The pain of pleasure, describing in a perfect mirror, the miseries of man.  

WHen I sometime begin to weigh in mind,  
The wretched state of miserable man:  
Me thinks( alas) I presently do find,  
Such sudden harms that happen now& than.  
As every way do plainly seem to show:  
That man doth live within a world of woe.  
¶ For first in birth we work our mothers woe,  
In infancy we cause our Parents care:  
In further years, we fall in misery,  
From virtues line, and light in sinful snare.  
In further years, we wander too and fro,  
And last in age, God knoweth howe we die.  
¶ In childish years, we first with cries begin,  
To show in age, such sorrows as ensue:  
In lusty youth, we daily travail in  
Such wicked ways, as wicked age doth rue.  
In such a sort, our elder years we spend:  
As in our age, do breed our doleful end.  
¶ And for the joys that in our life we find,  
Which are but few, and yet not free from woe:  
What are they all, but Feathers in the wind?  
Which every tempest tolleth too and fro.  
Which tempests so, are rising every day:  
As in short space blow all our joys away.  
¶ And now such joys, as we short time enjoy,  
From tender years, even till our dying hawre:  
Which many ways are mixed with annoy,  
So that each sweet, doth yield as sharp a sour.  
mark what they be, as I do show them plain,  
And you may, see, each pleasures fruit is pain.  
¶ In infancy, what is our chiefest ioy?  
The Nurses dug, whose milk may mar the child:  
And then delight in many a gaudy toy,  
Whose garish hue, doth make our wits so wild.  
As in such sort doth settle our delight:  
As doth our wits withdraw from wisdom quiter,  
¶ Then to be dandled in our mothers lap,  
And to be strokt at cockering Fathers hand:  
When better were by now and then a rap.  
For to be kept in true obedience band.  
Then to be cockte of both our Parents so:  
As that in years it turn unto our woe.  
¶ For Mothers mild, that think they love the child,  
By keeping him from Fathers cruelty:  
In time of years, may find herself beguiled,  
By letting him haue lavish liberty.  
For liberty in youth, doth run such race:  
As quiter forgets the path of perfect grace.  
¶ And then( alas) too late comes had I wist,  
And then they blame the nature of the child:  
Which they might well haue bridled as they lift,  
But wantonness hath made the wits so wild.  
As rather runs in vale of vanity:  
Then seeks the path of perfect piety.  
¶ But let me leave to speak of childish years,  
And let me writ of lusty gallant youth:  
Who through the world doth travail with his phéers  
Such ways in age, as moves his mind to ruth.  
And in such toys doth set his chief delight,  
As that in age doth work his utter spite.   

beauty, The first pleasure.  
FOr now behold in youth, one chiefest ioy,  
In which too many, most delight do find:  
Which though well weighed, is but in deed a toy,  
Yet to delight, allures the wisest mind.  
Which thing to name, is Beauties heavenly hue:  
Which yéeldes delight, that thousands daily rue.  
¶ For beauty first breeds liking in the mind,  
Liking breeds lust, lust lewdness, lewdness, what?  
Such world of woes, as age doth quickly find,  
And cries( alas) repentance all too late.  
See beauty then, in youth the chiefest ioy,  
In age is seen to work no small annoy.  
¶ beauty in some doth cause a kind of pride,  
And pride must be maintained all by cost:  
And cost makes youth, in age his head to hid,  
For shane or debt, when all his wealth is lost.  
But oh fond youth to ioy in beauty so:  
As that in age his ioy doth breed such woe.  
¶ In other some, yet beauty worketh woorfe,  
It makes access, of such as practise ill:  
Whose ill access the beautiful may curse,  
That unto 'vice 'allure their wanton will.  
Oh vile delight, where beauty so is placed:  
To make in deed, the fairest face disgraced.  
¶ In some again it breeds a great delight,  
In modest mindes, whose heartes are not at rest:  
But thousand pangs, are daily forced to prove,  
For loving them, whom beauty so hath blessed.  
For luckless lots, so follow louers ioy:  
As many ways doth work them great annoy.  
¶ But where the face, with beauty is bedecked,  
And bears withall a modest countenance:  
Whose mind again to virtue hath respect,  
And thereby seeks, their state for to advance.  
There will I say it is no foolish toy:  
But thought in deed a rare and heavenly ioy.  
But to be short, in youth our chief delight,  
As first I said, in beauties heavenly hue:  
As well in youth as age, work such despite,  
As well may make the stoutest hart to rue,  
Which now I leave, and to some other toy:  
Which yéeldes great woe, but to a little ioy.   

Riches, The second pleasure.  
IN witches now, another kind of ioy,  
In which both youth and age haue great delight:  
Were it well weighed, and it were but a t●y,  
Which many ways do brood their great despite.  
In getting first with labour, care and pain,  
In keeping to, as great unrest again.  
¶ In getting first, the b●aine is busied,  
With deep devise to cast a plot to gaiue:  
Then arms, hands, legs and feet, are occupied,  
For cankered coin, their strongest joint to strain.  
I do not mean, as some ●●●disely do:  
devise for royne, to strain a neck joint to:  
¶ God forbid that, and yet some men do so,  
Both stretch and crack, and break their neck ioy●●t 〈◇〉:  
But wealth so wunne. doth breed no ●●●tle woe,  
God mend their mindes that so device to do.  
Better to die a beggar of the twainē:  
Then by such means to seek or gape for gain.  
¶ This is( alas) a wicked way to gain:  
Yet not the wurst: for some ●oh euried they:  
That seek the mean to haue their parents ●aine,  
And friends and kinsso●●es, closely make away.  
To gain their goods, but oh ill gotten gain:  
Whose getting breeds, the soul eternal pain.  
¶ God shield each one, from such a beastly thought,  
So to devise, to purchase worldly pray:  
And pardon those that wickedly haue wrought,  
Such devilish means to work their souls decay.  
And grant us all so for to seek for wealth:  
As necks crack not, nor hinder our souls health.  
¶ But leaving these, lets see some other ways,  
In making means, to hoard up heaps of pence:  
In strange devise, to spend both night and dayes,  
And leave their home, and go a great way hence.  
To find such stuff, as to return again:  
do yield them small amends for all their pain.  
¶ Some sail by sea, to seek out foreign soil,  
To find out there some gem, of valour great.  
In seeking which, with tough and tedious toil,  
To save themselves, they 〈…〉 to sweat.  
And ere their Barks, be safe 〈…〉 on land:  
How oft their lives in thousand dangers stand.  
¶ And let their ships be safely set an shore,  
And they do find, that which they look for there:  
Yet ere return, they live perplexed sore.  
With troubled mind, 〈◇〉 sailing halfed● fear.  
Of foreign ●●ek of tempests, Rocks, 〈◇〉 ands:  
Or falling into roving pirates hands.  
¶ And let them be returned home with ioy,  
And all their goods brought home to their 〈◇〉:  
Yet see what then doth 〈…〉,  
Oh then they fear each foolish spark of 〈◇〉,  
Should burn their house, and then another grief,  
Each Mouse that péepes, should forely be a thief.  
Some other now, that love to live at home,  
And onely seek by sweat of brow to gain:  
With spade and sholue about the fields they rome,  
turmoiling still with labour sore and pain.  
With cark and care, to purchase wealth in hast:  
Which God he knows, but little time will last.  
¶ Some seek by play, at Tables, cards, and Dice,  
In secret sort, a world of wealth to win:  
But who seek so, do prove themselves unwise,  
In losing all, before their gain begin.  
Whose hope of gain can never breed such ioy,  
As certain loss, doth breed their harts annoy.  
What should I writ of every strange devise,  
That some men use in seeking worldly pelf?  
The proverb says, that no man can be wise,  
That is not wise each way to help himself.  
But scripture says, the rich to heaven on 〈◇〉,  
Goes like a camel, through a Needles 〈◇〉.  
¶ And let a man grow rich in lusty youth,  
And haue for wealth almost the world at will,  
Yet see in age, God wot too great a ruth,  
It breedeth death full sore agan●● their will.  
How joys he then? 〈◇〉 being his mind friend:  
To bring his life, his chiefest ioy to 〈◇〉.  
† O fond delight, oh grievous kind of ioy,  
Oh cankered coin, the cause of deadly pain:  
Oh madhead man to ioy in such 〈◇〉,  
Oh greedy mindes 〈…〉.  
Oh wretched wealth, whose ioy d●●th breed such w●,  
Oh God forgive such fools as seek it so.  
¶ But let wealth pass, one other ioy I find,  
Which many count their great an●● chiefest ioy,  
Which if they would once 〈◇〉 in 〈◇〉,  
They soon should see it pla●●dly but a toy.  
Which when God wo● with great a do they gain,  
Yet being got, it is not free from pain.   

Honour, The third pleasure.  
WHich-ioy to tell, by name is Honour his,  
Which noblest mindes account the greatest ioy:  
Which first obtainde, by deadly jeopardy,  
They do God knows, with care enough enjoy.  
Oh man most mad to love so vain a thing,  
As with small ioy, doth thousand sorrows bring.  
¶ lo, first the care in seeking how to climb,  
With study strange, how it doth beate our brain:  
In climbing then our obseruanice of time,  
Then heed to hold, least we go dowr●● again.  
The fear to fall, and if we fall, what then?  
But fear of death, which happes to many men.  
¶ Let us scape death, yet may ●● breaken 〈◇〉,  
Or lame a limb, or bruise us inwardly:  
Or catch a clap may make our harts to groan,  
And breed our death, although not presently.  
Let us miss these, and haue no harm at all:  
Yet will it be a grief to take ● fall.  
¶ And if again, they venture for to climb.  
Then must they be more wary then before:  
For if they chance to fall the second time,  
Tis ten to one but they are bruised sore.  
Yet if they live, and seek to climb again,  
And third time fall, that brings a deadly pain.  
¶ Now sundry men, devise a fundry mean,  
To make their way to Honour to attain:  
What two will choose, the third misliketh clean,  
And glory seeks another way to gain.  
But he that seeks the best way that he can:  
Shall find unsought some sorrow now and then.  
¶ And now and then, such sorrows as in deed,  
If every man would wisely way in mind,  
We soon should see, how far they do●●zexéede,  
The little joys that we by honour find,  
Oh mind most vain, to seek so vain a ioy:  
Which many ways doth work so great annoy.  
¶ And now, as men do sundry means devise,  
To scale the top of Honours stately throve:  
So do their sorrows diuers ways arise,  
Which makes their mindes, to make a sundry mone.  
Some sigh and sob in secret sort alone:  
To make their grief, unto the world unknown.  
¶ For lo, some men do seek, by force of arms,  
To gain the honour of a valiant Knight:  
Which by ill hap unto their daily harms,  
do find a foe to vanquish them in fight.  
In seeking then to climb to Honour so,  
Or death or maim doth breed their deadly woe.  
¶ Some other seek by Riches to attain,  
even in the top of Honour high to si●:  
But climbing up, Fates sling them down again,  
As men in deed for such a place vnsit.  
Which if they fall, and riches fall withall:  
Way then what grief doth fret them at the gull.  
¶ Some fond think, by wateing wealth to gain,  
The honour due to liberality:  
Which contrary unto their pinching pain,  
Get the dispraise of prodigality.  
Which when( alas) their wealth is go●● and spent,  
Oh think how then their 〈…〉 lament,  
¶ But let these men that seek for honour so,  
As first the Knight that seeks bysorce of arms  
T'obtaine the same, yet see his after woe,  
In midst of ioy, unto his deadly han●●●.  
Another comes that is of greater might:  
And dispossess him of his honour quiter.  
¶ Oh then by loss the grief doth far exceed  
His little ioy in keeping of the same:  
even so the churl that by his 〈…〉,  
May win a while, the fort of 〈…〉.  
Yet unawares such fortune may befall,  
That he may loose, both Honour, coin and all.  
¶ And then what grief the covetous conceive,  
By loss of coin their great and chiefest ioy:  
A man that hath but one eye may perceive,  
That nothing more can bréene their harts annoy.  
And though their grief of honour lost be least.  
Yet who would part with honour once possessed?  
¶ Now they that do by spending free obtain,  
Of many men, perhaps a noble name:  
Yet noble mindes can find no greater pain,  
Then want of wealth for to maintain the same.  
Whose falling so, doth work them much despite,  
As doth their harts bereave of all delight.  
¶ But who would seek the perfect way to climb,  
To Honours throne, and surely there to sit:  
Must wisely seek with observance of time,  
By virtues line the ready way to hit.  
For virtue gains, in life a noble name:  
And after death immortal noble famed.  
¶ virtue is it, that onely yéeldoth ioy,  
A ioy besides that ever will endure:  
And such a ioy as worketh no annoy,  
But doth indeed a heavenly ioy procure.  
Oh ioy of joys, by thee God grant us all:  
To climb to heaven, and never thence to fall.  
¶ But let me leave of Honour now to writ,  
And speak my mind of meaner kind of joys:  
Which to some mindes do give a great delight,  
Yet wisely weighed, are nothing else but toys.  
And with their joys, which are but small indeed,  
What woes they work, which far their joys exceed.   

love, The fourth pleasure.  
OF little joys, behold this first for one,  
some, Ladies love do count a heavenly ioy:  
In seeking which, some are so woe begun,  
As harts consume with grief and great annoy.  
And some haue been in love so over shoes,  
As lack or loss, makes them their lives to loose,  
¶ For sundry men, by sundry means do seek,  
Their Ladies love or liking to procure,  
And what they think, that may their fancies keep,  
That must they do, what pain they so endure.  
What gem so rare, may please their mistress eye:  
Cost lands and life, but Louers daily buy.  
¶ And let wealth waste, then love begins to shrink,  
And when lous shrinks, then farewell louers ioy:  
Then wretched wights, in sorrow so must stuck,  
And worthy well to ioy in such a toy.  
As so to seek, and labour day by day,  
To purchase that doth breed their own decay.  
‡ see then by love, what cost, what care, what woe?  
In getting first, and keeping then with pain:  
In getting first, what daily griefs do grow,  
In losing then, what more despite again.  
Oh madhead man, to ioy in such a thing:  
And with small ioy, doth thousand sorrows bring.   

Horses, hawks, and Dogs, The fift Pleasure,  
ANd so I leave to writ of Louers ioy,  
Which many ways doth work a world of woe:  
And I will now speak of some other ioy,  
Which with small ioy, doth diuers sorrows sow.  
As Horses, hawks, hounds, birds of diuers sorts,  
Which to some mindes, do make delightful sports.  
¶ As first, behold the stately stamping steed,  
That snuffs and snorts, and stands vpon no ground,  
I must confess a joyful sight in deed,  
But he that hath the toil and labour found,  
In bringing him unto that pass at first,  
Will think of joys, the ioy in horse the worst.  
‡ now he again that never takes the pain,  
To break him so, but haue him broken to hand,  
I think in deed, hath more ioy of the twain,  
In stately sort to see him stamping stand.  
But if he take delight to ride him too:  
Let him take heed what then he seeks to do.  
‡ For such a ioy may hap to breed such woe,  
By jollity in riding without skill:  
That he by fall, may catch so sore a blow,  
As down on ground, may make him lie there still.  
Where broken bones, limb lamde, or bruises sore:  
Will make him ioy in praunsing horse no more.  
‡ And if again he chance to sit him fast,  
Whereby he may the more increase his ioy:  
Yet is he not assurde his ioy will last,  
But it will turn unto his great annoy.  
For by ill hap his horse may fall sore sick,  
Or halt down right, by shoeing ill, or prick.  
¶ Perchance again he ride him till he sweat,  
And set him up vnwalked, somewhat hote:  
And so do make him catch so sore a heat,  
As ten to one if shortly he die not.  
And if he die, then farewell Maisters ioy:  
And riders pains, and farewell foolish toy.   

hawks.  
SO ioy in hawks, good Lord how some delight,  
To see them kill a hyrd of meaner strength:  
Some mark the pitch in making of their flight,  
Some love the hawk that flieth out at length.  
Some most of all, the short wingde hawk esteem,  
Some long wingde hawks the bravest birds do deem.  
‡ Some love to see the Goshawke roughly rush,  
thorough the woods, and perch from tree to tree,  
And cease vpon the pheasant in the bush,  
And sure it is a pretty sport to see.  
But in respect of any worthy ioy:  
God knows it is but even a very toy.  
¶ But let it be to some a great delight,  
Yet see what toil it daily brings withall:  
First, if she take a gadding in her flight,  
Then ride and run, and mar Horse, man and all.  
And tyre themselves to seek a foolish Kite,  
Yet loof her too, and then what greater spite?  
¶ And let her be the finest hawk that is,  
And never gad, nor haue ill qualities:  
And what shée flies at, séeld or never miss,  
Yet is shée not quiter free from ieopardies.  
Some foolish thorn may strike a too her wing,  
And flying marred, then farewell foolish thing.  
¶ What should I need of other hawks to writ?  
As falcon, Tassell, Lanner, and Lanneret:  
With little hawks, that Ladies take delight  
Fine Faulknor like, vpon their fift to set.  
As Sparhawke, Merline, birds I must cenfesss,  
For Ladies fit, I can well say no less.  
¶ But of all hawks, those hawks are yet the worst,  
For if they catch a bruise abroad in flight,  
Then tender harts, strait into tears they binst,  
For losing of a little peevish Kite.  
A goodly thing to give such cause of ioy,  
As being lost, should breed so great annoy.  
¶ Now some again it is a sport to see,  
What mone they make, some first will sighing say:  
It is my lucke, what most delighteth me,  
Comes to some mischiefs one or other way.  
And some will say, my froward dream to night,  
Pretended me this day some soul despite.  
¶ But let me leave of Beasts and birds to writ,  
And let me now unto some other joys:  
Which with delight, do breed as great despite,  
Which wisely wayde, may well be thought but joys.  
As dancing, singing, wrestling, leaping too:  
Which who almost but doth delight to do.  
¶ Which pleasant sports, ere they be well attained,  
Do breed some pain, to them that seek the same:  
And some of them ere they be thoroughly gained,  
do often strike some limb or other lame.  
I will not say, though some haue found it so:  
Some of their sports, do breed their deadly woe.   

music, The sixth pleasure.  
BUt let me first of music speak my mind,  
Which with some sport doth yield as great a spite,  
The little Boy, first by his ears doth find,  
In plaine-song pulls is very small delight.  
In pricke-song then, a privy pinch or two:  
Makes him in song, haue little mind unto.  
¶ And way the time that wantonly ye spend,  
First in the Notes, and then again in cliffs:  
How to ascend, and then again descend;  
By largesse and Longs, by Bréefes and Semibréefes.  
Minims, crotchets, quavers, Sharps, Flats, to fain:  
Vt, re, me, fa, sol, la, and back again.  
¶ Then when you know your notes and how to sing,  
Then instruments of Musticke must be had:  
And then an ear to every sundry string,  
Which makes some men, myself haue seen half mad.  
For earnest hearkening to the musics sound;  
Makes some oft times too far in musics drowned.  
¶ And is it not a pretty sport think you,  
That makes one mad ere he attain the same?  
I take it so, and this believe me now,  
Who seeks himself to Musikes arte to frame,  
And very young is set to politics school,  
In other artes, proves commonly a fool.  
¶ It is a sport of troth sometime to see,  
A right musician in his formal grace:  
How he can look, as if it were not he,  
Especially, when that he is in place.  
Whereas he thinks himself to be the best:  
For pride or praise, how he can strain his breast.  
¶ But if there come another into place,  
Better then he, then down his feathers fall:  
Then francis fiddler, with his formal face,  
Shrinketh aside, and gets him next the wall.  
And for a pound, he sings not one Note more,  
Where comes a better then he was before:  
¶ But what? me thinks that some begins to frown,  
To writ so much in fiddlers foul dispraise:  
Why, if there be some such odd ●●dling clown,  
As plays at Hertford on the Hollwayes:  
And takes the matter so much in disgrace:  
For all his fiddle, fart in his fools face.  
¶ For such musicians makes some Minious meet,  
With their sweet harts on some ungracious green:  
Where after each hath other friendly greet,  
Somewhat 'haps else that may not there be seen.  
As bargains made, that must be gréed vpon,  
behind some bush, when all the crew is gone.  
‡ But let me lea●e off low●ish music now,  
To writ more words, and let me somewhat say  
Of Courtly music, which I say to you,  
I cannot well repro●e in any way.  
Although perhaps some wantons thereby find,  
A time to play the wantons in their kind.  
¶ I mean no harm in that I say in kind,  
For wantonness and wickedness are two:  
Tis not the grace in any, but the mind,  
That moves a man, or good or bad to do.  
A merry mind a gentle nature shows:  
When sullen looks are signs of surle shrowes.  
¶ And yet do some perhaps, in dancing deem,  
That Louers then haue time of great delight,  
But if two love one Lady, it must seem,  
The ones delight, the others great despite.  
And if but one, yet then his present ioy:  
May turn in time unto as great annoy.  
‡ For then perhaps he reaps good countenance,  
Good words, and more, perhaps with all good will:  
Besides, he hath good licence in his dance,  
Without suspect to look and talk his fill.  
And to receive great favour of his friend,  
Which when his dance is done, are all at end.  
¶ And then( alas) consider what despite  
He bides, to think vpon his pleasures past:  
And sees again, his sweet and whole delight,  
With posting speed to fade away so fast,  
No greater grief I think can fertune frame:  
Then win delight, and then to loose the same.   

dancing, The seventh pleasure.  
ANd touching now the har●●s that often hap,  
to such as seek, for to be excellent:  
In dancing catch some time so sore a clap,  
By froward falls, as makes them to repent,  
The tumbling tricks, and ●u●●ing on the to,  
When legs do grow so 〈◇〉 they cannot ●●e,  
¶ And some brave youths will labour day and night,  
Till they haue got the Caprey, and cross points  
But tell me now, how much will they delight  
When that they see they legs crost out of joint?  
Or else perhaps with some untoward fall:  
Then break their arm, or sometime neck and all.  
¶ Oh then behold, in dancing what delight,  
Which breeds the dancers oft: untimely end:  
And for myself, I see such great despite,  
By dancing grow, as he that were my friend,  
Sure I would wish him leave all dancing quiter,  
Then in such toys to take so great delight.  
¶ Besides, sometime in dancing we do see,  
Quarrels arise, yea, betwixt friend and friend:  
Which once begun, God knows but seldom be  
Without great hurt, brought unto quiet end.  
Consider then the great and dire despite:  
In dancing grows, in midst of most delight.  
¶ What should I need of dancing more to writ?  
First of the pains in learning how to dance:  
And then again how great and foul despite,  
In dancing oft to many men doth chance.  
Let this suffize, it is but even a toy,  
Whose use may yield a pleasure or annoy.  
¶ For least I should seem to dispraise it quiter,  
In praise of dancing thus much will I say,  
Who knows in deed, how for to use it right.  
May dance full well, I will not say him nay.  
For so it is an honest exercise:  
And one in deed of Courtly qualities.  
¶ But for to set in dancing such delight,  
As it should seem, to give great cause of ioy:  
Who déemes it so, they are deceived quiter,  
For God he knows, it is but even a toy.  
And such a toy, as sure est●●mde in 〈◇〉,  
A frantic toy, a man may eas●●●ie ●●de.  
¶ For who would ma●●●e sometime the frantic fits,  
The frisks and turns, with tricks in sundry sorts:  
Would think a dancer, quiteout of his wit●,  
So to devise to make such skipping sports.  
To throw himself about house, here and there:  
As one half mad, who well could rest no where.  
¶ But to be short, as once I said before,  
I say again, dancing is but a toy:  
A skipping sport, which bruseth bones so sore,  
As yéeldes the mind sometime but little ioy:  
Yet used a right, gives cause of great delight,  
But yet the best it worketh some despite.  
¶ But leaving dancing, and to Leaping now.  
In which some men do not a little ioy:  
Would such as leap, consider well but how,  
Their leaping breeds, both lims and harts annoy.  
Sure they would say, before their legs be burst:  
Of all odd sports, yet Leaping is the wurst.   

Leaping, The eight pleasure.  
SOme men leap short, and fall into a ditch,  
And who leaps so, is laughed at for his pain:  
Some men in leap, their legs give such a twitch,  
As ten to one if ere they leap again.  
Some their legs slip, and fall vpon their back:  
And think what pain if once the chine-bone crack,  
¶ Some when they slip they fall vpon their arm,  
And some vpon their head, and thats the worst:  
And who fals so, may hap to haue such harm,  
That he may well think leaping sport accursed.  
And he that leaps most lightly of them all,  
Shall haue great hap and if he miss a fall.  
¶ And he that takes in pleasure such delight,  
As seeks thereby the prick and praise to gain●:  
Let him haue skill, and be he nere so light,  
In leaping yet he straineth every vain.  
Of which, if one he cha●●ce to strain 〈◇〉 far,  
He may thereby his leaping wholly marr●.  
¶ Now some again will 〈…〉 a straw,  
And lightly think to leap over a klocke:  
But who leaps so, will prove himself a Daw,  
And on his shins perhaps receive a knock.  
But now such leaps are ●●eant mother way,  
And therefore now no more of leaps I say.  
¶ save onely this, that I would wish each one,  
For to delight, and use his leaping so:  
As that he venture not to break a bone,  
Nor unawares, do work himself such woe,  
As that he find it not to his despite:  
Rather a pain then any sweet delight.   

wrestling, The ninth pleasure.  
ANd as of leaping, so of wrestling too,  
Which with the rest, may well be thought a toy:  
Yet some do so delight in kind to do,  
As that they take in wrestling such a ioy,  
As for to give their foe a cleanly fall:  
They venture will, both him and life and all.  
¶ And some in wrestling wrest ●legge a two,  
And some an arm, some backe-bone now and than,  
And some to break a wrestlers neck, will do  
In wrestling oft, the best or worst he ran.  
And is it not a pretty kind of spor●,  
That breeds delight in such despite in such despi●●●full 〈◇〉  
¶ What should I need of 〈…〉 to writs?  
Who loues the sport, much good do them with all,  
For I myself would rather stand vp●●●●●,  
Then put my life in venture for a fall  
And he who sets therein his grea●●● ioy,  
In time shall find it but a 〈…〉 toy.   

climbing, The tenth pleasure.  
ANd as of Leaping, so ●●me men again,  
In climbing to, do tak● 〈◇〉 delight;  
Which half way up, come 〈…〉 again,  
I will not say how much, to their despite.  
For commonly, who falleth 〈◇〉 a loft,  
It is most like he falls not very soft.  
¶ The country clown, 〈…〉 to 〈◇〉 a tree,  
And he that climbs the straightest three of all,  
He is the man, Man wilthaue no●e but he.  
But if in climbing Thomas take a fall,  
Then all is marred, and ah poor filly Tom,  
Hath lost his love, and must go limping h●●ue.  
¶ And if he scape and get up like a man,  
What is his gain, except a nest of rooks?  
And for his pains, he getteth of his Man,  
A kindly kiss, and two or three sweet looks.  
But Sir, and that may prove in time,  
Enough to make him merely to climb.  
¶ Some lusty Simon on a sunday too,  
Will climb a May-pole for his Susans sake:  
And on the top will hang a handkirchoo,  
For him that dare, down thence again to take.  
But if both he and handkircher fall down,  
He likes no more of climbing for divine.  
‡ But leaving lowtes, some gallant youths delight,  
In ships by ropes the gallant top to climb:  
Who if they hap to miss their climbing right,  
They kill a mariner at the first time,  
And get they up, what is it but a toy?  
A practise meet but for a desperate boy.  
¶ And he again that best of all can scape,  
And climbs top gallant, May pole, or a tree  
Yet for his life he climbs not like an Ape,  
And let him climb, he climbs alone for me.  
And for my life, when he hath climde his best,  
He thinks himself on ground yet most at rest.  
‡ Now some again ungracious grafts sometime,  
Both willingly, and yet against their will:  
do seek the mean, three trees at once too climb,  
But who climbs so may think his climbing ill.  
For by a ladder by they go in hast,  
And by a rope they tumble down as fast.  
¶ And tell me now, way climbing well in●●●●e,  
And I believe that you will justly say:  
So little is the good that one shall find,  
And dangers such in climbing any way.  
That he that climbs the cunningest of all,  
Is many ways yet subject to a fall.  
¶ Call but to mind, how Pha●●ton sometime,  
With wilful climbing, fell from losty sky:  
And broke his neck, how Icarus would climb,  
With Dedalus, but soaring too too high.  
To fathers grief God wot, as low he fell,  
With other mo, that were too long to tell.  
¶ Let this suffice, I think it not unmeet,  
For ship-mens boyes, top gallant for to climb:  
And for such clowns, as think rooks flesh is sweet,  
To climb by leisure such odd ●●ées sometime.  
But this I say, to gain a Keisars cope:  
climb not three trees, to fall dow●● by a rope.  
¶ Besides, I warn each one that hath no skill,  
To climb no higher then féets may touch the ground:  
Let him climb up, and climb, and climb his fill,  
For though he fall, it breeds no dead 〈◇〉 Wound.  
Besides I wish, no man to 〈…〉  
Nor yet to climb, more then of force he must.  
¶ For if the clown that climbeth up a free,  
A bough do break, and he let slip his hold:  
With heave and hoe, then t●●●ling down comes he●  
And God he knows his penny wordth is cold.  
For all the rooks nests all the to ●●e can climb,  
Makes not amends for his hurt that one time.  
¶ even so in ship, the boy that seeks to climb,  
By cords and lines, if either rope do ●●ippe,  
Or hand or foot, as man● do same 〈◇〉,  
Then down a main he falle● into the ship.  
Or in the Sea, where hundreth then to one;  
He never scapes, ther's one young Sea-man gone.  
¶ Yet do I not forbid to climb at all,  
For some must climb, and those: I well allo●:  
But yet I wish the best to fear a fall,  
And those that climb at all, to climb, but how?  
When need requires, and then so carefully,  
As that they come not down too hastily.  
¶ For some must climb, as in assault sometime,  
Some men of force must seek to scale a fort:  
Then happy he, that cunningly can climb,  
By ropes or Ladders, or by any sort.  
That is, and he of glory gains the crown,  
Thats soonest up, and late●t thrown down.  
¶ So then I say, of climbing thus I end,  
Who climbeth best, finds climbing but a toy:  
And I would warn each one I count my friend,  
For to conceive in climbing little ioy.  
Least that he find in climbing his delight:  
By breake-necke falls to breed his deadly spite.  
¶ And as of climbing, so in Fencing now,  
Artes much alike, wherein too many ioy:  
Which foolish ioy doth breed I say to you,  
To thousands of your deadly hartes annoy.  
As in my mind, a most accursed sort:  
To breed delight in such despiteful sport.   

Fencing, The eleventh pleasure.  
NOw sir, this ioy in Arte of great Defence,  
Which of Offence may rather well be named?  
Is not obtained without some great expense,  
Nor yet without some limb or other lamde.  
Except by hap, you chance to scape the worst,  
And yet you part then with your noddle burst,  
¶ And let me but demand this question now,  
Will you be pleased with him that broke your pate?  
Or will you not, almost you care not how,  
seek your reuenge, and bear him deadly hate,  
until you be revenged in like sort:  
And tell me then, is not this pretty sport?  
¶ Perhaps again, you haue your eye thrust out,  
Or catch a scratch cross overthwart your face:  
Or else be swaddled roughly round about,  
Both shoulders, sides, arms, legs, and every place.  
At parting now, Sir when you feel the smart:  
Will you not think Fencing a joyful Arte?  
¶ By Fencing grows our terms of the bravado,  
Our foines and thrusts, the deadly stab and all:  
Which some more finely call a Stabbado,  
And some a blow, a cleanly wipe can call.  
And some a rak, that crosseth both the shins,  
Now with such stuff this joyful sport begins.  
¶ lye héere, lye there, strike out your blow at length,  
Strike and thrust with him, look to your dagger hand:  
believe me sir, you bear a gallant strength,  
But choose your ground, at vantage where to stand,  
And keep a loof for catching too much harm:  
Beware the button of your Buckler arm.  
¶ With other terms that were too long to tell,  
Besides, myself haue small skill in that arte,  
But this I wot, unto my cost too well,  
A wasters end hath made my shoulders smart.  
And when by chance I caught a smoking blow.  
I put it up, or take two or three more.  
‡ And sure I think, who doth in deed delight,  
To follow Fencing, as some swashers do:  
Shall be thereby so boldened for to fight,  
As wilful end, in time will bring them to.  
Except that God do give them grace in deed,  
To use their arte but in defence at need.  
‡ And used so, it will not do amiss,  
And so I think some skill is requisite:  
But I cannot like very well of this,  
That any man should so therein delight:  
As he should set therein so great a ioy,  
As many do, unto their great annoy.  
¶ What should I need, of Fencing more to writ,  
Well 〈…〉 think it is a pretty arts:  
But 〈…〉 leave, who doth therein delight,  
Shall buy his pleasure, with his bodies smart.  
And so I end, use it to save your life:  
But let it not make you to live in strife.  
¶ And then in Gods name, use it at your will,  
So that you use it to your own defence:  
But if in fight, you chance your foe to kill,  
His death will sure abide your conscience.  
Yet for all that use it but to defend:  
And learn the arts, it will not much offend.  
¶ But as I said before, I say again,  
learn it, but love it not, in any wise:  
Least little pleasure breed your pain,  
By hurt, by main, or deadly ieopardies.  
And think it but an arte of small delight,  
Which many ways doth work full great despite.  
¶ But leaving now, of Fencing more to writ,  
There is as now another kind of ioy:  
Wherein some men, do take so great delight,  
As that in time it breeds their great annoy,  
They toil themselves, and thrift they throw away,  
And lame their legs to learn a foolish play.   

Tennis, The twelft pleasure.  
WHat sport is it to cut a Ball in kind,  
Or strike a Ball into the hazard fine:  
Or bandy balls, to fly against the wind,  
Or strike a ball low, level ore the line.  
Or make a Chase or hazard for a game,  
Then with a brickle wall to win the same.  
¶ Oh brave delights, but he that thinks vpon  
The unknown charge that groweth by the same,  
Will say, when once his store of coin is gone,  
Of all sports, Tennis is a costly game.  
Which cost considered, soon will drive away,  
The déere delight that grows by Tennis play.  
¶ Yet will I not dispraise the Tennis so,  
That I would wish no man should use the same.  
For by the game no hurt is like to grow,  
Except a man do too much use the same.  
For I would haue it used for exercise:  
In some could mornings, and not otherwise.  
¶ For as I said in other things before,  
Tis not the thing, but the delight therein:  
That makes or mars, delights or gréeueth sore,  
Then take good heed, when first you do begin.  
To take delight in any kind of thing:  
For too much ioy doth after sorrow bring.  
¶ Then use the Tennis, wisely now and than,  
To exercise your lustlesse limbs withall:  
And do not think to do more then you can,  
With labouring and toiling at a ball,  
Least that you think, in stead of sweet delight:  
With painful toil you buy a déere despite.  
¶ And as of Tennis, so again I find:  
In other sports, as shooting, bowling too:  
Wherein too many, so much set their mind,  
As all day long they little else can do.  
Would they but way the woes thereby they win:  
And they would leave their fond delight therein.   

Shooting, The thirteenth pleasure.  
WHat sport it is to see an arrow fly,  
A gallant archer cleanly draw his bow?  
In shooting off, again how cunningly,  
He hath his loose, in letting of it go?  
To nocke it sure, and draws it to the head:  
And then fly out, hold strait, and strike it dead.  
¶ With other terms that Archers long haue used,  
As blow wind, stoupe, ah, down the wind a bow:  
Tush, says another, he may be excusde,  
Since the last mark, the wind doth greater grow.  
At last he claps in the white suddenly,  
Then oh well shot the standards by do cry.  
¶ And that one shoot; is even enough to make,  
Him sell his coat for store of bow and shafts:  
The cost whereof will make his hart to ache,  
And make him draw but few delightful drafts.  
Therefore say I, in shooting the delight,  
doth likewise breed with pleasure some despite.  
¶ I do not speak particularly of all,  
The harms that hap unto an archers purse:  
As bow may break, string crack, and feathers fall,  
With other 'haps, that makes them swear and curse.  
As when sometime there rains a sudden shower,  
That bow and shafts may mar all in an hour.  
¶ Therefore use shooting as an exercise,  
To pass the time, but love it not too much:  
Least with the sport you find the costly price,  
do make your hart such dear delights to grudge.  
Therefore use it, but as a pretty toy:  
To pass the day, but count it not a ioy.   

Bowling, The fourteenth pleasure.  
ANd now to bowls, a pretty kind of sport.  
Wherein so many take so great delight:  
That every day such numbers d'ye resort.  
To bowling Allies, that both day and night,  
If light would serve they would not be away,  
But wast their wealth vpon that foolish play.  
¶ How some delight, to see a round bowl run,  
Smoothely away, until he catch a rub:  
Then hold thy bias, if that cast were wan,  
The game were up as sure then as a club.  
Then upright bowls, that need not any bank,  
And for a game, a fine throw in the crank.  
¶ But if they marked their money run away,  
Their coin to cross quiter by as from their purse:  
T'would make them leave that costly kind of play,  
And liking take in bowling sport the worse.  
And yet the sport well used, will yield delight:  
But love it not, for then it breeds despite.  
¶ For ioy in games to other kind of joys,  
Wherein some men, their chief delight repose:  
Which weighed well, may well be thought but toys,  
Wherein both cost and labour eke we lose.  
As Fishing, Fowling, and such like delights:  
Which some do love to follow dayes and nights.  
¶ But lo, behold, what great delight we find,  
In Fishing first, in diuers sundry sorts:  
With Nets, and Angles, Wéeles, and other kind,  
Or pretty gins, which yield delightful sports.  
And with the sports, lets fee the spite withall:  
That oftentimes in Fishing doth befall.   

Fishing, The fifteen pleasure.  
SOme take delight with Angle for to stand,  
near half a day, to catch a Pickerell:  
And standing so with Angle in his hand,  
Perhaps he takes a paltry Shotrell.  
That what a man hath taken with such pain,  
He strait would throw into the brook again.  
¶ Some with a worm do mogle for an Eel●,  
Some for a carp do angle with a S●aile:  
But if the hook do catch within a wele,  
Then must of force the fishers cunning fail.  
For loose the hook, and fray thy fish away,  
And stand again without abite all day.  
¶ And is it not a weary kind of sport,  
To angle all day for a foolish dish:  
And loose the hook in such despiteful sort,  
And that perhaps or ere you catch a fish.  
Me thinks it should be such a foul despite,  
As I should take in angling no delight.  
‡ Some for a Troute, will angle with a fly,  
Some for a Roche, a gentill make their bait:  
Some make their Flies of colours cunningly,  
Of silk and hair, a pretty fine deceit  
For foolish fish, and yettis but a toy,  
unworthy far for to be thought a ioy.  
¶ And yet some men do so herein delight,  
As in the making of these foolish flies,  
They will attend their work both day and night,  
And in the morning up betimes arise.  
And to the brook, and angle there all day,  
And yet perhaps come empty hand away.  
¶ Then judge what spite the Fisher doth abide,  
To loose his pains, and yet receive no sport:  
If I said nought, yet some that well haue tried,  
The like themselves, and fished in like sort,  
Will say with me, it is a spiteful toy,  
Which with much grief doth yield but little ioy.  
¶ Some love to fish with trammell, drags, bow nets,  
With casting nets, and nets of other sorts:  
Wherein some man his pleasure wholly sets,  
And greatly cares not for no other sports.  
But let him look he do not play the fool,  
That with his Net, he fling into the pool.  
¶ And he that dreggeth like a water dog,  
And wades to knees to catch a dish of fish:  
And in the end doth draw up but a frog,  
Is not he well at ease with such a dish?  
Who would not be a Fisherman to gain,  
Such dainty morsels to requited his pain?  
¶ Perhaps again, with wading well all day,  
He catch such could as sickness do ensue:  
An Ague then will make him shaking say,  
Too late( alas) my fond delight I rue.  
This wading sport, doth yield so great annoy,  
As that I find in Fishing little ioy.  
¶ Now some again, besides their labour lost,  
And falling sick with catching cold by wet:  
By mashes break, may hap to be at cost,  
For Lines, and corks, and mending of the Net,  
And that dayes work, the mending be so déere,  
As fishing scarce will pay for in a year.  
¶ What should I say of Fishing more then this,  
Fishing used well, may seem a pretty sport:  
But no delight but may be used amiss,  
Then take delight in fishing in such sort:  
As that it prove not too much to your cost:  
Nor yet lament your labour too much lost.  
¶ For Fishing sport I can not justly blame,  
If it be used as it ought to be:  
But such delight as some haue in the same,  
I cannot choose but blame, when as I see  
Some sick, some drowned, with following the ioy,  
They do conceive in such a foolish toy.  
¶ And as of fishing, so again I find,  
In Fowling to the ioy that some conceive:  
Would some that Fowle, but wisely way in mind,  
And they should soon their oversights perceive.  
When they esteem those things delightful joys,  
Which as they use, do prove despiteful toys.   

Fowling, The sixteenth pleasure.  
SOme men will toil in water, frost and snow,  
To set a Lymetwig for a foolish Snite:  
And glad for cold, his fingers ends to blow,  
And so stand plodding all day long till night.  
And for wild Fowle, even like a peaking mome,  
To catch a Snipe, and bear a tame fool home.  
¶ Now some again, go stalking with a Gun,  
To kill a hernia, a Shooluerd or a Cra●●e:  
Who plodding so, ere fowling time be done,  
do miss the Fowle, and breed their sudden bane.  
As if the piece should break in cracks or flaws,  
Or else recoil, and strike a two his ●awes.  
¶ Or else the wind may hap to blow the fire,  
Vpon his face, and mar his visage quiter:  
Then tell me now, what he would not desire,  
To go a Fowling for such sweet delight.  
Tush, many more such mischiefs do I know,  
Which Fowlers find, but were two long to show.  
¶ But least that some should count me for a fool,  
For to dispraise the sport in Fowling quiter:  
I say no more, but fall not in the pool,  
Catch not a Snipe, in setting for a Snite.  
look to the piece, keep thy face from the fire,  
And Fowle in Gods name to thine own desire.  
¶ But love it not too much, but as it is,  
esteem it so, a hard could sport in deed,  
Which used aright, is pleasant, but amiss,  
Yéeldes diuers griefs, therefore no more then need.  
Follow the sport, nor take therein delight:  
Too much I mean, least it do work thee spite.  
¶ And thus I leave to speak more of such sports,  
As with delight do breed as great despite,  
And of delights in other sund●y sor●es,  
That daily grow, I ni●●e my ●inde 〈◇〉.  
Which weighed well, are all but foolish to yes:  
Which with great griefs do yield but little joys.   

Studies, The seventeen pleasure.  
SOme men delight all day to break their br●●●o,  
With study strange, as some will spend their time.  
In physic, Lawe, and some will take great pain,  
In politics arte, and some will seek to elime,  
The skies by study in astronomy:  
Some compass countries by Cosm●graphy.  
‡ Some men great pains in Nigremancie take,  
Some love to study Phisiognomie:  
Which studies make both brains and hart to ache,  
And maketh many stark mad ere they die.  
Some love to be thought good Paimesters,  
And thousands seek to be Philosophers.  
¶ Some love to study most Arithmatike,  
In logic some do daily beate their brain:  
And some delight as much in rhetoric,  
And some do ioy in histories again.  
But very few do take delight in deed,  
To study that whereof they most haue need.  
¶ By which who loues, shall find a heavenly ioy,  
A ioy besides that never will decay:  
And with the ioy, yéeldes no iote of annoy,  
But teacheth us to heaven the ready way.  
Which study is divinity by name:  
God grant us all to study well the same.   

physic, The eighteen pleasure.  
IN physics arte, lets see what ioy we find,  
We heal the sick by Medicines we make:  
By virtues rare, of herbs of sundry kind,  
By waters, oils, and how we ought to take,  
Each in his kind, how best it may prevail:  
This physics ar●e doth show for our avail.  
¶ But if the man that is of greatest skill,  
Haue not great care, in using of this arte:  
May minister a medicine to kill,  
When as he thinks, to ease the sick mans smart.  
And who doth so may think himself accursed,  
And physic count of studies all the worst.  
¶ But he that takes such care in each respect,  
And fears the worst, and seeks to do his best,  
regards the cause, doth not the time neglect,  
But wisely works to breed his patients rest.  
In physics arte, well hath he taken pain:  
Gods favour, and good famed, shall be his gain.  
¶ But if he so be settled in that arte,  
And that he count that study for his ioy:  
How best to seek to ease the bodies smart,  
And seek no medicine for the souls annoy.  
When that himself in fine, of force must die?  
Oh then where shall his soul for comfort cry?  
¶ Let him haue spent some time in sacred writ,  
And in that study set his chief delight,  
And he shall there soon find a medicine fit,  
To salve and save his soul from peril quiter.  
Oh blessed study, that doth show relief,  
To soul and body in their greatest grief.  
¶ In holy writ we learn how to lament,  
Our sinful life, wherewith we God offend:  
There we are taught our sins for to repent,  
And there we learn how soon we may amend.  
There do we read, that God must be the mean,  
To cleanse our souls from all offences clean.  
¶ There do we find, that penitence procures,  
Pardon of God, with pardon, pity to:  
Which pity sends such comfort, as soon cures  
The greatest hurt that worldly woes can do.  
And there we find, Gods mercy yields at last,  
The joys of heaven, when worldly woes are past.  
¶ If Phificke then may yield so great delight,  
For teaching us to save the bodies smart:  
The study then that soul and body quiter,  
Kidds of all woe, doth it not pass all arte,  
Yes out of doubt, that yéeldes the onely joys:  
To which comparde, all studies are but toys.  
¶ Then study physic for necessity,  
To heal a hurt, or ease the sicke-mans smart:  
But let thy ioy be in divinity,  
Which weighed well, excelleth every arte.  
For physic serves but for the bodies grief,  
divinity doth yield the souls relief.   

Lawe, The nineteen pleasure.  
ANd leaving thus of physic more to writ,  
Lets see what ioy in study of the Lawe,  
Some men thereby perhaps do take delight,  
To make wrong right, and right not worth a straw.  
Which yields God knows, the poor mans great despite  
To be by wrong bereaved of his right.  
¶ And when perhaps the lawyer calls to mind,  
The wrong so wrought, and weighs the poor mans case,  
He doth in time within his conscience find,  
Such great unrest, as resteth in no place.  
And think you then by Law what gr●●●ous ioy,  
Which breedeth so the secret hartes 〈◇〉.  
¶ Yet will I not so much dispraise the Law,  
That I would wish no man to like the same:  
For then I might be counted well a Daw,  
But this I say, who seeks himself to frame,  
To study Law, I wish him first of all,  
To study of divinity to fall.  
‡ There first to learn his study how to use,  
To learn the Law, thereby his own to keep:  
And not as some the study do abuse.  
By shifts in Law, in others rights to creep.  
And so by wrong to purchased worldly wealth,  
As that it prove a hurt to his souls health.  
¶ Then first peruse the sacred laws of God,  
How he doth will, that we our laws should use,  
And justly how he scourgeth with his rod,  
All such as scorn, or else his laws refuse.  
And then to Law, to learn to keep thy right:  
And help thy friend, let be thy whole delight.  
¶ But in respect of holy laws I say,  
Account our studies in the lawe●s but toys:  
When scripture shows the onely ready way,  
For to attain to everlasting joys.  
Let then I say, Deuinitie be thought,  
The onely ioy, to which the best is nought.   

astronomy and Phisiognomie The twenty Pleasure.  
SO could I writ to of astronomy,  
By which we climb into the lofty sky:  
And so again of Phisiognomie,  
Whereby by face, we wonders do descry,  
divinity heaves us above the sky,  
And doth to us the power of God descry.   

cosmography, and philosophy, The one and twenty Pleasure.  
NOw see the ioy got by cosmography,  
We compass countries, learnedly by arte:  
And what delight by fine Philos●ph●e,  
By reason strange, to prove on either parte,  
False iudgement true, and further to descry:  
secrets in nature, by philosophy.  
‡ By wholly writ, the way to heaven we find,  
A country far above the lofty sky:  
By sacred laws, we can confute in kind,  
The unjust cause, and prove the contrary.  
By Scriptures eke, Gods nature plain we find:  
just, merciful, and to his seruants kind.  
¶ Now see how far this Rudie doth surpass,  
All studies else, what so without respect:  
Then may he be justly thought an ass,  
Which doth this study any thing neglect?  
And counteth not all other studies toys,  
Comparde to this, which yieldeth heavenly joys.   

music, The twenty pleasure.  
IN music now, a great delight we find,  
And sure it is a pretty kind of arte:  
But oh that we would settle once our mind,  
To tune our tongues, with sound of humble hart.  
To sing due laud unto the lord on high:  
Oh that would seem an heavenly harmony.  
¶ And now the joys got by Arithmaticke,  
To number much within a little time:  
And some do love to role in rhetoric,  
Some best like prose, and some delight in rhyme.  
And yet all these considered well in mind,  
But trif●ing toys the true divine doth find.   

divinity, The twenty three pleasure.  
divinity doth number out our dayes,  
And shows our life, still fading as a flower:  
Bids us beware of wanton wicked ways,  
For we are sure to live no certain hour.  
Arithmaticke doth number worldly toys,  
divinity innumerable joys.  
‡ Then judge I pray which yéeldes the more delight,  
Dininitie, then choose it for thy ioy:  
study that chief, and labour day and night,  
By that to learn to shield thee from annoy.  
And thou shalt find it salueth every sore:  
And saves the soul, and what ioy can be more?  
¶ By rhetoric, now some do take delight,  
To paint a fable with a gallant gloze:  
But no such tale is grateful in Gods sight,  
Besides, he will each secret shift disclose.  
His tale is best before the lord, who says,  
He doth in hart repent his sinful dayes.  
¶ Who doth in dead his sinful life confess,  
who pardon craves, and calls to God for grace,  
His tale is heard, him God doth rightly bless,  
And eke in heaven provides for him a place.  
God grant us all our prayers so to use:  
That he may not our penitence refuse.  
¶ Now some again delight in Histories,  
To read the Acts of some courageous Knight:  
To think vpon the gallant victories,  
To read again the order of the fight.  
And do such stories breed delight in deed?  
Then take delight the Scriptures for to read.  
¶ There shalt thou find how Christ a battle fought,  
Against the devill and his cursed train:  
subdued them all, their force prevailed nought,  
But all were driven into eternal pain.  
Blessed be he that so hath brought in thrall,  
Him that would else haue surely slain us all.  
¶ And tell me then, although some valiant Knight,  
Did conquer realms, and by his force of arms  
Subdued Princes by his onely might,  
And made them know his force unto their harms,  
Yet think of him, that by his onely might,  
Did save both thee, and all the world by fight.  
¶ Oh valiant act, and worthy to be red,  
Who saved our lives, who else had sure been slain,  
And further when our bodies here be dead,  
Hath saved our souls from everlasting pain.  
God grant us all under that Christ to fight,  
Who so our souls hath saved by his might.  
¶ And of good deeds, to read dost thou delight:  
That worthy are for to be born in mind,  
Then read how Christ unto the blind gave sight,  
Healed the sick in body and in mind,  
Did give the lame their simmes, and what else more?  
gave the diseasde a salve for every sore.  
¶ Where can you read, of one so good a man,  
Tushe, there is none without exception:  
Let us delight ourselves there now and than,  
His great good deeds to read and lóoke vpon.  
And we shall find thereby such heavenly joys:  
As we shall count all Stories else but toys.  
¶ For if we do to mind, his goodness call,  
How great a good he hath bestowed on us:  
By his dear death and blood to save us all,  
Are we not bound to think onely Iesus,  
To be in deed the Author of our ioy,  
And onely he that keeps us from annoy?  
¶ Yes out of doubt, and therefore thus I end,  
God grant us all, to take him for our ioy?  
To love our God, which is our onely friend,  
That saves our souls, and bodies from am●oy.  
And to esteem all worldly things but joys:  
And set in Christ our all and onely joys.   
FINIS.  
The end of the pain of pleasure.   

The Authors dream.  

GOod Lord what faucies sal in sleep? What wonders men shal fee:  
That never like were seen nor heard, nor never like to be.  
For proof, peruse this dream of mine,, and see what Fancies strange,  
Me thought the world began to turn, unto a wonbrous chauge,  
First, Kings cried out of lack of cares, the Lords of too much living:  
The Courtiers all of two much ease, the poor of too much giuing.  
The Ladies weary wear of love, they sound then friends so true:  
Not one was false,( though every day) they séemd to seek a new,  
The Lawyers left their studies off, and burnt their books a place:  
And pity let them take no see, to plead the poor mans case.  
Among the common people, troth was tried by yea and nay:  
The sword and bucklers laid aside, and daggers thrown away.  
The rich men emptied out their bags. and beggars throve so fast:  
That sure it was incredible, that such a world should fast.  
The Merchants sold their wears good cheap, they made no count of gain,  
Why? citizens were never sound, in such a goodly vain.  
The country men, both tag and tag, came running on a heap:  
And seeing wears at such a price, they sold their wears good cheap.  
The fiddlers played for meate and drink, they cared not for coin:  
Why, money lay about the street, none needed to purloin.  
The Pillaries in every place, were full of perjured knaves,  
And up to tyburn to their end, went all condemned slaves,  
The place of punishment of 'vice, had not a prisoner:  
And seek all London, and not find one foolish woman there.  
The Churches all were full of folkes, not one was found a sleep:  
Good Lord how some would sigh for sin, and some for sorrow weep  
The Preacher he was held a God, and God was honour d●e:  
That every man was glad to run, his heavenly will to know●  
And( to his power) to do his will, did each one so delight,  
That sure to see how all agreed, it was a heavenly sight.  
But well the world is figurds round, that turneth like a Ball:  
Now this side up, now that side down, as Fortune lets it fall.  
For see, this happy blessed state, continued but a while:  
Some froward fate began to frowns, that late did seem to smile.  
For suddenly the day was dark, the sky was overcast:  
The thunder rattled, Lightning flasht, and down came rain at last.  
The streets that erst were fair and dry, grew full of mire and dirt:  
And as they walked, against their wills did one another spurt.  
And by the spots now grew the spite, jack Sauce was in a snuff:  
look how you dash my hose quoth Dick, Rafe rageth for his ruff,  
Tom Tinker raps me out an oath, he would not so be used:  
But dashed his Dagger on his pate that hath been so abused.  
And swearing Wat will haue the wall, and every word an oath:  
With such a knave t'was but a iest, to swear by faith and troth.  
Zwounds and worse, heel haue a purse, if it be to be got:  
He will haue scope, but ware the rope, the gallows catch him not.  
And Saunders snuff, was in a ruff, not one that should go by:  
His Hat and Feather was his grace, and he would keep them dry.  
But laurence looked as big as he, not one in all the town:  
That should presume to offer once, his hand to set him down.  
Now mistress Needens with her mate, comes fiddle fiddle by:  
And jack must needs give Gill the wall, what knaves use courtesy,  
No, Saunder swears, nor he, nor she, but he will set them down:  
Then out Tom Tinker draws his tool, and claps him on the crown.  
And katherine she began to cry, her customer is slain:  
And up shee raiseth all the street, with bills and clubs amain.  
Before the Constable can come, there's blows on either side:  
And friends come in on either part, and them it must be tried,  
Who is the man among them all, who hears the bell away:  
The villain boyes about the streets, begin to cry a fray.  
Then hurlie, burlie, tag and rag, comes down to see this riot:  
And many hurt and maimed sore ere they be set at quiet.  
One hath a wipe cross ore the shins, an other on the head:  
One other overthwart the face, another lies for dead.  
The Constable is disobeyed, and called John a Noddes:  
And honest neighbours, cuckolds knaves, but boyes must needs haue rods.  
And rascals must be ruled by force, and rigour of the Lawe:  
Put up your shirt, what need you swear, now knaves begin to claw.  
The Counter is a cruel ●age, but ware a Newgate bird:  
Welt, now good master Constable, but will you hear one word.  
I pray you let me go,( alas) I came to part the fray:  
And so did I, and so did I, the Drab is slipped away.  
poor Peter that stroke near a blow, or ever drew before:  
He bids a vengeance on them all, heres brawling for a whore.  
Mast Constable, I came but by, my master sent me forth:  
If I should go, it were as much as half my life were worth.  
My master he would turn me off, and then I were undone:  
Beshrew their hearts with all my heart, that first the fray begun.  
But tush a Tester must come forth, a pot of Ale and so:  
poor Peter pays for seeing frays, and so is he let go.  
But chafing out of charity, to think vpon his coin:  
The plague and vengeance fight for him, let him that list go foyne.  
Now Peter gone, the rest must pack, to prison for their pain:  
Good Lord to see what quarrels rose about a shower of rain.  
Now Sessions comes, the Iudges set, the prisoners at the bar:  
Enditements now of murder red, that's past a jesting jar.  
Then guilty or not guilty found, the Quest doth verdict give:  
And he that guilty is given up, cannot haue long to live.  
And God of heaven forgive thy sin, haue mercy on thy soul:  
And as you pass to tyburn, yet, call for Saint Giles his bowl.  
Now this must not be so put up, revengement must be had:  
The Cutlers shops will flourish now, for young men will be mad.  
Another fray or two ere long, when lusty fellowes meet:  
Then sword and Bucklers be the tools thart are to keep a street.  
And now a fray, the blades are out, Clubs now must part the fight:  
And in a heat, strike here and there, and care not where they light.  
One runs unto his Neighbours shop, and snatcheth up a bill:  
And never bears it home again, but shift it how he will.  
But he will haue it home again, the other answers much:  
And then my neighbour in a chafed, to haue an answer such,  
swears by all the flesh on his back, but he will make him know:  
How he shall use his Neighbour, and so much his better so.  
He cells him thief, he stolen his goods, he calls him lying knave:  
And so with knave and thief, and both, the bill will haue.  
He that hath wealth to work his will, unto the lawyer goes:  
And unto him complains his case, and all he doth disclose.  
How he was robbed of his bill, and ere the tale be told:  
He claps me in the lawyers hand, a piece of angel gold.  
With Sir, how think you, may I not indite him vpon this:  
For taking it unlawfully. Ile tell you what he is.  
A very knave. B●r lady Sir, me thinketh sir, says he:  
It was a bold attempt, and more for ought that I can see,  
You may well wring him for his pains, my man shall draw your book:  
To morrow come and you shall see, how well wele overlook,  
And set it down in order so, that you shall like it well:  
Then with another piece of gold, the lawyer hath farewell.  
Now comes the poor man with his crown, and with a patched hose:  
He tells the lawyer thus it is, and so the matter goes.  
He called him thief, and wit●es by that he should steal his bill:  
He had it not, yet to his face he would affirm it still.  
How he might do, to be reueng●●, of this his injury:  
Though he were poor, he would be loath to live by théeuery.  
No marry honest man, says he, a thief is great disgrace:  
It is a word enough to bear an action of the case.  
To morrow come again to me, and thou shalt further see:  
When I haue thought vpon thy case, what I will do for thee.  
Thus is the churl with Angels gone, poor Tom with patched coat:  
To try by lawe the thief or fool, till both haue not a groat.  
The Preachers oft rehearsed, love thy Neighbour as thyself:  
And be not covetous too much, to hoard up filthy pelf.  
Tu●h, says the Church and careless knave, he doth no good I see:  
For all his talk, but tell me what a prating knave was he.  
The money that( me thought) did lie in heaps in every street:  
And every man( as foolish trash) did spurne at with his feet.  
The rain so washed had away, I could not find a scute:  
And now who so would seek for coin, should find full cold a suit.  
Now money grew to be so scant, good company ●an break:  
And one another to their friends, did strangely seem to speak.  
That coin should haue a rap, a courtesy and a knee:  
He that was poor might stand at door, where beggars wont to be.  
Now lack of money did in some, a secret envy breed:  
To see their foes to storish brave, and they to live in need.  
The rich still kept the poor in awe, they might not be too bold:  
The beggars shooue not worth a straw, oh charity was cold.  
Now rich m●n would their children wed, unto as rich as they:  
But noble youths of gallant mindes, would bear the bell away.  
Thus age and youth in hat●●● gre●●, about the suit of love:  
The one with wealth, the other will, did seem his suit to move.  
And he or she that loved best, for coin would quickly change:  
Now Ladies liked not of love, their friends did seem so strange.  
The Lords so saw the lawyers thrive, they thought their living small  
And he that had never so much, was not content withall.  
The Princes seeing all things change, began to grow in care:  
How they should keep their state in peace, and see the world so fare.  
For to be short, a shower of rain, the world had washed so:  
That after it, but few or none, that ever good did grow.  
But take good heed, least if such ill rise, by a shower of rain:  
Come not a fire to plague the world, with an infernal pain.  
From which, God shield both man and child, and grant us of his grace:  
So here to live, that he may give us all in heaven a place.   
FINIS.