of court, condemned in every place,  
" Condemned perforce, at mercy's foot must lie:  
" Hope is but small, when we for mercy cry.  
" The bird half dead, that hawk hath fast in foot,  
" Lay head on block, where is no other boot.   

" The rolling stone, that tumbleth down the hill,  
" findeth none to stay, the fury of his fall,  
" Once under foot, for ever daunted still:  
" One cruel blow, strikes clean a way the ball.  
" Left once in lack, feels always want of will,  
" A conquered mind, must yield to every ill,  
" A weak poor soul, that fortune doth forsake,  
" In hard extremes, from world her leave may take   

" From those that fall, such as do rise and run,  
" The sound with sick, do seldom long abide,  
" Poor people pass (as shadows in the Sun).  
" Like feeble fish, that needs must follow tide,  
" Among the rich, a beggar soon is spied,  
" When weak Shore's wife, had lost her staff of stay:  
" The halt and blind, went limping lame away,   

" The poor is pinched, and pointed at in deed,  
" As baited bull, were leading to a stake,  
" Wealth finds great help, want gets no friend at need,  
" A plagued wight, a bootless moan may make:  
" A naked soul, in street for cold may quake.  
" But cold or hot, when mischiefs comes a roe,  
" As falls the lot, the back bears of the blow.   

" Preferment passed, the world will soon forget,  
" The present time, is daily gazed upon,  
" If merchant rich, from wealth do fall in debt:  
" Small count is made, of his good fortune gone.  
" We feed on flesh, and fling away the bone,  
" Embrace the best, and set the worst aside,  
" Because fair flowers, are made of in their pride.   

" You younglings now, that vain delights leads on.  
" To sell chaste life, for lewd and light desires,  
" Poor gain is got, when rich good name is gone,  
" Fowl blot and shame, lives under trim attires:  
" World soon casts off, the hackney horse it hiers.  
" And when bare nag, is ridden out of breath,  
" Tibbe is turned lose, to feed on barren heath.   

" Of flowers a while, men do gay poses make.  
" The scent once past, a due dry withered leaves,  
" Love lasts not long, pricked up for pleasure's sake:  
" Straw little worth, when corn forsakes the sheaves,  
" A painted post, the gazars eye deceives,  
" But when foul fauts, are found that bleared the sight.  
" The account is gone, of girlls or gugawes light.   

" Young pooppies play, small season lasts you see,  
" Old appish sports, are quickly out of grace,  
" Fond wanton games, will soon forgotten be.  
" As sour as crab, becomes the sweetest face,  
" There needs no more, be spoken of this case,  
" All earthly joys, by tract of time decays,  
" Soon is the glaze run out of our good days.   

" My fall and fact, makes proof of that is spoke,  
" Tells world to much, of shadows in the sun,  
" Dust blown with wind, or simple proof of smoke,  
" That flies from fire, and fast throw air doth run:  
" It ends with woe, that was with joy begun.  
" It turns to tears, that first began with sport,  
" At length long pain, finds pleasure was but short.   

As long as life, remained in Edward's breast,  
Who was but I? who had such friends at call?  
His body was, no sooner put in chest,  
But well was he, that could procure my fall:  
His brother was, mine enemy most of all,  
Protector then, whose vice did still abound,  
From ill to worse, till death did him confound.   

He falsely feigned, that I of counsel was,  
To poison him, which thing I never meant:  
But he could set thereon a face of brass,  
To bring to pass, his lewd and false intent,  
To such mischief, this tyrant's heart was bend,  
To God, ne man, he never stood in awe,  
For in his wrath, he made his will a law.   

Lord Hastings blood for vengeance on him cries,  
And many more, that were to long to name:  
But most of all and in most woeful wise,  
I had good cause, this wrtched man to blame.  
Before the world, I suffered open shame,  
Where people were, as thick as is the sand,  
I penance took, with taper in my hand.   

Each eye did stare, and look me in the face,  
As I passed hy, the rumours on me ran,  
But patience then, had lent me such a grace,  
My quiet looks, were praised of every man:  
The shamefast blood, brought me such colour than,  
That thousands said, that saw my sober cheer,  
It is great ruth, to see this woman here.   

But what prevailed, the people's pity there?  
This raging wolf, would spare no guiltless blood.  
Oh wicked womb, that such ill fruit did bear,  
Oh cursed earth, that yieldeth forth such mud:  
The hell consume, all things that did thee good,  
The heavens shut, their gates against thy spirit,  
The world tread down, thy glory under feet.   

I ask of God, a vengeance on thy bones,  
Thy stinking corpse, corrupts the air I know:  
Thy shameful death no earthly wight bemoans:  
For in th● life, thy works were hated so,  
That every man, did wis● thy overthroe:  
Wherefore I may, though partial now I am,  
Curse every cause, whereof thy body came.   

Woe worth the man, that fathered such a child.  
Woe worth the hour, wherein thou wast begat:  
Woe worth the breasts, that have the world beguiled,  
To nourish thee, that all the world did hate,  
Woe worth the Gods, that gave thee such a fate,  
To live so long, that death deserved so oft,  
Woe worth the chance, that set thee up aloft.   

" Woe worth the day, the time the hour and all,  
" When subjects clapped the crown on Richard's head,  
" Woe worth the Lords, that sat in sumptuous hall,  
" To honour him, that Prince's blood so shed:  
" Would God he had been, boiled in scalding lead.  
" When he presumed, in brother's seat to sit,  
" Whose wretched rage, ruled all with wicked wit.   

ye Princes all, and rulers everechone,  
In punishment, beware of hatreds ire.  
Before ye scourge, take heed, look well thereon:  
In wraths ill will, if malice kindle fire,  
Your hearts will burn, in such a hot desire,  
That in those flames, the smoke shall dim your sight,  
ye shall forget, to join your justice right.   

You should not judge, till things be well discerned,  
Your charge is still, to maintain upright laws:  
In conscience rules, ye should be thoroughly learned,  
Where clemency, bids wrath and rashness pause,  
And further saith, strike not without a cause:  
And when ye smite, do it for justice sake,  
Then in good part, each man your scourge will take.   

If that such zeal, had moved this tyrant's mind,  
To make my plague, a warning for the rest,  
I had small cause, such fault in him to find,  
Such punishment, is used for the best:  
But by ill will, and power I was oppressed,  
He spoiled my goods, and left me bare and poor,  
And caused me, to beg from door to door.   

What fall was this, to come from Princes far,  
To watch for crumbs, among the blind and lame?  
When alms were dealt, I had an hungry share,  
Because I knew, not how to ask for shame,  
Till force and need, had brought me in such frame,  
Than starve I must, or learn to beg an alms,  
With book in hand, to say S. David's Psalms.   

Where I was wont, the golden chains to wear,  
A pair of beads, about my neck was wound,  
A linen cloth, was leapt about my hear,  
A ragged gown, that trailed on the ground,  
A dish that clapped, and gave a heavy sound,  
A staying staff, and wallet there withal,  
I bore about, as witness of my fall,   

" The fall of leaf, is nothing like the spring,  
" Each eye beholds the rising of the sun,  
" All men admire the favour of a King,  
" And from great states, grown in disgrace they run,  
" Such sudden claps, ne wit nor will can shun:  
For when the stool, is taken from our feet,  
Full flat on floor, the body falls in street.   

I had no house, wherein to hide my head,  
The open street, my lodging was perforce,  
Full oft I went, all hungry to my bed,  
My flesh consumed, I looked like a corpse.  
Yet in that plight, who had on me remorse?  
O God thou know'st, my friends forsook me than,  
Not one holp me, that succred many a man.   

They frowned on me, that fawned on me before,  
And fled from me, that followed me full fast:  
They hated me, by whom I set much store,  
They ken we full well, my Fortune did not last.  
In every place, I was condemned and cast,  
To plead my cause, at bar it was no boot,  
For every man, did tread me under foot.   

Thus long I lived, all weary of my life,  
Till death approached, and rid me from that woe:  
Example take, by me▪ both maid and wife,  
Beware, take heed, fall not to folly so.  
A Mirror make, by my great overthroe,  
Defy the world, and all his wanton ways,  
Beware by me, that spent so ill her days.   
T. Churchyard.    


A Story of an Eagle and a Lady, excellently set out in Du Bartas.  
MOunt Eagle up, with fame and honour great,  
By Pellycan, that feeds her young with blood,  
(Of her own breast), make thou thy noble seat:  
Thy virtues do, surmount all worldly good.  
No bird but one, which is a Phoenix rare,  
Doth thee surpass, or may with thee compare.  

The Story.  

A Lady once, in Thraciaas we read,  
Two Eagles found, new hatched in their nest,  
The one she took, and did that bird so feed,  
(And kept it warm, amid her tender breast),  
Tha as this dame, fell sick upon a day,  
This Eagle slew, abroad to get his prey.   

And what so ere, this Eagle killed in field,  
He brought it home, as choicely as he might:  
At mistress foot, the pray then would he yield,  
Who mused much, to see so strange a sight.  
But mistress health, by this might not be had,  
Which daily made, the Eagle wondrous sad.   

But still he slew, to field for dainty fare,  
To feed this dame, that long a dying lay:  
And when the bird, saw house so full of care,  
For mistress death, whose life was passed away.  
Upon the bed, he sat and bowed his beak,  
Down to the flore, to hear his mistress speak.   

Oft would he kiss, her mouth as cold as stone,  
And spread his wings, abroad to warm her face:  
And in his kind, he made such heavy moan,  
As man for wife, may do in such a case.  
But when no life, in mistress might be found,  
With his own beak, himself he 'gan to wound.   

Brusd all his breast, and body every where,  
Plucked feathers off, and fling them flat on flore,  
Bled out of frame, and did his flesh so tear:  
That he could not, no way fly out of door.  
Would take no food, nor rest, but growling lay;  
By bare bedstocke, half dead full many a day.   

At length her corpse, a funeral must have,  
Where mistress must, be burnt as was the guise,  
The Eagle then, did follow her to grave:  
And under wing, did mount aloft in skies.  
And when in fire, was cast this noble dame,  
The Eagle fling, himself amid the flame.   

With pikes and staves, the people held him back,  
That helped no whit, the Eagle there would burn,  
So bend to seek, in fire his ruin and wrack,  
Into the flame, again he did return:  
Mount Eagle then, from dust and ashes here,  
Unto the clouds, where virtue shineth clear.      


TO THE HONOURABLE MY LADY Carie. Sir George carries wife, one of the Ladies of the privy chamber.  
Having great desire (good madame) in some serviceable sort to dedicate to you a piece of such my honest labours as may merit your ladyships good liking, I find myself so unable for the same, as in a manner half discouraged, I doubted what invention I should take in hand, but weighing your virtuous disposition, joined with a sweet and courteous kind of behaviour (that wins the world's goodwill) I presumed that your Ladyship would not think amiss of any that would honour you in good meaning with such works of the pen, as becometh an humble writer to present to such a worthy Lady, so searching my simple storehouse of studies, I found fit for my purpose (though far unmeet for your reading) a doleful discourse of a hapless man, penned long a go to be looked on, but cast carelessly aside, therefore now revived again to manifest his misfortunes, that willingly would not departed the world till his whole pilgrimage were well known to the best sort of people, as the verses that follows shall amply declare, which verses I commit to your ladyships judgement and view, wishing you much honour and good Fortune, with increase of virtue.   

A TRAGICAL DISCOURSE OF THE Hapless man's life.  

COme Courties all, draw near my morning hers,  
Come hear my knell, ere corpse to church shall go,  
Or at the least, come read this woeful verse:  
And last farewell, the hapless penneth so,  
And such as doth his life, and manners know,  
Come shed some tears, and see him painted out,  
That restless here, did wander world about.   

O pilgrims poor, press near my pageant now,  
And note full well the part that I have played,  
And wisely way, my thriftless Fortune throw,  
And print in breast, each word that here is said:  
Shrink not my friends, step forth stand not, afraid  
Though monstrous hap, I daily here possessed,  
Some sweeter chance, may bring your hearts to rest.   

For though the wretch, in cold and hunger lies,  
The happy wight, in pomp and pleasure sits,  
The weak falls down, where mighty folk aries:  
The sound feels not, the feeble ague fits.  
So world you wots, doth serve the finest wits,  
The wise at will, can walk where shins the Sun  
And to the stream and flood each fish will run.   

And hap falls not, to every man a like,  
Some sleeps full sound, yet hath the world at call,  
Some leaps the hedge, some lights amid the dike:  
Some sucks the sweat, and some the bitter gall,  
The use of things, blind destiny gives us all.  
So though you see, ten thousand souls in hell,  
Yet may you hope, in heavens bliss to dwell.   

Let my mishap, a worldly wonder be,  
For few can find, the fruit that I did taste,  
Ne leaves nor bows, I found upon the tree:  
And where I ploud, the Ground lay ever waste.  
A man would think, the child was borne in haste:  
Or out of time, that had such luck as I,  
For lo I look, for Larks when falls the sky.   

No soil nor seat, nor season serves my turn.  
Each plot is sown, with sorrow where I go,  
On mountain top, they say where torch should burn  
I find but smoke, and loathsome smothering woe,  
Near Fountain head, where springs do daily flow:  
Cold ice I get, that melts with warmth of hand,  
So that I starve, where Cock and Conduits stand.   

I quench small thirst, where thousands drink & bib,  
An empty cup I carry clean away,  
And though as lean, as rake is every rib  
And hollow cheeks, doth hidden grief bewray,  
The rich cats all, the poor may fast and pray:  
No butter cleaus, upon my bread at need,  
When hungry maw, thinks throat is cut indeed.   

The shallow broke, where little fish are found,  
I shun, and seek, the Seas to swyin thereon,  
Yet vesssayle sinks, or bark is laid a ground,  
Where leaking ships, in safety still have gone:  
The harbour find, when haven have I none,  
Hap calls them in, when I am lodged at large,  
Thus plainness creeps, in cold cock Lorels barge.   

Full fifety years, both Court and wars I tried,  
And still I sought acquaintance with the best,  
And served the state, and did such hap abide,  
As might befall, and Fortune sent the rest,  
When drum did sound, a soldier was I priest,  
To Sea or Land, as Prince's quarrel stood.  
And for the same, full oft I lost my blood.   

In Scotland long, I lingered out my years,  
When Wilford lived, a worthy wight indeed:  
And there at length, I fell so far in briars,  
I taken was, as destiny had decreed  
Well yet with words, I did my foes so feed.  
That there I lived, in pleasure many aday,  
And scaped so free, I did no ransom pay.   

Some said I found, in Scotland favour then,  
I grant my pomp, was more than reason would  
Yet on my band, I sent home sundry men  
That else had pynd, in prison pinched with cold,  
To French, and scots, so fair a tale I told,  
That they believed, white chalk and cheese was one,  
And it was pearl, that proud but pebble stone.   

In Lawther fort, I clapped myself by sleight,  
So fled from foes, and home to friends I passed:  
The French in haste, besieged that fortress straight,  
Then was I like to light in fetters fast,  
But lo a peace, broke up the siege at last.  
When weary wars, and wicked bloodshed great,  
Made both the sides, to seek a quiet seat.   

From thence I came, to England as I might,  
And after that, to Irland I did sail,  
Where Sellinger, a wise and Noble Knight.  
Gave me such place, as was to mine avail,  
Then tasters walked as thich as doth the hail,  
About the world, for lo from thence I bore,  
(For service done), of money right good store.   

Home came I tho●, and so to France did far,  
When that their King, won Meatts through fatchiss fine,  
So on the stock, I spent all void of care,  
And what I gate. by spoil I held it mine,  
Than down I passed, the pleasant flood of Ryen,  
And so I served, in Flanders note the same,  
Where lo at first, my hap fell out of frame.   

For I was clapped, in prison without cause,  
And straightly held, for coming out of France,  
But God did work, through justice of the cause,  
And help of friends, to me a better chance,  
And still I hoped, the wars would me advance  
So trayld the pike, and world began a new,  
And looked like hawk, that lately came from mue.   

Three year at least, I saw the emperor's wars,  
Then homeward drew, as was my wont trade:  
Where Sun and Moon, and all the seven stars,  
Stood on my side, and me great welcome made,  
But whether fair, and flowers full soon will fade:  
So people's love, is like new besoms oft,  
That swéepes all clean, whiles broom is green and soft.   

Well once again, to wars I drew me fast,  
And with Lord Grace at Giens I did remain,  
Where he or his, in any service past,  
I followed on, amid the warlike train,  
And sometime felt, my part of woe and pain▪  
As others did, that Canon well could like  
And pleasure took, in trailing of the pike.   

At length the French, did Giens' besiege ye wots,  
And little help or secure found we thee,  
By which foul want, it was my heavy lot:  
To Paris straight with good Lord Grace to go,  
As prisoners both, the world to well doth know,  
By tract of time, and wonders charge indeed,  
He homeward went, and took his leave with speed.   

But post alone, I stood alack the while,  
And country clean, forgot me this is true,  
And I might live, in sorrow and exile.  
And pine away, for any thing I knew,  
As I had baked, indeed so might I brew:  
Not one at home, did seek my grief to heal,  
Thus was I clean cut of from common weal●.   

Yet lo a shift, to scape away I found,  
When to my faith, my taker gave no trust,  
I did devise, in writing to be bound:  
To come again, the time was set full just,  
But to return forsooth I had no lust,  
Since faith could get no credit at his hand,  
I sent him word, to come and s●e my band.   

He came himself, to court as I did hear,  
And told his tale, as finely as he might,  
At Ragland then, was I in Monmouth shire.  
Yet when in court, this matter came to light:  
My friends did say, that I had done him right,  
A Soldier ought upon his faith to go,  
Which I had kept, if he had sent me so.   

Well yet my mind, could never rest at home,  
My shoes were made, of running leather sure,  
And borne I was, about the world to room,  
To see the wars, and keep my hand in ure:  
The French ye know, did Englishmen procure,  
To come to Leeth, at siege whereof I was,  
Till French did seek, in ships away to pass.   

A little breath, I took then after this,  
And shaped myself, about the Court to be,  
And every day, as right and reason is,  
To serve the Prince, in Court I settled me:  
Some friends I found, as friends do go you see,  
That gave me words, as sweet as honey still,  
Yet let me live, by head and cunning skill.   

I crucht, I kneeled, and many a cap could veil,  
And watched late, and early rose at morn,  
And with the throng, I followed hard at tail:  
As brave as bull, or sheep but newly shorn,  
The gladdest man, that ever yet was borne,  
To wait and stare, among the states full high:  
Who feeds the poor, with many a friendly eye.   

But who can live, with goodly looks alone,  
Or merry words, that sounds like tabor pipe,  
Say what they will, they love to keep their own:  
And part with nought, that cometh in their gripe,  
You shall have Nuts, they say when ploms are ripe.  
Thus all with shall's, or shall's ye shall be fed.  
And gape for gold, and want both Gold and lead.   

The proof thereof, made me to seek far hence,  
To Anwerp then, I trudged on the spleen  
And all in haste to get some spending pence,  
To serve my turn, in service of the Queen:  
But God he knows, my gain was small I ween.  
For though I did my credit still increase,  
I got no wealth, by wars, ne yet by peace.   

Yet hark and note, I pray you if you please,  
In Anwerp town, what Fortune me befell:  
My chance was such, when I had past the seas,  
(And taken land and thereon rested well)  
The people iard, and range a alarm bell,  
So that in arms, the town was every where,  
And few or none, of life stood certain there.   

A Noble Prince I saw, amid that broil,  
To whom I went, 
The Prince of Or●nge.  and swore his part to take,  
The commons came, all set on rage and spoil,  
And gave me charge, to keep my wits awake:  
The Prince for love, of King and country's sake.  
Bad me do well, and shed no guyltles blood,  
And save from spoil, poor people and their good.   

I gave my faith, and hand to do the same,  
And wrought the best, that I could work therefore:  
And brought at length, ●he commons in such frame,  
That some were bend to blow the coal no more,  
Yet some to rage, and robbery ran full sore:  
Whom I reformed, so that no harm did fall,  
To any wight, among the commons all.   

The keys I had, of town and treasure both,  
And Captain was, of thousands three days than,  
And ruled all, our foes to tell you tro●h,  
And saved indeed, the life of many a man.  
And many a piece, of goodly ordinance wan:  
took prisoners two, 
M. Candeler master of the assurances in the Royal Exchange is alive, witness to this.  and of the bravest sort,  
I clapped in hold, and held the enemies short.   

Five thousand shot, I sent behind their backs,  
To daunt their pride, and pluck their courage down,  
And quick with speed, devised such cunning knacks.  
As in three hours, we conquered all the town.  
The enemies durst, no drum nor trumphet sown,  
For fear of blows, 
M. joseph Loupo & his Brother Peter two excellent musicians, are alive witness to this in like sort.  for such a camp they saw,  
In arms at hand, that held them all in awe,   

The enemies drew, the Martinests from me,  
By such false brute, as subtle people raise:  
The Calvinists, that did this treachery see,  
Loud quick dispatch, but hated long delays.  
They saw the world, was wandering sundry ways,  
So bade me store, to stay the reeling state,  
That soon would fall, and breed a strange debate.   

Ten thousand men, by this devise we lost▪  
But ere they could make head against us there,  
We hold them all, and to the Prince in post,  
I passed to put▪ the people in such fear,  
That w● in haste, unarmed them every where,  
Then did we march, with fifteen thousand more,  
Along the streets, and thanked the Lord therefore.   

Each man in peace, and safe in lodging so,  
The gospel free and preachers well at ease,  
To England straight, indeed I thought to go  
When this uproar, with peace I did appease.  
In surety so, I could not pass the seas,  
A drift was drawn, to take me in a trap,  
But God prepared, for me a better hap.   

In street we stood, and broke ne huose nor door,  
And for three days, made no man's finger bleed:  
I dare avouch, that neither rich or poor.  
Can say they lost the valour of a thread,  
Well what of that, you know an honest deed,  
Is soon forgot▪ of such as thankless be,  
For in the end, it fared so by me.   

The town I kept, from cruel sword and fire,  
Did seek my life, when peace and all was made,  
And such they were, that did my blood desire:  
As I had saved, from blows and bloody blade,  
I crept away, and hide me in the shade,  
But as the day▪ and Sun began to shine,  
They followed fast, with force and practise fine.   

In priest's attire, but not with shaven crown,  
I scaped their hands, that sought to have my head,  
In forckid cap, and pleycted curtal gown:  
Far from the Church, stood me in right good stead.  
In all this while, ne mass for quick nor dead,  
I durst not sing, a posting priest I was,  
That did in haste, from post to pillar pass.   

In Briges then, the persons breach did quake,  
For there a clerk, came tinging of a Bell,  
(That in the town, did such a rumbling make)  
I could not walk, in vickars garments well:  
So there I wished myself in cockle shell,  
Or sea man slops, that smelled of pitch and tar,  
Which robes I found, ere I had traveled far.   

A Martial came, and searched our whole fleet than,  
In boat I leapt, and so through Sealand went,  
And many a day a silly weary man:  
I traveled there, and stood with toil content,  
Till God by grace, a better Fortune sent.  
And brought me home in safety as you know,  
Great thanks to him, I give that served me so.   

In Court where I, at rest and peace remained,  
I thought upon, the part that Flemings played,  
And for goodwill, since I was so retained:  
I thought to make, those roisters once afraid,  
So hoist up sail when I had anchor weighed,  
And into France, I slipped with much ado,  
Where lo a Net, was making for me to.   

Yet passed I through, to Paris without stop,  
When civil broils were likely to begin,  
And standing there, within a merchant's shop,  
I heard one say the Prince was coming in,  
To Flaunders fast, with whom I late had bill,  
Before you wots, thus having merry news,  
I stole away, and so did France refuse.   

But by your leave, I fell in danger deep,  
Before I could in freedom go or ride,  
Devouring Wolves, had like to slain the sheep:  
And wiped their mouths, upon the muttons hide.  
Nought goes amiss, where God will be the guide,  
So through the place, where peril most did seem,  
I passed at will, when danger was extreme.   

The Prince I found, from Collen at his house,  
And there I saw, of Roitters right good store,  
Who welcomed me, with many a mad carouse:  
Such is their gise, and hath been evermore,  
To Haunders thus, we marched and God before,  
And near the Rhine, our Camp a season lay,  
Till money came, and had a general pay.   

In Flaunders long, our Camp remained still,  
And sweet with sour, we tasted sundry ways  
Who goes to wars, must feel both good and ill  
Some likes it not, and some that life can prays  
Where nights are cold, and many hungry days  
Some will not be, yet such as loves the drum  
Takes in good part, the chances as they come.   

Perhaps my share, was not the sweetest there,  
I make no boast, nor find no fault therein:  
I sought myself, the burden for to bear,  
Among the rest, that had over charged been.  
If smart I felt, it was a plague for sin,  
If joy I found, I knew it would not last,  
If wealth I had, so wast came on as fast,   

When Prince did pass, to France and Flaunders last,  
I licence sought, to see my native soil,  
He told me than, the French by some fine craft:  
On me at length would make a pray and spoil,  
I took my leave, not fearing any soil.  
But ere the day, the sky had clean forsook,  
I fell in snare, as fish on baited hook.   

A woeful tale, it is to tell indeed,  
Yet hear it out, and how God wrought for me,  
The case was such, that I a guide did need,  
So in the field, full near a willow tree.  
I found a carl, that needs my guide must be  
His hand I had, his heart did halt the while,  
And treason did, through trust the true beguile.   

We held the way, unto S. Quintance right,  
As I did think, but long two leagues I lost,  
To ease my horse, he bade me oft a light:  
But I thereat, seemed dumb and deaf as post,  
Of stomach stout, the way ofttimes he crossed:  
And sought to take, my bridle by the rain,  
That sleight I sound, and so he lost his pain.   

Had I turned back, the peasants were at hand  
Who mounted were, on better horse than I,  
A village near, there was within that land:  
Where lo my guide, would have me for to ly●.  
Not so my friend, I answered very high,  
Whereat he knew, the pad in straw was found,  
So took the ball, and struck it at rebound:   

Thou canst not scape, (quoth he) then light a down,  
Thou art but dead, thy life here shalt thou lose,  
And there withal, the carl began to frown:  
And laid his hand, upon my leather hose.  
Through signs he made, the town by this arose,  
And some by wars, that lately lost their good,  
Sought to revenge the same upon my blood.   

My guide leapt up, upon the horse I road,  
And flung away, as fast as he could drive:  
Down was I hauled, and on my face they trod,  
And for my robes, the torments did strive.  
My guide did cry, O leave him not alive:  
An English churl, he is his tongue doth show,  
And gold he hath good store, full well I know.   

They stripped me straight, from doublet to my shirt,  
Yet hose they left, untouched as God it would  
No power they had, to do me further hurt:  
For as the knife, to throat they 'gan to hold.  
To save my life, an upright tale I told,  
They hearing that, laid all their weapons down,  
And asked me if, I knew saint Quintains town.   

I passed thereby, when to the spa I went,  
(Quoth I) and there, my passport well was viewed,  
If that be true, said one thou shalt be sent:  
From thence in haste, and so they did conclude.  
To town I should, from savage country rude,  
So in they hay, they laid me all that night,  
Yet sought my life, before the day was light.   

But as with weeds, some suffrant flower grows,  
So in that soil a blessed man was bred,  
Which undertook, to keep me from my foes:  
And save my life, by fine device of head.  
He called me up, when they were in their bed,  
And bade me go, with him where he thought best,  
Least in that place, full small should be my rest.   

I followed on, as he did lead the trace,  
He brought the safe, where I in surety stood,  
Thus God through him, did show his might and grace,  
Which joyed me more, than all this worldly good:  
The other sort, were butchers all for blood,  
And daily slew, such stragglars as they took,  
For whom they lay, and watched in many a noke,   

That hazard past, I found more mischiefs still,  
But none so great, nor none so much to fear:  
With toil and pain, with slight of head and skill  
From France I came, (and left all mischief there)  
Now here what fruit, my native soil doth bear,  
See what I reap, and mark what I have sown:  
And let my luck, through all this Land be known.   

First let me tell, how Fortune did me call,  
To Garnesey thoe, to stay my troubled mind:  
Where well I was, although my wealth was small,  
And long had dwelled, if destiny had assigned,  
But as the ship, is subject to the wind,  
So we must change, as checking chances falls,  
Who tosseth men, about like tennis balls.   

This chance is she, some say that leads men out,  
And brings them home, when least they look therefore,  
A dallying dame, that breeds both hope and doubt,  
And makes great wounds, yet seldom salves the sore,  
Not sure on sea, nor certain on the shore,  
A worldly witch, that deals with wanton charms,  
For one good turn, she doth ten thousand harms.   

A fig for chance, this Fortune bears no shape,  
The people fond, a name to Fortune give:  
Which senseless souls, do after shadows gape,  
Great GOD doth rule, and sure as God doth l●u●,  
He grinds the Corn, and sifts the meal through s●ue,  
And leaves the bran, as refues of the flower,  
To work his will, and show his mighty power.   

Promotion comes, ne from the East nor West,  
Ne South nor North, it falls from Heaven high:  
For God himself, sets up whom he thinks best,  
And casts them down, whose hearts would climb the ski●.  
Thus earthly haps, in worldlings do not lie.  
We trudge, we run, we ride and break our brain,  
And backward come, the self same steps again.   

Till time approach, that God will man prefer,  
With labours long, in vain we beat the air:  
Our destinies dwell, in neither moon nor star,  
Nor comforts come, from people foul nor fair,  
Small hope in those, that sits in golden chair.  
Their moods, their minds, and all we go about,  
Takes light from him, that puts our candle out.   

This argues now, all goodness freely grows,  
From him that first, made man of earthly mould:  
And floods of wealth into their bosom flows,  
That clearly can, his blessed will behold▪  
As shape herds do, keep safe their sheep in fold.  
And Gardner knows, how flowers should watered be,  
So God gives aid, ere man the want can see.   

Helps comes not sure, by hap, or heads device,  
Though wits of men, are means to work the wax:  
And cunning hands, do often cast the dice.  
All these are toys, trust up in tinkars packs,  
No ●lame will rise, till fire be thrust to flax.  
No branch may bud, till he that made the plant,  
With dew of grace, indeed supplies the want.   

Can earth yield fruit, till Spring time sap do shoe?  
Can air be clear, till ●ogges and mists be fled?  
Can seas and floods, at every season flow?  
Can 〈◊〉 give life, to sha●es and bodies dead?  
Such secrets pass, the reach of man's vain head,  
So look to reap, no corn for all our toil,  
Till harvest come, and God hath blest the soil.   

The potter knows, what vessaile serves his turn,  
And therein still, he poureth liquor sweet:  
The Cook well notes, what wood is best to burn,  
And what conceits, is for the banquet meet:  
The Captain marks, what Soldier hath most spirit.  
And calls that man, to charge and office great,  
When he thinks good, and service is in heat.   

Dare any wight, presume to take the place,  
Of worthy charge, till he thereto be called?  
Dare subject brag, before the Prince's face?  
Or strive with states, that are in honour stauld?  
Dare village boast, with City strongly walled?  
Dare children climb, till they good footing find,  
No all things yields, to him that leads the mind.   

He lifts aloft, he flingeth down as fast,  
He gives men fame, and plucks renown away,  
Hap doth not so, for chance is but a blast,  
An idle word, wherewith weak people play:  
Hap hangs and holds, on hazard every way,  
And hazard leans, on doubt and danger deep,  
That glads but few, and maketh Millions weep.   

I use this term, of hap in all I writ,  
As well to make, the matter large and long,  
As any cause, or dram of great delight  
I take th●rem: But here I do you wrong.  
To lead your cares, with such a senseless song,  
From hearing that, I promised have to end,  
The ●are discourse, the hapless man hath penned.   

So coming home, and crept from toil abroad,  
(With charged breast, and heavy heaving heart)  
I thought in Court, my burden to unload:  
And cast away, the cares of former smart,  
But there alas, my chance is so oreth wart,  
I sit and sigh, and fold mine arms withal,  
And in old griefs, afresh begin to fall.   

Yea there where most, my hope and haunt hath been,  
Where years and days, I spent upon the stock:  
And divers do, good hap and friendship win.  
(And duty makes a World of people flock)  
And thousands Lo, draws water from the Cock,  
I scearse may moist, my mouth when thirst is great  
And heart is clean, consumed with scalding heat.   

A spring of kind, doth flow above the brim,  
Yet cannot stop a Fountain if you would:  
For through hard rocks, it runneth clear and trim.  
And in some Ground, it casts up grain of Gold,  
It bursts the Earth, and deeply digs the Ground,  
It gusheth out, and goes in sundry veins,  
From mountains top, and spreadeth all the plains.   

The Spring creeps up, the highest hill that is,  
And many Wells, thereon are easily found,  
And this I wots, where do you water mis,  
Small fruit doth grow, it is but barren Ground  
The soil is sweet, where pleasant springs abound,  
The Cowslop sprouts, where spring and fountains be,  
And floods begin, from fountain heads you see.   

The labouring man, thereat doth coal his heat,  
The birds do bathe, their breasts full bravely there:  
The brutest beasts, therein find pleasures great,  
And likes not half, so well another where,  
What cause in me, what doubt, what fault, or fear.  
That I may not, in this so weak a plight:  
Go drink my fill, where each thing hath delight.   

The more we draw, the water from the well,  
The better far, we bring the spring in frame,  
The seas themselves, of nature rise and swell,  
The more the wind, and weather works the same.  
The fire burns best, when bellows blows the flame.  
Let things stand still, and stir them not in time:  
They shall decay, by mean of dross and sloane.   

I see some streams, with sticks are choked up,  
And Rivers large, are marred with beds of sand:  
I see some bring, from Doels an empty cup,  
Yet crave an alms, and shows a needy hand.  
I see bare boys, before the banquet stand,  
And no man saith, lo poor man if thou would:  
Take here a dish, to fill thy hungry gut.   

Of cormorant kind some crammed Capons are,  
The more they eat, the more they may consume,  
Some men likewise, the better that they far,  
The worse they be and sicker of the rheum,  
And some so chafe, so frown, so fret, and fume,  
When others feed, they cannot God he knows:  
Spare any time, the dropping of their nose.   

The boards are spread, and feasts are made thereon,  
And such sits down, that hath their bellies full:  
Whose greedy mouths, from dog would snatch the bone.  
Which snudges swell, and look like greiste will:  
They puff, they blow, yea like a baited bull.  
And shove them back, that on small crumbs would feed,  
Whose patiented hearts, makes virtue of a need.   

The Glutton thinks, his belly is too small,  
When in his eye, a dainty morsel is:  
He grines and gapes, as though no crumb should fall  
From him: and looks as all the world were his.  
Thus such as want, are sure the post to kiss.  
For poulting pride doth press so fast in place,  
That poor plain Tom, dare scarce come show his face.   

Each one doth seek, for to aspire and rise,  
Yet hate we those, that doth by virtue clime:  
The fool he scorns, the worship of the wise,  
Yet dolts presume, beyond the wise sometime,  
And all this strife, is but for dross and slime.  
That out of earth, we dig with dangers deep:  
Full hard to win, and much more words to keep.   

This makes me muse, when some have heaps in hoard,  
They will not help, the nearest friend they have:  
And yet with smiles, and many a friendly word,  
They grant to give, before a man do crave,  
Such Barber's fine, can finely paul and shave,  
And wash full clean▪ till all away they wash:  
Then good sir Grime, like lob they leave in lash.   

What should men lose, when they enough have had,  
If that they part, with things that might be spared?  
A little piece, out of a golden gad,  
For service long; might be a great reward,  
No no as steel, and flint is stiff and hard.  
So World is waxed, and no good turn is found,  
But where indeed, do double gifts rebound.   

We make a leg, and kiss the hand withal,  
(A French device, nay sure a Spanish trick)  
And speak in Print, and say lo at your call,  
I will remain, your own both dead and quick▪  
A Courtier so, can give a lob a lick,  
And dress a dolt, in Motley for a while,  
And so in sleeve, at silly Woodcock smile,   

If meaning went, with painted words and shoes,  
It might suffice such courteous cheer to taste;  
But with the same, disdain and envy goes.  
And trumpry great, with wind and words in waist,  
Then arm in arm, comes flattery full in haste,  
And leads away, the senses out of frame,  
That upright wits, are thereby stricken lame.   

This lowting low, and bowing down the knee,  
But gropes men's minds, to creep in credit's lap,  
Like malt horse then, he holds up head you see  
That late before, could vail both knee and cap,  
The Nurse a while, can feed the child with pap,  
And after beat him on the breech full bare.  
A swarm God wots, of these fine Natures are.   

There be that bites, yet gronts and whines withal,  
There be that wins, yet swear and saith cylose,  
There be that stops, and steals away the ball,  
There be that plants, a weed and plucks a rose,  
There be pleads want, to whom the fountain flows  
Such hides their haps, to make the world to think,  
At fair well head, they need not for to drink,   

The whales you see, eats up the little fish,  
The pretty Penk, with Salmon may not swim,  
The greatest heads, are fed with finesh dish,  
The foulest piss, saire water runneth trim.  
He gets the gain that standeth near the brim,  
He blows the coal, that hath cold fingers still,  
He starves for bread, that hath no corn at mill.   

A world to see▪ the course and state of things,  
Some would get up, that knows not where to light:  
Some soar the skies, that never had no wings,  
Some wrestle well, by cunning not by might.  
Some seems to judge, fair colours without sight.  
And every one, with some odd● shift or grace,  
In world at will, runs out a goodly race.   

But to be plain, I lag and come behind,  
As I were lame, and had a broken leg:  
Or else I cannot, lie within the wind,  
And hearken still, what I might easily beg,  
I need no: say, in mouth I have geg.  
For I have spoke, and sped in matters small,  
By help of him, that hath my verses all.   

But far God wots, I am from that to seek,  
And miss the mark, that many men do hit:  
Wherefore salt tears, do trickle down the cheek,  
And heart doth feel, full many a woeful fit.  
And so aside, in solemn sorrow sit.  
As one indeed, that is forsaken clean,  
Where most he doth deserve, and best doth mean.   

No matter now, though each man march and tread  
On him that hates, the life he bears about:  
Yet such as shall, these heavy Verses read,  
Shall find I blame, my fortune out of doubt,  
But since on hope, no better hap will sprout.  
I yield to death, and upward lift the mind,  
Where loathsome life, shall present comfort find.   

Since hope can have, no honey from the Hive,  
And pains can pluck, no pleasure for his toil:  
It is but vain, for weary life to strive,  
And stretch out time, with torment and turmoil,  
Get what we can, death triumphs over the spoil.  
Then note this well, though we win near so mitch,  
When death takes all, we leave a miser rich.   

To live and lack, is double death indeed,  
A present death, exceeds a lingering woe:  
Since no good hap, in youth did help my need,  
In age why should, I strive with Fortune so,  
Old years are come, and hastes me hence to go.  
The time draws on, I hate the life I have,  
When heart shall break, my grief shall end in grave,   

Should I seek life, that finds no place of rest,  
Ne soil, nor seat, to shroud me from the air:  
When cramping cold, beclyps my careful breast,  
And dolour drives, my hea●t in deeps despair,  
For such foul days, dark death is wondrous fair.  
As good to make, the scrawling worms a feast,  
As please the world, where mischief makes her nest.   

High time it is, to haste my carcase hence,  
Youth stole away, and felt no kind of joy:  
And age he left, in travel ever since,  
The wanton days▪ that made me nice and coy,  
Were but a dream, a shadow and a toy.  
Sith slavery here, I find and nothing else,  
My home is there, where soul in freedom dwells.   

In wars and woe, my years are wasted clean,  
What should I see, if Lordly life I led:  
I look in glass, and find my cheeks so lean,  
That every hour, I do but wish me dead,  
Now back bends down, and forward falls the head,  
And hollow eyes, in wrinkled brow doth shroud,  
As though two stars, were creeping under cloud.   

The lips wax cold, and looks both pale and thin,  
The teeth falls out, as nuts forsook the shalt:  
The hare bald-head, but shows where hai●e hath been,  
The lively joints, wax very stiff and stolen,  
The ready tongue, now folters in his tale.  
The wearish face, and tawny colour shows,  
The courage quails as strength decay and goes.   

The sweet delights, are drowned in dulled mind,  
The gladsome sports, to groaning sighs are bend,  
The frisking limbs, so far from frame I find,  
That I forethink, the time that youth hath spent,  
But when I weigh, that all these things were lent,  
And I must pay, the earth her duty throw,  
I shrink no whit, to yield these pleasures now.   

Had I possessed, the gifts of Fortune here,  
A house, a wife, and Children there withal:  
And had in store, (to make my friends good cheer)  
Such common things, as neighbours have at call,  
In such despair, perchance I would not fall.  
But want of this, and other lacks a score,  
Bids me seek death, and wish to live no more.   

The thatcher hath, a cottage poor you see,  
The shepherd knows, where he shall sleep at night,  
The daily drudge, at night can quiet been,  
Thus Fortune sends, some rest to every wight.  
So borne I was, to house and land by right.  
But in a bag, to Court I brought the same,  
From Shrewsburie town, a seat of ancient fame.   

What thinks my friends, that there behind I laft,  
What fault finds she, that gave me life and suck:  
O courting fine, thou art too cold a craft,  
The Carter hath, at home much better luck,  
Well▪ well I say, adieu all worldly muck.  
Ne house nor Land, we bear away I know,  
I naked came, and naked hence must go.   

The greatest King, must pass the self same way,  
Our day of birth, and burial are alike:  
Their joy, their pomp, their wealth and rich array,  
Shall soon consume, like snow that lies in dike,  
No Buckler serves, when sudden death doth strike.  
As soon may come, a poor man's soul to bliss,  
As may the rich, or greatest Lord that is.   

Well ere my breath, my body do forsake,  
My spirit I do, bequeath to God above:  
My books, my scronies, and songs that I did make,  
I leave with friends, that freely me did love,  
To slyring foes, whose malice me did move.  
I wish in haste, amendment of their ways,  
And to the Court, and courtiers happy days.   

My fortune strange, to strangers do I leave,  
That strangely can, retain such strange mishap:  
To such as still, in world did me deceive,  
I wish they may, beware of such like trap,  
To slanderous tongues, that killde me with a clap.  
I wish more rest, than they have given to me,  
And bless those shreawes, that cursed and crabbed be.   

To such as yet, did never pleasure man,  
I give those rhymes, that nips the gawled back:  
To such as would, do good and if they can,  
I wish good luck, long life, and void of lack,  
To currish Karles, a whip and Collier's sack.  
And to the proud, that stands upon their braves,  
A wainscot face, and twenty crabtree staves.   

To surly sirs, that scorns the meaner sort,  
A nightcap furred, with Foins I them bequeath:  
To such as scowl, at others good report,  
(And sets much store, by their own painted sheet)  
In sign of luck, I give a willow wreath,  
To such as are, unnamde, and merits much,  
The stone I leave, that tries the Gold by touch,   

To gentle race, with good conditions joined,  
I wish more joy, than man imagine may:  
And since for poor, I have no money coined,  
God grant them all a merry marriage day,  
To such as doth delight in honest play.  
I wish the Gold, that I have lost thereby,  
And all the wealth, I want before I die.   

Now friends shake hands, I must be gone my boys,  
Our mirth takes end, our triumph all is done:  
Our tykling talk, our sports and merry toys,  
Do slide away, like shadow of the Sun,  
Another comes, when I my race have run.  
Shall pass the time, with you in better plight,  
And find good cause, of greater things to write.    
FINIS.   

A DREAM.  

To the right worshipful my good Lady the Lady Paulet, who was wife to the honourable sir Hugh Paule● Knight.  
AMong the manifold works in print, pamphelets, books, volumes, and devices, I never addressed my pen to your Ladyship till now, though bound for many courtesies better to consider of so good a Lady, and now worst able to redeem duty forgotten, I bring myself backward to behold my great oversight, but presing forward to win ground, I lose the keeping of a writer's credit, for no one thing is left worthy your view and looking on, such haste have I had in the spoiling of myself & inventions: a prodigal point of bounty rather than the part of a wise bountiful writer, especially to bestow the best matters on others, and present but a dream to your Ladyship, showing thereby the shallowness of my judgement: but yet some such substance of matter as I trust is more delightful than dainty. For my Dream having many significations, may grow on many causes, and hit on a number of Accidents fit for my humour, but scarce meet for your grave consideration, yet such fancies as a dream brings ●orth, I of necessity must offer (because my store is not great) and such fancies as I have, I hope your Lad. amongst the rest of my friends will stand pleased with, till better matter fall out. So in heart, service, and goodwill, I betake you to the sweet blessing of the Almighty.   


A Dream I had the strangest thing,  
that ever man might meet:  
Me thought I bore amid a King,  
a fair familiar spréet.   

A Lady like the Fairy Queen,  
that men behold but s●ld:  
Who danceth round about the green,  
by Moonshine oft in field.   

This Ring on little finger worn,  
did mysteries unfold:  
And made me walk from Even to Morn,  
in secret where I would.   

Among the Dames and Nymphs most chaste,  
when greatest glee they make:  
And where sweet darlings are embrac'st,  
and greatest pleasure take.   

I came sometime where loves delight,  
was drowned in deep disdain:  
And fancy reaped but froward spite,  
to counter-pace his pain.   

Not sound a sleep in slumber so,  
this busy dream I had:  
That tossed senses to and fro,  
with heavy motions sad.   

That waits upon a troubled mind,  
that seldom taketh rest:  
But wanders with each blast of wind,  
and breath of panting breast,   

And in this Dream a world of toys,  
and trifles led me on:  
Some of new cares, some present joys,  
and some of pleasures gone.   

And some of gladsome haps to come,  
those were dumb sights and shows▪  
Not worth a philip of my thumb,  
if I should all disclose.   

But as those fancies past like shade,  
that follow man full fast:  
Or brightness of a shining blade,  
whose glance small while doth last.   

I came me thought into a cave,  
where all the Sibbils dwell:  
Asumptuous palace builded brave,  
not like a little Cell.   

Or Cottage poor of small account,  
for at the outer gate:  
There stood a stately mighty mount,  
whereon a Lady sat.   

All clothed in white, and wore a hood  
of red, round shaped indeed:  
At sight of whom amazed I stood,  
to see so strange a weed.   

Why man quoth she, fear not a whit▪  
A woman sure I am:  
That do among my neighbours sit,  
as mild and meek as Lamb.   

And spend the goods that God hath sent,  
in worthy liberal sort:  
With merry mean and sad content,  
that wins a good report.   

The poor I f●●d, the rich I feast,  
and welcome high and low:  
And spent thus thirty years at least,  
more wealth than world doth know.   

The weeds that body doth disguise,  
upon vain earth a spare:  
At latter day when soul shall rise,  
shall give me greater grace.   

I wondered at the words she spoke,  
she did descend withal:  
So by the hand she did me take,  
and led me through the hall.   

Unto a pretty parlour fine,  
where I beheld and saw:  
A trifling counterfeit of mine,  
that Arnold Oens did draw.   

There sat of guests a table full,  
that ancient friends had been:  
For the held house for them that will,  
make of her house their Inn.   

Not for to pay as travelers do,  
for every thing they take:  
But feed and find great welcome to,  
full free for friendship's sake.   

Sometime the chief and greatest sort,  
of Dames and noble peer:  
Unto her table doth resort,  
to taste of her good cheer.   

Yea most of all the worthy men,  
that bears good name and sway:  
Comes freely thither now and then,  
to pass the time away.   

It were a world to show and tell,  
what worthy dads she doth:  
For world will s●a●ce believe it well,  
that I do know forsooth.   

Let pass in silence that a while,  
my Dreams breeds greater doubt,  
For some there at may chance to smile,  
it fa●es is strangely out.   

The r●ping thoughts of idle brain,  
and 〈◊〉 in the head:  
That feed the mind with humours vain,  
when body seemeth dead.   

Are trustless ●oyes clean void of truth,  
which rise on meat and drink:  
Or weak con●a●●s of age and youth,  
whereon the heart doth think.   

Well be thy vizions good or bad,  
or sweavons of the night:  
Such idle s●●akes as fancy had,  
now shall you hear aright.   

Me thought a troop of Dames I saw,  
a thousand in a roe:  
They would not tread upon a straw,  
they minst the matter so.   

All hand in hand they traced on,  
a tricksy ancient round:  
And soon as shadows were they gone,  
and might no more be found.   

And in their place came fearful bugs,  
as black as any pitch:  
With bellies big and swagging dugs,  
more loathsome than a witch.   

All these began to chide and charm,  
as hellish hags they were:  
And went about some secret harm,  
as seemed plainly there.   

For in a circle stood they still,  
and stared like Bull at stake:  
They did no good but wished much ill,  
to them that sleep or wake.   

From these foul fiends I thought to fly,  
but I was quickly staid:  
And in the twinkling of an eye,  
was made full sore afraid.   

For they with frowns and froward looks,  
did threaten my decay:  
And said they had such counting books,  
that should my sins bewray.   

Thy filthy faults of youth quoth they,  
shall now corrected be:  
For plagues and scourges every way,  
there is prepared for thee.   

First for thy soul offence to God,  
in secret corners done:  
Thou shalt be whipped with many a rod,  
of every mother's Son.   

Some shall thee wound with edged sword,  
and let out thy wild blood:  
And some shall shoot such bitter words,  
shall never do thee good.   

The Prince shall daily speak thee fair,  
but never thee prefer:  
The people drive thee in despair,  
and make thee open war.   

Thy friends with flattery thee deceive,  
thy foes about thee flock:  
And in great mischief shall thee lead,  
beset with many a mock.   

And each disease that life abhors,  
shall daily on thee steal:  
With botch and blains and stinking sores,  
that no sweet salve shall heal.   

So marked man pass where thou wilt,  
God's wrath shall follow thee:  
As guerdon for thy wretched guilt,  
which God alone doth see.   

These words pronounc'st, these hags of hell,  
inhast and horror both:  
From thence did take a quick farewell,  
and down those hellhounds goeth.   

Where Pluto dwells and darkness is,  
a place of endless pain:  
And where foul fiends full far from bliss,  
in torments still remain.   

Now sat I sadly all amazed,  
to think on follies past:  
And upward to the heavens gazed,  
from whence comes help at last.   

Where at the Clouds a passage made,  
to Angels as I ween:  
That than descended down in shade,  
to come to world unseen.   

My ring disclosed that secret strait,  
and told me what they were:  
Fie man (quoth they) use no such sleight,  
thou needst not now to fear.   

We come to comfort feeble sense,  
that all things takes awry:  
And not to punish man's offence,  
that doth for vengeance cry.   

God doth in mercy more delight,  
than in his justice still:  
His anger is forgotten quite,  
when men forethink their ill.   

The devil drives men in despair,  
by threatenings now and th●n:  
And lays his snares in earth or air,  
to trap some silly man.   

He is the Father of untruth,  
that hath great wits beguiled:  
And still about great mischief goeth,  
like roaring Lion wild.   

Those bugs that late before thee stood,  
are fancies of thy head:  
Or on thy heart some heavy blood,  
that haunts thee in thy bed.   

This said, the Angels vanished all,  
for I saw them no more:  
Then for the Lady 'gan I call,  
of whom I spoke before.   

She came with crootch now limping on,  
in garments white as snow:  
For pleasure, pride, and pomp was gone,  
from her full long ago.   

What meanest thou man to call me thus?  
quoth she thou homely guest:  
For I was half asleep I wis,  
my years requires some rest.   

O courteous dame, of favour yet,  
hear what I have to say:  
I seek but council at thy wit,  
of things I shall bewray.   

My life is tossed and troubled long,  
with sorrows from my birth:  
With many griefs and ma●y a wrong,  
and wretched cares on earth.   

I droop and drop away like link,  
whose light is soon burnt out:  
And still the more of world I think,  
the more I live in doubt.   

The more I wish, the less I have,  
and where I merit most:  
There just deserts doth daily crave,  
and there is labour lost.   

Youth hath consumed his years in wa●●e,  
and gathers nought but grief:  
Age is but scorned or clean disgraced,  
and starves without relief.   

O tell no more of this quoth she,  
these fortunes many find:  
As heavy haps do follow me,  
if thou didst know my mind.   

I mean as well as any wight,  
that I by love bear life:  
And dare show face for doing right,  
with widow, maid or wife.   

Yet world deceives me every day,  
my good turns have no proof:  
No faith nor promise any way,  
falls out for my behoof.   

In world there is such falsehood used,  
the just can never thrive:  
A Saint himself might be abused,  
if here he were alive.   

But earth and ashes, dung and stink,  
is all that here we have:  
Men have not one good thought to think,  
from birth unto their grave.   

Vain are the words and deeds of all,  
all is but scorns and lies:  
And all to dust and dross shall fall,  
thou seest before thine eyes.   

She said no more, but paused and stayed  
to hear how I replied:  
When I her words full well had weighed,  
and time to speak I spied.   

These things are true quoth I, gooddreame,  
I know the wrongs you feel▪  
And how mishap turns, out of frame  
falls Fortune's fickle wheel.   

And how vile world shall make an end,  
and what short season here:  
We have before from world we wend,  
all that see I full clear.   

A greater grief sticks in my mind,  
that none but God he knows:  
Which in my heart my friends shall find,  
when hence my body goes.   

This shall I shrine in secret thought,  
as it some treachery were:  
Or might against great God we wrought,  
to bring my soul in fear.   

If my right hand knew that indeed,  
I would cut of the same:  
And bite my tongue and make it bleed,  
if tongue those griefs would name.   

No ear nor any living soul,  
is fit to hear it thorough:  
My head doth crave to stand on pole,  
if I disclose it now.   

The air alone shall hear me sound.  
the smart I bear in breast:  
In hollow caves it shall rebound,  
to breed me more unrest.   

Yea like a man distraught of wit▪  
amid wild woods and groves:  
Where Owlets in dark nights do sit,  
and Hawks for pray he hoves.   

There shall my heart his griefs unfold,  
there will I cry and yell:  
To stars and clouds it shallbe told,  
that now I dare not tell.   

Fie man, be not so brute like beast,  
to rage and run abroad:  
From foes do keep, to friends at least,  
thy conscience do unload.   

Some of those gripes that grieves thee so,  
good council mayest thou take:  
Sweet plasters God provides I know,  
for men that mo●e will make.   

A friend dear dame, what words are those,  
where dwells so true a wight?  
No sooner secrets we disclose,  
but then adieu goodnight.   

A stranger hath that he hath sought,  
and news is hard to keep:  
When friends are masters of thy thoughts,  
they laugh when thou dost weep.   

And quickly lo behind thy back,  
thy secrets must be known:  
Shall friends a burden bear in pack,  
when thou hold'st not thine own,   

That close in breast was locked fast,  
a blabbing tongue beware:  
Strange tales flies every where like blasts,  
that sure uncertain are.   

Perchance I seek some secret drift,  
that none should know but I▪  
Or practise some dishonest shift,  
whereon my life may lie.   

Or love some Lady of estate,  
a toy past hope in age:  
A fancy that may purchase hate,  
if reason rule not rage.   

Should these things be put out to nurse,  
where Wolves and Tigers feed:  
And where things grow from ill to worse,  
and men catch harm indeed.   

Nay, better swallow sorrows up,  
and die in great distress:  
Poison drink in spiced Cup,  
than secrets so express.   

If matter of such weight you have  
goodman, do what you please:  
I do no such great knowledge crave,  
to find out your disease.   

And as for love, both you and I  
me think we should it leave:  
The moistness of old veins wax dry,  
if wit not me deceive.   

You may as well make madmen wise,  
or climb beyond the Sun:  
Or build fair Castles in the Skies,  
as such a course to run.   

As follow love that knows you not,  
when silver hairs do shine:  
And hath the pranks of youth forgot,  
and will no more be fine.   

O toutch not me with no fond love,  
nor nothing thereby meant:  
For I did but your judgement prove,  
of secret sweet content.   

Which I in silence carry still,  
as my old years allow?  
As much of heart, as of goodwill,  
I trow I told you now.   

Perchance I may do this or that,  
as fancies men beguile:  
But sure I never told you what,  
I meaned all the while.   

For I had rather die than tell,  
what makes my sorrow great:  
My griefs the wise doth know full well,  
that knoweth cold from heat.   

Cold fortune may torment me sore,  
and so may shifts some time:  
Hot hatred troubles men much more,  
than Venus in her prime.   

Love lasts no longer as you say,  
then whiles gay flowers grow green:  
In age then all delights decay,  
which few or none have seen.   

For age knows what true love is worth,  
and hath in love great stay:  
Youth brings light love like blossoms forth,  
that fades as flower in May.   

Love is not lost if love be set,  
past reach of common men:  
Though for great love, small love we get,  
love is not hated then.   

Which shows good love wins favour still,  
if love be placed right:  
Love gets grea● thanks, or gains goodwill,  
where ever love doth light.   

Some say that love is oft disdain,  
that is where love doth lack:  
those folks are weak and feeble brained,  
that thinks love but a knack.   

For through the world love leads the Dance,  
where love wants, grows no good:  
But springs up spite and foul mischance,  
and mischief flows like Flood.   

Though love I praise, this shows no spark,  
of my close care and woes:  
I hide my secrets in the dark,  
that none but God it knows.   

Enough for me to suffer smart,  
such lot doth destiny give:  
And so with sorrows break the heart,  
that hath no will to live.   

Good friend (quoth she) haste not thine end,  
with passions of the mind:  
Hope after hap, the world may mend,  
thou mayst good fortune find.   

No sure my glass of life is run,  
Death draws on me so fast:  
I see my days are almost done,  
life may no longer last.   

My hapless years and aged bones,  
desires no being here:  
To grave I go with sighs and groans,  
I buy bad life too dear.   

With loss of blood, of time and youth,  
and all that precious is:  
With loyal service toil and truth,  
and hope of earthly bliss.   

All in one balance now goes down,  
since guerdon get I none:  
Nor no account in Court nor town,  
now I may hap upon.   

Adieu day light, shut close mine eyes,  
too long you stare for nought:  
So farewell friends, and you be wise,  
for me take you no thought.   

By this our ships were wend about,  
and Cannons 'gan to roar:  
As they to Britain passed out,  
with bouncing shot great store.   

At noise whereof I wakened strait,  
and calling for my close:  
And saw the Sun on such a height,  
that suddenly I rose.   

And so put all my dream in verse,  
would God a dream it were:  
For many things I now rehearse,  
will prove too true I fear.   
FINIS.    


To the right honourable my Lady Puckering, wife to the most honourable the L. keeper of the great seal of England.  
GOod Madam, strange it may seem, that a mere stranger to your Ladyship▪ ●are adventure to dedicate any piece of work, where bold attempt and labour may be but strangely understood, if a greater hope in your goodness exceeded not the greatness of my matter, but my 〈◊〉 your most honourable husbands bountiful dealings with me of late, makes me the bolder, (because I must be thankful) in this presumptio●● 〈◊〉 present some acceptable pe●ce of that small talon God hath given me to your good L. as well to be known of you, as to keeps me in my L. favour, and though that which I o●fer be scarce worthy the taking, Yet I trust first my serviceable present hall not be misliked▪ because the receiving well thereof, may procure a further piece of work better penned, such as shall best become me to present, as knoweth God, 〈◊〉 now, and at all times augment his good gifts of grace in your good Ladyship.   


LOng time in suit, and service gets some grave,  
Long craving gains, both crust and crome ye know:  
Long walking rids, great ground away apace,  
Long use of legs makes traveller easily go.  
Long watching t●●d, brings ebb at length to flo●,  
So loyal love, and duty long in ure:  
Full many ways doth great good will procure.   

Whereon good turns springs out as from a flood,  
Runs gushing waves, that waters every soil:  
Whose moisture doth, both fruit and flower much good,  
And profit brings to Ploughman's painful toil.  
This fair land flood, kept barren field from foil,  
For if no dew, of heaven I had found:  
Hot summers drought, had soon dried up my ground.   

The fountain had, her course no sooner run,  
With golden streams, that cordial is of kind:  
But strait began, to shine the gladsome S●n,  
That sucker sends, to tree, to root, and rind.  
The frost did thaw, with mild warm western wind,  
And all the springs and conduits of the town;  
Run Claret wine, in honour of the crown.   

When bill assigned, by suit from Prince had passed,  
Lord how the world, ●lood therewith well content:  
The clerk they wrote, and freely laboured fast,  
The seals were won, when purse no penny spent.  
The wax was wrought throw grace that God had sent,  
So seal and wax, and all that name I can:  
Came frankly of, to me from every man.   

Lo how hard world, by means is easy made,  
And men's good wills, with tract of time we gain:  
In spring it sprouts, at fall of leaf did fade,  
The grass grows green, with little showers of rain.  
I reaped the crop, and fruit of others pain,  
What needs more words, each place where I did go:  
For Prince's grace, did me great favour sho.   

They knew that Court had clean consumed my youth,  
And plead mine age, with pretty pension now:  
If so they thought, in deed they guessed the truth,  
For youth and age, perforce is pleased throw.  
Save that they bid me make my pen my plough,  
And prove awhile, what printed books will do:  
To help old Tom, to get a supper too.   

But blessed be her that did the dinner give,  
With too much meat we may a surfeit take:  
Long with good rule, and diet men may live,  
Full belly oft, an empty purse may make.  
He feedeth best, that eats for hunger's sake.  
Than portion poor, makes men ne proud nor rich:  
Yet one good meal a day doth please me mich.   

Where am I now, I speak of liberal men,  
That freely gave the seals and all the rest:  
Which deed deserves both thanks and praise of pen,  
For that is all from me they have possessed.  
This course would make the learned Lawyers blest,  
If of poor men (they took no fee at all:)  
Whose wrongs are great, and riches is but small.   

To troth and trudge two hundredth miles or more,  
And spend their goods in toiling too and fro:  
And be long pinched with pain and labour sore,  
And then compelled to costly term to go.  
Craves great regard of them that conscience know.  
Than wise grave heads that looks through every cause:  
Defend the poor with favour of your laws.   

Their plaints may pierce through highest heavens all,  
Their prayers brings great blessings to your door:  
Your fame doth rise, where they good words let fall,  
For happy are the hands that helps the poor.  
This sentence should be written on the floor,  
Who can do good to those that stands in need:  
Shall reap much corn, where sown was little séed.   

When justice flows from liberal noble mind,  
Good turns in world will make men live like Saints▪  
When good cheap law, poor silly souls do find,  
The Court is not long troubled with complaints.  
Frank heart goes throw where feeble courage faints,  
Bounty wins love, and lasts for ever more:  
Who doth great good and little takes therefore.   

The poor are more in number every where,  
Then are the rich that have the world at will:  
Wherefore the more we ought with them to bear,  
Because they live in lack and sorrow stil.  
The Lord that sits on his high holy hill,  
Looked lowly down on Lazarus the poor:  
That humbly asked an alms at Dives door.   

Most precious are the poor to God above,  
Though here below they walk like lambs were lost:  
And one good turn to them doth get more love,  
Then forty things we do for worldly boast.  
Who saves a ship that is with tempest tossed,  
And brings the bark where help and harbour is:  
For thankful pains shall purchase heaven bliss.   

When that great judge shall come to judge us all,  
Such as did help the poor shall happy be:  
For then that judge will for those people call,  
Who to the poor were always frank and free.  
Though world wax blind, the Lord doth daily see,  
Who helps who harms, and who in hope and trust:  
Lays up their gold where riches cannot rust.   

The wise no doubt doth so by gift of grace,  
That governs man in every honest cause:  
Those noble minds that virtue do embrace,  
Are plac'●t by Prince the judges of our Laws.  
At that well head the poor clear water draws,  
Yea poor and rich do taste that running stream:  
That spreads her veins throw all this stately Ream.   

Who could enjoy a yard or foot of Land,  
If Law did not decide true titles right?  
Or who could hold his purse in his own hand?  
If Law brought not dark dealings unto light.  
Good Law doth see clear day from cloudy night,  
Discerns the troth from falsehood finely clad:  
Whose glorious grace deceives each simple head.   

Law looks on all and sifts the flower from bran,  
Law sets that strait that craft would crooked make:  
Law is a stay to state and life of man,  
Law with a word makes guilty conscience quake.  
Law with the sword from shoulders head doth take.  
Law forceth love, where hatred seeketh blood:  
And Law 'mong men in world doth greatest good.   

Where Law is none, there civil order dies,  
Both brute, and rude, and savage people grow:  
Like Cannibals they live in beastly guise,  
And naked too like mad wild goats they go.  
The Fiend they serve for God they do not know,  
Where Law doth lack and justice hath no place▪  
There never comes ne goodness, rule, nor grace.   

O God how glad the hungry is of food,  
The heavy heart that woe hath wasted long:  
To feel and find the Lawyers in such mood,  
That they by Law redress a poor man's wrong.  
O sweet consort O pleasant well set song,  
Where all the parts the singers have by rote:  
And out of tune is placed near a note.   

O noble Law where justice voice doth sound,  
Concordance right the prop of public state:  
And where no jar of music may be found,  
Nor discord comes amiss to breed debate.  
Who loves no law doth all good order hate▪  
Law holds the joints to gather firm and fast:  
That makes the house and timber long to last.   

With equal weights in balance all is tried,  
By measure just the world doth buy and sell:  
A little grain in gold is quickly spied,  
When in true scales good coin is weighed well.  
Rest so I have a further tale to tell,  
God grant my muse be in so good a vain:  
That I deserve but thanks for all my pain.   
FINIS.    


To the right worshipful the Lady Anderson, wife to the right honourable Lord chief justice of the common Pleas.  
MY boldness being much, may pass the bounds of duty, but the goodness of your honourable husband (good Madam) passeth so far the commendation of my pen, that under his judgement and shield (that is so just a judge) I make a safeguard to this my presumption, that hazardeth where I am unknown to present any piece of Poetry or matter of greater effect, yet adventuring by fortune, to give my Lady your sister somewhat in the honour of the Queen's Majesty, in the excellency of her worthy praise that never can decay. I have translated some verses out of French, that a Poet seemed to write of his own mistress, which verses are so apt for the honouring of the Phoenix of our world, that I cannot hide them from the sight of the worthy, nor dare commit so gross a fault as to let them die with myself: wherefore and in way of your favour in publishing these verses, I dedicate them to your good Ladyship, though not so well penned as the first Author did polish them, yet in the best manner my muse can afford, they are plainly expressed, hoping they shallbe as well taken as they are meant, so the blessed and great judge of all daily bless you.   

A few plain verses of truth against the flattery of time, made when the Queen's Majesty was last at Oxenford.  
Sigh silent Poets all,  
that praise your Ladies ●o:  
My Phoenix makes their plumes to fall,  
that would like Peacocks go.  
Some do their Prince's praise,  
and Synthia some do like:  
And some their Mistress honour raise,  
as high as soldiers pike.  
Come down ye do presmount,  
the warning bell it sounds:  
That calls you Poets to account,  
for breaking of your bounds.  
In giving fame to those,  
fair flowers that soon doth fade:  
And clean forget the white red rose,  
that God a Phoenix made.  
Your Ladies also do decline,  
like Stars in darksome night:  
When Phoenix doth like Phoebus' shine,  
and leands the world great light.  
You paint to please desire,  
your Dame in colours g●y:  
As though brave words, or trim attire,  
could grace a clod of clay.  
My Phoenix needs not any art,  
of Poets painting quill:  
She is herself in every part,  
so shaped by kindly skill.  
That nature cannot well amend,  
and to that shape most rare:  
The Gods such special grace doth send,  
that is without compare.  
The heavens did agree,  
by constellations plain:  
That for her virtue she should be the only queen to reign,  
(In her most happy days) and carries clean away:  
The tip and top of peerless praise, if all the world say nay,  
Look not that I should name, her virtue in their place,  
But look on her true well-won fame, that answers form & face  
And therein shall you read, a world of matter now,  
That round about the world doth spread her heavenly graces throw  
The seas (where cannons roar) hath yielded her her right,  
And sent such news unto the shore, of enemy's foil and flight.  
That all the world doth sound, the glory Phoenix goat  
Whereof an echo doth rebound, in such a tune and note,  
(That none alive shall reach) of Phoenix honour great,  
Which shall the poets muses teach, how they of her should treat  
O then with verses sweet, if Poets have good store,  
Fling down your pen, at Phoenix feet, & praise your nymphs no more.  
Pack hence she comes in place, a stately Royal Queen:  
That takes away your Lady's grace, as soon as she is seen.  
FINIS.    


To the right Worshipful my Lady Fortescue, wife to the right honourable Sir john Fortescue Knight.  
THe good turn and great labour good Madam, your Honourable husband bestowed in my behalf binds me so far, as I must not be ingrat, to him nor none of his, & chiefly to remember your Ladyship, with some matter acceptable, I than thinking of the great grief that many Soldiers found by the absence of the Queen's Majesty in time of the plague, when she lay last at Hampton court, drew out some sad verses of the sorrow among Soldiers conceived, and presuming you will accept them, I became so bold as to present them to your hands, had I any worthier work to offer I would bring better, but hoping these few lines shall dutifully show my good will, I am to crave your favour, in presenting these verses unto you, desiring God to multiply his benefits and blessings in your good Ladyship.   


Verses of value, if Virtue be seen,  
Made of a Phoenix, a King, and a Queen.   

MY Phoenix once, was wont to mount the skies,  
To see how birds, of base feathers flew:  
Then did her Port, and presence please our eyes:  
Whose absence now, breeds nought but fancies new.  
The Phoenix want, our court, and Realm may rue.  
Thus sight of her, such welcome gladness brings,  
That world joys much, when Phoenix claps her wings   

And flies abroad, to take the open air,  
In royal sort, as bird of stately kind:  
Who hates soul storms; and loves mild weather fair,  
And by great force, can boar the blostring wind,  
To show the grace, and greatness of the mind,  
My Phoenix hath, that virtue growing green,  
When that abroad, her gracious face is seen.   

Let neither fear, of plagues nor wits of men,  
Keep Phoenix close, that aught to live in sight:  
Of open world, for absence wrongs us then,  
To take from world, the Lamp that gives us light,  
O God forbidden, our day were turned to night,  
And shining Sun, in clouds should shrouded be,  
Whose golden rays, the world desires to see.   

The Dolphin daunts, each fish that swims in Seas,  
The Lion fears, the greatest beast that goes:  
The Bees in Hive, are glad their King to please,  
And to their Lord, each thing their duty knows.  
But first the King, his Princely presence shows,  
Then subjects stoops, and prostrate falls on face,  
Or bows down head, to give their master place.   

The Sun hath power, to comfort flowers and grass,  
And purge the air, of soul infections all:  
Makes each thing pure where his clear beams do pass  
Draws up the dew, that mists and fogs let's fall,  
My Phoenix hath, a greater gift at call,  
For vassals all, a view of her do crave,  
Because thereby, great hope and hap we have.   

Good turns it brings, and suitors plaints are heard,  
The poor are pleased, the rich some purchase gains,  
The wicked blush: the worthy wins reward,  
The servant finds: a mean to quit his pains:  
The wronged man, by her some right attains,  
Thus every one, that help and secure needs,  
In hard distress, on Phoenix favour feeds.   

But from our view, if world do Phoenix keep,  
Both Sun and Moon, and stars we bid farewell,  
The heavens mourn, the earth will wail and weep.  
The heavy heart, it feels the pains of Hell,  
Woe be to those, that in despair do dwell.  
Was never plague, nor pestilence like to this,  
When souls of men, have lost such heavenly bliss.   

Now suitors all, you may shoot up your plaints  
Your Gods now, is locked in shrine full fast:  
You may perhaps, yet pray unto her Saints.  
Whose ears are stopped, and hearing sure is past.  
Now in the fire, you may such Idols cast.  
They cannot help, like stocks and stones they be,  
That have no life, nor cannot hear nor see.   

Till that at large, our royal Phoenix comes,  
Pack hence poor men, or pick your fingers ends.  
Or blow your nails, or gnaw and bite your thombs,  
Till God above, some better fortune sends.  
Who here abides, till this bad world amends,  
May do full well, as tides do ebb and flow,  
So fortune turns, and haps do come and go.   

The body's joy, and all the joints it bears,  
Lies in the head, that may command the rest:  
Let head but ache, the heart is full of fears,  
And arms across, we clap on troubled breast:  
With heavy thoughts, the mind is so oppressed.  
That neither legs, nor feet have will to go,  
As man himself, were clean o'ercome with woe.   

The head is it, that still preserves the sense▪  
And seeks to save, each member from disease:  
Devise of head, is bodies whole defence:  
The skill whereof, no part dare well displease,  
For as the Moon, moves up the mighty seas,  
So head doth guide, the body when it will.  
And rules the man, by wit and reasons skill.   

But how should head, in deed do all this good,  
When at our need, no use of head we have:  
The head is felt, is seen and understood.  
Then from disgrace, it will the body save.  
And otherwise, sick man drops down in grave.  
For when no help, nor use of head we find,  
The feet falls lame, and gazing eyes grow blind.   

The limbs war stiff, for want of use and aid,  
The bones do dry, their marrow wastes away:  
The heart is dead, the body lives afraid,  
The sinews shrink, the blood doth still decay,  
So long as world, doth want the Star of day,  
So long dark night, we shall be sure of h●●re,  
For cloudy skies, I fear will never clear.   

God send some help, to salve sick poor men's sores,  
A bore of balm, would heal our wounds up quite:  
That precious oil, would eat out rotten cores,  
And give great health, and man his whole delight.  
God send some sun, in frosty morning white.  
That cakes of ice may melt by gentle thaw:  
And at well head, we may some water draw.   

A Riddle.  
We wish, we want, yet have that we desire:  
We freeze, we burn, and yet kept from the fire.   
FINIS.    

This is taken out of Belleau made of his own Mistress.  

Sad sighs doth show, the heat of hearts desire,  
And sorrow speaks, by signs of heavy eyes:  
So if hot flames, proceed from holly fire,  
And love may not, from vicious fancy's eyes,  
In tarrying time, and favour of the skies,  
My only good, and greatest hap doth lie:  
In her that doth, all fond delight dispies:  
Than turn to me, sad sighs I shall not die▪   

If that be she, who hath so much me bound,  
And makes me hers, as I were not mine own:  
She most to praise, that may alive be found,  
Most great and good, and gracious thoroughly known▪  
She all my hope, in brief yea more than mine,  
(That quickly may, bring life by look of eye)  
Than come chaest sighs, a close record divine,  
Return to me, and I shall never die.   

If from young years she gained the garland ga●e,  
And won the price, of all good gifts of grace:  
If princely port, do virtuous mind bewray,  
And royal power, be found by noble face,  
If she be borne, most happy grave and wise,  
A Sibyl sage, sent down from heavens hie,  
O smothering sights, that feign would close mine eyes,  
Return to me, so shall I never die.   

If most upright, and fair of form she be,  
That may bear life, and sweetest manner shows,  
loves God, good men, and Country's wealth doth see,  
A queen of kings, all Christian princes knows,  
So justly lives, that each man hath his own,  
Sets strait each state, that else would go awry:  
Whereby her ●ame, abroad the world is blown,  
Then seance sad sighs, so shall I never die.   

If she the heart of Alexander have,  
The sharp esprite, and hap of Hannibal:  
The constant mind, that Gods to Scipio gave,  
And Caesar's grace, whose triumphed passed all,  
If in her thought, do dwell the judgement great,  
Of all that reigns, and rules from earth to sky:  
(And sits this hour, in throne and regal seat),  
Come sighs again, your master can not die.   

If she be found, to taste the piercing air,  
In heat in cold, in frost, in snow and rain:  
As diamond, that shines so passing fair,  
That sun nor moon, nor weather cannot stain:  
If blasts of wind, and storms to beauty yield,  
And this well springe, makes other fountains dry,  
(Turns tides and floods, to water barren field,)  
Come sighs then home, I live and cannot die.   

If her great gifts, doth daunt dame fortunes might,  
And she have caught, the hairs and head ot hap:  
To others hard, to her a matter light,  
To mount the clouds, and fall in honour's lap.  
If she herself, and others conquers too,  
lives long in peace, and yet doth war defy:  
As valiant kings, and virtuous victors do,  
Then sigh no more, o heart I cannot die.   

If such a prince, abase her highness than,  
For some good thing, the world may guess in me:  
And stoops so low, too like a silly man,  
That little knows, what Princes grace may be.  
If she well way, my faith and service true,  
And is the judge, and touch that gold shall try:  
The colour clear, that never changeth hue,  
Heart sigh no more, I live and may not die.   

If I do use, her favour for wy weal,  
By reason off, her gracious countenance still:  
And from the sun, a little light I steal,  
To keep the life, in lamp to burn at will.  
If robbery thus, a true man may commit,  
Both I and mine, unto her merits fly:  
If I presume, it springs for want of wit,  
Excuse me than, sad sighs or else I die.   

If she do know, her shape in heart I bear,  
Engraude in breast, her grace and figure is▪  
Yea day and night, I think and dream each where,  
On nothing else, but on that heavenly bliss,  
If so transformed, my mind and body lives,  
But not consumed, nor find no cause to cry.  
And wait on her, that help and comfort gives.  
Than come poor sighs, your master shall not die.   

If she behold that here I wish no breath,  
But live all hers, in thought in word and deed:  
Whose favour lost, I crave but present death,  
Whose grace attained, lean soul full fat shall feed.  
If any cause, do keep her from my sight,  
I know no world, myself I shall deny,  
But if her torch, do lend my candle light,  
Heart sigh no more, the body doth not die.   

But if by death, or some disgrace of mine,  
Through envies sting, or false report of foes,  
My view be bard, from that sweet face divine.  
Believe for troth, to death her servant goes,  
And rather sure, than I should ill conceive:  
Sighs mount to skies, you know the cause and why.  
How here below, my lusty life I leave,  
Attend me there, for wounded heart must die.   

If she believe, without her presence here,  
That any thing, may now content my mind:  
Or think in world, is spark of gladsome cheer,  
Where she is not, nor I her presence find:  
But all the joys, that man imagine may,  
As handmaids wait, on her here under sky,  
Then sighs mount up, to heavens hold your way,  
And stay me there, for I of force must die.   

If I may fear, that fragile beauty light,  
Or semblance fair, is to be doubted sore:  
Or my vain youth, may turn with fancies might,  
Or sighs full falls, ●ains grief or torment more:  
Than heart doth feel, then angry stars above,  
Do band yourselves, 'gainst me in heavens high.  
And rigour work, to conquer constant love,  
Mount up poor sighs, here is no help I die.   

And so sad sighs, the witness of my thought,  
If love find not, true guerdon for good will:  
Ere that to grave, my body shallbe brought,  
Mount up to clouds, and there abide me still,  
But if good hope, and hap some succour send,  
And honour doth, my virtuous mind supply,  
With triple bliss, for which I long attend,  
Return good sighs, I mean not now to die.   
Translated out of French, for one that is bound much to Fortune.  
FINIS.   

This is to be red five ways.  

IN hat a favour worn, a bird of gold in Britain land,  
In loyal heart is borne, yet doth on head like Phoenix stand.  
To set my Phoenix forth, whose vetues may then all surmount,  
An orient pearl more worth, in value price & good accounnt,  
Then gold or precious stone▪ what tongue or verse dare her distain.  
A peerless paragon, in whom such gladsome gifts remain.  
Whose seemly shape is wrought, as out of war were made the mould  
By fine devise of thought, like shrined Saint in beaten gold,  
Dame nature did disdain, and thought great scorn in any sort,  
To make the like again, that should deserve such rare report.   

There needs no Poe●●s pen, nor painter's peniel come in place,  
Nor flattering phrase of men, whose filled speech gives each thing grace  
To praise this worthy dame, a Nymph which Diana holds full dear  
That in such perfect frame, as mirror bright & crystal clear  
Is set out to our view, threefold as fair as shining Sun,  
For beauty grace and hue, a work that hath great glory won,  
A Gods dropped from sky, for causes more than men may know  
To please both mind & eye for those that dwells on earth below  
And show what heavenly grace, and noble secret power divine.  
Is seen in Princely face, that kind hath formed & ●●amd so fine.   

Lo this is all I writ, of sacred Phoenix ten times blest,  
To show mine own delight, as fancy's humour thinketh best.   
FINIS.   


TO THE RIGHT Worshipful, my Lady Brocket, wife to Sir john Brocket knight, one of the Lieutenants of Hartford Shire.  
A Promise made to the good Lady you Sister, who died in the Tower (good Madam) command's me to shape somewhat of good will & labour of pen, to present your La, withal, & for that I can not long live in this world & must needs take leave thereof sooner than I look for. I have found out an old farewell that may breed some new consideration, and such a running and roving rhyme it is (I hope without offence) as rather shall procure laughter than lowering, it is interlarded with conceits, and mixed with familiar terms, shortly knit up, and without all curious circumstances▪ as brief to the Reader, as untedious to the writer, having passed the censure of the world thirty years ago, and is now put in print again for a passing of the time, and a farewell to the world. So hoping your La. receives it in good part, the matter beginneth I trust to your content and good liking.  
FINIS.   

A FAREWELL when I WENT to study, written to the World.  
FArewell thou world, that me betrayed so long,  
Too dearly bought, I find thy follies all:  
Who shall thee serve, is sure to suffer wrong:  
Who scorns thy haps, may shun thy sudden fall  
Who fauwnes on thee, shall drink thy bitter gall:  
Who flies thy toys, thy painted face shall find,  
Who sooner slides, than those which at thy call,  
lives like thy slaves, in body, soul, and mind.  
First from a child, with fancies was I fed,  
All at thy hands▪ till I to manhood grew:  
Than in the dark, lo blindfeld was I led  
So that my God, myself, nor man I knew,  
Wild wit, young blood, old vice, new bred in bones,  
Made me forget, my duty all at once.  
Fair things, foul thoughts, fond works & flattering ease,  
Had muffled me, and hoodwinked so my wits  
That in the storms, I drade no Silla's seas,  
Nor in the calms I feared no froward fits  
Which were to come: things present pleased me best  
Those gone I made no mirror to the rest.  
Bed soft, full mouth, gay back and foolish fame,  
Was all I sought, like Lord to live at lust  
At my noun shape, and shadow had I game,  
A looking glass, a plaifféer trim at trust  
To pry upon, my life thus did I frame  
Clean out of tune, I see it now full well  
So that my life, was careless every dell,  
Yet found I have, a heap of other harms  
Therereby: what then, I cannot them amend,  
When dead they seem, than spring they up by swarms▪  
Such mischief ripped, will have a rotten end  
Though at the full, the tide of them is now,  
The Ebb may come, when God a time shall send,  
Leave that to him, and I shall tell you how,  
I learned to know, the kind and course of man,  
His nature new, his fashion half disguised,  
And how for shame, at length lo I began  
To follow that, which I afore despised.  
Full welcome aught, that learning be to me  
Which taught me wit, when wildness weave the loeme  
Of wanton ways, and blindness gan to see  
The path he missed, the way that led me home  
Unto the Port, where I would harboured be.  
And rather dwell, with quiet settled mind,  
Then rove abroad, to seek uncertain luck,  
Or subject be, to filthy worldly muck.  
I would not sure, be bound to suhc a clog,  
That would me rob, of reason and good skill  
And in the end, but fish and catch a frog,  
As some have done, and some do use it still,  
Which snatch the bone, before the hungry dogg●  
UUho will not part, from that he hath in hold●  
Although in deed, his master would it have:  
Unto this end, this tale now I have told,  
To show him wise, that knoweth what to crave.  
And asks of those, that freely gives for nought,  
But he most wise, that hath no greedy thought.  
And can content, him with those little scraps,  
That falls by lot, unto him for his share,  
And finds no fault, at others worldly haps,  
But hath a head, as free from inward care.  
As babe new borne, yea such a one may smile,  
And laugh his fill, where some cries woe the pie:  
He shall see much, that hath a simple eye:  
That man shall see, the strong the weak beguile,  
The poor by rich, and mighty swallowed up,  
The harmless drink, out of the poisoned cup.  
The needy lack, that greedy raveners gripe,  
The thieves let go, that robs in velvet weeds:  
And sits on bench, when truth feels many a stripe.  
How fear is dubbed, a knight for simple deeds,  
How manhood begs, and none are helped that néed●  
How creep in holes, that did no hurt at all,  
Are valiant called, such are the people's brute:  
The quiet man, these things behold he shall,  
And see them pass, and learn thereby some fruit.  
As I have done, though far from quiet mind,  
In any case, myself God wots I find.  
Save that to toil, and burdens for to bear,  
I framed am, and lets the world alone:  
Amid my foes, that fawns and speaks full fear.  
I live aloufe, and will not be aknowne.  
There hate I have, I must dissemble there,  
As doth those mates, which play at fortune's ball:  
Do not some halt, that well may go upright:  
Who can deny, but we dissemble all  
In some one point, and wisdom we it call  
Things are not found, as they do seem to sight.  
Some laugh in heart, yet show a weeping eye,  
You have hard say, the blind eats many a fly.  
How should the sad, with wantoness mirth agree,  
The whole with sick, the wise with foolish dwell:  
The proud with meek, the mean with mighty be  
If all these sorts, could not dissemble well.  
And even so, it fareth now by me  
I wink at things, that I would not be hold.  
And see those fall, that profits me no whit,  
I hear likewise, that I can wish untold:  
I shoot with them, that never mark may hit:  
But me believe, yet win the game I would.  
Among that sort, that gives aim to sit.  
I like not sure: I rather wish to bet  
Then look upon, and lay on near a sled.  
Set doubts a part, it is good sport to get.  
But he that wins, must hazard needs abide,  
(I leave you there) I would so make my game,  
It were half won, before the match were tried,  
And make him think, that hits the mark is wide.  
And say himself, he roveth out of frame,  
I pray you now, who would not do the same,  
To gain thereby, or else at least to save,  
Then grant me this, dissemble sure ye must,  
As I may do, or in time passed I have.  
And made some blind, that better saw then I.  
And saw full oft, that I would not perceive,  
When that thereon, did life or danger lie:  
And yet I looked, and leered by your leave,  
What might befall, and sought to shun the shocks.  
And as I fled, ill fortune followed fast,  
When she should strike, I scaped many a knock,  
By donking down, I knew so well her cast,  
With cap and knee, her favour soon I won.  
So in a while, she took me as her man.  
But when I thought, most hold of her to take,  
Away she went, the whirl wind in her tail.  
Yet with her friends, fair weather did I make.  
Whose help was good, when world began to fail.  
And if you ask, how I acquainted was,  
With such sure props, that holds up house and all,  
And how that I, could bring such things to pass.  
To keep me up, when diverse sought my fall.  
(His fall not great, it cannot be I trow,  
Whose climbing up, was never much you know)  
This by the way, I speak yet answer lo,  
To you I make, that this demands of me,  
To court I came, where I could hear and see,  
As others did, and with the strong I stood,  
As world did wag, I wound my bark about.  
And leaned me there, where I could find most good,  
In deed this was, the way to bear it out,  
And there I found, of every sort enough:  
Would I be brave, I knew where mates were had,  
Would I be stout, I saw who will not bow,  
High looks was he, that still I saw go throw,  
That ship made way, that all the sails could bear.  
Small spirit sat low, with finger in his ear,  
Great curtsy crept, full high among the best.  
He made them laugh, that looked as he would swear,  
He carried coals, that could abide no gest.  
Plain life the lout, was little set by there,  
Fine taunting tongues, brought many a fool in fear  
Make love the meek, was ready at a call.  
Feign would be seen, was fisking every were,  
Set forth to sale, was marked beyond them all.  
Vain glory smiled, and looked for much ado,  
Newfanglenesse, shaked off old friendship passed,  
Fine fall at foot, could whine and bite you toe,  
Proud blind conceit, would not be placed last.  
Small wit would laugh, at wiser than himself,  
Disdain that dwarft, looked like a peevish elf.  
Strange nature frowned, when homely folks sat down,  
Full purse found friends, that came to late to town.  
Set by himself, would not salute but sew:  
Small worth made boast, still mouth was all the shrew.  
Tell all that blab, was called a roister than,  
False semblance thriude, that could two faces bear.  
Happy was he, that was a turnecoates man,  
They sped not worst, that counterfeited wear,  
Do as world did, drove off the longest time:  
He had the lands, that was Dick shifters ear,  
He caught the birds, that best could set the lime,  
Yet broken shins, some gate that used to climb.  
Spite spurned at those, that better sped than he,  
All busy heads, could not on shoulders bide:  
They met full oft, that seldom could agree,  
Who fell so soon, as wit orematch with pride?  
Who rose but such, as ruffled forth their years,  
Yet change of suits, brought many in the briars.  
White plums cost pence, apparel picked the purse  
All worn in Court, was not in City paid,  
Sharp set, said oft, back clouts made belly worse.  
Bare cloak he ware, whose credit was decayed,  
Catch nought poor knave, could Court and Courtiers curse,  
Spend all s●te still, and looked like a maid,  
Hope well made spoil, and weighted for a day,  
Unthrift would swear, and dice it all away.  
Toss blade would snuff, and shake a swinish head,  
Dare do looked big, as butcher in his shop:  
Save-grote smelled out; where hunger may be sped,  
Proud would not speak, that sat not at the top.  
When lurch was out, some knew not where to dine,  
Who keeps the bar, was asked every hour,  
Some speak full fair, to get a cup of wine,  
God save ye sir, will please you take a flower.  
A sweet red Rose, he had that kept good cheer:  
And many a cap, and courchy to the ground,  
An officer still, was made of all the year,  
Old stagers knew, where such a friend was found.  
Young fry might fast, for any thing they gate,  
New comers walked, abroad for taking cold:  
Full paunch did march, as he had been a state,  
Who looks like me, thought he that chip sold  
When Christmas robes, were brushed & that day worn,  
Well was that man, might bid that saint good morn.  
Bear rule stood stiff, and kept his betters out,  
Boldface thrust in, throw thickest press and throng,  
Hoffe have at all, full high could hold the snout,  
Speak as he thought, was not in favour long,  
Find fault the fool, would flyer in each man's face,  
Rich ruled the roast, lack friends felt all the wrong,  
Bare life knew not, to whom to show his case,  
Wast all the wield, might sing a heavy song.  
hoist up in ha●●, forget from whence he came  
High office scorned, to look back how he clymde,  
Hog Norton br●d, disdain to know their dame,  
Pride scared no fall, till foot full fast was limed,  
Snatch scratched all, and give his fellows none,  
Need licked the plates, and gnawed bare the bone,  
Mounch present crept, in corners all alone▪  
Havoc was made, where meat was little seen:  
Unworthy of bread, fardewell God save the Queen.  
Spoil would not spare, his charges was but small,  
Make feast filled in, the King did pay for all.  
Seek help, spoke fair, yet sloly sped his suit,  
Give bribes was heard, his money told his tale,  
Lack nought had more, but want could find no fruit  
Need blew his nails, and looked very stolen.  
Skill for a shift, was glad to teach for pence,  
Old hangers on, would not be beaten thence.  
Wit did invent, but wealth bore all the brute:  
Boldness did speak, when bashnes was full mute.  
Cunning wrought much, but craft beyond him crept,  
Poets made rhymes, but roisters praises rept,  
Wisdom would wait, on many a woodcock oft,  
Old brooms were good, but new all clean they swept,  
Love ease sat long, and looked to lie full soft.  
Eat much would boast, he served our suffrant long,  
Fat brows Knights, I tell you took great pain,  
Some went full gay, that was not worth a thong.  
Some threw at all, and nicked every main.  
He talked of wars, that had small wit in peace,  
Scarce knew himself, would common wealths debate:  
He spoke great things, that swelted in his grease.  
Witless well di●de, would be a lords check mate,  
Lo crouched unto, a sore Discourse would make,  
Make room my friends (quoth he) that kept the gate  
Craft had a care, to all he did or spoke,  
Unwelcome guests, stepped in and a●t no leave,  
Some pleased the prince, yet had the people's hate.  
Some served them both, and did them both deceive.  
He near sat still, that courried favour well:  
Some played the fox, that like a goose could look,  
Some asked what news, and yet could wonders tell,  
Small mind of God, would often bear a book,  
He went to mass, that would the Chalice sell,  
Some loud the Church, for the sweet relics there  
Some made of saints, brought up another where:  
Some neither saint, nor Devil feared at all,  
Some like this world, more than the world to come:  
Some in their ruff, would jet about the hall,  
Some spent such nights, they dread no day of doom,  
Some watch their time, and yet their time they lost,  
Some banquets made, and wear bankrupt at last:  
Some learned to be, fine Courtiers to their cost.  
Some had small help, and yet spent all full fast.  
Some sought to spend, upon another's charge,  
Some careless lived, and walked abroad at large,  
Some craved apace, and caught some crumbs by craft,  
Some could not ask, they thought deserts should crave,  
Some made fair sale, of blades louse in the haft.  
Some never wan, nor could devise to save.  
Some waited hard, but gate small fruit therefore,  
Some had ill hap, and yet no virtue lacked:  
Some saved odd ends, and made of little more,  
Some had their bags, as full as could be thwakt.  
Some made cold mirth, yet favoured for such vice,  
Who Fortune liket, was ever most in price.  
All this in Court, I saw of them good store  
F●ll twenty years, as trial good I have,  
Not of Court now, as Court hath been of yore,  
I writ, I speak, and treat so God me save.  
To show wherefore, from thence I me withdrew,  
What harm it did, unto my betters far.  
What good likewise, he gate that Court well knew,  
How some did make, and some therein did mar.  
But to be plain, where I such changes found,  
I list not dwell, let them that will be bound  
To that short rain, I choose the quiet soil  
The Country large, to have free scope to walk,  
To be in Court, I count it but a toil.  
Where heart much thinks, and tongue dare little talk.  
Where some must site, and look upon the walls:  
And beat their heels, against formsides all day,  
And subjects are, to others becks and calls,  
That life is weak, wherein their is no stay,  
A piece of bread, is better had with eas.  
Then banquets sweet, upon such bitter boards  
Some say there is, no fishing to the Seas,  
Yet many Trout, are caught on little fords,  
That shallow seem, with other pretty fish.  
That at the length, will make an honest dish,  
On little brooks, men angle safe and dry.  
In leather boots, and dread no drowning there,  
On these rough Seas, the least wind in the sky.  
types up the Bark, or brings a man in fear,  
Some have no hearts, with roaring waves to strive.  
Full green to sight, and uggly to the eye.  
Which on the rocks, the silly vessels drive.  
And knocks their keels, and makes poor Pilots cry  
Hale in the sail, let go the bowling mate.  
Now in good faith, such sudden shocks I hate,  
Yet some will think, I am not settled so,  
But I will seek, to try the Sea again,  
Why is the Earth, so narrow would I know,  
I cannot find, where I may well remain.  
The world is wide, and men must burdens bear,  
That ordained are, unto no better chance.  
That grows not here, takes root an other where,  
Some shooteth ill, yet happeneth by a glance,  
To hit their game, men ought to do their best.  
And seek their luck, and let God work the rest.  
So for my part, I shall likewise proceed,  
And though I bid, the Court and world farewell,  
I mean to use, them both as I have need.  
But for to say, in Court I wish to dwell,  
I mind it not, as God me help and speed,  
And for the world, his yoke still draw I must.  
But sure I serve, him all against my lust,  
For in the same, is neither hope nor trust,  
Wherefore my leave, I take as power I have,  
From him and his, though course of life saith no.  
A worldling here, I must be to my grave.  
For this is but, a May game mixed with woe,  
A borrowed roulme, where we our Pageants play.  
A scaffold plain, whereon we revels make.  
A crooked path, a perilous false high way,  
A toilsome soil, where we much travel take,  
Good Reader now, do neither sting nor hiss,  
At any thing, that in this verse is pliest,  
Where fault is found, for favour mend the miss.  
This roving rhyme, was slubbered up in haste,  
And nought thereby, the simple writer meant,  
But neither Court, nor world could him content.  
FINIS.    

A Tragical Discourse of a dolorous Gentlewoman, dedicated to all those Ladies that holds good name precious.  

YOu wives that wish, to live with world's renown,  
And wisely way, the worth of precious fame:  
Come hear the voice, that gives a woeful sown.  
Come hear her tale, that dare not show her name▪  
Come Country youth, come noble Courtly Dame.  
And mark my words, whose works in wondering days,  
With double blot, redounds to my dispraise.   

From tender years, till twenty two were passed,  
I nourished was, at pomp at pleasures pap●,  
But who can tell, how long our joy shall last:  
For greatest calms, comes oft to thunder claps,  
And sweetest hopes, do change to sourest haps,  
O tickle time, that wanders swift as wind,  
With hair before, and bare and bald behind.   

No gripe nor hand, can take sure hold of thee,  
Thou flitst so fast, and leaves the world at worst,  
Look what time brings, time takes away you see.  
Good time is blest, bad time we hold accost.  
Time hurts them oft, that time did help at forced,  
Look what we have, when youth is most in prime,  
That shall we want, in age by course of time.   

My fresh delights, do fall and fade like flower,  
The blossoms gay, from beauty's buds are gone,  
Our state of life, doth alter every hour,  
As pleasures pass, come sorrows pacing on,  
The world itself, is like a rolling stone,  
And on such wheels, our tumbling haps do run,  
They slide as swift, as shadow in the Sun.   

Whiles careless wit, doth carry youth about,  
(To sports and plays, that doth from pastime rise)  
The merry mind, is void of fear and doubt,  
And all the powers, are glad to please the eyes,  
But when wild head, or wanton waxeth wise,  
The weighty thoughts, that deep foresight retains,  
Brings troubled sleeps, and breaks the quiet brains.   

In childish days, I made no count of chance,  
When friends took care, to match me to their will,  
So hoping long, good hap would me advance,  
I kept me free, from wedlocks bondage still.  
But parents wise, that had good worldly skill,  
With open checks, rebuked the causes chief●,  
The more they stirred, the greater grew my grief.   

As when a sore, is rubbeth and handled hard,  
The less it heals, because ye touch it near:  
O Fathers grave, if that you took regard,  
How that with checks, you use your children dear,  
(Or in your moods, you would some reason here.  
They should be joined, where they great joy should have.  
And you of them, enjoy the thing you crave.   

But wilful men, (that wealth may wrest awry)  
Will force poor babes, to marry or to morn:  
What father will, the child may not deny.  
He hurts his shins, against the prick shall spurn,  
When match is made, it is past time to turn.  
When silly Lamb, is to the slaughter led,  
The Butchar brags, the simple Sheep is dead.   

And yet in deed, 'twere better children smart,  
(And match in time, as cause and matter moves).  
Then children's choice, should break the father's heart  
Or breed debate, as wilful marriage proves,  
Short is the joy, of them that longest loves,  
When want comes on, and woe gins to wring:  
For lack is thrall, and slave to every thing.   

Love is not now, as love hath been of old,  
(A gamesome babe, to dandle on the knee)  
Love cares for nought, but land and bags of gold,  
That keeps both man, and horse in stable free,  
They have no wit, that other lovers be,  
Wealth master is, and porter of the gate:  
That lets in love, when want shall come to late.   

Well as it was, my friends could do no good,  
My fortune bore, the sway and ruled all,  
And I full long, on will and freedom stood:  
Till flesh and blood, must needs to fancy fall.  
And then though hap, and worldly wealth was small  
I lighted where, I liked and loved well;  
And where I vowed, for term of life to dwell.   

My choice was liked, for many gifts of grace,  
He had, though wealth, sometime was not at will:  
And for his sake, in many a noble place,  
I welcome was, and purchased favour still.  
My candle blasoe, like torch on top of hill:  
And for content, of mind where love doth rest.  
Mine own poor choice, might pass among the best.   

Long lived we thus, at home and eke abroad,  
When kindred clean, in deed forsook us both.  
What burden fell, I helped to bear the load:  
And glad in world, to taste how Fortune goth,  
The mind I had, to God and sacred oath,  
Made me refuse, no travail for his sake▪  
Whom of free will, I choose to be my make.   

The Seas we sailed, the land we road about,  
The Court we saw, the town we dwelled long in:  
The fields we walked, the gardens gay throughout,  
We went unto, where many a feast hath been,  
We could not sink, for hap held up the chin.  
He prospered well, and look what God had sent,  
With loving wife, at home the same he spent.   

He took great pains, to come by that he had,  
And travailed sore, through many a foreign soil:  
To bring that home, that makes the household glad.  
And keep the wife, and household folk from ●oile,  
And I took care, that nothing went to spoil,  
And look in deed, what things that I did lack,  
Was seen in face, or found upon my back.   

The world might see, I went in garments good,  
Though small I brought, to him as I confess:  
I spent him much, and at great charge I stood.  
Which brings strong hearts, sometime to great distress▪  
But never that, might make his love the less.  
For look how he▪ his liking first began,  
In fine for troth, he proud the self same man.   

I could not sleep, but where in bed he lay,  
I could not eat, but where he sat at board:  
I could not laugh, when liking was away,  
I silent sat, gave he but half a word.  
Ill news of him, struck me with mortal sword,  
His mind and mine, did draw so in one yoke,  
The self same sits, he felt where of I spoke.   

Full seven years, this constant course we kept,  
Though often times, there happened household jars,  
And trattling tales, that in between us crept.  
Made many wounds, where yet remains the scars.  
Yet always peace, took up our brawling wars,  
And we did seek, to salve each others sore:  
And pass old griefs, and think thereon no more.   

Sweet is that peace, that patcheth up great harms,  
Sharp is the war, that tears a house in swain.  
Woe worth those words, that brings in brawls by swarms.  
Dark be those clouds, that always threatens rain.  
Cursed be the cause, that breedeth woe and pain,  
And damned in Hell, those subtle spirits shallbe:  
That council gave, to part my choice from me.   

Well as our chance, together was to join,  
And dwell long while, as here in brief you hard:  
So hap came on, (through hope of wealth or coin)  
And drew my choice, where he might be preferred▪  
To wars, and I, that had a great regard:  
To him that time, when I his mind did know:  
Gave my consent, that he to wars should go.   

With sighs and sobs, and bitter tears among,  
We parted tho, with promise surely passed:  
That one should hear, from other ere 'twere long,  
And sadly so, we severed at the last,  
His goods, his gold, his friends both firm and fast.  
He left me then, to comfort me withal,  
But near a child, as Fortune so did fall.   

He passed the seas, and sent me tokens still,  
And money such, as might supply my need:  
And for to show, his faith and great good will,  
Long Letters large, he made that I might reed.  
Of promise past, and to come home in deed,  
But to what end, should serve this business great,  
My mind was turned, warm love had lost his heat.   

A new fine man, both young and apt for change,  
I those, and clean, forgot my former joy:  
And in a while, I was become so strange.  
As Haggard Hawk, that takes in head a toy,  
And flees from Lure, and wa●eth nice and coy.  
My wedlock now, not hearing of these news,  
Made no haste home, till I was over the shows.   

Yet knacks I wrought, to blear my husband's eyes,  
I made a bruit, be blown that I was dead:  
When that he heard, he did his life despise:  
And so forsook, sleep, rest, and taste of bread,  
He rend his hair, he sadly shook his head,  
He walked the woods, and shunned all repair,  
As one would be, devoured with fowls of th'air.   

He daily bled, when little food he took,  
He would not come, where women were in place,  
And he so lean, and like a Ghost did look.  
That Death itself, was seen amid his face,  
A noble Earl, as he beheld this case:  
Broke with the man, that thus tormented was,  
And so in sports, the troubled time did pass.   

But ague ●its▪ and sickness followed on,  
That in poor plight, came home my husband thee,  
Not lean in purse, but bare and near the bone,  
The body then, was worn with war and woe,  
And yet full sound, as all the world might know,  
His limbs I saw, but I so nice did wax:  
There was no flame, of fire might come to flax.   

For I could weep, and quench by cunning art,  
The hottest love, that ever husband bore:  
And so two years, I played a Fox's part,  
Which ere I die, I may repent full sore,  
My husband's bed, I shunned, and furthermore,  
I feigned I had▪ a sickness let it go,  
I never mind, that folly forth to shoe.   

A finer ●ricke, to compass that I ●ought,  
I played through flight▪ and casting figures trim:  
To my good man, a bastard g●rle I brought,  
And from my friend▪ presented her to him:  
He saw thereby, the find run o'er the brim,  
Yet kept it close, and said nothing at all:  
Till out by chance, might further matter fall.   

And always would, my husband tell me plain,  
I did him wrong, to keep me from his bed:  
But I could use, him in a pleasant vain,  
And make him soon, forget that he had said.  
My door was locked, how ere I laid my head,  
My maids and I, kept solemn cheer alone:  
How ever plain, poor husband made his mon●.   

Two years this wise▪ I shoeffled Cards full clean,  
Till husband spied, a Letter of my hand:  
Whereby he found, what folly I did mean,  
But I was bend, against my deed to stand.  
So faced him down, and swore when all was scanned  
It was not mine, but as he sound slept:  
To his bed's side, my maid and I we stepped.   

And heaved him up, and so from bolster than,  
We took his purse, wherein the Letter lay:  
When that we had, we left the silly man,  
As safe as he, that sleeps in Cock of hay,  
Well, when he looked, in purse the other day,  
And found my fraud, and falsehood as it was:  
Out of the door, in fury did he pass.   

Yet came again, that night and so fell sick,  
(The cause whereof, soon after you shall here:)  
Full long he lay, and touched so near the quick,  
That he was like, to buy that sickness dear.  
But when on foot, he stepped and all was clear,  
He had farewell, fal●● wife, God send thee grace▪  
Thy wicked ways, mak●s husband give thee place.   

I saw how world, would wonder at this act,  
And strait new tales, on husband gan I raise:  
With forged lies, and railing reasons racked,  
That still should sound, unto his most dispraise.  
I feigned one while, he used wanton ways,  
With every maid, that he might touch or see:  
And then he was, to sick a soul for me.   

Then poor he was, I said to cloak my pride,  
When this served not, I sworn the man was mad,  
And in his rage, would beat me back and side,  
So every day, a new device I had.  
To make the world, believe he was too bad,  
And at the length, when all I had was sold:  
My maid and I: go try the world we would.   

So shutting door, and trusting up my pack●,  
I flung from home, not bidding friends farewell:  
But I had not, no sooner turned my back,  
But husband heard, how all this matter fell.  
And yet alone, awhile he let me dwell,  
Till that he saw, I was so far past shame:  
I card not what, became of honest name.   

Indeed the house, where I my residence made,  
With ●ustie Lads, was haunted every hour,  
And I had those, that well could toss the blade,  
To take my part, if husband gan to lower.  
His friends were weak, and I with strongest power,  
Began to brag, and threaten him full sore:  
And had prepared, a bloody band therefore.   

I sought to bring, my brethren to this brawl,  
But they were wise, and would no quarrel take:  
And putting off, the harms that might befall,  
They wisely wrought, a fraindly peace to make.  
But ever I, good counsel did forsake,  
And thought to make, my husband hide his head:  
By practise still, till he poor man were dead.   

Yet in a mood, when least I looked therefore,  
He came and told, me all was much amiss:  
Whereat I cried, alas and loud I roar,  
For neighbours help, who quickly hearing this,  
Came thrusting in, as oft the manner is,  
How now good folk, quoth he with bended brow:  
tween man and wife, dare you be sticklers now.   

No in good faith, quoth they and so retired,  
But still I looked, for other succour there:  
And for that thing, that husband then desired,  
I took no care, 
For poisoning her master▪  I meant a further fear.  
To bring him in, yet maid in giving ear,  
To honest words, fell down on knees at last:  
And pardon craved, for privy knavery past.   

My husband then, forgave her and took leave,  
In hope my mind, would gentle wax thereby:  
But I that meant, my husband to deceive,  
In better place, began a greater cry.  
Where women were, that marked my weeping eye,  
And thought indeed, I had been handled ill:  
So stayed me there, perforce among them still.   

My husband swore, I should receive no harm,  
And home again, I should be safely brought:  
But I had taught, the women such a charm,  
They would not then, depart from me for nought.  
That could be said, thus he like wa●e was wrought,  
And tempered so, that home without his wife:  
He went away, the more my shameless life.   

When shamef●●● looks, forsook my modest face,  
I waxed so bold, I blushed no more than block:  
Then clapped on Robes, of gay vaine-glories grace,  
With colours fair, to paint a foul black stock.  
Yet called I was, a Hen for each good Cock,  
A morsel sweet, a whetstone fine forsooth:  
To set on edge, on every dainty tooth.   

I card not how, my husband murdered were,  
By Magic's force, or any Devilish art:  
I should his sight, and presence every where,  
As one that lodged, disdain in hateful heart.  
And still I played, full many a filthy part,  
To rid him hence, and take away his life:  
Who God preserved, to plague a paltering wife.   

And for to hide, those brainsick pranks of mine,  
I had a knack to break the marriage band:  
And so a dram, or draft of poison fine,  
I did devise, to hap in husband's hand.  
And as that cup, on table's end did stand,  
With fervent thirst, he came and so it reached,  
And in that heat, drank of the mortal draft.   

When guilty heart, should make my face to blush,  
I braved it out, in silks and Velvets gay:  
And card not what, world said of me a rush,  
For I took time, e●e time would wear away.  
(At graceless games, and many a shameless play●)  
And sowing seeds, that Nettle flowers brought forth:  
I reaped but weeds, or thistles nothing worth.   

I ruffled long, when husband barely went,  
And fast him out, in streets or civil town,  
My friends did force the man to stand content,  
It was no boot, to strive or swear me down.  
For I had made the world on him to frown,  
And raised a brute, that he was bedlam mad:  
Thus lo, of him the conquest still I had.   

My haunt was such among the noblest sort,  
That I was called a sober Sibyl sage:  
And worthy wits would build on my report,  
For I knew how to flatter every age.  
And always wrought to make my husband rage  
Whereby his life in hazard hard might fall:  
And I the while run clean away with ball.   

I loved not one but lusted after all,  
The puddle ●oule, was fittest for a gig:  
The fountain fair did drink like bitter gall,  
In filthy mud I wallowd like a pig.  
About the streets was gadding gentle rig.  
With clothes tucked up to set bad ware to sale:  
For youth good stuff, and for old age a stolen.   

A loving look could make a Gudgeon bite,  
A fine du guard could fetch in schools of fish:  
A cunning knack could stir up cold delight,  
A glittering girl could feed a wantoness wish.  
And who doth not desire a dainty dish,  
Whose sugared taste breeds secret eager mood:  
That feign would feed, & finds most fearful food.   

I could in street bestir and stretch my limbs,  
As though some spirit were under outward show  
Who angleth not for fish that smoothly swims?  
At pleasant mark who doth not bend the bow?  
Small shafts are shot at many a cerraine Crow,  
Then if fair birds do hap to come in way:  
Blame not the Hawk that makes of foul a prey.   

Not beauty here, I claim by this my talk,  
For brown and black I was God bless the ma●ke:  
Who calls me fair doth scarce know Cheese from chalk,  
For I was formed when winter nights was dark.  
And Nature's works took light at little spark,  
For kind in scorn had made a mould of jest:  
That shone like coal, wherein my face was set.   

Three years I strayed like waff that waxeth wild,  
Two more at least I lay from husband's bed:  
And all this while I used him like a child,  
For at no time I neither wrote ne said.  
Ne sent to him, such toys I had in head.  
That stomach ●●iffe thought not to stoop a whit:  
For stubborn Colt in teeth had got the bit.   

He let me run oer hedge, oer hill and dale.  
And would not pluck the rains of bridle back:  
I could tell why, but thereby hangs a tale,  
Would make me blush and show of grace great lack.  
I had my will, whiles all thing went to wrack,  
What needs more words, I ran so rude a race:  
I never thought again to turn my face.   

What sleight escapes free, from subtle searching head,  
What wit works not to serve lewd women's wiles:  
What practice flies the foil of stained bed,  
What is not won with words or worldly guiles.  
What will not yield and faun where Fortune smiles,  
What time is lost to gain that women crave:  
And all proceeds from wayward will we have.   

If that we love, the fury lasts not long,  
If once we hate, our malice hath no end:  
If that we mind to offer husband wrong,  
We want no wit the quarrel to defend.  
Our stubborn heart had rather break then bend,  
And custom hath among us made such laws:  
That all our sex will take our part and cause.   

And where the flood and stream of strife doth run,  
In comes the tide of daily troubles great:  
Yea where a storm or brawl is once begun,  
All bitter blasts repairs and breathes out heat.  
the eyes will stare, the face will frown and sweat,  
The tongue must clap, the head will shake and nod:  
And heart within hath clean forgotten God.   

Friends must be wrought with blades to band it out,  
Foes must be whipped and scourged in their kind:  
World shallbe tossed and turned round about,  
Still to maintain the mischief of the mind.  
Tale bearers then shall lie within the wind,  
To bring bad news and set the house a fire:  
That flamed before with sparks of spites desire.   

My practice strange can all these plagues unfold,  
That better were leapt up in silence héer●:  
Too late to call again that tongue hath told,  
The wise should sell their words and worship dear.  
But since in world myself I cannot clear,  
I will go through this heavy tale of mine:  
That world may well at wicked ways repine.   

Long after this he heard that I lay sick,  
And then from Court he comes with right great speed:  
Do comfort me that was both sound and quick,  
To play the Fox or knave again for need.  
But though that time I would not be agreed,  
I took his wine and sent him so away:  
With scorn enough in sign of parting day.   

For since that time he never saw my face,  
Nor had no mind to come where was my haunt:  
And since that storm I had so little grace,  
In every soil I make my boast and vaunt.  
I conquered him and so I do you grant,  
For three years more I have done what I please:  
And live at large in lust and lordly ease.   

And these five years I have done what I can,  
By tongue and art and figures that I cast:  
And every way to shame my plain good man,  
which shame I fear will sure be mine at last.  
I am so learned I can play lose and fast,  
My skill is such in Planets high and low:  
I rule the Skies and heavens where I go.   

Good Fortunes sure some say that I can tell,  
And many things by figures I unfold:  
I say no more but wish that all were well,  
For he that doth this wicked world behold.  
whose Godhead seeth into this massy mould.  
Knows well how oft I tread my shoe awry:  
And in what plight my sinful soul doth lie.   

And if this God regard with angry cheer,  
The vice on earth that vainly we commit:  
And straightly look unto my doings here,  
And like a judge in trembling conscience sit.  
I am condemned, there serves ne force nor wit,  
Out is my Lamp, the oil hath lost his light:  
And my fair day is turned to foul black night.   

The searching heads that sifts my manners throw,  
Will shrink aside when I draw near their view:  
The wively dames that seethe my blotted brow,  
In my behalf will blush and change their hue.  
The gentle hearts that others harms doth rue,  
Will much lament my life so lewdly run:  
And clean untwist the thread good name hath spun.   

The basest dame (whose faults are borne in breast)  
Will scorn to hear my folly blazed abroad:  
The frumping flock at me will make a jest,  
The spiteful swarm will poulte and swell like toad.  
My guilty mind that bears most heavy load,  
Will sink down right when world shall talk of grace:  
And shame herself will slubber all my face.   

The two brave boys I had from husband's bed,  
That Stoner got, stains now my honest name:  
And witness bears to world when I am dead,  
Of secret sins that purchased open shame.  
I kept that close long like a cunning dame,  
Till husband had found out my paultring life:  
Then he at bath forsook his cogging wife.   

The foul reports that daily I give him,  
Rebounds like ball to mine own bosom strait:  
Yet I with craft fac'te out the matter trim,  
But still I bear the blot for all my sleight.  
My back so cracks under this heavy weight,  
That all the joints and bones I bear about:  
Uofoldes my faults and filthy manners out.   

The sober sort that sets by noble brute,  
Will shake their heads as they my boldness spy:  
The clapping tongues will never sure be mute,  
Shrewd people all, will show alowring eye.  
But still I fear, the Lord that sits on high,  
Will look more strange, on me so late disgraced:  
Then all the world that here beneath are placed.   

The Church wherein both faith and hand I gave,  
Shall witness bear of breach of promise due?  
The spousal bed and marriage day so brave,  
Shall make me called▪ forsworn and most untrue.  
the holy book, the old law and the new,  
Against my soul shall such sharp sentence give:  
In other world where spirit desires to live.   

Let matrons chaste, and modest wives each one,  
That falsehood hates, and loves their troth to keep:  
In fury come, and fling at me a stone,  
And let no wight my death bewail nor weep.  
Let days unrest and dreadful dreams in sleep,  
Pursue me still and bring me to my grave:  
Since God and man I so offended have.   

The steps I tread shall tell me my offence,  
the fields I walk shall bring my fault to mind,  
The harms I did in world shall haste me hence,  
The wealth I wish shall waste and wear with wind.  
The fame I seek shall fling me far behind,  
And all good things that virtuous wives enjoy:  
At my most need shall turn to mine annoy.   

The wise that weighs my wiles in balance right,  
Shall see my wit want weight and be but ba●e:  
The fool himself shall find my judgement light,  
In making choice to chop and change my race.  
The poor shall point at me in every place,  
The rich, and those that sway and rule doth hear:  
With curb of Law shall bring lewd life in fear.   

The friends I had shall frown and shun my sight,  
The foes I have shall follow me with shame:  
The neighbour love that pleased me day and night,  
Shall now draw back and look on loss of name.  
The merry mate and homely country dame,  
And all the town and soil where I was borne:  
In Parish Church shall laugh my life to scorn.   

The band once broke that God himself hath blest,  
Brings worldly woe, and curses in by swarms:  
The marriage marred that God made for man's rest,  
Turns upside down, from happy help to harms.  
The Bridal bed defiled with loathsome charms,  
Breeds wicked smoke, and smoothing slanders base:  
On whose foul sum a world of people gaze.   

The knot of love unknit by hateful cause,  
Calls griefs to count, and cries to clouds for aid:  
The lewd contempt and breach of sacred laws,  
Makes every hour offender sore afraid.  
The fickle faith that is with scourges paid,  
Bids falsehood fly the plague that is prepared:  
For those who looks to life with small regard.   

No rouffling troop that s●ash and swill up wine,  
Can ward the blows that wrath of God sends down:  
No cunning knacks nor knacking fetches fine,  
Can conquer troth and thrust him out of town.  
No treasons train can take way true renown,  
No cloud can cloak the craft that all men finds:  
No salve but grace can heal infected minds.   

My hollow heart hath lost the hope I had,  
What drops in now, doth doubt and danger bring:  
In husband's cares, I spoke that made me glad,  
With new-found friends, I talk that makes me wring.  
The first good will, from virtuous love did spring,  
The last delight, and all that since fell out:  
Began on lust, and needs must end in doubt   

Now open streets, by Dole flight must I walk,  
And secret nooks, and shifts must shadow flight:  
Except I care not what the world doth talk,  
And mind to frame a crooked matter straight.  
And then though pride, holds head a wonders height,  
Shame plucks down heart, and makes me blush at last:  
But well away, that sign of grace is past.   

Though in the teeth, I have the bridle got,  
And that I run beyond my rider's reach:  
I dare not sing, in queer too hie a note,  
For fear of check, and tutor do me teach.  
I play boe peep, lest people me appeach,  
I seem a Saint, when devilish things I mean:  
Yet much ado, I have to carry clean.   

O wretched change, that brings repentance oft,  
O bitter sweet, whose taste deceives us all:  
O poisoned lust, that puffs up pride aloft,  
O graceless game, full farc'st with sugared gall.  
O tripping trust, that swiftly gives a fall,  
O spiteful sport, that spends thy youth in shame:  
And brings thine age, in horror and defame.   

O greedy will, that gains but grief of mind,  
O gnawing worm that frets the conscience still:  
O wicked Art, that strikes the senses blind,  
O lewd desire, more hot than Ethna hill,  
O beastly bliss, begun on bold consait:  
And doth bewitch, them all that bites the bait.   

O paultring play, and peevish pastime vain,  
O sliding joy, that sinks where surety swims:  
O perilous toy, and pleasure mixed with pain,  
O Peacock proud, that still fond feathers trims.  
O lusty blood, nay wanton loathsome limbs,  
That stoops to filth, and costly carrion gay:  
That gives bad gold, and steals good name away.   

My merry mates, and mincing minions fine,  
Speaks fair a while, to win their lewd desire:  
But wilily world, can let me starve and pine,  
And for reward, can give a flout or flire.  
So lead me on, and leave me in the mire,  
And blab all out, that hath been closely wrought:  
O pranks of youth, O painted thing of nought.   

O puddle soul, that seems at first full fair,  
O cause of care, and source of sorrow sour:  
O deadly hope, and ground of deep despair,  
O pleasant weed, and stinking rotten flower,  
O ravening wolves, that doth poor wives devour,  
O smiling thieves, that robs the chastest heart:  
O traitorous tongues, that can play judas part.   

You laid your trains, as fowlers lays his net,  
You bosom Snakes, your sting hath me undone:  
By loving you, at length what shall I get,  
When you me loath, where shall the cast off run.  
woe worth that wight, that wooing first begun,  
Cursed be the craft, that causeth clamours ryes:  
And vengeance fall, upon your staring eyes.   

A plague consume, your songs and subtle suits,  
A wildfire catch, your cumbrous knavish brains:  
A murrain take, your foul untimely fruits,  
A canker eat, your hands and azure veins.  
The Hags of Hell, reward you for your pains,  
Both pen and ink, and all that helped desire:  
(And you yourselves) I wish in flaming fire.   

Fie on your scrolls, and Pistells full of lies,  
An Oaten straw, for all your stately stiles:  
Your frizzled hair, and noughty new-fond guise,  
Your Lordly looks, your simpering shameless smilles  
Your wanton talk, and privy winking wills,  
I here bequeath, to Satan and his crew:  
Good fellows fit, for such false lads as you.   

You are the froth, and scum of worlds delight,  
The dallying whelps, that can with feathers play:  
Of mischiefs all, the mark, the butt, and white▪  
The jolly Fry, that follows flood each way.  
The gallant flock, the stately stars of day,  
The busy Bees, that can no honey make:  
But spoilers of, each fruit and flower ye take.   

The waiting dogs, that bite before they bark,  
The couching curs, that snatch at every fly:  
The figboys fine, that iuggles in the dark,  
The cunning crew, that at receipt can lie.  
The sooking sponge, that draws fair fountains dry,  
The greedy hounds, that follows every game:  
The blot and stain, of each good woman's name.   

A rob or ring, or trifling token bare,  
You give for that, you never can restore,  
Then are you ●one, you have your wished fare,  
In stranger streams, you love to stir your Ore▪  
If honest wives, but knew your pranks before,  
They would as soon, see of your subtle heads:  
As by your drifts, go stain their husband's beds.   

In marriage house, is friendly fastness found,  
Though far be mean, content fills up the dish:  
In brothel bower, sweet banquets are unsound,  
Though dainties there, we have at will and wish,  
At home we take, in worth cold flesh or fish,  
For warm good will, doth season so the chée●e,  
That with small cost, we banquet all the year.   

Abroad we sit, as though we were afeared,  
And scarce dare feed, or talk for taunts and nips:  
At home we rule, in spite of husband's beard,  
And play the Cook, and so may lick our lips.  
Abroad for nought, our tongue is ta'en in trips,  
And then great heart, can neither drink nor eat:  
Thus dear is bought, abroad our borrowed meat.   

Look what is said, at home in cloth is lappt,  
There speech is free, and honey sports we use:  
O well away, that this misfortune happed,  
And that I did, my husband so abuse.  
That I have brought, myself into a muse,  
Lost home thereby, lost God and good men's praise:  
And now must run, a gadding all my days.   

A plague most fit, for them that use to change,  
A scourge wherein, the wrath of God is seen:  
A staff of strife, for pilgrim nothing strange,  
A bleeding wound, that makes my sorrow green.  
A sore rebuke, for wits that over ween,  
A heavy cross, and sent me for the nonce:  
To break my will, and yet to bruise no bones.   

But since my will, did weave this woeful web,  
That needs must make, a weed for wantoness wear  
And that my flood, is like to fall to ebb,  
By want of will, that ought low sail to bear.  
To punish Soul, that else some other where,  
Might suffer smart, I vow in hand to take,  
A better life, and so false world forsake.   

Away proud pomp, and costly garments nice,  
Come mourning gown, ● cloth the careful wight:  
Away vain shows, and open signs of vice,  
Come virtue now, and give my Lamp more light▪  
Come Summer day, adieu dark winter's night,  
I love to live, and look about me far:  
When wound is healed, time may amend the scar.   

Away young Fry, that gives lewd Counsel now,  
Away old trots, that sets young flesh to sale:  
Away foul sluttes, whose filth doth blot my brow,  
Away trim tongues, that near told honest tale,  
Away bold beasts, whose brabble bred my bal●,  
Away rude Wasps, you stung me through the breast.  
Go ●ite your heads, and let me live in rest.   

Away wild gigs, that bounceth like a top,  
Away ta●e louts, that fawn like whelps for nought:  
Away light heads, that loves to change and chop,  
Away fine wits, that many mischiefs wrought,  
Away slay Snakes, that my destruction sought,  
Away ●alse shrews, that never none may trust:  
But such lewd girls, as are beguiled by lust.   

Away fair speech, that me bewitch to long,  
Away fowl works, that filled my face with blurs,  
Come home poor sense, that led my fancy wrong:  
And pack from me, you privy biting curs,  
That sticketh still, together like wild burrs,  
And where ye touch, ye bring away the will.  
So from fine cloth, pure honest name ye pull.   

'tis time to look, how good report was lost,  
And prop up house, that now is near to fall:  
A wretched bruit, flies through the air in post.  
A whirling wind, may come and trip down all,  
And though I list, not come at husbands call:  
I may not fly, from God and follow man,  
That still devours, like Wolf what sheep he can.   

The sweetest wine, at length will beware full sour,  
It proves sharp sauce, that once had sugared taste:  
Fond fancies freaks, will fade as fast as flower,  
And wantoness love, with sports will wear and waste.  
When hard in arms, new comers are embraced.  
Farewell old friend, go play you where you will:  
The Hawk hath prayed, the Haggards gorge is full.   

Love stays not long, it is but one years bird,  
A foolish fit, that makes wild wits go mad:  
A gallant Colt, that runneth for a gird,  
A lime rod fine, to catch a lusty lad:  
A youthful prank, that makes age look full sad,  
A merry mate, so long as money lasts,  
Good for a flight, then of her bells she casts.   

Love tarries not, it is a pesting game,  
That hath such haste, it goes we know not where,  
Now fair and fat, then crooked lean and lame,  
Now plays boe peep, now ask here and there's.  
Now bald as Coote, now trim with frizzled hear,  
Now gay and glad, now shrewd and scarce well please  
Now sound as Chick, now sick and soon diseased.   

With dallying much love will be easily tired,  
When love is cloyed, the roil at gross must run:  
When hoof is whole; the hackney may be hired,  
When corn is sold, the market clean is done.  
It ends with hate, that was with love begun,  
It may be loathed, that long on liking lay:  
Lust lacks no wings, when love will fly away.   

Love must have change, to season sweet delight,  
loves mind will range, like Spaniel in the field:  
Love looks like Dove, when she will prove a Kite,  
Love seeks to rule, she hath no mind to yield,  
Love will have scope, love is restrained seld.  
If love lack a aught, she shows a lowering eye,  
And then for nought, the babe will pule and cry.   

Love must be colled, and kissed round about,  
Love must go gay, and painted like a post,  
Love must be piecest, and patched with many a clout,  
Love is a spirit, a shadow or a Ghost:  
A peerless charge, that seldom quits the cost,  
A practice bought, with many a thread bare purse,  
A wretched bliss, that I and mine may curse.   

It is the scum, and only dross of youth,  
That brings booth soul, and body in decay:  
A kind of talk, wherein there is no truth.  
A Courting trade, that doth much craft bewray,  
A wily Fox, a wanton full of play:  
A Saint to show, a Devil God he knows,  
That me betrayed, and made me freedom lose.   

The Horse runs far, that never turns again,  
The beaten child, is learned to fear the rod:  
The double mind, may fall to meaning plain:  
They may amend, that feels the fear of God.  
The clouds may clear, that long hath threatened rain  
The time ill spent, if reason will redeem:  
Calls home wild wits, from toys that are extreme.   

Youth takes his course, and follows fancies freaks  
Age all reforms, and sore reputes tune past:  
The bow long bend, ye know in process weaks,  
Hard things at first, may gentle wax at last.  
Who often fawls, is taught to stand full fast.  
And few there are, but flides or fawls down right,  
In youth or age, our judgements are so light.   

When wit is bought, (and folly thoroughly wa●ed,)  
An ounce of skill, is worth a pound of dross:  
Till body smart, the mind is never stayed,  
Gain is not liked, till we have tasted loss.  
Some say each one, is borne to bear his cross,  
My heavy faults, now burdens breast so sore:  
That here or hence, I must be scourged therefore.   

Sweet are those stripes, that breaks ne bone nor limb  
(And yet sets sound, the soul and body both:)  
Sour are those joys, and worldly bravery trim,  
That down to hell, with damned people goth.  
Sweet are sharp words that tells lewd life the froth  
Sour is sweet sauce, that cloys the stomach still  
Sweet are those nips, that doth restrain the wil   

The pempred horse, that still in stable stands,  
Will wax a jade, if spur ne wand he taste,  
The wild-hed Colt, is tamed by rider's hands.  
Ane so through bit, is made well trained and passed,  
All headstrong things, are not reformed in haste:  
But when regard, looks back where blindness went  
The peril past, bids pomp and pride repent.   

Great is the scope, that greedy will desires,  
Small gain or grace, doth grow by gadding out,  
With heavy load, the weary legs retires:  
And heartful fraught, of worldly dread and doubt.  
And sure the ground, from whence all vice doth sprout  
Is gadding geres, that loves abroad to gaze:  
Who shame sends home, in great sad muse and maze.   

And when in doors, dame dalliance close is drawn,  
And notes what blot, she did escape without:  
She thinks in street, she put her name to pawn,  
Or went abroad, to play the bare bankrupt,  
Where wanton eyes, did nought but stare about,  
Where all a flaunt, at full like ship with sail.  
Fine minions march, as brave as Peacock's tail.   

The crooked back, must bolstered be by art,  
The tawny skin, must shine by some trim knack,  
The twinkling looks, for sport must play their part  
The per wickes fine, must curl where hair doth lack  
The swelling grace, that fills the empty sack:  
And jetting pace, with limbs stretched out full straight,  
To patch out pride, are matters of great weight.   

Then i'll on all, such trash and trompry vile,  
That sets forth shades, in Sunny day to shine:  
My youth is past, I cannot world beguile,  
Men will not look, for babes in ed eyen.  
A withered grape, hangs now on rotten vine.  
From blasted branch, the berry round is gone,  
A dosky glass, is little looked upon.   

Wherefore I vow, to wear a sorry vail,  
To shroud the face, that few or none will like:  
And get some shell, to hold in head like Snail,  
For former faults, in conscience so doth strike.  
That I do fear, I shall myself mislike:  
If shadows do, not cloak defects I have,  
Or death dispatch, and send me to my grave.   

Now note my tale, you dames of gentle blood,  
Now wail with me, all such as plays my part:  
Now let my harms, do harmless people good  
Now bid all wives, defy this devilish art,  
For my conceit, is such a deadly dart,  
That where I go, or walk in any place,  
Me thinks my faults, are written in my face.   
This discarded Gentlewoman went awalking twenty years, and yet cannot find the way home to her husband.  
FINIS.   


To the right Worshipful my Lady Wawllar, wife to the Souldioer-like Knight Sir Water Wawllar.  
I Had almost (good Madam) forgot what I promised, of myself, touching a Book to be Printed, yet at the kniting up of a tedius tale I remembered how to keep promise and a friend, & bethought me of some matter pertaining to that cause, weighing that light and slender discourses became not me to offer, nor your Ladyship to hear. So happening on a doleful and tragical Treatise I preferred it to your reading, knowing that some humour of sorrow or sorrowful penned matter would be answerable to your grave consistderation, in which discourse following, are numbers of heavy causes treated on, and touched so narrowly (with a clear conceit of the writer) that no one point or other pertaining to a rueful rehearsal of troubles, is forgotten. And though the tale seemeth long, the variety and life of words it bringeth, shall I doubt not shorten the time that is spent in reading, for that every passion of mind, trouble of body, and disquietness of the Soul, is amply and plainly explained and unfolded by that which followeth, translated out of another language & taught to speak English to those that understandeth the heavy haps of such, as have fallen into misfortune, so knitting up my Book with this discourse, I express the matter I have spoken of.   

A DOLLFULL DISCOURSE OF A great Lord and a Lady. Translated out of French into English.  
DRaw near good minds that sadly marks,  
the sway of worldly broils.  
And hear what I at large can say,  
of troubles tumbling toils.  
Which did befall, in foreign Land,  
tween two of Noble race:  
To whose mishap, and hateful fate,  
a world itself gives place.  
Not long ago, the case so stood,  
a Lord of great estate,  
(In native Soil, by destiny's lo●.)  
a Lady's favour gate.  
With whom he joined, a hazard great,  
his liking led him so:  
That neither fear of frowning Gods,  
nor dread of earthly ●oe  
Can make him stain his plighted troth,  
such constant mind▪ he bore:  
For which this noble Fawkon may,  
with turtle true compare.  
But well away alas for woe,  
his grief thereby began:  
In Prince displeasure throw this prank,  
fell ●o this Noble man.  
And Cesar frowing on the fact,  
there was no other boot:  
But fly the Realm, or prostrate fall,  
Full flat at Caesar's foot.  
O states by this come learn to stoop,  
no stoutness can prevail:  
When from the heavens storms do blow,  
and striketh down your sail.  
From thunder cracks both man and beast,  
yea Sun and Moon doth fly:  
The Earth and all that lives below,  
doth fear the rattling sky.  
When Gods are moved, in lowering clouds,  
like dusky Mantles black:  
The troubled air to mortal men,  
doth threaten, ruin, and wrack.  
I turned my talk from such Discourse,  
and treat of that turmoil:  
Which long this Knight and Lady felt,  
at home in Country soil.  
And somewhat of the cares abroad,  
that he perforce did taste:  
I mean to write so that as troth,  
my verses be embraced:  
For troth and time that tries out Gold,  
●ath tempered so my talk:  
That pen nor muse no pleasures takes,  
on doubtful ground to walk,  
Now when these states with links of love  
were tyds together fast,  
And many a sad and heavy thought,  
between them both had past,  
Of Prince's grace and favour great,  
(to which regard they▪ took:  
As chiefest thing and only cause)  
Whereon they ought to look.  
They weighed in balance of their breasts,  
what ●ittest served their turns:  
And like as wood takes flame of fire,  
and so to Cinders burns.  
So through the heap of this mishap,  
they felt such sorrow thoe,  
As though hard destiny swore they should,  
consume themselves with woe.  
The Lady lost her freedom strait.  
the Gods had so decreed,  
Her knight by sudden flight abroad,  
made virtue of a need.  
And living there with lingering hope,  
in foreign Country strange,  
Where absence might through present toys,  
in some men work a change,  
He stood as firm as marble stone,  
and kept both troeth and toutch.  
To her who found few friends at home,  
and hearts disease was much,  
Yea though this knight with offers great,  
and treasure tempted was:  
(As they full well can witness bear  
which saw this matter pass)  
Yet small account of Fortune new,  
he made for still in breast.  
Was shrined the Saint that stony walls,  
and prison had possessed.  
No fear nor friend, nor fellow-mate,  
this Troilus mind might move:  
This Falcon scorned to pray abroad,  
at home he left his love.  
Full many a sigh and heavy look,  
he sent along the Seas:  
And wished himself, in fetters fast,  
to do his Lady ease.  
What grief of mind, and torment strange  
she suffered all that while:  
Is known to those, that bondage feels,  
whose friends are in exile.  
Can mischief fall on both the sides,  
more harder than it did?  
The one from joy and worldly pomp,  
in prison closely hid.  
The other forced, by fatal chance,  
to seek his fortune out:  
And shunning danger found despair,  
in wandering World about.  
But weighing well a subjects State,  
and what was duties bounds:  
He yielded strait to open harms  
for fear of secret wounds,  
And venturing life, yea Lands and goods,  
to heap his name from blot:  
(And to requite with hazards hard,  
the love that he had got.)  
From Spain with speed he did return,  
and setting foot on Land:  
He put his cause in justice doom,  
and Noble Prince's hand.  
Though in the yoke with free consent,  
the humble heart did fall,  
The heavens stood so out of tune,  
he gate no grace at all:  
And clapped up full fast in hold,  
a Prisoner's part he plays:  
Where griping griefs & grievous groans,  
consumed his gladsome days.  
Whiles he aloof full long remained,  
and out of danger crept:  
The doleful Dame, in great despair,  
his absence sore bewept.  
Yet great regard to promise past,  
she had as world well witted:  
And therefore often wrong her hands,  
when that her Knight she mist.  
But now began the boisterous blasts,  
to blow in bloody breast:  
And now the gulf of sighs and sobs,  
burst out with great unrest.  
For lo, one house held both these wights  
yet both a sunder were:  
And b●th in like displeasure stood,  
yea each of both did fear.  
Of Prince's wrath and world's disgrace,  
a heavy tale to tell:  
A plague past hope of heavens bliss,  
a torment and a hell.  
That is without redemption sure,  
but what should more be said:  
Thus under lock and barred doors,  
these jewels safely laid.  
They must abide the happy hours,  
that God appoints in skies:  
And drink up water sweet or sour,  
or what shall hap to rise.  
The prison than did plead their case,  
the walls both deaf and dumb:  
Did show by signs of freedom gone,  
what sorrows were to come.  
The skreeking Owl in silent night,  
at window clapped his wings:  
To threaten death or bad success▪  
of sundry doubtful things.  
No joyful sound was heard with ear,  
no news of happy years:  
No pleasure to the pinched heart,  
in prison strong appears.  
Admit the Lute with touch of hand,  
a heavy dump doth shoe,  
A cooling comfort Music brings,  
to wretches wrapped in woe.  
No mirth with mourning move may match,  
for mischief measure lacks:  
And care consumes the mind of man,  
as fire melts Virgin Wax.  
In silly Sell, and several place,  
these two estates did sit:  
Whose coming out, did far surmount,  
the compass of our wit.  
As long they spent their tickle time,  
in teen and terror great:  
So oft God wots of matters hard,  
in head did hammers beat.  
Now hoping that the clouds would calm  
and storms would stand at stay:  
Then looking when the Planets turned▪  
their course another way.  
But shaken ships in Seas do sink,  
when surges rise aloft:  
And under waves (for want of aid)  
weak vessels welter oft.  
So that no hope of succour seems,  
to come when tempests rage.  
Except the gods draw back the plagues,  
and wind and weather suage.  
The present pangs and perilous thoughts,  
that pierceth troubled minds:  
Is known to none but such I say,  
that lack of freedom finds.  
A prisoner bears a simple port,  
most glad to please and ply:  
As subject to the keepers beck,  
and iellouse Gailors' eye.  
Now tracing out a weary walk,  
now wished and quiet stands:  
Now down on knees, now to the clouds  
looks up with stretched hands.  
Now listening after happy newe●,  
now nipped with sorrows old:  
Now sore abashed and brought in muse,  
now merry stout and bold,  
Now ripe and ready for to speak,  
now dumb and dare not store:  
Now fearful of each sudden sound,  
and clap of every door.  
Now bend to bear and suffer wrong,  
now full reposed on right:  
Now feign to fawn on feeble folk,  
now setting all things light.  
These passions still awakes their spryets,  
that careful captives are:  
Such smart they taste, such bread they bite,  
that feeds on loaves of car●.  
Yea some are served with change of meats,  
yet touch they near a dish:  
But sits like Tantalus in Hell,  
and wants that most they wish.  
These twain I trow were not so used,  
but yet when best they sped:  
On heavy morf●els mixed with moan,  
their hungry stomachs fed.  
No day stood free from Fortune's foil,  
no hour but nourished fear:  
No season served to salve the sores,  
of soaking sorrows there.  
No drink could cool the fury hot,  
of thraldom's thirsty throat:  
No pleasant very nor ditty framed,  
to dolours doleful note.  
No book nor story might revive,  
their drooping dead delight:  
For through the thoughts of thirled hearts,  
are pleasures banished quite.  
To sloth, to sleep, and mirthless moods,  
their dampish days inclined:  
As from the clue of worldly cares,  
should thread of life untwined,  
Dispiesd the night, abhorred the day.  
and hated hour of birth:  
Thought scorn of food, and clean forsook  
the pleasures of the earth.  
Would feign have lost both speech & breath  
and look when hearts would burst:  
Beleude they were in mother's womb,  
or else in cradle cursed,  
Though drowsy dread, did death desire,  
and grief sought quick dispatch:  
There was no parting from the place.  
till day discharge the watch.  
We cannot pay our borrowed breath,  
before th●appoynted hour:  
The end of strife, nor stay of state,  
stands not in people's power.  
The God that guides the heavens high,  
in secret doth behold:  
The fine and fléeting feeble course,  
of earth and massy mould.  
The heart may heave, the breast may bl●e,  
the body sigh and swelled:  
The face by open sins may show,  
of privy pa●hons felt.  
But all the storms have little force,  
to rid man's wretched days:  
As by these 〈◊〉 plain I prove,  
through torments sundry ways.  
Well those from whom the Gods restrain  
the scope, and use of will:  
Must bend the back, and bow the joints,  
to bear the burden still.  
And yet no toil nor grief so great,  
but finds at length some ease:  
There follows after swelling floods,  
a quiet calm seas.  
By mean of suit and labours long,  
and gracious Prince indeed:  
A sweeter soil these Prisoners sound,  
that better blood did breed.  
But kept apart as Fortune shaped,  
and so in silent shade:  
(As place and time did licence grant)  
a fresh complaint they made,  
Of crooked chance and strange extremes,  
that sundered faithful hearts:  
Whose sugared love was ever mixed,  
with ba●e and bitter smarts.  
And never after like to meet,  
nor set no eye nor view:  
The one upon the other Lord,  
a matter much to rue.  
Long in the broil of this conflict,  
and battle of the mind:  
They passed their time with bare belief,  
of better hap behind.  
And wearing out with wail long,  
their weary lives God wots:  
And finding haven chook up,  
where passage should be got.  
At anchor under watch, and ward,  
in tossed Bark they lay:  
From whence there was no quiet means,  
nor hope to scape away.  
The Lady now for last farewell,  
betook herself to tears:  
And of despair in pierced breast,  
a double portion bears.  
Her hollow cheeks and dazzled eyes,  
declared her death was near:  
And bade her keepers to prepare,  
both shrouding sheet and Beer.  
For nature did deny her life,  
her heart was tainted so:  
That cankered thought should come full soon  
and make an end of woe.  
Her colour changed her cheerful looks,  
and countenance wanted spirit.  
To ●allow ashes turned the hue,  
of beauty's blossoms sweet.  
And dreary dullness had bespread,  
the wearish body throw:  
Each vital vain did flat refuse,  
to do their duty now.  
The blood forsook the wont course,  
and backward gan retire:  
And left the limbs as cold and swar●e,  
as coals that wastes with fire.  
The moisture taken from the tree,  
the leaves drop down apace:  
When sap dries up and fails the root,  
the branches lose their grace.  
Some bows you see do flourish fair,  
and grows a goodly height,  
And some by frost, and cold air nipped,  
and so are blasted straight.  
As every fruit and flower in field.  
to yield to sudden claps.  
So all that breathes with living soul,  
are subject to mishaps.  
How should this dame desire to live,  
that hourly wore away:  
Who would not shed some tears to see,  
this tender twig decay.  
What stony heart could suffer more,  
and bear with even hand:  
The weary wight of worldly woes,  
and whisk or whipping wand?  
And when she saw her hour● approach,  
and death his duty crau●:  
And she amid her chiefest prime,  
must go to greedy grave.  
She took of World a noble leave,  
and calling for a friend:  
(Who liveth yet and can report,  
how she did make an end)  
She said with loud and comely voice,  
O world I thee forsake:  
I have been here a Pilgrim long,  
and now my leave I take.  
Of all thy pomp and pleasures vain,  
that makes my senses blind:  
Whose glory doth begin with pain,  
and ends with grief of mind.  
In dungeon deep of dainty thoughts,  
thou holdest every wight:  
And feeds their foolish fancy still,  
with toys and trifles light.  
Thy prisoner was I borne to be,  
and Adam's children all:  
(Like Captives here condemned to die)  
must suffer for his fall.  
But now the chains and loathsome links,  
that lay on shoulders weak:  
(And all the bands and clogs of care)  
in shivers small shall break.  
And I from cage shall mount the skies,  
more swift than bird with wing:  
And flickar like a simple dove,  
where shining Angels sing.  
I bring a badge and livery both  
that my good master CHRIST:  
Did leave for such as bears his cross,  
through fogs of worldly miest.  
Yea shaking off this sinful Soil,  
me think in clouds I see:  
Among the p●rfit chosen Lambs,  
a place prepared for me.  
Here is no home, nor harbouring house,  
but Cabbens built on sand:  
That every pirrie puffeth down,  
or still on proppe● do stand.  
Our Father's sprites possess in peace,  
the Country that we crave:  
We are but strangers, far from home,  
that nothing certain have.  
These were her words and many more.  
which follows as she spoke:  
I did (quoth she) by brittle life,  
O Lord thy wrath provoke,  
For which I now repent me sore,  
and trusting to receive,  
Free pardon for my former faults.  
ear soul shall body leave.  
My faint and feeble vessel frail,  
so fears thy justice great:  
That it appeals from curse of Law,  
unto thy mercy seat.  
I am but worms meat well I wots,  
all flesh is nought but grass:  
To earth and ashes out of hand,  
must all my pleasures pass.  
I want the force, thou hast the might,  
to strive with Death and Hell:  
Thou art the Rock, the corner Stone,  
the fountain, and the Well.  
From whom the springs of life must run,  
and unto whom again:  
The thirsty souls, and hungry hearts,  
for help do trudge amain.  
Who hath been washed in thy blood,  
is whiter than the snow:  
O let the streams and flood of grace,  
with favour on me flow.  
In book of life, let write good Lord,  
my name among the rest:  
That ordained were, ear world was made  
to sleep in Abraham's breast.  
Blot out the blemish of my brow,  
that at the latter day:  
May strike the conscience with despair,  
and cloaked crimes bewray.  
Give boldness to the bashful spirit,  
that fears from hence to flit:  
Make hope, and faith now fl●me to see,  
great God in glory sit.  
Wi●h closed hand, than breast she knocked,  
so gave a sigh▪ and stayed:  
And then conceived some inward joy,  
with cheerful face she said,  
Do mourn no more, O trembling soul,  
that knows not where to stay:  
Come from the kaytiffe carrion corpses,  
and cabin ●ade of clays.  
And look upon the Lamb of God,  
whose death thy ransom paid▪  
That blessed babe the virgin's Son,  
that borne was of a maid.  
Come silly bud out of the Den,  
where nought but darkness is:  
And look on everlasting light,  
and loving Lord of bliss.  
The lusts of flesh and worldly pomp,  
I hope are quench in mée●  
Through faith alone from sin and bo●d,  
I have escaped free.  
And with that word in sign of joy,  
a Psalm full loud she sang,  
The solemn noise and sound thereof,  
throughout the chamber rang.  
And ending that to prayer strait,  
of her own mind she fell:  
The standers by whose tears burst out,  
at this her last farewell  
Began to give her comfort than,  
of life and welfare both,  
Yea live I shall and do right well,  
(quoth she) I know for troth.  
But that is in another world,  
the hope of this is gone:  
And reason is it should be so,  
for here there liveth none,  
But sees the vainess of our state,  
and tastes such torments still:  
That sundry times, they wish themselves,  
from hence with right good will.  
Here is but toil, and sweat of brows,  
and endless labour ●ound:  
And nothing reaped but wretched wrack,  
and broken sleeps unsound.  
Where I shall go I cease from pain,  
and so such joy possess:  
As heart scarce thinks, nor head conceives,  
nor tongue may well express.  
Then hold your peace, knit up your talk,  
and trouble not the spirit,  
That draws from hence and hopes it is,  
for better place more meet.  
A Lady thoe that virtue liked,  
and there some credit had:  
●eplyde and said O noble dame,  
indeed you are too sad.  
These pangs shall pass, these ●●ts shall fade  
and all these passions die,  
As they have done when you full oft,  
in such like sort did lie.  
O Madam speak no more of that,  
my time draws 〈◊〉 (quoth she)  
I shall not die, but make exchange,  
of breath and life I see,  
The glass is run, the Clock will strike,  
death doth approach apace:  
My course is done, the judge draws near,  
to sit upon my case.  
No longer here I may abide,  
the packing day is come:  
Death bids me now unarm myself,  
and hear the mortal Dr●●.  
That calls me hence, as naked sure,  
as to the world I came:  
The course of Nature shows me too,  
that Earth and Dust I am.  
The Harrolde of long home is sent,  
to summon me in haste:  
Then stay me not, for in that point,  
both tears and words ye wast.  
Yet ear I part, good friends (quoth she)  
behold what hope I have:  
And note what faith, and badge of Christ,  
I carry to my grave.  
And mark, how I confess with mouth,  
that Christ hath shed his blood:  
For me, and those that erst in state,  
of deep damnation stood.  
And by his passion I am saved,  
and not by my deserts:  
But by the help of him that knows,  
the thoughts of secret hearts.  
Now staying here, she looked about,  
and to a Knight she spoke:  
And him desired with humble words,  
that he the pains would take.  
To show the Prince what past her mouth,  
O tell him sir quoth she:  
This is the suit, and last request,  
that must be made by me.  
Unto his highness whose estate,  
our blessed Lord maintain:  
And pray him to forgive me now,  
for I confess it plain.  
I made a fault and sore offence,  
when I against his will:  
Estranged myself from his good grace;  
for any hope or skill.  
But from my breath unto this day,  
my heart and thought was clear:  
From breach of subjects duty sure,  
and I protest it here.  
I never meant nor purposed yet,  
in word, in deed, nor thought:  
No harm (nor lodged one il conceit,  
nor spark of evil sought)  
To him as God may witness bear,  
to that which now I speak:  
Save now alas by oversight,  
of feeble fancy's weak●.  
I feel and find the price thereof,  
and suffer for the same:  
An open check and privy plagu●,  
and pinching public blame.  
I hope his highness hath forgot,  
the fault I did commit:  
And as he is a noble Prince,  
in Regal throne to sit.  
And judge his subjects causes all,  
so hope I of his grace:  
He will receive my children poor.  
and help their heavy case.  
O God forbidden for Mother's fault,  
the Children should abye:  
No grain of grudge, nor ground of guil●,  
in guiltless babes do ly●.  
I do bequeath them now quoth she,  
unto the Prince's hands:  
In hope the favour that they find,  
shall ease the father's hands.  
My nature shows a mourning cheer,  
to part from them God knows:  
For children find small comfort here,  
when hence the mother goes.  
If God move not the Prince's mind,  
to pity their estate:  
Now as the Lady did at large,  
about her Babes debate.  
Upon her dear bought jewel than,  
she cast her only thought:  
Yea for whose sake and great good will,  
she was in trouble brought.  
And pausing on this matter through,  
a heavy sigh she gave:  
O good sir Knight said she to one,  
a thing of you I crave.  
Commend me to my worthy friend,  
and bid him comfort take:  
And hope in God and Prince's grace,  
though I do world forsake,  
He may do well and freedom get:  
but me he shall not meet:  
Till from the cave of pampered flesh,  
departs his groaning spirit.  
Whiles life I had, I honoured him,  
and safely kept my vow:  
As life did bind me his in all,  
so death doth lose me now.  
From him and all my worldly joys,  
but though my friend I leave.  
On high where dwells a greater friend,  
(if hope not me deceau●.)  
I trust to see his babes and him,  
and though much grief it is:  
To leave them here in bitter bale,  
yet note I go to bliss.  
Where is no mind of cumbrous cares,  
nor cause of sorrow known:  
O tell him that above I hope,  
these storms shall be over blown▪  
And as a scroll is ●apped up,  
yea so shall all things here:  
(When soul shall be immortal made)  
unto our view appear.  
No sooner of the soul she spoke,  
but sudden change began:  

A right figure of death.  In looks and limbs of deadly show●;  
with colour pale and wan.  
The eyes did stare, the body stretch,  
the strength and force did fail:  
The teeth they chattered in the Cheeks,  
the hands did quake and quail.  
The mouth did some, the head did shake,  
the flesh it quivered fast:  
The feet waxed cold, the face did sweat,  
full swift the pulses past.  
The heart did heave and beat in breast,  
the breath like earth did sent:  
At ears, and nose the stifled Ghost,  
and vital life sought vent. 
A pattern of Death.   
Though gasping breath brought passions on  
and grip● h●r heart full hard:  
Yet showed she through those sharp assaults  
to ●rend a great regard.  
And calling for a bo●e of Kings,  
among them chose she one▪  
In which was set by cunning Art,  
a rich and precious stone.  
Hold carry this quoth she good Sir,  
to my dear noble Knight:  
He can remember what that stone,  
presents unto his sight.  
The other token that I send,  
it is a weighty ring:  
Best liked and dearest bought God wots,  
of any earthly thing.  
And when you shall give him this gift,  
desire him well to mind:  
The little Imps the pretty souls,  
the babes I leave behind.  
And bid him bring them up in fear,  
of God and Prince I say:  
L●e! that is all I do require,  
of him my dying day.  
I have no gold to send my Babes▪  
but blessing I them give:  
Which God confirm with grace good stor●  
as long as they shall live.  
O yet there is another ring,  
which lo my loan must see:  
Where is my picture: death I mean,  
and tell my friend from me,  
That I as cold and senseless too,  
shall be in little space:  
As is that shadow dum and deaf,  
and spriteless shape of face.  
This done she turned her head aside,  
and bade them all farewell:  
'Twere good quoth she in sign of death,  
I heard the passing bell.  
For such as live may pray the while,  
and know when bell doth toll:  
Into the bowels of the earth,  
the body parts from soul.  
Yet meet they shall when trumpet sounds  
and that the dead arise:  
And both together shall ascend,  
I hope to starry skies.  
With this began the battle fierce,  
between her life and death:  
Like Ghost she lay, whiles heart did groan  
and mouth gepte wide for breath.  
Then said she Lord into thy hands,  
I do commend my sprée●:  
And so herself closed up her eyes,  
and hid her head in sheet.  
And went away like infant young,  
clean void of storm or rage:  
Or like a body falls a sleep,  
that cannot speak for age.  
Thus breathless lay this Lady now,  
like weighty lump of clay:  
(That erst had life and feeling force)  
and past like flower away.  
But when the news of this was brought,  
unto her Playffeers ears:  
With roaring voice, and blubbered eyes,  
there gushed out such tears,  
That witnessed well with outward signs,  
what woe he● felt within:  
And truly told when she did end,  
his delour did begin.  
Be rest of sleep, and robbed of rest,  
he rome up and down:  
And cast of weeds of worldly pomp,  
and clapped on mourning Gown.  
No ease nor pleasures could possess,  
nor feel the taste of meat:  
Resolved to pine and sta●●e himself,  
his griefs they were so great.  
No council could him comfort long,  
and still alone he drew:  
To mourn, to m●ane, to howl, and cry,  
and make complaint an●e.  
And worn away with woeful sighs,  
when sorrow helped not:  
At length the life must be sustained,  
with some relief ye wots.  
But how he takes this mischief yet,  
and how the matter goeth:  
It passeth far my reach, and wit,  
to judge I tell you troth.  
His Lady gone, as you have heard,  
when days and years were spent▪  
In thraldom long, yet after that,  
was better fortune se●t.  
For into Prince's grace again,  
he came by blessed chance,  
And so he lives in open World,  
where virtue may advance:  
Both him and many thousands more,  
that Noble lives do lead,  
And wisely walk with upright minds,  
and steps of honour tread.  
Lo here you Dames of high renown,  
a Lady's death set out:  
Whose life for faith, full few shall find,  
that seeks wide world about.  
To God and Prince repentant sure,  
to world a mirror bright:  
Wherefore with tongue, and true report,  
resound her praise a ●ight.   
FINIS.