TARLETONS Tragical Treatises, containing sundry discourses and pretty conceits, both in Prose and Verse.  
Imprinted at London by Henry Bynneman.  
An. 1578.   

¶ To the right honourable and virtuous Lady, the Lady francis Mildmay, Richard Tarleton wisheth long life, and prosperous health, with happy increase of Honor.  
WHEN I thoroughly conferred,( right Honourable and my very good Lady) your noble forwardenesse in all godly Literature, your grave and approved iudgement, with my base simplicity, and slender understanding: I stood hovering a great while between the extremities of a double doubt, whether I were beste to solicit your good ladyship with the view of these thrift less lines or no. But when I called to mind your Honors courteous disposition of Nature, and ready inclination to accept of the travels of all such as do but stand aloof, yet bear a certain peculiar reverence to good letters, a fresh hope so armde or rather warmde my former frozen doubt, that all fear set apart, I rashly adventured the publishing of this peevish Pamphlet under the patronage of your Honors name: where I know it may haue as safe a refuge, as if it were protected under the Target of Minerua, against the poisoned invectives& malicious reproaches of all slanderous tongs. Perhaps( Madam) your Honor will haue me in some suspicion of arrogancy, in as much as I haue presumed to trouble, or rather weary your honourable ears with so vain an argument, as these fantastical trifles: But yet my faithful and affectionate zeal( unto your good ladyship so forwardly addicted) had in due consideration: my over boldness may be rather attributed to my want of knowledge, than presumption, in as much as your Honor is not altogether ignorant, that I never marched among the Muses, nor served in the camp where Learning as chieftain had hir sacred residence. But had I Platoes divine Im●ginations, Aristotles Philosophy, Archi 〈…〉 is geometry, Orpheus music, or Tullies Eloquence, yet would I not haue such a glorious opinion of my own excellency, but I could willingly, and would most gladly submit myself, my skill, and all unto your ladyships approved iudgement, and favourable protection: especially, being one, whose honourable opinion of my poor skill unworthily, and manifold bounties vndeserued, haue been sundry times of my parte well proved and tasted, to my no little credite, and very great benefit. I might haue taken sufficient occasion in these superfluous Pamphlets to haue entred into a necessary Enchomiasticon of your Honors sundry good virtues and noble qualities, if without the help of my barren blazoning, they were not already so notified to all the world, that your ladyships just praises are in every mans mouth: and besides in the attempting of it, there depends a double danger. first, least seeming to wade so far into the discourse thereof, as the matter yields just scope, by this means I get the name and note of a thrasonical Clawback: The other doubt is, least undertaking so difficult a task, and not able to discharge it according to the dignity and worthiness thereof, I wrap myself in such an intricate Labyrinth, that I shall hardly wind myself out without some spot, or blemish to my credite. And therefore I will yield thaccomplishing of that enterprise to other, whose Muse ca better wade through so daungerous a ford, than mine.  
mean space in most devout maner I am to request your ladyships favourable acceptation of these treatises, and to esteem of them, as a perfect testimony of the good heart and dutiful zeal of  
Your honors most humble at commandment, Richard Tarleton, servant to the right Honourable the lord Chamberlaene earl of Sussex.   

¶ T. A. in praise of the author.  

FOr him, whom Pallas with hir milk did nurse  
And lullabide vpon the Muses laps,  
Tis not so rare to writ a brave discourse  
Of strange adventures past, and uncouth happes.  
Ne is it hard, a greater task to weld,  
Whereas the theme sufficiet scope doth yield▪   

But he that never tasted Learnings lore,  
Nor many a Region nigh Pernassus came,  
To writ in things but seldom seen before,  
In that respect demerits double famed:  
But specially vpon such toys to writ,  
As yield so little matter to indite.   

Then Tarleton thou deservest double praise,  
Sith that with arte so slenderly possessed,  
Thy Muse hir nature in these toys displays  
More learnedly than any of the rest:  
Whose gifts of Arte so far inferior be  
To those which Nature planted hath in thee.   
FINIS.   

Ferdinando Frecleton Gentleman, in praise of these treatises.  

IF blind men could of costly colours judge,  
and intermeddle with Apelles arte,  
Or were not freting envy given to grudge  
the faith of him who plays a friendly parte,  
Or if my skill could see in causes deep,  
I would reveal what now I secret keep.   

Yet shall my blunt opinion somewhat reach  
beyond the dumb mindes of the common sort,  
My Muse and I shall make a fearful breach,  
if silence hid thy well deservde report,  
Whose pleasant head can cunningly convey,  
In pithy speech thy meaning every way.   

And where I lookte for many a wanton drift,  
of tales and riddles in this book of thine,  
now do I see thou canst bestow thy gift  
in graver gear both learned and divine,  
For( trust me Tarleton) in thy work a pears,  
A platform that both sense and matter lears.   
FINIS.   

Lewis Ph. Gentleman in commendation of the author.  

fain would I writ, yet fainer would I cease,  
fain would I tell what truth hath given in charge,  
The snatching sort do daily so increase  
it makes me brief, that else would writ at large.  
fain would I praise these treaties lately penned,  
But that I fear, though causeless, to offend.   

What, shall the labourer then go lose his hire,  
whose careful head hath toilde for our delight,  
And all his pains lye tumbled in the mire?  
shall slack regard his courtesy requited?  
No Tarleton, no, I give thee for amends  
A thousand thankes as guerdon from thy friends.   

And at thy hands I challenge one request,  
thy promise partly yields it as my due,  
Which if performance answer all the rest,  
then will I say thy words and deeds be true▪  
It is thy Theames in order one by one,  
To keep thy famed alive when thou arte gone.   

Yet blame me not good dick, though I encroche  
to take thy word, as if it were a band:  
It is because I fain would set abroche  
the thing thou closely keepeste in thy hand,  
But in mean space thy trifles welcome bee,  
And thus farewell, for Theames remember me.   
FINIS.   

The authors iudgement of such rash verdicts as are given in dispraise of Poets.  

IF men may credite such records,  
as ink and paper shows  
To spring from Poets learned heads,  
which cunningly disclose  
The strange varieties of things,  
the choice of mens delights,  
The heauens, the earth, the seas, the shore,  
the gods, and ghostly spirits,  
The secret mysteries of stars,  
and planets in degree,  
With every sundry office, that  
to them belonging be.  
How creatures first receivde their shapes,  
how monsters bear the bell,  
The glory of celestial powers,  
which in the heauens dwell:  
How crooked Chao● was disperste,  
which lay in loathsome lumps,  
unfurnished with Natures gifts:  
how al things in their dumps  
Lay drowned in silence fearful paws,  
till rocks were rent asunder,  
How at the last one lamb by death,  
did show his works of wonder,  
Howe earthly Princes had their rule,  
howe came in noble bloods,  
How first the artificial barks  
did cut the foaming floods:  
How Sun and moon do keep their course,  
how all things in their kind,  
yield reverence to the sacred seats  
of god with heart and mind.  
If these things be of true report,  
as sure no doubt they be,  
Deny not Poets their due praise  
whose works are left to see:  
Their watchful toil, their busy care,  
their quaking hand and quills,  
Their whetted wits for knowledge sake:  
profoundness in their skills,  
Doth serve us as a crystal glass  
to gaze vpon our folly,  
wherein our faults are portrayde out,  
though shows do make us holy.  
But some, whose idle mindes are bent  
to lead a careless dance,  
And feed the present time, without  
regard of future chance,  
think Nature hath bestowed hir gifts  
with such sufficient store,  
That Arte can stand them small in steed,  
to make their knowledge more.  
Thus fancy féedes their fond conceits,  
whereby the sweet delights,  
That ancient writers erst haue had  
to cheer their dulled spirits,  
Are drowned in Obliuions den,  
so wrested, and so wrung,  
That all their scrolls and sweet records,  
must needs decay ere long.  
The carping crew that holds in spite,  
that best contents the wise,  
In finding faults with others works  
haue Argus hundred eyes:  
They rifle volumes leaf by leaf,  
verbatim to survey  
The substance, or the circumstance:  
and then in scorn they say:  
This problem here is ill applied,  
that term is much abused.  
Here is a lame discourse indeed,  
there Priscians pate is brusde:  
Thus are the Poets toste and turned:  
their labours rent to rags:  
And all the sweetness of their time,  
trust up in Tinkers bags:  
The silly labourer that toils  
in showers of hail and snow,  
Doth make a pastime of his pain,  
a welfare of his woe.  
Such is his hope, that Vesper comes,  
and Phoebus turned to rest,  
He shall receive his earned due,  
to use as he thinks best.  
So lights the writers lot,  
who beats his busied brain,  
For no reward, but to receive  
goodwill to quiter his pain.  
The hovering Bee that houereth long  
about the fragrant floure,  
With hops and skippes to searh and seek  
the sweet leaf from the sour,  
Doth at the last in quiet hive  
suck up the pleasant hony,  
Which to herself doth pleasure bring,  
and yéeldes hir master money.  
The labouring Horse, which in the yoke  
goeth grudging every day,  
At night receives in show of thankes,  
both litter, corn and hay.  
Then since that neither Bee nor Beast  
do thankfulness eschew,  
Let busy Findfaults cease to grudge,  
give Caesar C●sars due.  
But what mean I on such reproof  
to argue all this while?  
As though that for a Poets praise  
I writ this ragged style?  
Not so, I never scalde the cliff  
whereas the sacred nurse  
Of learning, hath hir residence,  
so much my hap's the worse.  
I never drank the dainty drops  
that issue from the font,  
whereas each scholar claims degree  
to rest in high account,  
Yet am I as a subject sworn  
to reverence their deeds,  
And to refresh their worthy work,  
that dark oblivious weeds  
Not ouergrowe their fragrant flowers,  
whose virtues do surpass,  
To open secret mysteries,  
which else eclipsed was.  
But if my former idle daies  
to study had been bent,  
Or if that God and Fortune to  
had given their consent,  
That I amongst the learned might  
haue claimde but lowest room,  
Then in great letters all of gold  
vpon Apolloes tomb,  
I would haue writ such memories  
in honor of his name,  
That should haue been a double means  
to beautify his famed.  
But wishes nought prevail,  
I yield to loss of time,  
Sith verse and I so different are,  
Ile press in ragged rhyme,  
To manifest the mere goodwill  
that I to learning owe,  
No painted words, but perfect deeds,  
shall my invention show.  
Not that I press for praise,  
I shoot not at that white,  
But for to conquer sluggish sloth,  
I choose this new delight:  
And if these trifles fond pende  
which I present in place,  
Not wittily, though willingly  
may win your grant of grace,  
Then haue I scalde the doubtful fort,  
the victory is mine.