[Copy of the title of edition 1580.]
The Paradyse
of daintie Deuices.
Contayning sundrie pithie preceptes, learned Counsels, and excellent Inuentions: right pleasaunt and profitable for all estates.
Deuised and written for the most part by M. Edwards, sometimes of her Maiesties Chappell: the rest by sundrye learned Gentlemen, both of Honour, and Worship, whose names hereafter
[Device of Angel and heart.]
Imprinted at London, by Henry Dizle, dwelling in Paternoster Rowe, and are to be solde at his Shoppe, in Cannons lane, neare the great North Dore of S. Paules
[Back of the title arms of Sir Henry Compton Knight; and under them the enumeration of authors, viz.]
[Additions from the edition of 1580.]
Amid the vale the slender shrubbe is hid from all mishap,
When taller tree, that standes aloft, is rent with thunder clappe,
The turrets tops which touch the clouds, are beat with every blast,
Soon shivered are their stones with storme and quickly overcast:
Best bodyed tree in all the world for timber beame is found,
And to the axe the sturdiest oxe doth yeelde and fall to ground:
The highest hill doth soonest feele the flash of lightninges flame,
And soone decayes the pompe and pryde of high renowned name.
Of all the heard the huntsman seekes by proof as doth appeare,
With double forked arrowhead to wound the greatest deare.
The haughtiest head of all the drove enjoyest the shortest life,
And stains the slaughter house with blood, at prick of butchers knife.
Thus what thing highest place attaines is soonest overthrowne,
Whatever fortune sets aloft she threats to throw it downe:
And though no force resist thy power, and seeke thee to confound,
Yet doth the praise of weighty thinges declyne it selfe to ground.
For restlesse tipe of rowlling wheele example hath it tride,
To heavy burthen yeelde it must full soone and slippe asyde.
What vailes the rich his bed of downe, that sighes for sleeples thought,
What time on couch of flock the poore sleepes sound and feareth nought:
At homely boord his quiet foode, his drinks in treene be tane,
When oft the proude in cuppes of gold, with wine receive their bane.
The bed, the boord, the dread in doubt, with trayne to be opprest,
When fortune frownes their power must yeelde as wyre unto the wrest,
Whoso thou be that sits alow and tread the valleyes path,
Thou needes not feare the thunder bolts of mighty Jove his wrath:
If Icarus had not presumed to high to take his flight,
He had not yet bene drowned in seas that now Icarion hight:
If Phaeton had not enterprised to guide his fathers seate,
His fires had not inflamed the world nor bene destroyed with heate:
But whoso climes above the meane, there is no hope of stay,
The higher up the sooner downe, and nearer his decay.
Then you that here in pompe are plaste, to guide the golden mace,
Let crowne & Scepter both obay the meane of virtues race.
For neither shall renowned virtue see the pitte of hell,
Nor yet in tombe of marble stone she shall abide to dwell:
And in that tombe full bravely dect, when that she shall depart,
God send her rest and all thinges well according to desart.
But from sepulcher flies she hence beyond the skies above,
And glistering in the blissfull starres she raignes with mighty Jove.
Finis. Jasper Heywood.
A replie to M. Edwards May. [Ante fol. 1.]
I read a maying rime of late delighted much my care,
It may delight as many moe, as it shall reade or heare.
To see how there is shewed how May is much of price,
And eke to May when that you may even so is his advice.
It seemes he meant to may himselfe, and so to use his skill,
For that the time did serve so well, in May to have his will.
His only May was ease of mind so farre as I can gesse,
And that his May his mind did please a man can judge no lesse.
And as himselfe did reape the fruites of that his pleasant May,
He wils his freende the same to use in time when as he may.
He is not for himselfe it seemes but wisheth well to all,
For that he would they should take May in time when it doth fall.
So use your May, you may, it cannot hurtfull be,
And May well used in time & place may make you mery gle:
Modest maying meetest is, of this you may be sure,
A modest maying quietnes to Mayers doth procure.
Who may & will not take, may wish he had so done,
Who may & it doth take, may thinke he tooke too sone:
So joyne your May with wisedomes lore and then you may be sure,
Who makes his May in other sort his unrest may procure.
Some may before May come, some may when May is past,
Some make their May to late and some doe May post hast:
Let wisedome rule I say your May, and thus I make an ende,
And May that when you list to May, a good May God you sende.
An epitaph upon the death of Sir Edward Saunders, Knight, Lord Chiefe Baron of the Exchequer.
You muses weare your mourning weeds, strike on the fatal drome,
Sound Triton out the trumpe of Fame, in spite of Parcas dome:
Distill Parnassus pleasant drops, possesse Pierides place,
Apollo helpe with dolefull tune to waile this wofull case:
Wring hard your hands, waile on your losse, lament the fate that fell,
With sobs and sighes to Saunders say, oh Saunders now farewell!
Whom Phoebus fed with Pallas pappe, as one of Sibils seede,
Loe here where death did rest his corps, the vermine foule to feede:
Whom Impes of Jove with Necter sweete, long in Libethres noursht,
Behold how dreadfull death him brought, to the whence he came first;
Lycurgus he, for learned lawes, Rhadamanthus race that ranne,
Another Nestor for advice Zalucus fame that wanne:
A Damon deare unto his freend, in faith like Phocion found,
A Cato that could counsell give, to prince a subject sound:
Not Athens for their Solon sage, not Rome for Numa waile,
As we for Saunders death have cause, in fods of teares to saile.
Nor Sparta card for Chilos death, ne proud Prienna prest,
To wepe for Bias as we wayle for Saunders late possest.
His learned pathes, his talentes rare, so now by death appeares,
As he that Salomon sought to serve, in prime & youthfull yeeres:
His counsel sad, his rules, his lawes, in country soyle so wrought,
As though in Cuma he had ben of sage Sibilla taught:
His vertuous life was such I say, as Vertue did embrace,
By Vertue taught, in Vertues schoole to grow in Vertues race,
Might tender babes, might orphants weak, might widows rere the cry,
The sound thereof should pearce the cloudes, to skale the empire sky:
To bid the Gods to battel bend and to dissend in sight,
Though farre unfit, and mates unmeete, with mortal men to fight.
Too late (alas) we wish his life, to soone deceived us Death:
Too little wit we have to seeke the dead agayne to breath.
What helpelesse is must carelesse be, as Natures course doth shewe,
For Death shall reape what life hath sowen, by nature this we know.
Where is that fierce Achilles fled, where is King Turnus shroude,
What is become of Piramus state, where is Periander proud?
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