THE Garland OF goodwill.  
Divided into Three parts, containing many pleasant SONGS, and pretty POEMS to sundry new NOTES.  
With a TABLE to find the Names of all the SONGS. Written by T. D.  
London, Printed for I. Wright, at the sign of the Crown on Ludgate-hill. 1678.   

The Table.  

In the First Part.  
1. THe fair Lady Rosamond.  
2. Shore's Wife.  
3. How King Edgar was deceived.  
4. How Coventry was made free.  
5. Of the Duke of Cornwall's Daughter.  
6. A Song of Queen Isabel.  
7. The banishment of the two Dukes.  
8. The Noble Acts of Arthur of the Round Table, and of Lancelot du Lake.  
9 A Song in praise of Women.  
10. A Song in praise of a single life.  
11. The Widows solace.  
12. A Gentlewoman's Complaint.  
13. How a Prince of England Wooed the King's Daughter of France, and how she was Married to a Forester.  
14. The Faithful Friendship of two Friends, Alphonso and Ganselo.   

In the Second Part.  
1. A Pastoral Song.  
2. Patient Griselda.  
3. A song between Truth and Ignorance.  
4. judeth and Holofornes.  
5. In praise of the English Rose.   

In the Third Part.  
1. A Maiden's Choice 'twixt Age and Youth.  
2. As I came from Walsingham.  
3. The Winning of Cales.  
4. Of Edward and a Countess.  
5. The Spanish Lady's Love to an Englishman.  
6. A Farewell to Love.  
7. The Lover by his Gifts thinking to conquer Chastity.  
8. The Woman's Answer.    

A Mournful Ditty on the Death of Rosamond, King Henry the Second Concubine.  
To the Tune of, When flying Fame.  

WHen as King Henry ruled this Land,  
the second of that Name;  
Besides the Queen he dearly loved,  
a fair and Princely Dame:  
Most Peerless was her beauty found,  
her favour and her Face,  
A sweeter Creature in this world,  
did never Prince embrace.   

Her crisped Locks like threads of Gold,  
appeared to each man's sight,  
Her comely Eyes like Orient Pearls,  
did cast a heavenly light:  
The blood within her Christial Cheeks,  
did such a colour drive,  
As though the Lily and the Rose,  
for Mastership did strive.   

Yea Rosamond, fair Rosamond,  
her named was called so;  
To whom Dame Elinor our Queen,  
was known a mortal Foe:  
The King therefore for her defence,  
against the furious Queen,  
At Woodstock builded such a Bower,  
the like was never seen.   

Most curiously this Bower was built,  
of Stone and Timber strong;  
An hundred and fifty Doors,  
did to this Bower belong:  
And they so cunningly contrived,  
with turnings round about,  
That none (but with a Clew of Thread)  
could enter in or out.   

And for his Love and Lady's sake,  
that was so fair and bright;  
The keeping of this Bower he gave,  
unto a gallant Knight:  
But Fortune that doth often frown,  
where she before did smile;  
The King's delight and Lady's joy,  
full soon she did beguile.   

For why the King's ungracious Son,  
whom he did high advance;  
Against his Father raised War,  
within the Realm of France:  
But yet before our comely King,  
the English Land forsook,  
Of Rosamond his Lady fair,  
his farewell thus he took.   

My Rosamond, the only Rose  
that pleaseth best my eye;  
The fairest Rose in all the world,  
to feed my Fantasy:  
The Flower of my affected heart,  
whose sweetness doth excel;  
My Royal Rose, a thousand times,  
I bid thee now farewell.   

For I must leave my fairest Flower,  
my sweetest Rose a space;  
And cross the Seas to famous France,  
proud Rebels to abase:  
But yet my Rose be sure thou shalt,  
my coming shortly see;  
And in my heart whilst hence I am,  
i'll bear my Rose with me.   

When Rosamond that Lady bright,  
did hear the King say so,  
The sorrow of her grieved heart,  
her outward looks did show,  
And from her clear and christial Eyes,  
the tears gushed out apace,  
Which like the Silver Pearled Dew,  
ran down her comely face.   

Her Lips like to the Coral red,  
did wax both wan and pale,  
And for the sorrow she conceived,  
her vital Spirits did fail:  
So falling down all in a swound,  
before King Henry's face,  
Full oft betwixt his Princely arms,  
her Corpse he did embrace.   

And twenty times with watery eyes,  
he kissed her tender Cheeks,  
Until he had received again,  
her senses mild and meek:  
Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose,  
the King did ever say,  
Because, quoth she, to bloody Wars,  
my Lord must part away.   

But sith your Grace in Foreign Coasts,  
among your Foes unkind;  
Must go to hazard life and limb,  
why should I stay behind?   

Nay, rather let me like a Page,  
your Shield and Target bear,  
That on my Breast the blow may light,  
that should annoy you there.   

O let me in your Royal Tent,  
prepare your bed at night,  
And with sweet Herbs refresh your Grace,  
at your return from Fight:  
So I your presence may enjoy,  
no toil I will refuse,  
But wanting you my life is death,  
which doth true Love abuse.   

Content thyself my dearest Love,  
thy rest at home shall be;  
In England's sweet and pleasant Soil,  
for travel fits not thee:  
Fair Ladies brook not bloody Wars,  
sweet Peace their pleasure breed;  
The nourisher of hearts content,  
which Fancy first did feed.   

My Rose in Woodstock-Bower shall rest,  
with music's sweet delight;  
While I amongst the piercing Pikes,  
against my Foes do Fight:  
My Rose in Robes of Pearl and Gold,  
with Diamonds richly dight,  
Shall dance the Galliard of my Love,  
while I my Foes do tinite.   

And you Sir Thomas whom I trust,  
to be my Love's defence;  
Be careful of my gallant Rose,  
when I am parted hence:  
And there withal he fetched a sigh,  
as though his heart would break,  
And Rosamond for very grief,  
not one plain word could speak.   

For at their parting well they might,  
in heart be grieved sore;  
After that day fair Rosamond,  
the King did see no more:  
For when his Grace had past the Seas,  
and into France was gone,  
Queen Elinor with envious heart,  
to Woodstock came anon.   

And forth she called this trusty Knight,  
which kept this curious Bower,  
Who with his Clew of twined thread,  
came from that famous Flower:  
And when that they had wounded him,  
the Queen his Thread did get,  
And came where Lady Rosamond,  
was like an Angel set.   

But when the Queen with steadfast eyes,  
beheld her heavenly face,  
She was amazed in her mind,  
at her exceeding Grace:  
Cast off thy Robes from thee, she said,  
that rich and costly be;  
And drink thee up this deadly Draught,  
which I have brought for thee.   

But presently upon her knees,  
sweet Rosamond did fall:  
And pardon of the Queen she crav'●,  
for her offences all:  
Lake pity on my Youthful Years,  
fair Rosamond did cry:  
And let me not with poison strong,  
enforced be to die.   

I will renounce my sinful life,  
and in a Cloister vide,  
Or else be banished if you please,  
to range the world so wide:  
And for the fault that I have done,  
though I was forced thereto,  
Preserve my lif●, and punish me,  
as you think fit to do.   

And with these words her Lily hands,  
she wrung full often there;  
And down along her comely Cheeks,  
proceeded many a tear:  
But nothing could this furious Queen,  
therewith appeased be;  
The Cup of deadly Poison filled,  
as she sat on her knee.   

She gave this comely Dame to drink,  
who took it from her hand,  
And from her bended knees arose,  
and on her Feet did stand:  
And casting up her eyes to Heaven,  
she did for mercy call;  
And drinking up this Poison strong,  
her life she lost withal.   

But when that death through every Limb,  
had done his greatest spite;  
Her chiefest Foes did plain confess,  
she was a Glorious Might:  
Her Body then they did Entomb,  
when life was fled away;  
At Godstow, near to Oxford town,  
as may be seen this day.   
FINIS.   

2. A new Sonnet, containing the Lamentation of Shore's Wife, who was sometimes Concubine to King Edward the Fourth; setting forth h●r great Fall, and withal her most miserable and wretched end.  
To the Tune of, The Hunt is up.  

LIsten fair Ladies,  
Unto my misery,  
That lived late, in pompous State,  
most delightfully:  
And now to Fortune's fair Dissimulation.  
Brought in cruel and uncouth Plagues,  
most piteous.   

Shore's Wife I am,  
So known by Name,  
And at the Flower-de-luce in Cheapside,  
was my dwelling:  
The only Daughter of a wealthy Merchantman  
Against whose counsel evermore,  
I was rebelling.   

Young was I loved,  
No action moved,  
My heart or mind, to give or yield,  
to their consenting:  
My Parents thinking strictly for to wed me,  
Forcing me to take that which caused  
my repenting.   

Then being wedded,  
I was quickly tempted,  
My beauty caused many Gallants  
to salute me:  
The King commanded, I strait obeyed;  
For his chiefest jewel than  
he did repute me.   

Bravely was I trained,  
Like a Queen I reigned,  
And poor men's Suits  
by me was obtained:  
In all the Court, to none was such great report,  
As unto me, though now in s●orn,  
I be disdained.   

When the King died,  
My grief was tried,  
From the Court I was expelled,  
with despite:  
The Duke of Gloucester being Lord Protector,  
Took away my Goods, against  
all Law and right.   

And a Procession,  
For my transgression,  
barefooted he made me go:  
for to shame me,  
A Cross before me there was carried plainly,  
As a penance to my former life,  
for to tame me.   

Then through London,  
Being thus undone,  
The Lord Protector published  
a Proclamation:  
On pain of death, I should not be harboured,  
Which further more increased my sorrow,  
and vexation.   

I that had plenty,  
and Dishes dainty,  
Most sumptuously brought to my Board,  
at my pleasure:  
Being full poor, from door to door,  
I beg my Bread with Clack and Dish;  
at my leisure.   

My rich attire,  
By fortune's ice,  
To rotten Rags and nakedness,  
they are beaten:  
My Body soft, which the King embraced oft,  
With Uermine vile annoyed,  
and eat on.   

On Stalls and Stones,  
Did lie my Bones,  
That wont was in Bed of Down,  
to be placed:  
And you see, my finest Pillows be,  
Of stinking Straw, with Dirt and Dung  
thus disgraced.   

Wherefore fair Ladies,  
With your sweet Babies,  
My grievous fa●l bear in your mind,  
and behold me:  
Vow strange a thing, that the Love of a King,  
Should come to die under a Stall,  
as I told ye.   
FINIS.   

3. A new Sonnet of Edgar King of England, how he was deceived of a Lady which he loved, by a Knight of his own Court.  
To be sung in the old way, or else to the Tune of, Lebandalashot.  
When as King Edgar did govern this Land  
a down, a down, down, down, down  
And in the strength of his years did stand,  
call him down 〈◊〉  
Such praise was spre●d of ●al●ant Dame,  
Which did through England 〈◊〉 great fame;  
And she a Lady of high degree,  
The Earl of Devonshire's Daughter was she.  
The King which lately had 〈…〉  
And not long time ● Widowed had been;  
●earing this praise of a gallant Maid,  
Upon her Beauty his Love he laid:  
And in his sight he would often ●ay,  
I will send for that Lady say:  
Yea, I will send for thi● Lady bright,  
Which is my treasure and delight:  
Whose Beauty, like to Phoebus' B●a●s,  
Doth glister through all Christian Realms;  
Then to himself ●he would reply,  
Saying, how fond● Prince am I,  
To cast my love, 〈◊〉 base and low,  
Upon a Girl I do not know?  
King Edgar will his fancy frame,  
To love some Peerless Princely Dame▪  
The Daughter of a Royal King,  
That may a dainty Dolory bring,  
● Whose matchless Beauty brought in place,  
May Estrild's Colour ●lean disgrace  
But senseless 〈◊〉 what do I mean,  
Upon a broken need to lean ●  
Or what 〈…〉  
Thus to abuse my dearest Love  
Whose ●i●ge graced with heavenly hue,  
Doth Helen's honour quite subdue:  
The glory of her beauteous pride,  
Sweet Estrild's favour ●oth 〈◊〉;  
Then pardon my unseemly speech,  
Dear Love and Lady, I beseech:  
For I my thoughts will 〈…〉  
To spread the honour of thy Dame:  
Then unto him he called a ●●ight,  
Which was most trusty in his ●●ht;  
And unto him thus he did say,  
To Earl Orgator, ●o thy way:  
Where ask for Estrild's comely Dame,  
Whose beauty went so far by fame:  
And if you find her comely Grace,  
As fame did spread in every place:  
Then tell her Father, she shall be  
My Crowned Queen, if she agree.  
The Knight in ●●ssage 〈◊〉  
And into Devonshire ●ent with speed:  
But when he saw the Lady bright,  
He was so ravished at her ●●ght;  
That nothing ●o●do his passion move,  
Except he might obtain her Love:  
For day and night while there he ●laid,  
He courted 〈…〉  
And in his Suit he 〈◊〉 such skill,  
That at the length he gained her Go●● 〈◊〉:  
Forgetting quite the Duty though,  
Which he unto the King did owe.  
Then coming home unto his Grace,  
●● told him with ●●sembling face;  
That those Reports were to blame,  
That so advanced the Maidens Name▪  
For I assure your Grace, s●●d he,  
She is as other Women ●e:  
Her Beauty of such great Report,  
●o better than the Common sort;  
And far 〈◊〉 in every thing,  
To meet with such a Noble King:  
But though her face be nothing fair,  
〈◊〉 she is her ●ather●●●eir;  
Perhaps some Lord of high degree,  
Would ve●y ●ain her 〈…〉:  
Then if your Grace would give consent,  
I would myself be well content:  
The Damsel for my ●●fe to take,  
For her great Lands and Livings sake;  
The King (whom thus he did dec●ive)  
Incontinent did give him leave;  
For on that point he did not 〈◊〉  
For why, he had no ne●● of Land●  
Then being glad, he went 〈◊〉,  
And wedded strait this Lady gay  
The fairest Creature 〈◊〉 life  
Had this false Knight unto his wife  
And by that match of 〈◊〉 degree,  
An Earl soon after that wa● he.  
ere he long time▪ had Married hee●,  
That many had her Beauty seen;  
Her praise was spread both far and near▪  
The King 〈◊〉 thereof did ●ear▪  
UUho then in hear● did plainly prov●,  
He was betrayed of his Love;  
Though therefore he was ●e●ed sore,  
Yet seemed he not ●o grieve therefore;  
But kept his countenance 〈◊〉 and kind  
As though he ●are ●o g●udge in mind.  
But on a day it ●ame to pass,  
When as the King full merry was;  
To Ethlewood in s●ort ●e sa●d,  
I muse what c●ear th●re should be made;  
If to thy house I should ●●sort,  
A night or two for Princely sport:  
Hereat the Earl showed countenance glad,  
Though in his heart he was full sad;  
Sa●ing, your G●ace shall welcome be,  
If so your Grace will honour me.  
When as the 〈◊〉 appointed was,  
Before the King did thither pas●,  
The Earl before hand did prepare,  
The Kings coming ●● declare;  
And with a countenance 〈…〉  
●e called his Lady unto ●im▪  
Saying with sad and 〈◊〉 hear,  
I pray you when the ●ing comes here,  
Sweet Lady as you 〈◊〉 me▪  
Let your attire but homely he:  
Nor wash not thou thy Angel's face▪  
But so ●hy Beauty 〈◊〉 disgrace;  
Thereto thy g●esture so e●e  
It may seem loathsome to the 〈◊〉;  
For if the King should there behold,  
Thy glorious Beauty so ertoled;  
Then shall my life s●on shortened be,  
For my deserts and treachery.  
When to thy Father first ● came,  
Though I did not declare the ●ame▪  
Yet was I put in trust to bring,  
The joyful tidings to the King:  
Who for thy glorious beauty seen,  
Did think of thee to make ●is 〈◊〉  
But when I had thy person found;  
Thy beauty gave me such a wound▪  
No rest nor comfort could I take▪  
Till you, sweet Love, my gri●f did ●●ke:  
And that though Duty charged me▪  
Most faithful to my Lord to be;  
Yet Love, upon the other side,  
Bid for myself I should provide:  
Then for my suit and 〈◊〉 ●hown,  
At length I won you for my ●wn;  
And for my Love in We●lock spent,  
Your choice you need no whit repent:  
Then since my grief I ●●ve expressed,  
Sweet Lady grant me my request:  
Good words she gave, with smiling cheer,  
Musing of that which she did he●●;  
And casting many things in mind,  
Great fault therewith she s●e●d to find;  
But in herself she thought it ●●ame,  
To make that foul, which God did fr●me:  
Most costly Robes full rich therefore,  
In bravest sort that day she wore;  
Doing all that e'er she might,  
To set her beauty forth to sight:  
And her best skill in every thing,  
She showed to entertain the King.  
Wherefore the King so snared was,  
That reason quite from him did pass:  
His heart by her was set on ●●re,  
He had to her a great desire:  
And for the looks he gave her then,  
For every look she showed him ten.  
UUherefore the King perceived plain,  
His Love and looks were not in vain;  
Upon a time it chanced so,  
The King he would a ●unting go:  
And as they through ● wood did ri●e,  
The Earl on Horseback 〈◊〉 hi●●●de:  
For so the story tellet●●lai●,  
That with a shaft the Earl was 〈◊〉  
So that when he had lost his life,  
He took the Lady unto wise;  
UUho Married her, all harm to shun,  
By whom he did bege● a ●●on:  
Thus he that did the King deceive,  
Did by desert his death receive:  
Then to conclude and make an ●nd,  
Be true and faithful to thy friend.  
FINIS.   

4. How Coventry was made free by Godina, Countess of Chester.  
To the Tune of, Prince Arthur died at Ludlow.  
LEofricus that Noble Earl,  
of Chester as I read,  
Did for the City of Coventry,  
many a Noble deed:  
Great Privilidges for the town,  
this Noble man did get;  
And of all things did make it so,  
That they Tole-free did ●●t:  
Save only that for Horses still,  
and did som● Custom pay▪  
Which was great 〈◊〉 unto the town▪  
full long and many a 〈◊〉  
UUherefore ●is wife 〈…〉  
did of the Earl reque●●;  
That therefore he would make it fre●,  
as well as all the rest▪  
So when she long: had sued,  
her purpose to obtain;  
Her Noble Lord at length she look,  
within a pleasant vein:  
And unto him with smiling cheer,  
s●e did forthwith proceed;  
Entreating greatly that he would,  
perform that Godly deed.  
You move me much, my fair, (quoth he)  
your suit I fain would shun▪  
But what will you perform and do,  
to have this matter done?  
Why, any thing my Lord (quoth s●e)  
you will with reason cr●ve;  
I will perform it with good will,  
if I my wish might have:  
If thou wilt grant the thing, he said,  
what I shall now require;  
As soon as it is finished,  
thou shalt have thy desire:  
Command what you think good, my Lord,  
I will thereto agree;  
On this Condition, that the town  
for ever may be free:  
If thou thy clothes strip off,  
and here lay them down;  
And at Noonday on Horseback ride,  
stark naked through the the town:  
They shall be free for evermore▪  
if thou wilt not do so;  
●o●e Liberty th●n, now the bage,  
● never will ●estow.  
The Lady at this strange demand,  
was much abashed in mind;  
And yet for to fulfil this thing▪  
she never a whit repined:  
UUherefo●e to all officers  
of the town she sent;  
That they perceiving her good will;  
which for the weal was ●ent;  
That on the day that she should ride,  
all persons through the town▪  
Should keep their Houses, shut their Doors,  
and clap their windows do●●●:  
So that no Creature young or old,  
should in the Streets be seen;  
Till she had ridden all about,  
throughout the City clean:  
And when the day of Riding ●ame,  
no person did her see,  
Saving her Lord, after which time,  
the town was ever set free.  
FINIS.   

5. How the Duke's Daughter of Cor●●al being Married unto King Locrine, was by him put away; and a strange Lady, whom he better Loved, he Married and made her his Queen; and how his Wife was avenged.  
To the Tune of, In Crete.  

WHen Humber in his wrathful rage,  
King Albanack in field had slain,  
Those bloody br●●●s for to assuage▪  
King Locrine then applied his pain;  
And with a Host of Britain's s●out,  
At length he found King Humber out.   

At vantage great he met him then,  
and with his Host beset him so;  
That he destroyed his warlike men,  
and Humber's power did overthrow:  
And Humber which for fear did ●ye,  
Leapt into a River desperately.   

And being Drowned in the Deep,  
he left a Lady there alive,  
Which sadly did lamen● and w●p,  
for fear they should ●er li●e depr●●e,  
But by her face that was so fai●,  
The King was caught in Cupid's snare.   

Ye took this Lady to his Love,  
who secretly did keep her st●●●;  
So that the Queen did quickly prove,  
the King did bear 〈◊〉 small good wi●●:  
Which though by we●lock late b●●un,  
He had by her a gallant Son.   

Queen Guendoline was grieved in mind,  
to see the ●ing was altered so;  
At length the cause she thanked to find,  
which brought her to most bitter woe:  
For Estrild was his joy (God-wo●)  
By whom a Daughter he beg●t.   

The Duke of Cornwall being dead,  
the Father of that gallant Queen;  
The King with Lust being overlaid,  
his lawful wife he cast off clean:  
UUho with her dear and tender ●on,  
For succour did in Cornwall run.   

Then Locrine Crowned Estrild bright,  
and made of her his lawful wife;  
With her which was his heart's delight,  
he thought to lead his life:  
Thus Guendo●me, as one forlorn,  
Did hold her wretched life in scorn.   

But when the Cornish men did know,  
the great abuse she did endure,  
With her a number great did go,  
which she by Prayers did procure:  
In Battle than they Marched along,  
For to redress this grievous wrong.   

And near a Rider▪ called Store,  
the King with all his Host she met,  
Where both the Armies fought full sore,  
but yet the Queen the Field did get:  
Yet ●'re they did the Conquest gain,  
The King was with an Arrow slain.   

Then Guendoline did take in hand,  
until her Son was come to age,  
The Government of all the Land,  
but first her fury to assuage:  
She did command her Souldirs wild,  
To drown both Estrild and her Child.   

Inconti●e●tith●● 〈◊〉 they did brin●,  
fair Estrild 〈◊〉 River si●e;  
And ●abri●● Daughter to a King,  
whom Guendoline could not abide:  
Who being bound 〈…〉 fast▪  
Into the River there was cast.   

And ever since that running stream,  
wherein the Ladies drowned were,  
I● called Save●● ●hrough the Realm;  
because that ●abrine die● there▪  
Thus they that did: to 〈…〉;  
Were brought 〈◊〉 a woeful end.   
FINIS.   

6. A Song of Queen Isabel, Wife to King Edward the Second; how by the Spencers she was constrained secretly to go out of England with her eldest Son, Prince Edward, to seek for succour in France, and what happened ●nto her in her Journey.  

PRoud were the Spencers, and of condition ill,  
All England and the King ●likewise;  
they ruled at their will:  
And many Lords and Nobles of the Land,  
Through their occasions lost 〈◊〉 lives,  
and none did them withstand.  
And at the last they did increase truth grief,  
Between the King and Israel,  
his Queen and fall 〈◊〉 wise:  
Do that her life she dreaded wandrous sor●  
And cast within her secret thoughts,  
some present help therefore.   

That she requests with counts nance grave and (sage)  
That she to Thomas Beckets Youth,  
might go on Pilgrimage:  
Then being joyful to have that happy charice,  
Her Son and she took Ship with speed,  
and sailed into France:  
And Royally she was received then,  
By the King and all the rest,  
of ●aers and Mohlemen:  
And unto him at last she did express,  
The cause of her Areiv●● there,  
her cause and heaviness.   

When as her Brother her grief did understand,  
He gave her leave to gather men,  
throughout his famous Land,  
And made a promise to 〈◊〉 her eber●u●re,  
As oft as she should standin need  
of Gold and Silver 〈◊〉.  
But when indeed she did require its same,  
He was as far 〈◊〉 it,  
as when she thither came;  
And did proclaim, whilst matters were so,  
That none on pain of death should go,  
to 〈◊〉 the English 〈◊〉.   

This alteration did greatly grieve the Queen,  
That down along her lonely face,  
the bitter 〈◊〉 were s●en!  
When she perceived her friends for look her so,  
She knew not for her safety,  
which way to turn or go:  
But through good 〈◊〉 at last she then decreed,  
To seek in fruitful Germany,  
some succour to this n●ed:  
And to Sir John Henault the 〈◊〉 she,  
Who entertained this weful Queen,  
with great solemnity.   

And with great sorrow to him she then complained,  
Of all her 〈◊〉 and Injuries,  
which she of last 〈◊〉:  
So that with weeping 〈…〉  
The sum whereof did greatly grieve  
that Noble Courteous Knight:  
Who made an oath he would her Champion ●e,  
And in her 〈◊〉 spend his Blood,  
from wrong to set her free  
And all my friends with 〈…〉  
Shall help for to advance your state,  
whose truth no time shall 〈◊〉   

And in his promise most faithful he was found,  
And many Lords of great account,  
was in his Voyage bound  
So setting forward with a ●●odly train,  
At length, through God's special Grace,  
into England they came.  
At Harwich then, when they were ashore,  
Of English Lords and Barons bold,  
there came to her great state  
Which did rejoice the Queen's afflicted hearts,  
That English Lords in such sort,  
came for to take her part.   

When as King Edward hereof did understand,  
How that the Queen with such a power,  
was entered on his Land:  
And how his Nobles were gone to take her part  
He fled from London presently;  
even with a heavy heart▪  
And with the Spencers unto Bristol go,  
To fortisle that gallant town,  
great cost he did bestow:  
Leaving behind to govern London town,  
The stout Bishop of Exeter,  
whose pride was soon pulled down.   

The Mayor of London, with Citizens great store  
The Bishop and the Spencers both,  
in heart they did a●●or;  
Therefore they took him without fear or dread,  
And at the Standard in Cheapside,  
they synod off his head:  
Unto the Queen then this Message they sent,  
The City of London was  
at her Commandment;  
●herefore the Queen with all her company,  
Did strait to Bristol march amain;  
whereas the King did lie.   

Then she Be●●teg'd the City round about,  
Threatening sharp and cruel Death,  
to those that were so stout;  
Wherefore the Townsmen, their Children, and their wives;  
Did yield the City to the Queen.  
for safeguard of their lives:  
Where was took, the story plain doth tell,  
Sir Hugh Spencer, and with him,  
the Carl Arundel:  
This judgement just the Nobles did set down,  
They should be drawn and hanged both,  
in sight of Bristol Town;  
Then was King Edward in the Castle there,  
And Hugh Spencer still with him,  
in dread and deadly fear;  
And being prepared from thence to sail away▪  
The winds were found contrary,  
they were enforced to stay:  
But at last Sir John Beaumont Knight,  
Did bring his Sailing Ship to shore,  
and so did stay their Flight:  
And so these men were taken speedsly,  
And brought as Prisoners to the Queen,  
which did in Bristoll●e.   

The Queen by counsel of the Lords and Barons bold,  
To Barkely sent the King,  
there to be kept in hold:  
And young Hugh Spencer that did much ill procure,  
Was to the Marshal of the Post,  
sent unto keeping sure:  
And then the Queen to Hereford took her way,  
With all her warlike Company,  
which late in Bristol lay:  
And here behold how Spencer was  
From town to town, even as the Queen  
to Hereford did pass.   

Upon a jade which they by chance had found,  
Young Spencer mounted was,  
with legs and hands fast bound:  
I writing paper along as he did go,  
Upon his head he had to wear,  
which did his treason show:  
And to decide this Traitor lewd and ill,  
Certain men with Reeden pipes,  
did blow before him still;  
Thus was he led along in every place,  
While many people did rejoice,  
to see his strange disgrace.   

When unto Hereford our Noble Queen was come,  
She did assemble all the Lords,  
and Knights both all and some;  
And in their presence young Spencer judgement had  
To be both hanged and quartered,  
his treasons were so bad:  
Then was the King deposed of his Crown,  
from Rule and Princely Dignity,  
the Lords did cast him down;  
And in his life his Son both wise and ●age,  
Was Crowned King of fair England,  
at fifteen years of age.   
FINIS.   

7. A Song of the banishment of the two Dukes, of Hereford and Norfolk.  
TWo Noble Dukes of great Renown,  
that long had lived in Fame;  
Through hateful envy were cast down,  
and brought to sudden shame:  
The Duke of Hereford was the one,  
a prudent Prince and wise;  
Against whom such malice there was s●own  
which soon in sight did rise.  

The Duke of Norfolk most untrue,  
declared unto the King,  
The Duke of Hereford greatly grew,  
in hatred of each thing:  
Which by his Grace was acted still,  
against both high and low,  
Now he had a traitorous will,  
his State to overthrow.   

The Duke of Hereford then in haste,  
was sent for to the King;  
And by the Lords in order placed,  
examined of each thing:  
UUho ● ing guiltless of this crime,  
which was against him laid,  
〈◊〉 Duke of Norfolk at that time,  
these words unto him said.   

How canst thou with a shameless face,  
deny a truth so stout;  
And here before his Royal Grace,  
so falsely face it out?  
Did not these wicked treasons pass,  
when we together were;  
How that the King unworthy was,  
the Royal Crown to hear?   

Wherefore my gracious Lord, quoth he,  
and you his Noble Peers;  
To whom I wish long life to be,  
with many happy years:  
I do pronounce before you all,  
this treacherous Lord that's here,  
A traitor to our Noble King,  
as time shall show it clear.   

The Duke of Hereford hearing that,  
in mind was grieved much;  
And did return this answer flat,  
which did Duke Norfolk touch:  
The term of traitor, truthless Duke,  
in scorn and great disdain;  
With flat distance to thy face,  
I do return again.  
And therefore if it please your Grace,  
to grant me leave (quoth he)  
To Combat with my known Foe,  
that here accuseth me:  
I do not doubt but plainly prove,  
that like a perjured Knight,  
He hath most falsely sought my shame,  
against all truth and right.   

The King did grant this just request,  
and did there with agree;  
At Coventry in August next,  
this Combat fought should be:  
The Dukes on sturby Steebs full stout,  
in Coats of Steel most bright;  
With Spears in Rests, did enter Lists,  
this Combat flerce to fight.   

The King than east his Warden down,  
commanding them to stay;  
And with his Lords he council took,  
to stint that mortal fray:  
At length unto these Noble Dukes,  
the King of heralds came,  
And unto them with losty speech,  
this Sentence did proclaim.   

Sir Henry Bullingbrook, this day,  
the Duke of Hereford here,  
And Thomas Maubry, Norfolk Duke,  
so valiant did appear:  
And having in honourable sort,  
repaired to this place,  
Our Noble King for special cause,  
hath altered thus the case.   

First Henry Duke of Hereford,  
ere fifteen days be past,  
Shall part the Realm on pain of death,  
while ten years' space doth last  
And Thomas Duke of Norfolk thou,  
that hath begun this strife,  
And therefore no good proof can bring,  
I say for term of life.   

By judgement of our Sovereign Lord,  
which now in place doth stand,  
For evermore I vanish thee,  
out of thy Native Land:  
Charging thee on pain of death,  
when fifteen days are past,  
Thou never tread on English ground,  
so long as life doth last.   

Thus were they sworn before the King,  
ere they did further pass,   

The one should never come in place,  
whereas the other was;  
Then both the Dukes with heavy hearts,  
was parted presently;  
Their uncouth streams of froward chance,  
of foreign Lands to try.   

The Duke of Norfolk coming then,  
where he should Shipping take;  
The bitter tears fell down his cheeks,  
and thus his moan did make:  
Now let me sigh and sob my fill,  
ere I from hence depart;  
That inward pangs, with speed may burst,  
my sore afflicted heart.   

Ah cursed man! whose loathed life  
is held so much in scorn,  
Whose Company is clean despised,  
and left as one forlorn:  
Now take thy leave and last adieu,  
of this thy Country dear;  
Which never more thou must behold,  
nor yet approach it near.  
Now happy should I account myself,  
if death my heart had torn;  
That I might have my Bones Entombed,  
where I was bred and born:  
Or that by Neptune's wrathful rage,  
I might be pressed to die:  
Whilst that sweet England's pleasant banks,  
did stand before mine eye.   

How sweet a scent hath English ground,  
within my senses now?  
How fair unto my outward sight,  
seems every B●anch and Bough:  
The fields and flowers, the trees and stones,  
seem such unto my mind;  
That in all other Country's ●u●e,  
the like I shall never find.   

O that the Sun with shining face,  
would stay his steed by strength;  
That this same day might stretched be,  
to twenty years in length:  
And that the true performed Live,  
their hasty course would stay;  
That Aeolus would never yield,  
to bear me hence away.   

That by the fountain of my eyes,  
the fields might watered be;  
That I might grave my grievous Plaints,  
upon each springing tree:  
But time I see with Eagles wings,  
so swift doth fly away;  
And dusky Clouds begin to dim,  
the brightness of the day.   

The fatal hour it draweth on,  
the winds and tides agree;  
And now sweet England oversoon,  
I must depart from thee:  
The Mariners have hoist Sails,  
and call to catch me in;  
And now in woeful heart I feel,  
my torments to begin.   

Wherefore farewell for evermore,  
sweet England unto thee;  
But farewell all my Friends, which I  
again shall never see:  
And England here I kiss thy ground,  
upon my bended knee,  
Whereby to show to all the world,  
how dearly I love thee.   

This being said, away he went,  
as Fortune did him guide,  
And at the length with grief of heart,  
in Venice there he died:  
The Noble Duke in doleful sort,  
did lead his life in France,  
And at the last, the mighty Lord  
did him full high advance.   

The Lord of England afterwards,  
did send for him again;  
While that King Richard at the Wars,  
in Ireland did remain:  
Who brought the vile and great abuse,  
which through his deeds did spring;  
Deposed was, and then the Duke  
was truly Crowned King.   
FINIS.   

8. The noble Acts of Arthur of the Round Table.  
To the Tune of, Flying Fame.  
When Arthur first in Court began,  
and was approved King;  
By force of Arms great Victories won,  
and conquest home did bring:  
Then into Britain strait he came,  
where fifty good and able  
Knights, then repaired unto him,  
which were of the Round Table.  
And many Justs and Tournaments,  
before them that were dressed,  
Where valiant Knights did then excel,  
and far surmount the rest:  
But one Sir Lancelot du lake,  
who was approved well,  
He in his fights and deeds of arms,  
all others did excel.  
When he had rested him a while,  
to play, to game, and sport,  
He thought he would to try himself,  
in some adventurous sort:  
He armed rode in Forrest wide,  
and met a Damsel fair,  
Who told him of adventures great,  
whereto he gave good ear:  
Why should I not, quoth Lancelot tho,  
for that cause I came hither,  
Thou seem'st (quoth she) a Knight right good,  
and I will bring thee thither:  
Whereas the mighty King doth dwell,  
that now is of great fame,  
Therefore tell me what Knight thou art,  
and then what is your Name.  
My name is Lancelot du Lake,  
quoth she, it likes me than,  
Here dwells a Knight, that never was,  
e'er matched with any man:  
●ho has in prison three score Knights,  
and four that he has wound:  
●nights of King Arthur's Court they be,  
and of his Table Round:  
〈◊〉 brought him to a Riverside,  
and also to a tree,  
Thereon a Copper Bason hung,  
his fellows Shields to see:  
〈◊〉 struck so hard the Basin, broke,  
when Tarquin heard the sound,  
〈◊〉 drove a Horse before him strait,  
whereon a Knight lay bound:  
Sir Knight, than said Sir Lancelot tho,  
bring me that Horseload hither;  
And lay him down and let him rest,  
we'll try our force together:  
And as I understand thou hast,  
so far as thou art able;  
Done great despite and shame,  
unto the Knights of the Round Table.  
●f thou be of the Table Round,  
(quoth Tarquin speedily)  
Both thou, and all thy fellowship,  
I utterly deste:  
That's overmuch, quoth Lancelot tho,  
defend thee by and by;  
They put their Spurs unto their Steeds,  
and each at other sly.  
They couch their Spears, and Horses can,  
as though there had been thunder;  
And each struck them amidst the shield,  
wherewith they broke in sunder:  
Their Horse's backs broke under them,  
the Knights were both astoned,  
To hold their Horses they made great haste,  
to light upon the ground:  
They took them to their Shields full fast,  
their Swords they drew out then;  
With mighty strokes most eagerly,  
each one at other ran:  
They wounded were, and bled full sore,  
for breath they both did stand;  
And leaning on their Swords a while,  
quoth Tarquin, hold thy hand,  
And tell to me what I shall ask;  
say on quoth Lancelot, though,  
Thou art quoth Tarquin, the best Knight  
that ever I did know:  
And like a Knight that I did hate,  
so that thou be not he;  
I will deliver all the rest,  
and eke accord with thee:  
That is well said, quoth Lancelot then,  
but sith it must be so;  
What is the Knight thou hatest so,  
I pray thee to me show.  
His Name is Sir Lancelot du Lake,  
he slew my Brother dear;  
Him I suspect of all the rest,  
I would I had him here:  
Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknown,  
I am Lancelot du Luke,  
Now Knight of Arthur's Table Round,  
King Hauds Son of Suewake:  
And I desire thee, do thy worst,  
Ho, ho, quoth Tarquin tho,  
One of us two shall end our lives,  
before that we do go:  
If thou be Lancelot du Lake,  
then welcome shalt thou be;  
Wherefore see thou thyself defend,  
for now I thee deft.  
They buckled together so,  
like two wild Boars rushing:  
And with their Swords and Shields they ran,  
at one another flashing:  
The ground be●winkled was with Blood,  
Tarquin began to faint:  
For he gave back, and bore his Shield  
so low, he did repent:  
Then soon spied Sir Lancelot tho,  
he leapt upon him then,  
He pulled him down upon his knee,  
and rushing off his yelm:  
And then he struck his Neck in ●●o,  
and when he had done so;  
From prison, threescore Knights and four,  
Lancelot delivered tho.  
FINIS.   

9 A Song in Praise of Women, To a pleasant new Tune: called, My Valentine.  
AMongst all other things,  
that God hath made beneath the Sky;  
Most glorious to satisfy the curious eye,  
of mortal men withal:  
The sight of Eve,  
Did soon fit his fancy,  
Whose courtesy and amity most speedily,  
had caught his heart in thrall:  
Whom he did love so dear,  
A● plainly both appear,  
He made her Queen of all the world,  
and Mistress of his heart;  
Though afterwards she wrought his woe,  
his death and deadly smart.  

What need I speak  
Of matters passed long ago,  
Which all men know, I need not show, to high or low,  
the case it is so plain,  
although that Eve committed then so great,  
ere she went hence:  
A recompense in defence,  
she made mankind again:  
For by her blessed Seed,  
we are Redeemed indeed,  
Why should not then, all mortal men,  
esteem of women well?  
And love their wives, even as their lives,  
as nature doth c●mpel.   

A virtuous Wife  
The Scripture doth commend, and say,  
That night and day, she is a stray, from all decay;  
to keep her Husband still,  
●he useth not  
To give herself a wand'ring,  
Or flattering, or prattling, or any thing,  
to do her Neighbour ill:  
But all her mind is bend,  
his Pleasures is con●●n●;  
Her faithful love, doth not remove,  
for any Storm or grief:  
Then is not he, well blest think ye,  
that meets with such a ●ife?  
But now methinks,  
I hear some men do say to me,  
Few such there be, in each degree, and quality, at this day to be found;  
And now adays,  
Some men do set their whole delight,  
Both day and night, with all despite, to brawl and fight,  
their rage did so abound:  
But sure I think and say,  
here comes no such to day;  
Nor do I know of any she,  
that is within that place,  
And yet for fear, I dare swear,  
it is so hard a case:  
But to conclude,  
For Maids, and wives, and Virgins all,  
Both great or small, in Bowér or Hall, to pray I shall,  
so long as life doth last;  
That they may live,  
With hearts content, and perfect peace,  
That joys increase, may never cease, till death release,  
the care that crept so fast,  
For beauty doth me blind,  
To have them all in mind,  
Even for her sake, that doth us make,  
so merry to be seen:  
The glory of the Female kind,  
I mean our Noble Queen.   
FINIS.   

10. A Song in praise of a single Life.  
To the Tune of, The Ghosts hearse.  
SOme do write of bloody wars,  
Some do show the several jars,  
'twixt men through envy raised,  
Some in praise of Princes write,  
Some set their whole delight,  
to her fair Beauty blazed:  
Some other persons are moved,  
for to praise where they are loved:  
And let lovers praise beauty as they will,  
other ways I am intended;  
True Love is little regarded,  
And often goes unrewarded:  
Then to avoid all strife,  
I'll resolve to lead a single life,  
whereby the heart is not offended,  
● what suit and service too,  
Is used by them that woo:  
● what grief in heart and mind,  
What for row we do find;  
through women's fond behaviour:  
Subject to suffer each hour,  
and speeches sharp and sour:  
And labour, love, & cost, perchance 'tis but all lost  
and no way to be amended,  
And so purchase pleasure,  
And after repent at leisure;  
Then to avoid all strife, etc.  
To no man in wedded state,  
Doth happen much debate,  
except Gods special favour,  
If his wife be proudly bend,  
Or secretly consent,  
to any lewd behaviour:  
If ●he be slothful or idle,  
Or such as her tongue cannot bridle,  
O then well were he,  
Of death his bane would be:  
no sorrow else can be amended,  
For look how long he were living,  
Evermore he would be grieving,  
Then to avoid all strife, etc.  
Married folks we often hear,  
Even through their Children dear,  
have many causes of sorrow;  
If disobedient they be found,  
Or false in any ground,  
by their unlawful sorrows,  
To see such wicked fellows,  
shamefully come unto the Gallows,  
Whom Parents with great care,  
Nourished with dainty fare,  
from their Cradle truly tended;  
When as their Mothers before them,  
doth curse the day that e'er they bore them,  
Then to avoid all strife, etc.  
Do we then behold and see,  
When men and wives agree,  
and live together;  
Where the Lord hath sent them eke,  
Fair Children mild and meek,  
like flowers in summer weather:  
How greatly are they grieved,  
And will not by joy he relieved,  
if that Death doth call,  
Either wife or Children small,  
whom their virtues do command,  
Their losses whom they thus added,  
from their hearts cannot be moved,  
Then to avoid all strife, etc.  
Who being in that happy state,  
Would work himself such hate,  
his Fancy for to follow:  
Or living here devoid of strife,  
Would take him to a wife;  
for to procure his sorrow,  
With cárking and with caring,  
Evermore must be sparing,  
Were he not worse'then mad,  
being merry would be sad:  
Were he to be commended.  
That e'er would seek much pleasure,  
where grief is all his treasure:  
Then to avoid all strife, etc.   

11. The Widows Solace.  
To the Tune of, Robinson's Almain.  
MOurn no more fair Widow,  
thy tears are all in vain;  
'Tis neither grief nor sorrow,  
can call the dead again:  
Man's well enough compared,  
unto the Summer's flower,  
Which now is fair and pleasant,  
yet withereth in an hour:  
And mourn no more in vain,  
as one whose faith is small;  
Be patient in affliction,  
and give God thanks for all.  
All men are born to die,  
the Scripture telleth plain,  
Of Earth we were created,  
to Earth we must again,  
I was neither Croesus treasure,  
nor Alexander's fame:  
Nor Solomon by wisdom,  
that could Death's fury tame;  
〈◊〉 Physic might preserve them,  
when nature did decay;  
What man can hold for ever,  
the thing that will away?  
Then mourn no more, etc.  
Though you have lost your Husband,  
your comfort in distress;  
Consider God regardeth  
the Widows heaviness:  
And hath strictly charged,  
such as his Children be,  
The Fatherless and Widow,  
to shield from injury.  
Then mourn no more, etc.  
If he were true and faithful,  
and loving unto thee;  
Doubt not but there's in England,  
enough as good as he:  
But if that such affection,  
within this heart was none;  
Then give God praise and glory,  
that he is dead and gone:  
And mourn no more, &c,  
Receive such Suitors friendly,  
as do resort to thee;  
Respect not the outward person,  
but the inward gravity:  
And with advised judgement,  
choose him above the rest;  
Whom thou by proof hast tried,  
Then mourn no more, etc.  
Then shalt thou live a life,  
exempted from all annoy;  
And whensoever it chanceth,  
I pray God give thee joy:  
And thus I make an end,  
with true humility;  
In hope my simple solace,  
may well excepted be:  
Then mourn no more, etc.  
FINIS.   

12. A gentle Woman's Complaint, in that she found her Friend Faithless, which should have continued Constant.  
FAith is a Figure standing now for nought,  
Faith is a fancy we ought to cast in thought:  
Faith now adays, as all the world may see,  
Resteth in few, and faith is fled from thee.  
Is there any faith in strangers to be found,  
Is there any faith lies hidden in the ground?  
Is there any faith in men that buried be?  
No, there is none, and Faith is fled from thee.  
Fled is the Faith that might remain in any,  
Fled is the Faith that should remain in many,  
Fled is the Faith that should in any be,  
Then farewell hope, for Faith is fled from thee.  
From Faith I see that everyone is flying,  
From Faith I see that all things are a dying;  
They fly from faith that most in faith should be,  
And faithless thou that broke thy faith to me.  
Thee have I sought, but thee I could not find,  
Thou of all others was most within my mind;  
Thee have I left, and I alone will be,  
Because I find that Faith is fled from thee.   

13. Of the Prince of England, who wooed the King's Daughter of France, and how he was slain, and she afterwards Married to a Forester.  
To the Tune of, Crimson Velvet.  
IN the days of old,  
When fair France did flourish,  
Stories plainly told,  
Lovers felt annoy;  
The King a Daughter had,  
Beauteous, bright, and lovely,  
Which made her Father glad,  
she was his only joy:  
A Prince of England came,  
Whose Deeds did merit Fame,  
he wooed her long, and so at last,  
Look what he did require,  
She granted his desire,  
their hearts in one were linked so fast:  
Which when her Father proved,  
Lord how he was moved,  
and tormented in his mind;  
He sought for to prevent them,  
And to discontent them,  
Fortune crosseth Lovers kind:  
When the Princes twain,  
Were thus barred of pleasure,  
Through the King's disdain,  
which their joys withstood;  
The Lady got up her clothes,  
Her Jewels, and her Treasure;  
Having no remorse  
of State or Royal Blood:  
In homely poor array,  
She got from Court away,  
to meet her joy and hearts delight;  
Who in a Forest great,  
Had taken up his seat,  
to wait her coming in the night:  
But to see what sudden danger,  
To this Princely stranger,  
chanced as he sat alone;  
By Outlaws he was Rob,  
And with Poniard stobbed,  
uttering many a dying groan.  
The Princess armed by him,  
And by true desire,  
Mandring all the night,  
without dread at all;  
Still unknown she passed  
In her strange attire,  
Coming at the last,  
in the echoes call:  
You fair woods, quoth she,  
Honoured may you be,  
harbouring my heart's delight;  
Which doth compass here,  
My joy and only dear,  
my trusty friend and Noble Right:  
Sweet I come unto thee,  
Sweet I come to woe thee,  
that thou may'st not angry be;  
For my long delaying,  
And thy courteous staying,  
'mends for all I'll make to thee.  

Passing thus along,  
Through the Forest,  
Many grievous groans,  
sounding in her ears:  
Where she heard a man,  
To lament the sorest,  
That was ever seen,  
forced by deadly fear:  
Farewell my dear, quoth he,  
Whom I shall never see,  
for why my life is at an end;  
Through villainies cruelty,  
Lo here for thee I die,  
to show I am a faithful Friend:  
Here I lie a bleeding,  
While my thoughts are feeding,  
on the rarest beauty found;  
O hard hap that may be,  
Little knows my Lady,  
my heart blood lies on the ground●   

With that he gave a groan,  
Which did burst asundier,  
All the tender strings  
of his bleeding heart;  
She which knew his voice,  
At his tale did wonder,  
All her former joy,  
did to grief convert:  
Strait she ran to see,  
UUhom this man should be,  
that so like her love did speak;  
And found when as she came,  
Her lovely Lord lay slain,  
all smeared in blood, which life did break.   

When this deed they spied,  
Lord how sore she cried,  
her sorrows cannot counted be;  
Her eyes like fountains running,  
While she cried out, my Darling,  
I would that I had died for thee.  
His pale lips alas,  
Twenty times she kissed,  
And his face did wash,  
with her trickling tears.   

Every bleeding wound,  
Her fair words bedewed,  
Wiping off the Blood  
with her Golden Hair:  
Speak fair Prince to me,  
one sweet word of comfort give,  
Lift up thy fair Eyes.  
Listen to my Cries,  
think in what great grief I live:  
All in vain she sued,  
All in vain she vicwed,  
the Princess life was dead and gone;  
There stood she still mourning,  
Till the Sun approaching,  
add bright day was coming on.   

In this great distress,  
Quoth the Royal Lady,  
Who can now express,  
what will become of me?  
To my Father's Court,  
Will I never wander,  
But some Service seek,  
where I might placed be,  
And thus she made her moan,  
UUeeping all alone,  
all in dread and dreadful fear,  
A forester all in Green,  
Most comely to be seen,  
ranging the woods did find her there:  
Round beset with sorrow,  
Maid, quoth he, good morrow,  
what hard hap brought you here?  
Harder hap did never,  
Chance to Maiden ever,  
here lies slain my Brother dear.   

Where might I be placed,  
Gentle forester tell me,  
Where should I procure,  
a Service in my care?  
Pains I will not spare,  
And will do my duty,  
Ease me of my care,  
help my extreme need:  
The Forester all amazed,  
On her beauty gazed,  
till his heart was set on fire;  
Yes, fair Maid, quoth he,  
you shall have your hearts desire.  
He brought her to his Mother,  
And above all other  
he sets forth the Maiden's praise;  
Long was his heart inflamed,  
At last her love he gained,  
thus did his Glory raise.   

Thus unknown he married,  
With the King's fair Daughter,  
Children they had seven,  
ere he knew the same;  
But when he understood,  
She was a Royal Princess,  
By this means at last,  
she showed forth her fame:  
He Clothed his Children  
Not like to other men,  
in party colours strange to see;  
The left side Cloth of Gold,  
The right side now behold,  
of woollen cloth still framed he.   

Men hereat did wonder,  
Golden fame did thunder,  
this strange Deed in every place;  
The King of France came thither,  
Being pleasant weather,  
in the woods the Part to chase:  
The Children than did stand,  
As their Father wistled,  
Where the Royal King  
must of force come by;  
Their Bother richly clad,  
In fair crimson velvet,  
Their Father all in Grace,  
comely to the eye:  
Then the famous King,  
Noted every thing,  
ask how he durst be so bold,  
To let his wife to wear,  
And deck his Children there,  
in costly Robes and Cloth of Gold:  
The forester thus replied,  
And the case described  
to the King thus did say;  
●ell may they by their Bother,  
Wear rich Gold like other,  
being by birth a Princess gay.   

The King upon these words,  
More heedful beheld them,  
Till a crimson blush,  
his conceit did crofs,  
The more I look, he said,  
On thy Wife and Children,  
the more I call to mind:  
my daughter whom I lost:  
I am the Child (quoth she)  
Falling on her knee,  
pardon me my Sovereign Liege,  
The King perceiving this,  
His Daughter dear did kiss,  
and joyful tears did stop his speech:  
With his train he turned,  
And with her sojourned,  
straightway he dubbed her Husband Knight;  
Then made him Earl of Flanders,  
One of his chief Commanders,  
thus was his sorrows put to flight.   
FINIS.   

Of the faithful friendshid that lasted between two faithful friends.  
To the Tune of, flying fame,  

IN stately Rome sometimes did dwell,  
a man of Noble Fame;  
Who had a Son of seemly shape,  
Alphonso was his name:  
When he was grown and come to age,  
his Father thought it best,  
To send his Son to Athens fair,  
where wisdoms School did rest.   

And when he was to Athens come,  
good Lectures for to learn;  
A place to board him with delight,  
his friend's di● well discern:  
A Noble Knight of Athens Low●▪  
of him did take the charge,  
Who had a Son Ganselo Ca●'d,  
just of his pi●ch and age.   

In stature and in person both,  
in favour, speech, on● face;  
In quality and condi●ions ●ke  
they agreed in ●very place:  
So like they were in all respects,  
the one unto the other;  
They were not known but by their names,  
of Father or of Mother.   

And as in favour they were found,  
alike in all re●●●●s,  
Even so they did most dearly loot,  
and probe, by 〈…〉:  
Ganselo loved a La●y fair,  
which did in Athens ●well;  
Who was in beauty peerless 〈◊〉,  
so far ●he did excel.   

Upon a time it chanced so,  
as fancy 〈…〉;  
That he would visit for delight,  
his Lady and his Love:  
And to his true and faithful Friend,  
he declared the same:  
Ask of him, if he would see,  
that fair and comely Dame.   

Alphonso did thereto agree,  
and with Ganselo went;  
To see the Lady which he loved,  
which bred his discontent:  
But when he cast his Chrystial eyes,  
upon her Angel's hue;  
The beauty of that Lady bright,  
did staight his heart subdue.   

His gentle heart so wounded was,  
with that fair Lady's face;  
That afterwards he daily lived,  
in sad and woeful case:  
And of his grief he knew not how,  
therefore to make an end;  
For that he knew his Lady's Love,  
was yielded to his Friend.   

Thus being sore perplexed in mind,  
upon his Bed he lay;  
Like one which death and deep despair,  
had almost worn away:  
His friend Ganselo that did see,  
his grief and great distress;  
At length requested for to know,  
his cause of heaviness.   

With much ad● at length he told,  
the truth unto his friend;  
Who did relieve his inward woe,  
with comfort to the end:  
Take courage then, dear friend, quoth he,  
though she through love be mine;  
My right I will resign to thee,  
the Lady shall be thine.   

You know our favours are alike,  
our speech also likewise;  
This day in mine apparel then,  
you shall yourself disguise:  
And unto Church then shall you go,  
directly in my stead;  
Lo though my friends suppose'tis I,  
you shall the Lady wed.   

Alphonso was so well apaid,  
and as they had decreed;  
He went that day and wedded plain,  
the Lady there indeed:  
But when the Nuptual feast was done,  
and Phoebus quite was fled;  
The Lady for Gansela took  
Alphonso to her bed.   

That night they spent in pleasant sport,  
and when the day was come,  
A Post for fair Alphonso come,  
to fetch him home to Rome:  
Then was the matter plainly proved,  
Alphonso wedded was,  
And not Ganselo to that Dame,  
which brought great woe, alas.   

Alphonso being gone to Rome,  
with this his Lady gay,  
Ganselo's friends and kind●ed all,  
in such a rage did stay:  
That they deprived him of his wealth,  
his Land and rich attire:  
And banished him their Country quite,  
in rage and wrathful ire.   

With sad and pensive thoughts alas,  
Ganselo wandered then,  
Who was constrained through want to beg,  
relief of many men:  
In this distress, oft would he say:  
to Rome I mean to go,  
To seek Alphonso, my dear Friend,  
who will relieve my woe.   

To Rome when poor Ganselo came,  
and found Alphonso's place;  
Which was so famous, huge, and fair,  
himself in such poor case▪  
He was ashamed to show himself,  
in that his poor array,  
Saying, Alphonso knows me well,  
if he would come this way.   

Therefore he stayed within the street,  
Alphonso then came by,  
But heeding not Ganselo poor,  
his Friend that stood so nigh:  
Which grieved Ganselo to the heart,  
quoth he, and is it so?  
Doth proud Alphonso now disdain  
his Friend indeed to know.   

In desperate sort away he went,  
into a Barn hard by,  
And presently he drew his knife,  
thinking thereby to die:  
And bitterly in sorrow there,  
he did lament and weep,  
And being over weighed with grief,  
he there fell fast asleep.   

While sound there he sweetly slept,  
come in a murdering thief;  
And saw a naked knife lie by  
this man so f●ll of grief:  
The knife so bright, he took up strait,  
and went away amain;  
And thrust it in a●● urehered man,  
which before he had slain.   

And afterwards he went with speed,  
and put this bloody knife;  
Into his hand that sleeping lay,  
to save himself from strife:  
Which done, away in haste he ran,  
and that search was made,  
Ganselo with his bloody knife,  
was for the murder stayed:   

And brought before the Magistrate,  
who did confess most plain;  
That he indeed with that same knife,  
the murdered man had slain:  
Alphonso sitting there as judge,  
and knowing Ganselo's face,  
To save his friend did say, himself  
was guilty in that case.  
None, quoth Alphonso, killed the man,  
my Lord but only I;  
And therefore set this poor man free,  
and let me justly die:  
Thus while for death these faithful friends,  
in striving did proceed;  
The man before the Senate came,  
which did the fa●t indeed.   

Who being moved with remorse,  
their friendly hearts to see;  
Did say before the judges plain,  
none did the fa●t but he:  
Thus when the truth was plainly told,  
of all sides joy was seen;  
Alphonso did embrace his Friend,  
which had so woeful been.   

In rich array he clothed him,  
as fitted his degree;  
And helped him to his Lands ●ga●n,  
and former dignity:  
T●e Murderer for telling truth,  
had pardon at that time;  
Who afterwards lamented much,  
this foul and grievous crime.   
FINIS.   

THE SECOND PART OF THE GARLAND of goodwill,  

1. A Pastoral Song  
to the Tune of, hay ho holiday.  

UPon a Down where Shepherd keep,  
piping pleasant Lays;  
Two Country Maids were keeping Sheep,  
and sweetly chanted Round-delays:  
Three Shepherds each on Daten Reed,  
blaming Cupid's cruel wrong,  
Unto these Rural Nymphs agreed,  
to keep a tuneful Tunder-song.   

And so they were in number Five,  
Bus●cks number sweet,  
And we the like, let us contrive,  
to sing their Song in order meet:  
Fair Phillis part I take to me,  
she against loving Hinds complains;  
And Amarillis, thou shalt be,  
she defends the Shepherd's Swains.   Ph. 
Fie on the slights that men devise,  Sh. 
hay ho, silly slights:  Ph. 
When s●mple Maids they would entice,  Sh. 
Maidens are youngman's chief delights:  Am. 
Nay, women they which with their eyes,  Sh. 
Eyes like beans of bur●●ng Sun:  Am. 
And men once caught they soon despise,  Sh. 
So are Shepherds oft undone.  Ph. 
If any young Man win a Maid,  Sh. 
Happy man is he;  Ph. 
By trusting him she is betrayed,  Sh. 
Fie upon such treachery:  Am. 
If maids witch youngmen with their guiles  Sh. 
hay ho, hay ho, guiters grief:  Am. 
They deal like weeping Crocodiles,  Sh. 
That murder men without relief.  Ph. 
I know a silly Country Hind,  Sh. 
hay ho, hay ho, silly Swain!  Ph. 
To whom fair Daphne proved kind,  Sh. 
Was he not kind to her again:  Ph. 
He vowed to Pan with many an Doth,  Sh. 
hay ho, hay ho, Shepherd's God is he,  Am. 
Yet since he hath changed & broke his ruth,  Sh. 
Troth plight broke, will plagued be.  Am. 
She had deceived many a Swain,  Sh. 
Fie upon false deceit:  Am. 
And plighted troth to them in vain,  Sh. 
There can be no grief more great,  Am. 
Her measure was with measure paid,  Sh. 
hay ho, hay ho, equal need?  Am. 
She was beguiled, that was betrayed,  Sh. 
So shall all deceivers speed.  Ph. 
If ever Maid were like to me,  Sh. 
hay ho, hay ho, hard of heart!  Ph. 
Both Love and Lovers scorned should be,  Sh. 
Scorners should be sure of smart:  Am. 
If every Maid were of my mind,  Sh. 
hay ho, hay ho, lovely sweet!  Am. 
They to their Lovers should prove kind,  Sh. 
Kindness is for maidens meet.  Ph. 
Methinks Love is an idle toy,  Sh. 
hay ho, hay ho, busy pain,  Ph. 
Both wit and sense it doth annoy,  ●h. 
Both wit and sense thereby we gain:  Am. 
Tush Phillis, cease, be not so coy,  Ph. 
hay ho, hay ho, my disdain!  Am. 
I know you Love a Shepherd's Boy,  Sh. 
Fie on that woman so can feign.  Ph. 
Well, Amarillis, now I yield,  Sh. 
Shepherd sweetly pipe aloud,  Ph. 
Love conquers both in town and field,  Sh. 
Like a Tyrant fierce and proud:  Am. 
The Evening-star is up we see,  Sh. 
Vesper shines, we must away,  Ph. 
Would every Lady would agree,  Sh. 
So we endour Round-delay.   

2. Of Patient Griselda and a Noble Marquis, Tune is, The Bride's Good morrow.  

A Noble Marquis as he did ride a hunting,  
hard by a River side,  
A proper Maiden as she did sit a spinning,  
his gentle eye espied:  
●ost fair and lovely, and of comely grace was she,  
although in simple attire,  
She sang most sweet with pleasant voice melodi-ously,  
which set the Lords heart on fire,  
The more he look● the more he might,  
Beauty bred his heart's delight,  
and to this dainty Damosel he went:  
God speed (quoth he) thou famous flower,  
fair Mistress of this homely Bower,  
where love & virtue lives with sweet content.   

With comely gesture, & mod●st fine behaviour,  
she had him welcome then,  
She entertained him in faithful friendship manner  
and all his Gentlemen:  
The Noble Marquis in his heart felt such fla●●  
which set his seizes all at strife;  
Quoth he, fair Maiden, show me soon what is th● na●e  
I mean to take thee to my wives  
Griselda is my name, quoth she,  
For unfit for your degree,  
a silly Maiden and of Parents poor:  
Nay Griselda, thou art rich he said,  
A virtuous, fair, and comely Maid,  
grant me thy love, and I will ask no more   

At length she consented, & being ●oth con●ented,  
they married were with speed;  
Her country russet was t●r●? 〈◊〉 silk and 〈◊〉  
as to her state agreed:  
And when that she was trinity tired in the shine,  
her beauty shined most bright;  
Far staming every other brave & 〈…〉  
that did appear in her sight:  
Many enured her therefore,  
Because she 〈…〉  
and ' 〈…〉 you great ●ti●e old 〈◊〉  
Some said th●●, and 〈…〉 that,  
Some did call her Beggar's brat,  
and to her Lord they would 〈◊〉 ●ispraise.   

● noble Ma●qu●s●●i●th they 〈…〉 wrong  
thus basely for to wed;  
That might have gotten an honourable Lady,  
into your Princely Bed:  
●ho will not now your noble issue still deri●e,  
which shall be hereafter born;  
That are of blood so base by the Mother's side,  
the which will bring them to scorn.  
But her therefore quite away,  
Take to you a Lady gay,  
whereby your Lineage may renowned be;  
Thus every day they seemed to prate,  
That maliced Gristles good estate,  
who took all this most mild and patiently.   

When that the Marquis did see that they ●er● bend thus  
against his faithful wife,  
Who most dearly, tenderly, and entirely,  
he loved as his life:  
●inding in secret for to prove her patient heart,  
thereby her foes to disgrace;  
Thinking to play a hard discourteous part,  
that men might pity her case:  
Great with child this Lady was,  
And at length it came to pass,  
two goodly Children at one birth she had;  
A Son and Daughter God had sent,  
Which did their Father well content,  
and which did make their Mother's heart 〈◊〉 glad.  
Great Royal feasting, were at these children's Christening,  
and Princely triumph made,  
Six weeks together, all Nobles that came thither  
were entertained and stayed:  
And, when that all these pleasant sport quite were done,  
the Marquis a Messenger sent,  
For his young daughter, & his pretty smiling son  
declaring his full intent:  
Now that th● Babes must ●●●thered be,  
For so the Marquis did decree,  
come let me have the Children he said,  
With that fair Griselda wept f●ll sore,  
She wrung her hands and said no more,  
my gracious Lord must have his will obeyed.   

She took the Babies, from the nursing Ladies,  
between her tender arms,  
She often wishes, with many sorrowful kisses,  
that she might help their h●●●s  
Farewell, quoth ●●e, my Children dear,  
never shall I see you again,  
'Tis long of me, your sad & wo●● mother dear,  
for whose sake you must 〈◊〉  
Had I been born of Royal 〈◊〉,  
You might have lived in happy 〈◊〉,  
but now you must die for my unworthiness.  
Come messenger of Death, 〈◊〉  
Take my despised Babes to thee,  
and to their Father my complained express.   

He took the Children, and to his Noble Master  
he brought them forth with speed;  
Who secretly sent them unto a Noble Lady,  
to be nursed up indeed:  
Then to fair Griselda with a heavy heart he goes,  
where she sat mildly all alone,  
A pleasant gesture and a lovely look the shows,  
as if grief she had never known:  
(〈◊〉 he) my Children now are 〈◊〉,  
What thinks fair Griselda of the same  
sweet Griselda now declare thy 〈◊〉 me,  
Sith you my Lord are pleased with it,  
〈◊〉 Griselda 〈…〉  
both I and 〈…〉   

My Nobles 〈◊〉, fair Griselda at thy honour  
and I no joy can have;  
Till thou be 〈…〉  
as they unjustly 〈◊〉:  
Thou must be 〈◊〉 out of the 〈◊〉 Garments,  
and as thou came●● to me,  
●n homely grey, 〈…〉  
now all thy clothing must be  
My Lady 〈…〉  
Nor I thy Lord 〈…〉  
the poorest life must now content thy mind;  
A Great to thee I may not give,  
Thee to maintain while I do live,  
against my Griselda such great foes I find.   

When gentle Griselda heard these woeful tidings  
the tears stood in her eyes;  
She nothing said, no words of discontentment  
did from her lips arise:  
Her velvet Gown most patiently she stripped off,  
her Girdle of Silk of the same;  
Her russet gown was brought again with many a scoff,  
to bear them all herself did frame:  
When she was dressed in this array,  
And ready was to part away,  
God send long life unto my Lord, quoth she;  
Let no offence he sound in this,  
to give my Lord a parting kiss;  
with watery eyes, farewel my dear, quoth he.   

From stately Palace unto her Father's Cottage  
poor Griselda now is gone;  
Full fifteen winters she lived there contented,  
no wrong she thought upon:  
And at that time through all the land the speeches went,  
the Marquis should married be  
Unto a Noble Lady of high descent,  
and to the same all parties did agree:  
The Marquis sent for Griselda fair,  
The Bride's Bedchamber to prepare,  
that nothing should therein he found awry:  
The Bride was with her Brother come,  
Which was great joy to all and some,  
and Griselda took all this most patiently.   

And in the morning when that they should be wedded  
her patience now was tried,  
Griselda was charged, in Princely manner,  
for to attire the Bride:  
●ost willingly she gave consent unto the same,  
the Bride in her bravery was dressed,  
And presently the noble Marquis thither came,  
with all the Ladies at his request:  
Oh Griselda I would ask be thee,  
●● to this Match thou would'& agree,  
methinks thy looks 〈◊〉 warred wondrous coy:  
●●ith that they all began to smile,  
And Griselda she replies the while,  
God send Lord Marques many years of joy.   

The Marquis was moved, to see his best beloved  
thus patient in distress,  
●● stepped unto her, and by the hand he took her,  
these words he did express:  
●●u art the bride, & all the brides I mean to have  
these two thy own Children be,  
〈◊〉 youthful Lady on her knees did blessing crave,  
the Brother as willing as she:  
And you that envy her estate,  
Whom I have made my loving Mate,  
now blu●● for shame, and honour vertusus life:  
The Chronicles of lasting fame,  
Shall evermore 〈…〉  
of Patient Griselda my most constant wife.   
FINIS.   

A pleasant Dialogue between plain Truth, and blind Ignorance.  

Truth  
GD speed you aged Father  
〈…〉  
What is 〈…〉  
so sadly he●● you stay:  
And that you keep such 〈◊〉  
on this decayed place;  
The which for Superstition,  
good Princes down did raze.   

Ignorance.  
I'll tell thee by my vazen,  
that sometimes she have known,  
A vair and goodly Abbey,  
stand here of Brick and Stone,  
And many holy ●rier,  
as ich may zay to thee:  
Within these goodly Cloisters,  
i did vull often see.   

Truth.  
Then I must tell thee, Father,  
in truth and verity;  
A sort of greater, Hypocrites,  
thou couldst not likely see:  
Deceiving of the simple,  
with false and feigned lies;  
But such an order truly,  
Christ did never devise.   

Ignorance.  
Ah, ah, i zmell thee now man,  
i know well what thou art;  
A vellow of new Learning,  
i wis not worth a vart:  
Nor when we had the old Law,  
a merry world was then;  
And every thing was plenty,  
among all zorts of men.   

Truth.  
Thou givest me an answer,  
as did the Jews sometimes,  
Unto the Prophet Jeremy,  
when he accused their crimes:  
'Twas merry (said the people)  
and joyful in our Realm,  
Which did offer Spice Cakes  
unto the Queen of Heaven.   

Ignorance.  
〈◊〉 tell thee what good vellow,  
before the Vicars went hence,  
A Bushel of the best Wheat,  
was zould for vourteen pence:  
And forty Eggs a penny,  
that were both good and new;  
And this zhe zay my zelf have zeen,  
and yet ich am no Jew.   

Truth.  
Within the sacred Bible,  
we find it written plain;  
The latter days should troublesome  
and dangerous be certain:  
That we should be self lovers,  
and Charity war cold,  
Then 'tis not true Religion  
that makes the grief to hold.   

Ignorance.  
I'll tell thee my opinion plain,  
and choul that well ye knew;  
Ich care not for the Bible Book,  
'tis too big to be true:  
Our blessed Lady's Psalter,  
zhall for my Money go;  
Zuch pretty Prayers as there be,  
the Bible cannot zhew.   

Truth.  
Now hast thou spoken truly,  
for in that Book indeed,  
No mention of our Lady,  
or Romish Saint we read:  
For by the blessed Spirit,  
that Book indicted was,  
And not by simple Persons,  
as is the foolish Mass.   

Ignorance.  
I'm zure they are not voolish,  
that made the Pass the trow;  
Why man? 'tis all in Latin,  
and Vools no Latin know:  
Here not our Wathers' wise men,  
and they did like it well?  
Who very much rejoiced  
to hear the zoering Bell.   

Truth.  
But many Kings and Prophets,  
as I may say to thee;  
Have wished the Light that you have,  
and could it never see.  
For what art thou the better,  
a Latin Song to hear;  
And understandest nothing,  
that they sing in the Choir:   

Ignorance.  
O hold thy peace, i pray thee,  
the noise was passing tr●●;  
To hear the Uriers zinging,  
as we did enter in:  
And then to see the Roodlo●●  
so bravely zet with Zain●●  
And now to see them wand'ring,  
my heart with zorrow●●●nce.   

Truth.  
The Lord did give Commandment  
no Image thou 〈…〉  
Nor that unto 〈◊〉  
you should yourself 〈◊〉  
The Golden Cale of Israel,  
Moses did therefore 〈◊〉  
And Baal's Priests and 〈◊〉,  
he brought to utter foil.   

Ignorance.  
But our Lady of Walsingham,  
was a pure and holy 〈◊〉  
And many men in Pilgrimage,  
did show to her Complaint:  
Yea zweet Thomas Becket  
and many others more,  
The Holy Maid of Kent 〈◊〉  
did many wonders zhew zor.   

Truth.  
Such Saints are well agreeing,  
to your profession sure;  
And to the men that made them,  
so precious and pure:  
The one was found a Traitor,  
and judged worthy death  
The other eke for Treason;  
did end his hateful breath.   

Ignorance.  
Yea, yea, it is no matter,  
dispraise them how you will;  
But 〈◊〉 they did much goodness,  
when they were with ●s still:  
We had our Holy water,  
and Holy Bread likewise,  
And many Holy Relics,  
we zay before our eyes.   

Truth.  
And all this while they 〈◊〉,  
with vain and sundry shows,  
Which never Christ commanded,  
as learned Doctors knows:  
Search then the Holy Scriptures,  
and thou shalt plainly se●,  
That headlong to damnation,  
they always trained th●e:   

Ignorance.  
If it be true good vellow,  
as thou dost zay to me;  
Then to my Zabiour jesus,  
alone then will I fly:  
Believing in the Gospel,  
and passion of his Zon,  
And with the zubtile Papists,  
ich for ever done.   
FINIS.   

3. The overthrow of proud Holofornes and the Triumph of virtuous Queen judith.  

WHen King Nabuchadnezzar  
was puffed up with pride;  
We sent forth many men of War,  
by Holofornes guide:  
To plague and spoil the world throughout,  
by fierce Bellona's Rod,  
That would not fear and honour him,  
and acknowledge him their God.   

Which when the Holy Israelites  
did truly understand,  
For to prevent his tyranny,  
they fortified their Land:  
Their Towns and stately Cities strong,  
they did with Victuals store;  
Their warlike Weapons they prepared,  
their furious Foe to gore.   

When stately Holofornes then,  
had knowledge of that thing,  
That they had thus prepared themselves,  
for to withstand the King:  
Quoth he, what God is able now,  
to keep these men from me?  
Is there a greater than our King,  
whom all men fear to see?   

Come march with me, therefore he said,  
my Captains every one;  
And first unto Bethulia,  
with speed let us be gone:  
I will destroy each Mother's Son  
that is within the Land;  
Their God shall not deliver them,  
out of my furious hand.   

Wherefore about Bethulia,  
that little City then;  
On foot he planted up and down,  
an hundred thousand men:  
Twelve t●ousand more on Horses brave  
about the Town had he▪  
He stopped their springs and water-pipes,  
to work their misery.   

When four and thirty days they had,  
with wars besieged been;  
The poor Bethulians at that time,  
so thirsty than were seen:  
That they were like to starve and die,  
they were both weak and faint,  
The People against the Rulers cry,  
and thus was their Complaint.   

Better it is for us, quoth they,  
to yield unto our Foe,  
Then by this great and grievous thirst,  
to be destroyed so:  
O render up the Town therefore,  
we are forsaken quite:  
There is no means to escape these hands,  
who might escape their might?   

When as their grievous Rulers heard,  
the Clamours which they made▪  
Good people be content, said they,  
and be no whit dismayed:  
Yet five days stay in hope of health,  
God will regard your woe;  
But if by then, no succour come,  
we'll yield unto our Foe.   

When Judith (prudent Princely Dame)  
had tidings of this thing;  
Which was Manasses beauteous ●osse,  
that sometimes was their King;  
Why tempt ye God so sore, she said,  
before all men this day;  
Whom mortal men in Conscience ought,  
to fear and eke obey?   

If you will grant me leave, quoth she,  
to pass abroad this night,  
To Holofornes I will go,  
for all his furious might:  
But what I there intent to do,  
inquire not now of me,  
Go then in peace, fait Dame, they said,  
and God be still with thee.   

When she from them was gotten ●ome,  
within her Palace Gate,  
She called to her the chiefest Maid,  
that on her than did wait:  
Bring me my best attire, quoth she,  
and jewels of fine Gold,  
And wash me with the finest Balms,  
that are of Silver sold.   

The fairest and the richest Robe,  
that then she did possess;  
Upon her dainty Corpse she put,  
and eke her Hair did dress,  
With costly Pearls, and precious Stones,  
and Earrings of fine Gold;  
That like an Angel she did seem,  
most sweet for to behold.   

A Pot of sweet and pleasant Oil,  
she took with her that time;  
A Bag of Figs, and fine Wheat flower,  
a Bottle of ●ne Wine;  
Because she would not eat with them,  
that woriship Gods of Stone,  
And from the City thus she went,  
with one poor maid alone.   

Much ground alas, she had not gone,  
out of her own City;  
But that the Sentinels espied,  
a woman wondrous pretty:  
From whence came you fair Maid, quoth they,  
and where walk you so late?  
From yonder Town, good sir, quoth she,  
unto your Lord of high estate.   

When they did mark and view her well,  
and saw her fair beauty;  
And therewithal her rich array,  
so gorgeous to the eye:  
They were amazed in their minds,  
so fair a Dame to see;  
They set her in a Chariot then,  
in place of high degree.   

An hundred proper chosen men,  
they did appoint likewise;  
To wait on Princely Judith there,  
whose beauty cleared their eyes:  
And all the Soldiers running came,  
to view her, as she went;  
And thus with her they passed along,  
unto the Generals Tent.   

Then came this stately Guard in haste,  
fair Judith for to me●t;  
And to their high renowned Lord,  
they brought this Lady sweet:  
And then before his Honour,  
upon her knee she fell;  
Her beauty bright made him to muse,  
so far she did excel.   

Rise up Renowned Dame, quoth he,  
the glory of thy kind,  
And be no whit adasht at all,  
to show me thy mind:  
When she had uttered her intent,  
her wit amazed them all,  
And Holoforness therewith,  
by love was brought in thrall.   

And bearing in his lofty breast,  
the flames of hot desire,  
He granted every thing to her,  
she did of him require:  
Each night therefore he gave ●er 〈◊〉,  
to walk abroad to pray:  
According to her own request,  
which she had made that day.   

When she in Camp had three days been,  
near Holofornes Tent,  
His chiefest friend Lord treasurer,  
unto her than he sent:  
Fair Dame, quoth he, my Lord commands  
this Night your Company,  
Quoth she, I will not my Lord  
in any thing deny.   

A very great and sumtuous Feast,  
did Holofornes make,  
Amongst the Lords and 〈◊〉  
〈…〉 judith's 〈◊〉▪  
But of their dainties in 〈…〉  
would pleasant judith take▪  
●et Holofornes merry 〈◊〉  
so near him she was 〈◊〉   

And being very pleas●●●ly,  
disposed at that 〈◊〉  
Ye drunk with them 〈…〉,  
of strong 〈…〉  
So that his strength 〈…〉,  
so far from 〈…〉  
They laid him down, and Judith their  
was brought unto his Bed.   

When all the Doors about were s●ut,  
and every one was 〈◊〉  
Hard by the Pillow of his 〈◊〉,  
his Sword 〈…〉 down:  
Then down she took 〈…〉  
to 〈…〉;  
She cut his Head from 〈…〉 quite,  
and gave it to her Maid.   

The rich and Golden Canopy,  
that hung ●●er his Bed;  
She took the same with her likewise▪  
with Holofornes Head:  
And thus through all the Court of Guards,  
she escaped clean away;  
None did her stay, thinking that she  
had gone forth to pray.   

When she had past, escaped quite  
the danger of them all,  
And that she was come, near unto  
the siedged City's wall▪  
Come open me the Gates, quoth she,  
our Foe the Lord hath slain;  
See here his Head within my hand,  
that bore so great a Fame.   

Upon a Pole they pifcht his Head,  
that all men might it spy;  
And o'er the City wall forthwith,  
they set it presently:  
Then all the Soldiers in the town,  
marched forth in rich Array;  
But sure their Foes spied their approach,  
for 'twas at break of day.   

Then running hastily to call,  
their General out of Bed;  
They found his liveless Body there,  
but clean without a head:  
When this was known, all in amaze,  
they fled away each man;  
They left their tents full rich behind,  
and so away they ran.   

●o here, behold, how God provides,  
for them that in him trust;  
When earthly hope is all in vain,  
he takes us from the dust:  
How often hath our Judith saved  
and kept us from decay;  
Sainst Holofornes and Pope,  
as may he seen this day.   
FINIS.   

5. A Princely Ditty, in praise of the English ROSE. Translated out of French.  

AMongst the Princely Paragons,  
Bedecked with dainty Diamonds;  
Within my eye, none doth come nigh,  
the sweet Red Rose of England:  
The Lilies pass in bravery,  
In Flanders, Spain, and Italy;  
But yet the famous flower of France,  
doth honour the Rose of England.  
A s I abroad was walking,  
I heard the small Birds ●●l king:  
And every one did fraud her s●ng,  
in praise of the Rose of England.  
The Lilies, etc.   

Caesar may vaunt of Histories,  
and Croesus of his happiness  
But he were blest, that may hear in his breast,  
the sweet Red Rose of England,  
The Lilies, etc.   

The bravest Lute bring hither,  
And let us sing together:  
Whilst I do ring on every string,  
the praise of the Rose of England.  
The Lilies, etc.   

The sweet perfumes and Spices,  
The Wisemen brought to Jesus:  
Did never smell a quarter so well,  
as doth the Rose of England.  
The Lilies, etc.   

Then fair and Princely Flower,  
That ever my heart doth power:  
None may be compared to thee,  
which art the fair Rose of England.  
The Lilies, etc.    

6. A Communication between Fancy and desire.  

COme hither shepherd's Swain,  
Sir, what do you require●  
I pray thee show thy Name,  
my name is fond Dellre.   

When wast thou ●ors●, Desire ●  
in pomp and pride of May,  
By whom (sweet Child) wast thou 〈◊〉?  
of fond Conceit men say.   

Tell me, who was thy Nurse?  
sweet Youth, and sugared joys,  
What was thy Meat and dainty Food?  
sad sighs and great Annoys.   

What hadst thou for to Drink?  
unsavoury Lover's tears,  
What Cradle wast thou rocked in?  
in Love devoid of fears.   

What lulled thee then asleep?  
sweet Speech, which likes me best,  
Tell me where is thy dwelling place?  
in gentle Hearts I rest.  
What thing doth please thee most?  
to gaze on beauty still:  
UUhom dost thou think to be thy Foe?  
disdain of thy goodwill.   

Doth Company displease,  
ye sure, many a one;  
Where doth desire delight to live?  
he loves to live alone:  
Doth either time or Age,  
bring him into decay?  
No, no, Desire both lives and dies,  
ten thousand times a day.   

Then fond Desire's farewell,  
thou art no meat for me;  
I would loathe to dwell,  
with such a one as thee.   
FINIS.    

THE THIRD PART OF THE GARLAND of goodwill.  

Song. 1.  

A Maid's Choice, 'twixt Age and Youth.  
CRabbed Age and Youth,  
cannot live together;  
Youth is full of pleasure,  
Age is full of care:  
Youth's like Summer's morn,  
Age like winter's weather,  
Youth is full of sport,  
Age's breath is short;  
Youth is wild, and Age is lame:  
Youth is hot and bold,  
Age is weak and cold,  
Youth is wild, and Age is tame;  
Age I do abhor thee,  
Youth I do adore thee,  
O my Love, my Lord is Young,  
Age I do defy thee,  
O sweet Shepherd hie thee,  
for methinks thou stayest too long.  
Here I do attend,  
armed by love and pleasure:  
With my youthful Friend,  
joyful for to meet:  
〈…〉,  
for my only treasure,  
Genus sugared habit,  
fancy dainty sweet:  
Like a loving wife,  
So lead I my life,  
thirsting for my hearts desire:  
Come sweet Youth, I pray  
Away Old Man, away,  
thou canst not give what I require:  
For Old Age I care not,  
Come my love and spare not,  
Age is Feeble, Youth is strong,  
Age I do defy thee,  
O sweet Shepherd hie thee,  
for methinks thou stay? & too long.   

Phoebus' stay thy Steeds  
overswift running;  
Drive not on so fast,  
bright resplendent Sun:  
For fair Dapnes sake,  
now express thy running:  
Pity on me take,  
else I am undone;  
Your hours swift of flight,  
That waste with Titan's sight,  
and so consu●ie the cheerful ●oy;  
O stay a while with me,  
Till I my Love may see;  
O Youth thou dost so long delay:  
Time will over slip us,  
And in pleasure trip us:  
come away therefore with 〈◊〉:  
I would not lose an hour,  
For fair London's Tower,  
Genus therefore help my 〈◊〉   

Flora's Banks are spread,  
in their rich attire,  
With their dainty Violet,  
and the Pri●●rose sweet:  
Daisies white and red,  
fitting Youths desire,  
Whereby the Daffodil,  
and the Cowslip meet:  
All for youths de●ire,  
Their fresh Colours move,  
in the Meadows green an● 〈◊〉:  
The Birds with sweeter Ro●ts▪  
Do strain their pretty throats,  
to entertain my love this way.  
I with twenty wishes,  
And an hundred kisses,  
would receive him by the hand:  
If he gave not me a fall,  
I would him Coward call,  
and all unto my word would stand.   

Lo where he appears,  
like young Adonis,  
Ready to set on fire,  
the chastest heart alive,  
Jewel of my life,  
welcome where thine own is:  
Pleasant are thy looks,  
sorrows to deprive;  
Embracing thy Darling Dear,  
Without all doubtful fear;  
on thy command I wholly rest,  
Do what thou wilt to me,  
Therein I agree,  
and be not strange to my request:  
To Youth I only yield,  
Age fits not Venus' field:  
though I be conquered what care I,  
In such a pleasant war,  
Come meet me if you dare,  
who first mislikes, let them cry.   
FINIS.   


AS you came from the Holy Land,  
of Walsingham;  
Met you not with my true Love,  
by the way as you came?  
How should I know your true Love,  
that have met many a one;  
As I came from the Holy Land,  
that have come, that have gone.   

She is neither white nor Brown,  
but as the Heaven's fair;  
There is none hath a Form so Divine,  
on the Earth, in the Air:  
Such a one did I meet (good sir)  
with Angellike Face;  
UUho like a Queen did appear;  
in her Gate, in her Grace.   

She hath left me here all alone,  
all alone and unknown,  
UUho sometimes loved me as her life,  
and called me her own:  
Uuhats the cause she hath left thee alone,.  
and a new way doth take,  
That sometime did love thee as herself,  
and her joy did thee make?   

I loved her all my youth,  
but now am Old as you see,  
Love liketh not the Falling Fruit,  
nor the withered tree:  
For Love is ● careless Child,  
and forgets Promise past;  
He is blind, he is not deaf, when he 〈◊〉,  
and in Faith never fast.   

For love is a great delight,  
And yet a tru●●less joy,  
he is won with a word of Despair;  
And is lost with a Ioy●  
such is the Love of Womenkind:  
Or the word (Love) abused,  
Under which many childish desires,  
and Conceits are excused.   

But Love is a durable fire,  
in the mind ever burning;  
Never Sick, never Dead, never Cold,  
from itself never turning.    

4. The Winning of Cales.  

LOng had the proud Spaniard,  
advanced to conquer us,  
Threatening our Country  
with Fire and Sword:  
Often preparing  
their Navy most sumptuous,  
With all the Provision  
that Spain could afford:  
Dub, a dub, dub,  
thus strikes the Drums,  
Tan-ta-ra-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra,  
English men comes.   

To the Seas presently,  
went our Lord admiral;  
With Knights Courageous,  
and Captains full good:  
The Earl of Essex,  
a prosperous General,  
With him prepared,  
to pass the Salt Flood.  
Dub, a dub, etc.   

At Plymouth speedily,  
took their Ships ●●tiantiy;  
Braver Ships never  
were seen under sail:  
With their fair Colours spread,  
and Streams o'er their head;  
Now bragging Spaniards  
take heed of your Tayl.  
Dub, a dub, etc.   

Unto Cales runningly,  
came we most happily;  
Where the King's Ruby,  
did secretly Ride,  
Being upon their backs,  
piercing their Butts of Sack  
ere that the Spaniard  
our coming descried:  
Tan ta-ra-ra-ra, Englishmen times;  
bounce-abounce, bounce-abounce;  
Off went the Guns.   

Great was the crying,  
running and riding;  
Which at that season  
was made in that place:  
Then Beacons was fired,  
as need was required,  
To hide their great treasure,  
they had little space:  
Alas they cried  
Englishmen comes.   

There you might see the Ships,  
how they were fired fast;  
And how the men drowned  
themselves in the Sea:  
That you might hear them cry,  
wail and weep piteously,  
When as they saw no shift,  
to escape thence away:  
Dub a dub, etc.   

The great Saint Philip,  
the pride of the Spaniards▪  
UUas burnt to the bottom,  
and sunk into the Sea:  
But the Saint Andrew,  
and eke the Saint Matthew,  
We took in Fight manfully,  
and brought them away:  
Dub a dub, etc.   

The Earl of Essex,  
most Ualiant and hardy,  
With Horsemen and Footmen,  
marched towards the Town  
The enemies which saw them,  
full greatly affrighted;  
Did fly for their Safeguard,  
and burst not come down:  
Dub a dub, etc.   

Now quoth the Noble Earl,  
Courage my Soldiers all,  
Fight and he Ualiant,  
the spoil you shall have:  
And well rewarded all,  
from the great to the 〈◊〉▪  
But look that the Women  
and Children you save.  
Dub, a dub, etc.   

The Spaniards at that 〈◊〉,  
Saw 'twas in vain to 〈◊〉,  
Hung up their Flags of 〈◊〉  
yielding up the town  
We marched in presently,  
decking the Walls on hi●●  
With our English Colours,  
which purchased Renown.  
Dub, a dub, etc.   

Entering the 〈…〉  
of the richest men,  
For Gold and trea●●●●  
we searched each day;  
In some places we 〈…〉,  
●yes baking in the 〈◊〉  
Meat at the fire Roasting,  
and men ran away.  
Dub, a dub, etc.   

Full of rich Merchandise,  
every Shop we did se●,  
Damask and Satins,  
and Velvet full fair:  
●hich Soldiers measure out  
by the length of their Swo●ds  
Of all Commodities,  
and each one had a share,  
Dub a dub, etc.   

Thus Cales was taken,  
and our brave General  
Marched to the Marketplace,  
there he did stand;  
There many Prisoners  
of good account were took,  
Many craved Mercy,  
and mercy they found:  
Dub a dub, etc.   

When as our General,  
saw they delayed time,  
And would not ransom  
the Town as they said:  
With their fair Mains●ots,  
their Presses and Bedsteads,  
Their joynt-stools and Tables,  
a fire we made;  
And when the Town 〈◊〉 in a 〈◊〉,  
With tan-ta-ra, tanta ar-rat:  
from thence we came.    

4. Of King Edward the Third, and the fair Countess of Salisbury; setting forth her constancy and endless glory.  

WHen as Edward the third did live,  
the valiant King;  
David of Scotland to rebel,  
did then begin:  
The Town of Barwick suddenly,  
from us he won,  
And burned Newcastle to the ground,  
thus strife begun:  
To Roxbury Castle marched then,  
And by the force of warlike men,  
besieged therein a gallant fair Lady,  
While that her Husband was in France;  
His Country's honour to advance,  
the Noble and Famous Earl of Salisbury.   

Brave Sir William Montague,  
road then in haste,  
Who declared unto the King,  
the Scotish-mens' ●oast:  
Who like a Lion in a rage,  
did straightway prepare,  
For to deliver that fair Lady,  
from woeful care:  
But when the Scotishmen did hear her say,  
Edward our King was come that d●y:  
they raised their siege and ran away with speed  
So when th●t he did 〈◊〉 come  
With warlike Trumpet, ●ife and ●rum,  
none but a gallant Lady did him meet.   

Who when he did with greedy eyes  
behold and see;  
Her peerless beauty enthralled  
his Majesty:  
And ever the longer that he looked;  
the more he might:  
For in her only beauty was  
his heart's delight.  
And humbly then upon her knees,  
She thanked his Royal Majesty,  
that he had driven danger from her gate:  
Lady, quoth he, stand up in peace,  
Although my war doth now increase,  
Lord keep (quoth she) all hurt from ●our ●state   

Now is the King full sadin soul,  
and wots not why,  
And for the love of the fair Countess  
of Salisbury.  
She little knowing his cause of grief,  
did come to see,  
Wherefore his Highness sat alone  
so heavily,  
I have ●een wronged, fair Dame (quoth he)  
Since I came hithed unto th●;  
no, God 〈◊〉, my Sovereign, she said,  
If I were worthy for to kn●w,  
The cause and ground of this your woe;  
you should be helped, if it did lie in me.   

Swear to perform thy word to me,  
thou Lady gay;  
To thee the sorrows of my heart,  
I will bewray:  
I swear by all the Saints in Heaven,  
I will (quoth she)  
And let my Lord have no mistrust  
at all in me.  
Then take thyself a●●de, he said,  
For why, thy beauty hath betrayed;  
Wounding a King with thy ●right shining eye,  
If thou ●● then some mercy show,  
Thou shalt expel a Princely woe:  
so shall I live, or else in sorrow ●ye.   

You have your 〈◊〉, my sovereign Lord,  
effectually;  
Take all the leave that I can 〈◊〉  
your Majesty,  
But on thy Beauty all my joys  
have their above;  
Take thou my Beauty from my face,  
my gracious Lord.  
Didst thou not swear to grant my will,  
All that I may, I will ful●l:  
then for my love, let my true love be seen,  
My Lord your speech I might reprove,  
You cannot give to me your love,  
for that belongs unto your Queen.   

But I suppose your Grace did this,  
only to try,  
Whether a wanton Tale might tempt  
Dame Salisbury.  
Nor from yourself therefore my Liege  
my steps do stray;  
But from your wanton tempting Tale,  
I go my way:  
O turn again my Lady bright,  
Come unto me my heart's delight;  
gone is the comfort of my ●ensive heart;  
Year comes the Earl of Warwick he,  
The Father of this fair Lady,  
my mind to him I mean for to impart.   

●hy is my Lord and Sovereign King,  
so grieved in mind?  
Because that I have lost the thing  
I cannot find.  
What thing is that any gracious Lord  
which you have lost?  
It is my 〈◊〉 which to near 〈◊〉  
betwixt fire and frost?  
Cursed be that fire and frosttho,  
That caused this your Highness' wo●:  
O Warwick! thou 〈◊〉 wrong me very 〈◊〉  
It is thy Daughter Noble Earl,  
That Heaven-bright-Lamp, that peerless Pearl,  
which kills my heart, yet do I her adore.   

If that be all (my gracious King)  
that works your grief,  
I will persuade the scornful Dame  
to yield relief:  
Never shall she my Daughter be,  
if she refuse,  
The Love and favour of a King,  
may her excuse:  
Thus 〈◊〉 Warwick went away,  
And quits contrary he did say,  
when as he did the beauteous Countess meet;  
Well 〈◊〉 my Daughter (quoth ●●)  
A message I must do to thee,  
our Royal King most 〈…〉 thee gre●●.  
The King will die, lest thou to him  
do grant thy love;  
To love, my Husband love  
I would remove.  
It is right Charity to love  
my Daughter dear,  
But no true love, so charitable,  
for to appear:  
His Greatness may hear out the shame,  
But his kingdom cannot buy out the blame,  
he craves thy love, that may bereave thy life;  
It is my duty to move this,  
But not thy honesty to yield, I wis,  
I mean to die a true unspotted Wife.   

Now hast thou spoken my Daughter dear,  
as I would have;  
Charity bears a Golden Name,  
unto the Grave:  
And when to thy wedded Lord  
thou provest untrue,  
Then let my bitter curses still,  
thy soul pursue:  
Then with a smiling cheer go thou,  
As right and reason doth allow,  
yet show the King thou bearest no Strumpets mind  
I go dear Father, with a trice,  
And by a slight of sine device,  
I'll cause the King confess that I am unkind,   

Here comes the Lady of my life,  
the King did say,  
My Father bids me Sovereign Lord,  
your will obey:  
And I consent, if you will gr●nt  
on● boon to me,  
I grant it thee, my Lady fair,  
what e'rest be.  
My Husband is alive you know,  
First let me kill him e'er I go,  
and at your command I will ever be  
Thy Husband now in France doth rest,  
No, no, he lies within my breast;  
and being so nigh, he will my falsehood se●,   

With that she started from the King,  
and took her knife,  
And desperately she thought to rid,  
herself of life.  
The King he started from the Chai●,  
her hand to stay,  
O noble King, you have broke your word  
with me this day.  
Thou that not do this deed, quoth he,  
Then never I will lie with thee;  
●o, then live still, and let me bear the 〈◊〉;  
Live in honour and high estate,  
With thy true Lord and wedded mate,  
I never will attempt this suit again.    

5. The Spanish Lady's love to an English Gentleman.  

WIll you hear a Spanish Lady,  
how she woo'o●m Englishman,  
Garments gay, as rich as may be,  
decked with jewels had she on:  
Of a comely countenance,  
and grace was ●he,  
And by Birth and Parentage,  
of high degree.   

As his prios●er there he kept her,  
in his hands her life did lie:  
Cupid's hands did tie her faster,  
by the liking of her eye,  
In his courteous company,  
was all her joy;  
To favour him in anything,  
she was not coy.   

At the last there rain commandment,  
for to set the Ladies free;  
With their Jewels still adorned,  
none to do thein injury:  
Alas than said the Lady gay,  
full woe is me!  
O let me still sustain this kind  
captivity.   

Gallant Captain show some pity  
to a Lady in distress,  
Leave me not within the City  
for to die in heaviness,  
Thou hast set this present day  
my body free:  
But my heart in prison strong,  
remains with thee.   

How should thou (fair Lady) love me,  
whom thou knowst thy Country's Foe,  
Thy fair words makes me suspect thee,  
Serpents are where flowers grow:  
All the evil I think to thee,  
most gracious Knight;  
God grant unto myself the same  
may fully light.   

Blessed be the time and season,  
that you came on Spanish ground;  
If you may our Foes be termed,  
gentle foes we have you found:  
With our Cities you have won,  
our hearts eath one;  
Then to your Country bear away,  
that is your own.   

Rest you still (most gallant Lady)  
rest you still and weep no more;  
Of fair Lovers there are plenty,  
Spain doth yield a wondrous store:  
Spaniard's fraught with jealousse,  
we often find;  
But Englishmen throughout the world  
are counted kind.   

Leave me not unto a Spaniard,  
you alone enjoy my heart;  
I am lovely, young, and tender,  
Love is likewise my desert:  
Still to serve thee day and night,  
my mind is pressed,  
The wife of every Englishman  
is counted blest.   

It would be a shame, fair Lady,  
for to hear a woman hence,  
English Soldiers never carry  
and such without offence.  
I will quickly change myself,  
if it be so;  
And like a Page i'll follow thee,  
where e'er thou go.   

I have neither Gold nor Silver,  
to maintain thee in this case,  
And to travel 'tis great charges,  
as you know in every place.  
My Chains and Jewels every one,  
shall be thine own;  
And eke five hundred pounds in Gold,  
that lies unknown.   

On the Seas are many dangers,  
many storms doth there arise;  
Which will be to Ladies dreadful,  
and force tears from watery eyes:  
Well in worth, I could endure  
extremity;  
For I could find in heart to lose  
my life for the●.   

Courteous Lady be contented,  
here comes all that breeds the ●●rise;  
I in England have already,  
a sweet Woman to my wife:  
I will not falsify my vow,  
for gold or gain,  
Nor yet for all the fairest Dames,  
that live in Spain.   

O how happy is that woman  
that enjoys so true a friend;  
Many days of joy God send you,  
and of my suit i'll make an end:  
Upon my knees I pardon crave,  
for this offence;  
Which love and true affection,  
did first commence.   

Commend me to thy loving Lady,  
bear to her this Chain of Gold,  
And these Bracelets for a token,  
grieving that I was so hold:  
All my Jewels in like sort,  
bear thou with thee,  
For these are fitting for thy wife,  
and not for me.   

I will spend my days in prayer,  
Love and all her laws defies;  
In a Nunnery will I shrew me,  
far from other Company:  
But e'er my Prayers h●●e 〈◊〉 and,  
be sure of this▪  
To pray for thee and for thy love,  
I will not miss.   

Thus farewell gentle Captain,  
and farewel my heart's consent,  
Count not Spanish Ladies wanton,  
though to thee my love was bend:  
Joy and true prosperity,  
go still with thee;  
The like fall ever to thy share,  
most fair Lady.    

9 A Farewell to Love.  

FArewel false Love, the Oracle of lies,  
a mortal foe, an enemy to rest,  
An envious Boy, from whence great cares arise,  
A bastard vile, a beast with age possessed:  
A way for error, a tempest full of treason,  
In all respects contrary unto reason.   

A poisoned Serpent covered all with flowers,  
Mother of sighs, and Murderers of repose;  
A sea of sorrows, whence run all such showers:  
As moisture gives to every grie●● that grows:  
A school of guile, a nest of deep deceit:  
A Golden hook that holds a poisoned 〈◊〉  
A Fortress field, whom reason did defend,  
A Sirens song, a server of the mind;  
A Maze wherein affections find no end,  
A raining cloud, that runs before the wind:  
A Substance like the shadow of the Sun,  
A Coal of grief, for which the wisest run:  
A quenchless fire, a rest of trembling fear,  
A path that leads to peril and mishap,  
A true retread of sorrow and despair,  
An idle Boy, that sleeps in pleasures lap:  
A deep mistrust of that which certain seems,  
A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.   

Then sith thy reign my younger years betrayed,  
And for my Faith, Ingratitude I find;  
And such repentance hath the wrong bewrayed,  
Whose crooked cause hath not been after kind:  
False love go back, and beauty frail adieu,  
Dead is the root from which such fancies grew.   
FINIS.   

The lover by his gifts thinks to conquer chastity  
And with his gifts sends these verses to his lady.  

What face so fair, that is not cracked with gold?  
What wit so worth that hath in gold his wonder?  
What learning but with golden lines doth hold?  
what state so high, but gold could lying it under,  
What thought so sweet, but Gold doth better seafo●,  
And what rule better than the golden reason?   

The ground was fat that yields the golden fruit  
The study high that sets the golden state:  
The labour sweet that gets the golden suit:  
The reckoning rich that scorns the Golden rate:  
The love is sure that golden hox doth hold,  
And rich again, that serves the God of Gold.   
FINIS.   

The Woman's Answer.  

Foul is the face whose beauty gold can raft,  
Worthless the wit that hath gold in her wonder;  
Unlearned lines, puts gold in Honour's place,  
Wicked the state that will to coin come under:  
Base the Conceit that seasoned is with Gold,  
And Beggar's rule that such a reason hold.   

Earth gives the gold, but Heaven gives greater grace,  
Men study wealth, but Angel's wisdom raise;  
Labour seeks peace, love hath an higher place,  
Death makes the reckoning, life is all my race:  
The hope is here, my hope of heaven doth hauled,  
God give me grace, let Dives die with gold.   
FINIS.