[11.] For Whitsunday.
COme holy ghost eternall God, and ease the wofull greefe:
That thorough the heapes of heauy sinne, can no where find releefe.
Doo thou O God redresse
The great distresse
Of sinfull heauinesse.Come comfort the aflicted thoughtes, of my consumed hart:
O ryd the pearcing pricking paynes, of my tormenting smart.
O holy Ghost graunt me
That I by thee
From sinne may purged be.Thou art my God, to thee alone,
I wyll commend my cause:
Not glittering golde nor precious stone,
O teache me then the way
Whereby I may
Make thee my onely stay.My lippes, my tongue, my hart and al,
Shall spreade my mightie name:
My voyce shall neuer cease to sound,
Thy prayses of the same.
Yea euery liuing thing
Shall sweetely syng
To thee (O heauenly king.)Finis. M. Kindlemarsh.
[12.] Who mindes to bring his shippe to happy shore,
Must care to knowe the lawes of wysdomes lore.MY Freend, yf thou wylt credite me in ought,
To whom the trueth by tryall well appeares:
Nought woorth is wit, till it be dearely bought,
There is no wysedome but in hoarie heares.
Yet yf I may of wysedome oft define,
As well as others haue of happinesse:
Then to my woordes my freende, thy eare encline,
The thinges that make thee wyse, are these I gesse.Feare God, and knowe thy selfe in eche degree,
Be freend to all, familiar but to fewe:
Too light of credite, see thou neuer be,
For tryall oft in trust, dooth treason shewe.
To others faultes cast not to much thy eye,
Accuse no man of gilt, amend thy owne:
Of medling much, dooth mischiefe oft aryse,
And oft debate, by tickle tongue is sowne.What thing thou wylt haue hid, to none declare,
In woorde or deede, besare of had I wist:
So spend thy good, that some thou euer spare,
For freendes like Haukes, doo soare from emptie fist.
Cut out thy coate, according to thy cloth,
Suspected persons see thou alwayes flee:
Beleeue not him that once hath broke his troth,
Nor yet of gift, without desart be free.Time quickly slips beware how thou it spend,
Of wanton youth, repentes a painefull age:
beginne nothing without an eye to thend,
Nor bowe thyne eare from counsell of the sage.
If thou to farre let out thy fancie slip,
And witlesse wyll from reasons rule outstart:
Thy folly, shall at length be made thy whippe,
And sore, the stripes of shame, shal cause thee smart.To doo too much for olde men is but lost,
Of freendship had to women comes like gaine:
Bestowe not thou on children to much cost,
For what thou dooest for these, is all in vayne.
The olde man or he can requite, he dyes,
Vnconstant is the womans waueryng minde:
Full soone the boy thy freedship wyl despise,
And him for loue thou shalt vngratefull finde.The aged man is like the barren ground,
The woman like the Reede that wagges with winde:
There may be no trust in tender yeeres be found,
And of the three, the boy is most vnkinde.
If thou haue found a faithfull freend in deede,
Beware thou lose not loue of such a one:
He shall sometime stand thee in better steede,
Then treasure great of golde or precious stone.Finis. Iasper Hewood.
[13.] Of the vnconstant stay of fortunes giftes.
IF Fortune be thy stay, thy state is very tickle,
She beares a double face, disguised, false, and fickle.
This day she seemes to smile, to morrowe wyl she frowne,
What nowe she sets aloft, anone she throweth downe.
Fly Fortunes sly deseytes, let Vertue be thy guide,
If that you doo intend in happy state to bide.Vpon the setled Rocke, thy building surest standes,
Away it quickly weares, that resteth on the sandes.
Dame Vertue is the Rocke, that yeeldes assured stay,
Dame Fortune is the Sand, that skowreth soone away.
Chuse that is certaine, let thinges vncertayne passe,
Preferre the precious golde, before the brittle glasse.Sly Fortune hath her sleightes, she plaies vpon the packe,
Looke whom she fauours most, at length she turnes to wracke.
But Vertue simply deales, she shuns deceitfull trayne,
Who is by Fortune raysed vp, shall neuer fall againe.
Sticke fast to Vertue then, that geues assured trust,
And fly from Fortunes freekes, that euer prooue vniust.Finis. F. K.
[14.] Promise is debt.
IN my accompt, the promise that is vowed,
Among the good, is holden such a debt:
As he is thought, no whit to be alowed,
That setteth light his promise to forget.
And for my part, I wyl not linke in loue,
With fickle folke, whose fancies oft remoue.My happy gaine, I doo steeme for such,
As fewe haue found, in these our doutful dayes:
To finde a freend, I thinke it be as much,
Aste winne, a fort full fraught of noble praise.
Of all the goodes, that there may be possest,
A faithfull freend, I iudge to be the best.O freendly league, although to late begunne,
Yet time shall try our troth, is well imployed:
And that we both shall see, that we haue wonne,
Such fastned faith, as can not be destroyed.
By enuious rage, or slaunders bitter blowe
That seekes the good, to ouerthowe.Finis. R. Hill
[15.] No woordes, but deedes.
THE wrong is great, the paine aboue my power,
That yeeldes such care in doutfull dennes to drowne:
Such happe is hard, where fortune dooth so lower,
As freendly looke, is turned to froward frowne.
Is this the trust that faithfull freendes can finde?
With those that yet haue promise broke?
By deedes in dout, as though no woordes can binde,
A vowed freend to hold him to his yoke.O faithlesse freend? what can assure your minde,
That doutes so soone, before you haue cause why?
To what hard happe? dooth Fortune here me binde,
When woordes nor deedes can no way satisfye.
What can I write? that hath not oft been saide?
What haue I saide? that other hath not affyrmed?
What is approued? that ought to be assayed?
Or what is vowed? that shall not be performed?Cast of mistrust, in haste no credite giue,
To this or that, that breedeth freendes vnrest:
No doubt at all, but trust me if I liue,
My deedes shall prooue, that all is for the best.
And this beleeue, the Sea shall ceasse to flowe,
The Sunne to shine within the setled skie:
All thinges on earth, shall leaue to spring and growe,
Yea euery foule shall want, his winges to flye.Eare I in thought, shall seeme once to retyre,
If you my freend remaine, as I desyre:
Nowe lose no time, but vse that whyle you may,
Forget not this, a dogge shall haue a day.Finis. R. D.
[16.] He desyreth exchange of lyfe.
THE day delayed, of that I most doo wishe,
Wherewith I feede and starue, in one degree:
With wishe and want, still serued in one dishe,
Aliue as dead, by proofe as you may sowe.
To whom of olde, this prouerbe well it serues,
Whyle grasse dooth growe, the seelly Horse he sterues.Tweene these extreames, thus doo I rome the race,
Of my poor life, this certaynely I knowe:
Tweene would and want, vnwarely that dooth passe,
More swift then shot, out of the archers bowe.
As Spider drawes her line in vayne all day,
I watch the net, and others haue the pray.And as by proofe, the greedy dogge doth gnaw,
The bared bone, all onely for the taste:
So to and fro, this lothsome life I drawe,
With fancies forst, and fled with vaine repast.
Narsissus brought vnto the water brinke,
So aye thirst I, the more that I doo drinke.Loe thus I dye, and yet I seeme not sicke,
With smart vnseene, my selfe my selfe I weare:
With prone desire, and power that is not quicke,
With hope aloft nowe drenched in dispaire,
Trayned in trust, for no reward assignd,
The more I haste, the more I come behinde.With hurt to heale, in frozen yse to frye,
With losse to laugh, this is a woonderous case:
Fast fetred here, is forste away to flye,
As hunted Hare, that Hound hath in the chase.
With winges and spurres, for all the haste I make,
As like to lose, as for to drawe the stake.The dayes be long, that hang vpon desert,
The life is irke of ioyes that be delayed:
The time is short, for to requite the smart,
That dooth proceede of promise long vnpaid,
That to the last of this my fainting breath,
I wishe exchange of life, for happy death.Finis. L: Vaux.
[17.] Of the instabilitie of youth.
WHEN I looke backe, and in my selfe beholde,
The wandring wayes, that youth could not descry:
And markt the fearefull course that youth did holde,
And mette in mind, eache steppe youth strayed a wry.
My knees I bowe, and from my hart I call,
O Lorde, forget these faultes and follies all.For nowe I see, howe voyde youth is of skill,
I see also his prime time and his end:
I doo confesse my faultes and all my yll,
And sorrowe sore, for that I did offend.
And with a mind repentant fo all crimes,
Pardon I aske for youth, then thousand times.The humble hart, hath daunted the proud mind,
Eke wysedome hath geuen ignorance a fall:
And wit hath taught, that folly could not finde,
And age hath youth, her subiect and her thrall.
Therefore I pray, O Lorde of life and trueth,
Pardon the faultes committed in my youth.Thou that dydst graunt the wyse king his request?
Thou that in Whale, thy prophet didst preserue:
Thou tha forgauest the wounding of thy brest?
Thou that dydst saue the theefe in state of sterue.
Thou only God, the geuer of all grace?
Wipe out of mind, the path of youres vaine race.Thou that by power, to lyfe didst rayse the dead.
Thou that of grace restorest the blinde to sight:
Thou that for loue, thy life and loue out bled,
Thou that of fauour, madest the lame goe ryght.
Thou that canst heale, and helpe in all assayes,
Forgeue the gilth, that grewe in youthes vayne wayes.And nowe since I, with faith and doubtlesse minde,
Doo fly to thee by prayer, to appease thy yre:
And since that thee, I onely seeke to finde,
And hope by faith, to attayne my iust desyre.
Lorde, minde no more youthes error vnskill,
And able age, to doo thy holy wyll.Finis. L. Vaux.
[18.] Most happy is that state alone,
Where woordes and deedes afree in one.BY painted woordes, the silly simple man,
To trustless trappe, is trayned now and than.
And by conseyte, of sweete alluring tale,
He bites the baites, that breedes his bitter bale.
To beawties blast, cast not thy rolling eye:
In pleasaunt greene, doo stinging Serpent lye.
The golden Pill, hath but a bitter taste:
In glittering glasse, a poyson ranckest plaste.
So pleasant woordes, without perfourming deedes:
May well be deemed, to spring of Darnel seedes.
The freendly deede is it, that quickly tryes:
Where trusty faith, and freendly meaning lyes.
That state therefore, most happy is to me:
Where woordes and deedes, most faithfully agree.My freend, yf thou wylt keepe thy honest name:
Fly from the blotte, of barking slaunders blame.
Let not in woord, thy promis be more large:
Then thou in deede, art wylling to discharge.
Abhorred is that false dissembling broode,
That seemes to beare, two faces in one hoode.
To say a thing, and not to meane the same:
Wyll turne at length, to lose of thy good name.
Wherefore my freend, let double dealing goe:
In steade whereof, let perfect plainenesse flowe.
Doo thou no more, in idle woordes exceede:
Then thou intendes to doo, in very deede.
So good report, shall spreade thy woorthy prayse:
For being iust in woord and deede alwayes.You worldly wightes, that worldly dooers are:
Before you let your woord slip foorth to farre,
Consyder wel, what inconuenience springes:
By breache of promise made, in lawfull thinges.
First, God mislikes where such deceite dooth swarme:
Next, it redoundeth vnto thy neighbours harme.
and last of all, which is not least of all:
For such offence, thy conscience suffer shall.
As barren groundes, bringes foorth but rotten weedes:
From barren woordes, so fruitelesse chaffe proceedes.
As sauerie flowres, doo spring in fertill ground:
So trusty freendes, by tryed freendes are found.
To shunne therefore the woorst, that may ensue:
Let deedes alay, approue thy sayinges true.Finis. F. K.
[19.] Who wyll aspire to dignitie,
By learnyng must aduaunced be.THE poore that liue in needie rate,
By learning doo great richnesse gayne:
The riche that liue in wealthy state,
By learnyng doo their wealth mainteyne.
Thus ritch and poore, are furthered still,
By sacred rules of learned skill.All fond conceites of tranticke youth,
The golden gyft of learning stayes:
Of doubtfull thinges to searche the trueth,
Learning sets foorth the reddy wayes.
O happy him doo I repute,
Whose brest is fraught with learninges fruite.There growes no Corne within the feelde,
That Ox and Plough did neuer tyll:
Right so the mind no fruite can yeelde,
That is not lead by learninges skill.
Of ignoraunce comes rotten weedes,
Of learnyng springes right noble deedes.Like as the Captayne hath respect,
To trayne his souldiers in aray:
So Learning dooth mans mind direct,
By Vertues staffe his lyfe to stay.
Though Freendes and Fortune waxeth skant,
Yet learned men shall neuer want.You Impes therefore in youth be sure,
To fraught your mindes with learned thinges:
Fro Learnings is the fountayne pure,
Out from the which all glory springes.
Who so therefore wyll glory winne,
With Learning fyrst, must needes beginnes.Finis. F. K.
[20.] Mans flitting life, fyndes surest stay,
Where sacred Vertue beareth sway.THE sturdy Rocke, for all his strength,
By raaging Seas, is rent in twayne:
The Marble stone, is pearst at length,
With little droppes, of drislynge rayne.
The Oxe dooth yeelde vnto the yoke,
The Steele obeyeth the hammer stroke.The stately Stagge, that seemes so stoute,
By yalpyng Houndes, at bay is set:
The swiftest Bird, that flees about,
Is caught at length in Fowlers net.
The greatest Fishe in deepest Brooke,
Is soone deceiued with subtil hooke.Ye man him selfe, vnto whose wyll,
All thinges are bounden to obay:
For all his witte, and woorthy skill,
Dooth fade at length, and fall away.
There is nothing, but time dooth wast,
The Heauens, the Earth, consume at last.But Vertue sittes, triumphing still,
Vpon the Trone, of glorious Fame:
Though spitefull Death, mans body kill,
Yet hutes he not, his vertuous name.
By Life or death, what so be tides,
The state of Vertue, neuer slides.Finis. M. T.
