THE POETICAL RECREATIONS OF Mr. ALEXANDER CRAIG OF ROSECRAIG.  
AT EDINBURGH Printed by Thomas Finlason. 1609. WITH LICENCE.   

TO THE MOST HONOURABLE MY SINGULAR GOOD LORD AND PATRON G. E. OF DUNBAR, LORD AND GOVERNOR OF BERWICK, HEIGH Thesaurer of Scotland, great Master of the Minerals there, Lieutenent of the middle Shires of Great Britain, one of his Majesty's honourable privy Counsel, and Knight of the most noble order of the Garter.  
WHEN PHILIP OF Macedon came to conquer Corinth, the careful Corinthians did fortify their ruined walls, some carried stones, some trees, some lime, some clenged and dressed their armour, some taught & trained the neoteric sogers; no man was found idle to withstand the common enemy save Diogenes, he un-able for any service in the republic, did roll himself in his Tub up and down the streets. One of his familiars asked what he did: All the Corinthians (answered Diogenes) are busy, and I must be doing some thing: Each man (my honourable good Lord) at this great Court of Parliament is busy, and lest I alone like Diogenes be noted as idle, I will roll myself in these foolish rhymes up and down the streets; that it may be said I am doing something: the goods and children of the bondman belong to the master: These passions are my goods, or rather my children Minerva-like borne from their father's bran, without a mother, and so due to your L. Take then your own (dear Lord) from this hand, who according to the ancient custom hath bored his ear with a boidkene, to show that he shall still remain your honours most faithfully devoted and voluntary slave.  
AL. CRAIG.   

TO THE READER.  
EXcuse me (good Reader) for the methodlesse placing of these Passions: They are my children, you have them as they were borne: And so the Primo-genit must have the priority at the Press. Amongst so many children some must mis-thrive and prove naght: Cherish (I pray thee) the good, and leave the faulty to be reform by their father.  
Fair-wel.   

TO HIS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY THE HUMBLE PETITION OF his Highness' Orator AL. CRAIG at Christmas in Whitehall.  
Apelles' sometime came  
To Ptolomaeus feast,  
And had well nigh returned again  
Inglorius and disgraced.  
For Ptolomaeus asked,  
Who called him to that place,  
Then with a coal upon the wall,  
He painted Planus face.  
The King knew Planus well,  
And did at once protest  
That he should fast, and he would feast  
Appelles with the best.  
So am I come Great King,  
Unto thy Christmas cheer,  
And Poverty against my will,  
Invit's me to be here.  
You are a greater King  
Than Lagus son, although  
With Egypt, Afrie, he usurped,  
And was th' Arabians foe.  
Let Poverty I pray,  
Receive his due disgrace:  
And let thy Poet at this feast  
Supply the Painter's place.  
But Lacon sometime said  
Unto a begging slave,  
Give what I will it is thy craft  
To beg, and ever crave.  
Be not affraied for that,  
(Though for this time I cry)  
If succurd once, nor seek again  
I rather starve and die.   

COMPLAINT TO HIS Majesty.  

Love, Want, and Cares, all contrary me conspire,  
First, second, last, for me too many be:  
Want breaks my heart, and drown's my high desire,  
And makes my Muse so low a course to flee.  
But were I rich, the cruel fair would rue,  
Then sold I sing and bid my Cares adieu.   

O happy Artist, and Mechanic slave,  
Thou may'st a price upon thy pains impose:  
My wair is such, I know not what to crave,  
And so but look both Love and lines I lose:  
Strange thing betwixt my Sovereign and my saint,  
I waist my wits, and rape but woes and want.   

Yet might these two reward me if they would,  
And purge me both from poverty and pain:  
She with good will, my royal Sire with gold,  
And so preserve, and save their slave un-slane.  
With modest looks, and silent sighs I serve,  
The shameless beggar thriu's, and yet I starve.    

TO JOHN LORD RAMSAY, Vicunt of Hadington, the Author bemoneth his hard Fortunes in England.  
ALas, why sold Calisthenes remain  
Where Agis both and Cleo bear the sway,  
These sycophants and Parasites profane,  
Draw Macedoes magnific mind astray:  
If Aristip in Court make any stay,  
Some Tyrant strait shall spit into his face,  
Thus feeling ill, and fearing worse each day,  
A myriad of misfortunes I embrace.  
How careful is Entimeon poor thy case  
At home, abroad, since Fortune is thy foe;  
But ere thou turn to Griece with more disgrace,  
In Persia die, and there entomb thy woe:  
To him that lives, and must die Fortune's slave,  
If nothing else, good Persians grant a grave.   

AD EUNDEM DE EODEM.  
BEyond the Mountains of the frosty North,  
I sometime served a Caledonian Dame:  
The first of all for Virtue, wit, and Worth,  
That ever yet adorned the rolls of fame:  
She fed my heart on fancies sweetest flame,  
Yet have I left both heart and her behind,  
And to this land spoiled of my heart I came  
To follow Fortune, which I can not find:  
Strange is the state wherein I stand, I see  
betwixt Fortune here, and my affections there:  
I fled from these, this flees again from me,  
Here Poverty, and yonder springs Despair.  
Blind Cupid thus, blind Fortune are again me,  
My Love at home, my Luck abroad disdain me.   

NEW YEAR GIFT TO his Majesty.  
TO Croesus' rich shall Codrus gifts propyne,  
To Maro wise must Meutus ryms present:  
O pearls Prince, OPoet most divine,  
My Muse is dead, my moyen all is spent:  
Wise Maro writ, weak Mevius wonder ay,  
Rich Croesus give, poor Codius beg and pray.   

TO HIS MAJESTY IN NAME of his Noble Master.  

THe faithful heart is ever fraught with fear,  
And jealousy is still conjoind with love:  
How can I then (dread Liege) be fry from care,  
Since from thy sight I see I must remove:  
And thou my Phosphor, yea my Phoebus bright,  
Whose presence day, whose absence breeds my night   

Yet fear I not for that within thy mind,  
That ugly ghaist unkindness can have place:  
But cause I know, some clawbacks are inclined  
With all their force my Fortunes to disgrace:  
Be thou the point, and I the circling line,  
Mine be the pangs, and all the pleasures thine.   

I ' lekyth a constant Palinure to thee,  
A trusty steirsman both in storm and calm;  
That in my works the wondering world shall see  
The truest hand, that ever held a helm:  
Though (I confess) I am not skilled like him,  
Yet let me sink, so sweet Aeneas swim.   

Thus will I go, because thou dost command,  
Even for thy sake from out thy sight some space:  
And after kissing of thy sacred hand,  
I pray the Gods protege thy state in peace:  
And when I cease for to be true to thee,  
Cursed be my life, and wretched may I die.    

TO MY LORD SARUSBURIE.  
TWo potent Kings over Siciles two Empire,  
That famous I'll where Siracusa stood:  
Where 'gainst the heavens Encelad voms his fire,  
King Philip bruks with much Iberian blood:  
But wise King james (O blessed and happy case)  
Commands a Cecil of more price in peace.   

TO MY LORD HAY, AT HIS LEgation to France.  
SInce thou must sail to see the Celtic shore,  
From titular to him that keeps the Crown:  
Which with thy Name thy Nation shall decore,  
And fett more quills to further thy renown:  
My wishes both, and prayers shall attend thee,  
At home, abroad, the living Lord defend thee.   

TO MY LORD ADMIRAL AT his marriage with Lady Margaret Stewart.  
Mar, Hercules, and jupiter we find,  
With Venus, Lyda, Leda were in love,  
And for obedience to the Archer blind,  
The Sword, the Club, and Sceptre they remove:  
And Neptune's deput leave's the foamy strand,  
To pierce a Margarit fet from Murray land.   

A Counsel to Courteours.  

THe bibull Spoing in tepid water set,  
Drinks till it fill each small and greedy poor:  
But if the Barber in his hand it get,  
He wrings all out, which it hath drunk afore:  
You that in Court with Kings and Princes stay,  
Mark well in mind the water-spoing I pray.   

For if you stand on top of Fortune's wheel,  
Be ware lest with the bibull spoing you swal,  
Drink not too much as gluttons, govern well,  
Clim not too high, in case you catch a fall:  
The King makes up, the King again makes down,  
Both wealth and wrack awaits upon a Crown.    

To my Lady Hartfurde at his Majesty's first progress to Totnem. There the wild farne smelled as sweet as perfume, naturally.  
THe tempest beat and falling Farne (fair Dame)  
Receaves new life, new strength, new smell we see:  
And for thy sake thy Sovereign wears the same  
Heigh on his head to serve and honour thee:  
These are the fruits thy beauty brave brings forth,  
Thy least propynes are valued of most worth.   

TO HIS DEAR FRIEND Mr. AL. DICKSON Mr. of the Art of Memory who died at Winchester in England. EPITAPH.  
THat Thracian form at birth of friends to weep,  
And to be glad when as again they die:  
My sigh-swolne heart can not content to keep,  
Since I dear friend must sigh, and murne for thee.  
Now have I loosed my second self I see,  
To whom shall I (since thou atr dead) bemoan:  
Most rich of all (the Scythians say) is he  
That hath true friends, now I, alas, have none:  
No other death of old the Hircans choosed,  
But to be killed by these same dogs they fed:  
Displeasure so to be ingratlie used,  
Hath brought brave Dickson to his cognat bed.  
Thou taught the Art of Memory to those  
That seemed thy friends, yet proved in end thy foes.   

TO HIS UNKIND FRIEND.  
OF all the wounds whereof that Roman great,  
Brave julius Caesar in the senate died:  
The wounds from Brutus (burreau most ingrate)  
Did grieve him most, on Brutus still he cried:  
So were my life to take last leave of me,  
Still would I cry (unkind, unkind) on thee.   

TO HIS COZENING FRIEND.  

AThenian Chares promised much to many,  
Most prodigal of smooth persuading words:  
And yet performed no thing at all to any,  
Such are the fruits false eloquence affords:  
Like Larus lean of flesh he had no store,  
But multitude of feathers fair, no more.   

Since Chares thus concludes to play the knave,  
And still persists proud, impius, false, profane:  
Shall he beguile, and gull me like the lave,  
Yes, faith, once more to exercise his vane:  
Yet since experience Chares makes me wise,  
I shrew my heart, and thou beguile me thrice.    

TO COVETOUS COURTIERS.  

A Greedy Mouse did by a private way  
Steal to the pantry of a wealthy man:  
Where many dishes were, and would assay  
Each dish of all: but at the last began  
To teast an Oyster, when her guts were filled,  
The Oyster closed, and thus the Mouse was killed,   

Thou that hast crept in credit but by stealth,  
And teasts each dish, sib to the greedy Mouse:  
Who builds and makes of others wrack thy wealth,  
And soulles man will not oversee a sauce:  
Though Prince behold, and private men must thol thee,  
Some sharp-sheld oyster sometime shall control thee.    

TO VIRTEOUS AND NOBLE Cynthia.  
FAne would I render thanks for thy goodwill:  
But thanks are words, and words compense no deeds,  
And thus must I remain thy debtor still,  
For which my heart within my bosom bleeds:  
But if it chance that in thy debt I die,  
My froward Fortune hath the fault, not I   

TO HIS DEAR FRIEND, AND fellow student Mr. Robert AEton.  
SIng swift hoofed Aethon to thy matchless self,  
And be not silent in this pleasant spring:  
I am thy Echo, and thy aery elf,  
The latter strains of thy sweet tunes I'll sing:  
Ah, shall thy Muse no further fruits forthbring,  
But Basia bare, and wilt thou write no more  
To higher notes, I pray thee tune thy string:  
Be still admired as thou hast been of yore,  
Write Aethon writ, let not thy vain decay,  
Lest we become Cymerians dark, or worse.  
If Aethon fail, the Sun his course must stay,  
For, Phoebus' Chariot laks the chiefest horse:  
Though Fortune frown, ah, why should virtue die,  
Sing Aethon sing, and I shall Echo thee.   

AETHON CRAGIO SVO.  
FAne would I sing, if songs my thoughts could ease,  
Or calm the tempest of my troubled mind:  
Fane would I force my silent Muse to please,  
The gallant humour of thy wanton vane▪  
But O a miser mancipat to pain,  
Sold slave to sorrow, wedded to mischief,  
By mirth of songs, perhaps more grief might gane,  
In vane of them I should expect relief:  
Then sacred Craig if thou would ease my grief,  
Jnvite me not to wantonize with thee:  
But tune thy notes unto my mourning cleif,  
And when I weep, weep thou to Echo me.  
Perhaps the tears that from a Craig shall flow,  
May prove a Sovereign balm to cure my woe.   

AGAINST THE SELLERS of Tobacco.  
THou that hast made of selling smoke a trade,  
And Jew and gentle but remorse dost gulf,  
And by these base Nicotian bleads are glad  
To spoill, mar, blek, the stomach, bran, and skull:  
As thou deservest Turinus-like I doom thee,  
By selling smoke thou liv'st, let smoke consume thee.   

TO HIS LORD AND Mr. GEORGE Earl of Dunbar.  

Brave Alcibiad curious once to know  
If all were friends, that so appeared to be,  
To each of all in secret he did show,  
The purtrate of a new-slane-man, said he:  
This is a friend whom I have killed, I pray  
In quiet form come carry him away.   

Yet none of all that Crew would give consent,  
Nor help to put the painted tree a part:  
Save Kallias kind, who only was content,  
Hap what might hap, to help with hand and heart:  
Such is my luck (most loving Lord) I see,  
I have not found a Kallias kind, but thee.   

Thou art the great Maecenas of my Muse,  
My patron, Lord, my Master, and my All:  
Whom (while I live) but change in me I choose,  
To love, to serve, and to attend as thrall:  
Though time and absence breed suspect, what than?  
I am in spite of fortune's nose thy man:    

TO LADY ANNA HAY COUNTES OF Winton, one of the Ladies of her Majesty's most royal bed chalmer, at her return from England.  

AH, whither now sweet Lady wilt thou go?  
From Court to Country, what new change is this?  
And wilt thou needst (sweet Sant) be gone? and so  
Bereave south-Britan of so rare a bliss,  
Yes thou must go, I see there is no stay,  
And take ten thousand Thousand hearts away.   

Take then my heart, my better part with thee,  
My wishes, vow's, my prayers, all these all:  
For I am thine devoted till I die,  
And still shall bear the bloody yoke as thrall:  
And when my head shall turn to hoary grey,  
The world shall see that I shall serve An Hay.    

A DISSUASION TO HIS friend from his intended marriage.  
FAir famous I'll where Zoroastres reigned,  
Where Bactru● once the stately city stood:  
Which (when th'old name Artaspe) was disdained,  
Was Bactria called from fertile Bactrus flood;  
Where sometime Ceter, aram's son began,  
Of thousand cities the foundation sure.  
In thee the wives abuse the married man,  
And both with slave and stranger play the whore,  
The Dame with Distaff beats her yielding Lord,  
And for her pride but punishment skaips free:  
And poor Actaeon dare not speak one word,  
From Bactrian wives the Lord deliver thee:  
Nor lead a life infamous, heart-brock, thrall,  
Far better were to wed no wife at all.   

A DESCRIPTION OF A Pardoned, yet still vnrepenting proditor Plexirtus.  
WHen false and proud Plexirtus did conspire,  
His King and Lord Leonat to dethrone:  
He found the fates were foes to his desire,  
At last when all his bastard-hopes were gone,  
A halter fair about his hals he ties,  
And on the Prince for pardon still he cries.  
The Clement King Leonat was contented  
To pardon all his faults and foul offences:  
And yet we read the Rebel nought repent,  
Save that he could not practise his pretences:  
It's pity than the Prince can not perceive,  
Plexirtus was, and will be still a knave.   

EPITAPH OF JOHN FIRST Marks of Hamilton.  
BLest was thy life, and blessed didst thou die,  
Thy Oil was burning, and thy Lamp gave light,  
When life's proud foe, pale death did summoned thee  
To render earth her due, and heavens their right:  
Though death did then thy soul and body sever,  
Once thou shalt be conjoind, and live for ever.   

Aliud.  
HEre rests within this Tomb of truth th'unmatched zeal  
The father, & the faithful friend, of Church, & common well:  
In storm and calm inclined to do his King's command,  
Of peace the parent, child of Mars, chief glory of the land.   

FORTUNA SAEVO LAETA NEGOtio: transmutat incertos honores.  
STrange are the changes of this changing age,  
The cloun turns knight, the knight again turns colun:  
Now is he Lord, who, was of late a page,  
And he that threatened all, is now thrown down:  
Thrice happy he, whose heart can be content,  
To serve his God in peace with sober rent.   

To his afflicted friend.  
IN weather fair, and in a temperate spring,  
The waikest bird with warbling songs will soar,  
But in a srtome, or winter's rage to sing  
With merry notes, deserves a praise much more:  
Thy spring is gone, thy winter grows, O than  
Sing sweetly now, and show thyself a man.   

To his fortunate friend.  
THe Fox and Kat, were walking by the way,  
(As Aesop feigns) and lo for all his wits  
The Fox became to hungry hounds a pray,  
Whilst in a try the Kat securlie sits.  
Since Foxes false (dear friend) must fall, and die,  
Climb with the Kat, and make the truth thy try.   

Vivitur parvo bene.  

HE that can walk on ground that's fair and plane,  
Shall seldom fall, or if he chance to fall,  
He measures but his length, he'll rise again,  
And have no harm, nor any hurt at all:  
But he must fall of force that climbs too high,  
And if he fall, it's ten to one he'll die.   

Heigh hoist sails give vantage to the srtome,  
And if thy state be stately, large, and fair,  
The farer mark for mischief to deform,  
With spiteful sport proud Fortune play's her there:  
Fair marks are hit with shots and shafts mischivous,  
Which make the wounds more deep & much more grievous.   

Contented Codrus with his Country Dame,  
Suppose his Farm were set on fire he fear's not,  
His wife and he will warm them with the flame,  
Come what can come, his counts are cast, he cares not:  
If want and wealth were always at my will,  
Away with wealth, let me be Codrus still.    

A Prayer for his imprisoned friend.  

THe famous Persians had a form, we read,  
That if a Noble were condemned to d'ye,  
They spared himself, and hanged his clothes with speed,  
Poor prisoner, God grant the like to thee:  
Vcalegon his house is set on fire,  
A neighbour kind would quench lest it burn nigher.   

When Pollio proud did to his feast require  
Augustus Caesar, at a solemn time:  
He needs would kill a serving slave in ire,  
For breaking of a banquet glass, small crime:  
But Caesar said, poor slave, thou shalt not dye,  
Th'offence is naght, fear is enough for thee.    

To Idea for his long absence.  

ATtilius ruler of the Roman host,  
Begged leave his wife and children dear, to see  
His poor effairs he did perform with post,  
And made return with all the haste might be,  
He was for this no runaway, but rather  
A loving husband, and a faithful father.   

I have like him (wise Dame) at home a wife,  
With whom in peace the posting hours I spend,  
Yet will I love thee, while I have a life,  
And till I die my love shall never end:  
My poor Adoes withdraw me oft from thee,  
Yet where thou art, my heart shall ever be.    

To eloquent Erantina.  
CLeombrotus a Heathen man did hear  
Wise Plato, with such reverence and respeck,  
As for the love he to his lessons bear,  
He went abroad (kind man) and broke his neck:  
Thy charming words enchant me so that I  
Do nothing now, but mourn, sigh, weep, and die.   

To his absent and loving Lesbian.  

Dear heart, dear heart, dear, dear, dear heart again,  
More dear than writ can show, or wax can seal:  
O! if thou knew the care, the woe, the pain  
I felt since last I took from thee fair-well:  
The night in black chimerick thoughts I spend,  
Ere Phlegon rise, I wish the day to end.   

The dark is loathsome, and the day seems long,  
Because, alas, I am not where thou art:  
This is not mine, but frowning Fortunes wrong,  
Yet hope (dear heart) up-holds my dying heart:  
Look then for me, before few days take end,  
Till when my thoughts to thine, I do commend.    

To absent Idea.  

WIth puissant power when princely Pompey went,  
And made him for Pharsalic battle boon:  
With heavy hearts his sogeors did lament,  
And oft looked back to Rome their native town:  
Each in himself a civil combat felt,  
To leave the place where friends, wives, children dwelled.   

I may for this be deemed a Roman borne,  
I am so full of kindness and of love,  
In deepest sort (dear heart) I dare be sworn,  
My mind from thee no distance may remove:  
And for thy sake (bear witness naked God)  
I love thy Bonus wherein thou mak'st abode.    

To Idea at her bounds.  

AH, whither now (sweet Sant) art thou retired?  
Souls-raviser, alas, where art thou gone?  
Thy beauty now can be no more admired,  
Since thou delightst to lurk and live alone:  
Now Hermitlike thou hantst, the more the pity,  
And for the Farm forbear's the famous City.   

Look to thyself, thou dwellest too near the sea,  
Neptun no doubt will from those rocks bereave thee:  
And with his wife divorce for love of thee:  
Yet am I glade, none but a God must have thee:  
When winds and waves, and all are at thy will,  
Prove not unkind, I pray thee love me still.    

TO HIS BANISHED FRIEND  
TWo woeful weeds, the mother Church must wear,  
One Crimson rid, the other mourning black:  
The black betokeneth sorrow, pane, and care,  
The rid bodes death, fierce persecution, wrack:  
It matters not what rags she bear abroad,  
Once she'ill be clothed in robs of white with God.   

To his singular good Lord and Master.  
LOng may'st thou live an argument of praise,  
A lordly subject to my loving pen,  
That on thy worth the wondering world may gaise,  
A magistrate admired amongst all men.  
Yea, more and more heavens grant thee from above,  
The Maker's mercy, and the Master's love.   

Auream quisquis mediocritatem.  
IT merits praise to manage little well,  
A cunning coachman turns in little room:  
In poor estate a rich content I feel,  
And smile to see a wretch's wealth consume:  
J'ill study then to steward what I have,  
And not be curious more and more to crave.   

His regrate for the lose of time at Court.  
O How Time slips, and slelie slids away,  
God is forgot, and woe is me therefore:  
I waste the night, and wear away the day,  
I sleep, dress, feed, talk, sport, and do no more:  
Far better were with care to have redeemed,  
Nor sell for nought the thing I most esteemed.   

To his aspiring friend.  
SInce charge and honour march together still  
For charge but honour were a toil too great:  
And honour but a charge were ease at will,  
To want them both is not the worst estate:  
I loathe those loads which lightness first pretend,  
But break the neck before the journey's end.   

Nulla dies sine linea.  
THe standing pool will quickly stink and rot,  
The currant stream is cleanly both and clear:  
The idle man is Satan's prey, God wot,  
A virtuous mind the Devil darr not draw near,  
My fantasies can profit few, and yet  
It hurteth none, but doth me good to writ.   

The praise of Glad-povertie.  
THree sorts of men unto the market go,  
One buys, one sells, an other doth behold,  
Great grief and care is in the former two,  
Th'expectant waiks secure and uncontrolled.  
He liu's (poor man) contented with his lot,  
Using the world as if he used it not.   

His unambitious mind.  
THree things there be for which J'ill not contend,  
The Way, the wall, and Tables highest seat:  
What fool is he will frown, or yet offend  
For any place, so he can reach his meat.  
But in good faith, the idlest strife of all,  
Is in my judgement for the way, or wall.   

To his friend who seemed sorry when he left Court.  
I Scorn to live at Court, because I spy  
The wicked heaps up wealth, the fool hath grace:  
The wise man weeps, and in disgrace must die,  
And vanity must march in virtues place:  
Far better were on shore secure t'abide,  
Nor sail in vane against both wind and tide.   

Against Pride.  
TH' ambitious man no greater foe can have,  
Then is himself, for whilst he still aspires,  
He grinds his heart for grief unto the grave,  
With foolish hopes, with fear's, and fond desires:  
God grant my pride may grow to this degree,  
In earth his child, in heaven his Saint to be.   

To unfortunate and pure Aemilian at Court.  
EMilian begs with heart half-brok for sorrow,  
Yet finds not fruit at all, but long delay:  
As leave me now, or come again to morrow,  
My lasure serves not yet, I pray thee stay:  
None pities thee Aemilian, do not grieve,  
They get no thing, that have no thing to give.   

That he neither loves to be too gladnor too sad.  
Joys come like oxen heavy peased and slow,  
But take their leave like horses running post:  
Griefs come at post, on foot again they go,  
And leave sad discontentment with their host:  
Both joys and Griefs as passengers J'il use,  
They shall not be my ghaists, if I can choose.   

His contents at his Tugur.  
WHen lose of Time at Court was all my gane,  
To take my leave, I thought it was my best:  
And in some private mansion to remain,  
Where I might fry from Envies rage take rest:  
Now blest be God, no Portar bars my door  
By day, by night none keeps me but my kurre.   

Against ignorance and ill example.  
THe law of God is Lantern full of light,  
And good example bears this Lantern still:  
Which shows the way to walk, and march upright,  
To do all good, and to decline from ill:  
Without this light who walks, he can not see,  
And such (will God) shall be no guide to thee.   

To Mistress Hartside at Orknay her natal soil.  
PRoscribed Orcas though I hate thy forms,  
I must commend and praise thy courage still,  
I saw thee prove both wise and stout in storms,  
And thou art barren sore against my will:  
For had thou sons of thy Amazon stamp,  
They might be Captains of the Emperor's camp.   

Persuasions of oertainties are unnecessary.  
NO greater fools than Philodoxes fond,  
And such as love opinions of their own:  
Thy wit (wise Plato) when I think vponed,  
Made men to doubt on things that were well known:  
These Why, How, What, mad questions of thy schools,  
Would make the wise men of our age seem fools.   

Against drunkards and lichers.  
IN sinful Sodom to live clean and poor,  
In Asia chaste amid allurements such:  
To hate in Rome the brothel and the whore,  
And to be still abstemius with a Dutch:  
doeth merit praise, yet this much with correction,  
I find but few can haunt them but infection.   

To his Lord and Master G. E. Dunbar.  

ALas, that Time should be a foe to fame,  
To clip the wings of true report in rage:  
Alas, that th'earth should march a noble name:  
Like to a bird that's compassed with a kage:  
Fame clipped with time, & hemmed with earth's embrace  
By Poets yet out strips both time and place.   

Thy fame (dear Lord) is fry from all disgrace,  
(Still be it so till fire dissolve this frame)  
Till when about the world's broad spacious face,  
My ryms shall run t'immortalize thy Name:  
Foill to thy fame no time, no place shall give,  
So long as Craig, or yet his lines can live.    

Against ingratitude.  
FIrst let me die before I prove ingrate,  
No, let the earth devore me ere I die:  
Before I live in such a wretched state,  
To have no hand but one, no tongue to cry:  
Unthankful mouths are graves, then if I take,  
I will at least give praise and prayers back.   

To his Lord and Mister to be ware of envy.  

Deep danger lies (dear Lord) in smoothest looks,  
Envy is false, and waits thee at thy back:  
The poisoning bate is hung at golden hooks,  
They serve as friends that fane would see thy wrack.  
Envy awaits on virtue as her slave,  
Yet still delights in digging virtues grave.   

O pale Envy, the ouldest child of Pride,  
The Dame of Murder, Treasons only nurse,  
Of glore the stane, of squint-eyed fraud the bride:  
The bless of Hell, and Heaven's chiefest curse.  
God grant my Lord be harmless from thy hate,  
Thy blood thy drink, thine own heart be thy meat.    

TO JOHN EARL OF MONTROSE first Viceroy of Scotland. EPITAPH.  
IF Rhadamanthus in th'elysian field,  
With Aeacus and Minos Judges be.  
And Gods over ghosts, they all of due must yield,  
For Piety, Truth, Justice, place to thee:  
At least Montroes for Minos must command,  
And bear his Sceptre in the blessed land.   

The Rapt of Proserpina.  

SHall Ceres daughter still remane at hell?  
Shall Pluto comb her eurling loks of amber?  
Shall beauty brave in loathsome bondage dwell?  
And be imprisoned in a pitch-black chamber?  
Ah, slothful Ceres, thou art much to blame,  
Thy negligence hath brought thy child to shame.   

Proserpina hath beauty both and wealth.  
A pleasant prey enticeth many a thief:  
Of beauty rapt, of riches must be stealth,  
And from the hells we hear is no relief:  
Proserpina is Pluto's wife it's known,  
The devil is black, yet let him bruke his own.    

Against Sycophants and Parasites.  

FAlse Sycophant that wrongs the virtuous name,  
Proud Parasit thou poisons him that here's thee:  
And brings the absent to disgrace and shame,  
Who neither cares for forged lies, nor fear's thee:  
When Titan shins we see the vermin swarm,  
Thou dwellest at court because thou knowst its warm.   

False flattering fool, thou art but friendship's Ape,  
Chameleon-like thou changest every hue,  
Save white alone: thou loaths an honest shape▪  
As chief companion of the cursed crew:  
Proud Trencher flee thy panshes once filled, thou'ill go  
And prove to him that feeds thee best a foe.    

The praise of humility in his L. and Mr.  
IT seems (me think) a thing of small effect,  
When Fortune frowns for to be meek and lowly:  
But he that can eyes, heart, looks thoughts, deject,  
When Fortune fauns is happy both and holy:  
He looks like God, and hath his maker's show,  
Whose power is much, whose spirit is meek and low.   

Of true friendship.  
IN shaddie night the glow-worm shines like fire,  
And yet no heat to frosty hand she lends:  
In calm who swear's he loves thee, is a liar,  
He'll shrink in storm, and so his friendship ends:  
Let Pythias then take Damon by the hand,  
Who for his friend in fortune's storms can stand.   

TO THE MOST HONOURABLE and religious Lord G. Earl Marschell, great Commissionar of Scotland for his Majesty.  
Brave Cincinnatus from his house was brought,  
To be Dictator in the town of Rome:  
Thou in this sort, (Religious Lord) art sought,  
Thy Prince's place and seat for to assume:  
He in a month put Rome to rest and peace,  
And thou hast done much more in much less space.   

Contempt of Death.  

MEn seldom wish to die, though never so old,  
This day of death they do adjorne▪ till morrow:  
And by them all this fond excuse was told,  
(The life is sweet) suppose they live in sorrow:  
Blind, lame, dumb, leaf, sick, poor, and more we see,  
Men damned would live, yet know they needs must die.   

My woeful heart must weep to see such fools,  
As th'old, poor, blind, lame, dammed, diseased, deaf, dumb:  
Brought up and trained in Epicurus schools,  
Can not believe there is a life to come.  
God says, I have a Crown of glore to give thee,  
Then call, kill, Crown, for Lord I do believe thee.   
FINIS.