¶ The fantasies of a troubled man's head.  
BY Fortune as I lay in bed, my fortune was to find,  
Such fancies as my careful thought hath brought into my mind.  
And when each one was gone to rest, all soft in bed to lie,  
I would have slept, but that the watch did follow still mine eye.  
And Suddenly I saw a Sea of woeful sorrows priest,  
Whose wicked ways of sharp repulse, bred mine unquiet rest;  
I saw this world and how it went, each state in his degree,  
And that from Wealth ygraunted is, both life and liberty,  
I saw eke how Envy did reign, and bore the greatest price,  
Yet greater poison is not found within the Cockatrice,  
I saw also how fowl Disdain, oft times to forge my woe,  
Gave me the cup of bitter sweet, to pledge my mortal foe,  
I saw also how that Desire, to rest no place could find,  
But still constrained in endless pain, to follow nature's kind.  
I saw also (most strange of all) how Nature did forsake,  
The blood that in her womb was wrought, as doth the loathed Snake.  
I saw how fancy would retain no longer than she lust,  
And as the wind how she doth change, and is not for to trust.  
I saw how Steadfastness did fly, with wings of often change,  
A flying bird but seldom seen, her nature is so strange.  
I saw how pleasant times did pass, as flowers do in the meed,  
To day that riseth red as Rose, to morrow falleth dead.  
I saw my time how it did run, as sand out of a glass,  
Even as each hour appointed is, from time and tide to pass,  
I saw the years that I had spent, and loss of all my pain,  
And how the sport of youthly plays, my folly did retain,  
I saw how that the little Aunts, in Summer still doth rome,  
To seek their food whereby to live, in Winter for to come,  
I saw eke Virtue how she sat, the thread of life to spin,  
Which showeth the end of every work, before it doth begin,  
And when all these I thus beheld, with many more pardie,  
In me, me thought each one had wrought a perfect property:  
And then I said unto myself, a lesson this shall be,  
For other that shall after come, for to beware by me,  
Thus all the night I did devise, which way I might constrain,  
To form a plot that wit might work thes branches in my brain.  
I. C.  
¶ FINIS.   

Of evil tongues.  

O Evil tongues, which clap at every wind.  
Ye slay the quick, and eke the dead defame:  
Those that live well, some fault in them ye find,  
Ye take no thought, in sclaundring their good name.  
Ye put just men, oft times to open shame,  
Ye ring so loud, ye sound unto the Skies:  
And yet in proof, ye sow nothing but lies.   

❀ Ye make great hatred, where peace hath been of long,  
You bring good order to ruin and eke decay:  
Ye pluck down right, ye do enhance the wrong,  
Ye turn sweet mirth, to woe and wallawaye.  
Of mischiefs all, you are the ground I say,  
Happy is he, that liveth on such a sort:  
That needs not fear such tongues of false report.   
ꝙ I. Canand.  
¶ FINIS.   

¶ Of trust and trial.  
WHo trusts before he tries, may soon his trust repent,  
Who tries before he trusts, doth so his care prevent:  
Thus trust may not be cause of trial (than we see)  
But trial must be cause of trust, in each degree,  
B. G.  
¶ Finis.   

A strife between Appelles and Pygmalion.  

WHen that Appelles lived in Grece,  
Pygmalion also reigned than:  
These two did strive to frame a piece,  
Which should amaze the sight of man.  
Whereby they might win such a name,  
As should deserve immortal fame.   

¶ Appelles then strayed every where,  
To mark and view each courtly Dame:  
And when he heard where any were,  
Did well deserve the praise and fame:  
He thither road with willing heart,  
Of her to take the comeliest part.   

¶ And when he had with travail great,  
A thousand wights knit up in one:  
He found therewith to work his feat,  
A pattern such, as erst was none.  
And then with joy returned back,  
For to those limbs, but life did lack.   

¶ Pygmalion eke, to show his art,  
Did then conclude, in ivory white  
To form and frame in every part,  
A woman fair to his delight.  
Wherein was every limb so couched,  
As not a vain he left untouched.   

¶ When their two cunnings joined were,  
A world it was to see their work:  
But yet it may grieve every ear,  
To hear the chance did therein lurk.  
For through the piece they framed had,  
For love, Pygmalion did run mad.   

¶ Which seen, Appelles shut his book,  
And durst no longer view that sight:  
For why: her comely limbs and look,  
In one did pass each other wight.  
And while Appelles wiped his eye,  
The piece did mount unto the Sky.   

¶ Where as dame Nature took it strait,  
And wrapped it up in linen fold:  
Esteeming it more, than the weight  
Had ten times been of glistering gold.  
She locked it up fast in chest,  
To pleasure him that she loved best.   

¶ Appelles then dismayed much,  
Did throw his book in to the fire:  
He feared lest the Gods did grudge,  
That wurkemen should so high aspire.  
Yet once again he travailed Grece,  
With less effect, and made a piece.   

¶ Which long time did hold great renown  
For Venus all men did it call:  
Till in our days 'gan Nature frown,  
And gave the workemannes work a fall.  
For, from her chest t'avoid all strife,  
She took the piece, and gave it life.   

¶ And for a token gave the same,  
Unto the highest man of state:  
And said: since thou art crowned by Fame,  
Take to thee here, this worthy mate.  
The same which killed the carvers strife,  
Before that Nature gave it life.   

¶ Lord, if Appelles now did know,  
Or if Pygmalion once should hear:  
Of this their work the worthy show,  
Since Nature gave it life to bear.  
No doubt at all, her worthy praise,  
Those silly Greeks from death would raise.   

¶ Then those that daily see her grace,  
Whose virtue passeth every wight:  
Her comely corpse, her crystal face,  
They ought to pray both day and night.  
That God may grant most happy state,  
Unto that Princess and her mate.   
Ber. Gar.  
¶ FINIS.   

❧ Imprinted at London without Aldersgate in little Britain, by A. Lacy.