All thinges are vaine.

....

.......

..............

F. K. 37-Ei M. K. 37-Ei Anon. 38-E i

A vertuous Gentle woman in the praise of hir Loue.
Oppressed with sorowe, he wysheth death....
Where reason makes request, there wisdome ought supplie, &c. My
lucke is losse.

......

31-Eiii

Donee eris Felix multos numerabis amicos, &c.. My lucke is losse. 30-E. iii What ioye to a contented mynde,

Amantium iræ amoris redintigratio est ....

Thinke to dye.

Beyng asked the occasion of his white head, he aunswereth thus

He complaineth his mishapp.

.......

No foe to a flutterer......

M. Edwards

He requesteth some frendly comfort affirmyng his constancie. M. Edwards

My lucke is losse 41
M. Edwardes

42

D. S. 43

L. V.

44

M. B.

46

.E. S.

46

52

55

He assureth his constancie

Trie and then trust.....

Complainyng to his frende, he replieth wittely.

No paines comparable to his attempt.

No pleasure without some paine

The fruites of fained frendes..

Being importunate, at the length he obtaineth

Requiryng the fauour of his loue she aunswereth thus

A louers ioye..

The judgement of desire...

The complaint of a louer, wearyng Blacke and Tawnie
He complaineth thus....

Findyng no relief, he complaineth thus

M. Edwards

M. B. 74

E. O. 75

E. O.

76

The complaint of a Synner.

Jasper Heywood 8

R. H. 86 ..F. K. 87 Yloop 88

The fruite that sprynges from wilful wites, is ruthe, &c.........

[Title of edition 1580]....

APPENDIX.

[In this wavering world virtue triumphes]..

A replie to M. Edwarde's May.

An epitaph upon Sir Edward Saunders, &c. .

Of a Freend and a Flatterer...

If thou desire to live in quiet rest, &c..

A dialogue between the Auctour and his eye

No paines comparable to his attempt..

He repenteth his folly.

Written upon the death of Maister Iohn Barnabie, &c...

No joy comparable to a quiet minde..

Of a contented state...

Bethincking himselfe of his end, writeth thus.

A description of the world.....

Being in loue he complaineth..

W. Hunnis 97 .M. Hunnis 97 H. D. 98 Candish 99 Troylus 100

. Cressida 101 W. Hunnis 102 W. Hunnis 103 ..L. Vaux 103 G. G. 104 M. Edwardes 105

Epitaph upon Syr William Drury, Knight, &c.. Barnaby Ritche, Gent. 106

Golden Precepts...

In prayse of the snayle

A. Bourcher 109

Anon. 110

A young gentleman willing to travaile into forraine parts being entreated

to stay in England, who wrote as followeth .

Anon. 111

The Paradife of dayntie deuises.

1. Our pleasures are vanities.

Behold the blast which blowes, the blossomes from the tree,
The end whereof consumes, and comes to nought we see;
Ere thou therefore be blowen, from life that may not last,
Begin, for grace, to call for time mispent and past.

Fol. 1.

Haue mind on brittle life, whose pleasures are but vayne:
On death likewyse bethinke, how thou maist not remaine.
And feare thy Lord to greeue, which sought thy soule to saue;
To synne no more be bent, but mercie aske and haue.

For death who dooth not spare, the kinges on earth to kill,
Shall reape also from thee thy pleasure, life, and will.
That lyfe which yet remaynes, and in thy brest appeares,
Hath sowne in thee sutch seedes, you ought to weede with teares.

And life that shall succeede, when death is worne and past,

Shall spring for euer then, in ioy or paine to last.

Where death on life hath power, ye see that life also

Hath mowen the fruites of death, which neuer more shall growe.

When MAY is in his prime, then MAY eche hart reioyce,

When MAY bedeckes eche branch w greene, eche bird streines forth The liuely sappe creepes up into ye. bloming thorne,

(his voyce,

The flowres, which cold in prison kept, now laughes the frost to scorne.
All natures Impes triumphes, whyles ioyfull May dooth last;
When MAY is gone, of all the yeere the pleasant time is past.

MAY makes the cherfull hue, MAY breedes and bringes newe blood,
MAY marcheth throughout euery limme, MAY makes yo. mery moode.
MAY pricketh tender hartes, their warbling notes to tune,
Ful strange it is, yet some wee see, doo make their MAY in IUNE.
Thus thinges are straungely wrought, whyles ioyfull MAY doth last;
Take MAY in time, when MAY is gone, the pleasant time is past.

all

All ye that liue on earth, and haue your MAY at wyll,
Reioyce in MAY, as I doo now, and use your MAY with skill.
Use MAY, whyle that you may, for MAY hath but his time;
When all the fruite is gone, it is to late the tree to clime.
Your liking, and your lust, is freshe whyles MAY dooth last,
When MAY is gone, of all the yeere the pleasaunt time is past.
Finis.

3. Faire woordes make fooles faine.

In youthfull yeeres when fyrst my young desyres began,

To pricke mee foorth to serue in Court a sclender tall young man,
My Fathers blessing then I askt upon my knee,

Who blessing me with trembling hand, these wordes gan say to me:
My sonne, God guide thy way, and shielde thee from mischaunce,
And make thy just desartes in Court, thy poore estate to advaunce.
Yet when thou art become one of the Courtly trayne,

Thinke on this proverbe old (qd he) that faire woordes make fooles faine,

This counsell grauely geven, most strange appeares to me,
Tyll tract of time, with open eyes, had made me plainely see,
What subtill sleightes are wrought, by painted tales deuise,
When hollowe hartes with freendly shoes the simple doo entise
To thinke al golde that shines to feede their fonde desire,

Whose shiuering cold is warmd with smoke, instead of flaming fire.
Sith talke of tickle trust dooth breede a hope most vaine,

This proverbe true by proofe I finde, that faire woordes make fooles faine.

Faire speache alway doeth well, where deedes insue faire woordes,
Faire speache againe alway dooth euil, that bushes geves for birdes.
Who hopes to haue fayre woordes, to trye his luckie lot,

If I may counsel let him strike it, whyle the iron is hotte.
But them that feede on cloddes, insteade of pleasaunt grapes,
And after warning often geven, for better lucke still gapes,
Full loth I am, yet must I tell them in woordes plaine,

This prouerbe old proues true in them, that faire words makes fooles faine.

Wo

Wo woorth the time that woordes, so slowly turne to deedes;

Wo worth the time, yt faire sweete floures, are growe to rotten weedes.
But thrise wo woorth the time, that trueth away is fled,

Wherein I see how simple hartes with woordes are vainely fed.
Trust no faire woordes therefore, where no deedes do ensue;
Trust words, as skilful Falkeners doo trust Haukes that neuer flew.
Trust deedes, let woordes be woordes, which neuer wrought me gaine;
Let my experience make you wyse, and let woordes make fooles faine.
M. Edwardes.

4. In his extreame sycknesse.

What greeues my bones, and makes my body faint?
What prickes my flesh and teares my head in twaayne?
Why doo I wake, when rest should me attaynt?
When others laugh, why doo I liue in paine?
I tosse, I turne, I change from side to side,
And stretche me oft, in sorowes linkes betyde.

I tosse, as one betost in waues of care,

I turne, to flee the woes of lothsome lyfe:

I change to spie, yf death this corps might spare,

I stretche to heauen, to ridde me of this strife:
Thus doo I stretche and change, and tosse and turne,
Whyle I in hope of heauen by life doo burne.

Then holde thee still, let be thy heauinesse,
Abolishe care, forgeat thy pining woe:
For by this meanes soone shalt thou finde redresse;
When oft betost, hence thou to heauen must goe.
Then tosse and turne, and tumble franke and free.
O happy thryse, when thou in heauen shall be.

Finis. L. Vaux.

For