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:i7S5l
XH 17-1 tWoT
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€t)ettj8ies Wioxtf^itsi* ILitttatg*
THE
WORKS
IN
VERSE AND PROSE
OF
i^ttjolas; Breton
FOJ^ THE FIRST TIME COLLECTED AND EDITED:
WITH MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION, NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS,
GLOSSARIAL INDEX, FACSIMILES, 6^c, '
BY
The Rev. ALEXANDER B. GROSART, LL.D., F.S.A.
ST. GEORGE'S, BLACKBURN. LANCASHIRE.
IN TWO VOLUMES,
VOL. IL— PROSE.
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION.
1879.
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THOMAS AND ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE. PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY.
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CONTENTS.
VOL. II.— PROSE.
a AUSPICANTE JEHOUA.
b WIT'S TRENCHMOUR.
c WIL OF WIT, Etc. Etc.
«/ STRANGE FORTUNES OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
€ CROSSING OF PROVERBS.
/FIGURE OF FOURE.
^WONDERS WORTH HEARING.
h A POSTE WITH A PACKET OF MAD LETTERS,
f A MAD WORLD.
j K DIALOGUE OF PITHE, Etc.
k GRIMELLO'S FORTUNES.
/ OLDE MAN'S LESSON.
m I PRAY YOU BE NOT ANGRIE.
k A MURMURER.
c DIVINE CONSIDERATIONS.
/ WirS PRIVATE WEALTH.
q CHARACTERS UPON ESSAIES,
r GOOD AND BAD.
s STRANGE NEWES.
/ FANTASTICKS.
u COURTIER AND COUNTRYMAN.
V CHARACTER OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
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ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOL. IL
1. FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE, in d, 'Wit's Trenchmour. '
2. FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE, in «, *A Munnurer.'
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AUSPICANTE JEHOUA.
1597-
13
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NOTE.
For the biographical importance of this little work, *Auspicante
Jehoua,' and other significances, see the Memorial*Introduction.
The * Marie ' of the title-page— as shewn by the Epistle-dedicatory —
was the illustrious Mary 'Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.' The
spelling ' Penbrooke ' was common contemporaneously. There are no
words calling for illustration, but the following may be noted here : page
4, Epistle-dedicatory, last line * Headman '» Beadsman : page S> coL 2,
L 8 from bottom, 'm&r/rrm^^'— wrong word or 'term' used. I have
given capitals to all divine names (nouns and pronouns) and printed
« t
* y ' as * y* ' and * y ' as * y* ' and extended ' & * : the headings I have
italicised to distinguish from the text. A few obvious misprints are
corrected. Bright's copy — from which ours is printed— fetched £ig.
It is now in the University Library, Cambridge. It is a small 12^ of
31 leaves. — G.
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m>i9iiii^^gimm9iimimi
Auspicante Jehoua.
MARIES
Exercise.
\Small woodcut: a crowned rose and btids\
At London
Printed by Thomas Este.
1597.
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To the Right Honorable and vertuous Lady, the Lady Mary,
Count esse of Penbrooke, health, happinesse, and heauen.
|IGHT HONORABLE, my bounden seruioe in all duety reroembred, I haue often red and heard, which I
verdye beeieeue, that in the nature of man, there is no greater blot of disgrace then the vile note of
ingratitude ; with which wicked humor fearing my long forgetfullnesse of your &uoure, may make my
heart in some suspition vnhappily to bee touched, I haue presumed humbly to present vnto the (aire
eye of your discreete vertue, a little fhiite of my late and best labours ; wherein your Ladyship may vouchsafe to
see that although I cannot as I would finde meanes to dischaiige the caie of my duty, yet in my best thoughts I
haue not foigotten you, when in my daiely praiers vnto God, I doe remember you : and as I daiely and houretye
doe hartely pray vnto His holy Maiesty for His blessings to light vpon you ; so haue I set downe a few historicall
prayers for you : which I hope jrou will so finde applyed to your comfort, as shall giue you no discontentment in
the presumption of my paines ; and so though I haue soncke my fortune hi the worlde, hauing only the light of
vertue to leade my hope vnto heauen, with humble thancks for your as yet vndesenied fauour, in continuaU piayen
to the God of all comfort, for His prosperous preseniation of my good L. your Ladyship, and all yours, with
increase of honour on earth, and etemall faappinesse in heauen : I humbly take my leaue in bounden duty. Your
La : sometime vnworthy Poet, and now and euer poore Beadman.
NiCH. Brstok.
To the Ladies and Gentlewomen Reeders.
LADIES and GENTLEWOMEN, so it is that
hauing passed some partes of the world, and
beholding the stately pallaoes of diuers princes, after
my retume into my natiue country, finding the con-
templatiue life the most neere vnto angelicall nature,
and no contemplation so comfortable as the mercies
of God ; the first-fruicts whereof, and the neuer-ending
glory of the same, are no where so apparant as in the
historic of the Holy Scriptures ; where looking into
the court of heauen, I finde the world but a base comer,
when the King of Kinges with the brightnesse of His
glorie doth rauish the soules of His beeloued ; and
reading in this diuine historic of the ezceUencie of
God's loue, and emong many of His elected, of some
women in His especiall fauour, I could not but acquaint
your good mindes, with the memory of their names
and such matter touching them as you may and will
(I hope) applie to jrour comfort, I finde them blessed
for their fiuth, and beeloued for their humility ; two
iewels of the soule, not common to our humaine nature
but as it is incorporated to Christ. But I will leaue
the imperfect to God's amendment, the iaithfull to His
blessing, and the elected to His loue : beeseeching Him
so to blesse you with His grace, in the feeling of His
loue, that in praier to His mercy, yee may all Hue to
His glory, that hauing Christ for your loue, ye may
line in ioy for euer ; and so wishing you happinesse on
earth, and heauen hereafter, I rest in praier for yee
and all fiaithfull in Christ lesu, as I finde cause.
Your poare friend or seruant : N. B.
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I
Marie's Exercise,
A fetter vptm the kistorii of Christ His eomming vnto
the house of Mary and Martha^ to raiu Laserus
from death, lohn XL The fruict thereof: The
life of the dead the glorie of God.
|OST merdfull Lord, my louing Kinj; and
euer-liuing God, sweet lesu Christ, my
heauenly maister, redeemer and sauiour,
vouchsafe mee leaue, poore and vnworthy
vessell of Thy mercy, on the knees of my soule in the
hmnilitie of my hart, to trouble Thy patience with the
lowly petition of my afflicted spirit : Lord when to
make knowen Thy glory to the world, y« earnest to
Bethania, vnto the house of Mary and Martha, to
raise vp Thy beloued Lasams from death, what was
the speech of the poore women. Thy poore creatures
vnto Thy gratious and holy glorious maiestie? But
onely this : ' Lord if Thou hadst ben heere, my brother
I^azarus had not ben dead : but now whatsoeuer, Thou
askest of God He will giue it Thee : ' so my deere Lord
let mee, I besech Thee, saie vnto Thee ? now that by
the gratious, mercifull and comfortable operation of Thy
Holy Spirit, I feele and see Thee oomming to the vn-
worthie house of my wounded soule, ' Lord if Thou
hadst beene heere' not my brother, but myself had not
so long beene dead, dead I say in my sinnes, though
onely liue in Thy mercy : but oh Lord Thy Father hath
giuen all power into Thy hands, and therefore if it please
Thee, Thou canst raise me from this sorrowful d«uh of
iniquity, vnto the ioyfull life of Thy grace ; but as
Martha saide by hir brother Lasarus, he had ben dead
foure daies, and therefore did so stinck that he was
vnfit to bee taken vp, so Lord, let mee saie of myselfe,
I haue beene dead not foure daies, but many yeeres, yea
all the daies of my life, and therefore feele myself so
vnsauory and vnfit to presume beefore Thy presence,
that I can rather say with Peter, come not neere mee
Lord, for I am a polluted creature, then thincke that
euer Thou didst loue mee, and therefore art come to
13
raise mee from this death ; yet sweet Lord when I
rememberwithallThy blessed aunswereand kinde chiding
of the vnbeleeuing soule, in these wordes : * said I not
vnto Thee if Thou didst bdeeue thou shouldst see the
glorie of God : ' it giueth roe comfort in my feare to
come humbly to Thy mercy ; beseching Thee so to
strengthen my iaith in Thy inoomprehencible power,
that I may rather reioice in feeling Thy goodnes and
seeing Thy glorie, then distrust in Thy power, or dis-
paire in Thy merde : that by the vertue of Thy power,
from the death of sinne, being reuiued vnto grace,
in the true fruicts of repentaunce, I may glorifie Thy
holy name. Amen.
Another prater vpon the same historie, chapter and
place: the fruict therof Christ His commendation
of the hearers of His word.
Almightib God and most mercifull Lord, my
best maister and onely sweet Sauiour lesus Christ,
when it pleased Thee of Thy mercy, to enter into
the house of Martha and Mary, Thy beloued vn-
worthy seruants, whiles Mary by the blessed inspir-
ation of Thy Holy Spirit, was happely called and
wholy endined to the attentiue hearing and ioyfull
receiuing of Thy comfortable preaching; Martha,
not so filled in hart, or rather rauished in soule with
the vnspeakable sweetnes of Thy Holy Spirit, rather
troubling hir head with an earnest care of worldly
busines, then bending hir hart with any zealous desire
to the inward seeking of Thy heauenly treasure, com-
idained to Thee of hir sister's mistaken and mistermed
idlenes, that sitting still at Thy feete she had no more
care to helpe her in hir work, to prouide for Thy
weloom, nor to attend Thy presence ; but my sweet
Lord how sweetly didst Thou reproue hir folly, and
reueale hir fault in these few words : ' Martha, Martha,
thou carest and art troubled about many things, but
A 2
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MARIE'S EXERCISE.
one thing is needfull, Mary hath chosen the good part
which shal neuer he taken awaie from hir : ' oh deere
Maister now that by the secret light of Thy gratious
loue, I behold Thy entrance into the hart of my soule,
though ' I am not worthie Thou shouldst come vnder
the roofe of my house,' yet since it hath pleased Thy
holie maiestie in the infinit goodnesse of Thy incom-
parable kindnesse, to comfort my hart vrith the gratious
hearing of Thy glorious mercy ; giue me leaue not with
Martha, to oomplaine of a sister, but to accuse myselfe
of to much euill in so long oombring my hart with
the wretched cares of this wicked world, that I haue had
almost no care to humble my soule to the happie
hearing of Thy holie word : let mee therfore beeseech
Thee of the abundant grace of Thy glorious goodnes,
by the mighty power of Thy etemall mercy, to draw
mee to Thee by the heauenly vertue of Thy Hollie
Spirit, that casting of all the combersome cares of this
vncomforuble worlde, I male not onelie serue Thee in
bodie, on the knees of my heart, worshipping Thy
diuine will, but in the humilitie of my soule, sit with
Mary on the ground, with the tears of true repen-
taunce to wash the feete of Thy mercie : that being
both vnable and vnworthie to behold the glory of Thy
presence, I male yet ioye in my soule to heare the
sweetnes of Thy preching, that beeing cleerely healed
of the euill part of sinne, I male receiue that good part
of Thy grace, that maie neuer bee taken from mee ; but
one thing is needfull, and that one thing art Thou : it
is Thee sweet Lord that I haue need of *, needful is Thy
grace, and vzigratious that I am, ftill of need am I, of
Thy meicie : mercy my sweet lesu, oh let my pensiue
hart heere the preaching of Thy mercie, that beeing
with Lazarus reuiued, and with Martha rebuked, with
Mary I may bee so comforted, that with the teares of my
hart washing the feete of Thy plttie, I may rdoice in my
soule to bee admitted into Thy presence ; wherein the
obedience of my loue shewing the ioye of my life, I
may feede of Thy mercy, and singe to Thy gloiy :
Blessed is the house that dooth receiue Thee, happy
the hart that dooth attend Thee, but most ioyfiiU the
soule, that leaning the cares of the world hath all hir
comfort but in Thee : in lliee I say sweet I^ord, the
lyght of the etemall wisdome, the lyfe of the dead, and
the only comfort of the lining *, whose preaching most
gratious and whose presence most glorious, happye are
they that heare, but most blessed that enioy : emong
whome alas, of the world most vnworthy, so blesse the
sicke soule of Thy sinfuU wounded seruant, that ouer-
come with the comfort of Thy vnspeakable kindenes, in
the swounding traunce of the treasure of Thy loue, I
may rather dye at Thy feete then part a foote from Thy
fauoure ; wherewith the teares of Cuthes thankfulnesse,
I may encrease the glorie of Thy mercie. Amen.
An other vppon the saimt history, chapter and place : the
fruiU then/. The blessing of humilitie.
Remember sweet Lord lesu Thy mercies that haue
been euer of okl, foigiue and forget the sinnes of Thy
humble repentaunt though vnworthie seruants, think
on Thy poore Mary with the teares of hir heart hum-
bling hir soule at Thy feete, thincke I saye my sweet
Lord, a little vpon my great misery, that confesse my-
selfe vnworthie of the least kx>ke of Thy mercie : Lord,
it pleased Thee to sale Marie Magdaline kmed much,
but snrelie Thou louedst more, that so great and
vnmeanuable a sinner, woldst vouchsafe so great a
measure of Thy grace, beeing vnworthie Thy thought,
to presume into Thy presence : sweet lesus, art not
Thou the same Christ ? Who earnest ' not to iustifie the
righteous but to call sinners to repentaunoe ?' Is Thy
mercie anye thfaig diminished, or shall not Thy gfcNrie
euer encrease ? It cannot bee but Thou art Thyaelfe
the Sunne of God, the Redeemer of the worlde ' the
Lambe of God that takest away the sinnes of the
world,' and God alone, tint hast the goucmement
of the whole worlde : what Thou hast bought then
who can take from Thee? wher Thou hast mercie,
who canne diswade Thee? and hauing all thinges
vnder Thy feete, who can resist Thee? Thou createdst
man for Thyselfe, 11)ou redeemedst him by Thyselfe,
and dost comfort him but with Thyselfe : Wilt Thou
then forget the worke of Thine owne hands? Wilt
lliou loose that Thou hast bought with Thine owne
blood? or suffer it to be blasted that y« hast blessed
with Thine ovme Spirit ? no, sweet God, Thy goodnesse
is to great to k)Ose any parte of Thy glorie : though wee
foiget Thy loue thou canst not forget Thy mcrde,
though wee loose ourselues in this wildemesse, Thou
wUt bring vs home to Thy folde, and though sinne seeke
to driue vs to despaire, yet doth Thy grace assure vs of
comfort ; for Thou art kinde though wee are vnthanckfiill.
Thou art merdfull though wee are vnfiaiithful, yea Thou
art comfortable when wee are most miserable : and why
is all this? beecause Thou art God, Whose goodnesse
hath no limit, Whose merdes are infinit, and Whose
glorie shall haue no ende : Why then oh Lord is my
soule so full of heauinesse, and my heart so disquieted
within mee? can the world so werie mee that heauen
cannot reuiue mee ? or can sinne so infect mee that Thy
mercie cannot heale mee? or the diuell so terifie mee
that Thou my God canst not comfort mee? No, my
deere God, Thou art able to foi^ue more then I am
able to offend ; one drop of Thy mercie will heale all the
woundes of my sinne, and where Thou entrest with Thy
Holly Spirit, there is no place for the wicked fiende :
what then can hurt mee if Thou help mee ? can sinne set
a wal beetwixt Thy mercie and my comfort : when Thou
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MARIE'S EXERCISE,
hast troden downe the diud with all the power of his
malioe, can Death afrif^ht mee that see my life in Thy
loue? or can sorrow dismaie mee that haue Thee for my
comfort? No, my sweet Sauioure, let not my teares be
onely witnesse of my sorrow for my sinnes but of my
ioie in Thy merde, that from the greatnesse of sin
hast called mee to Thy grace, and lining long from the
shadow of Thy blessing, hast admitted mee into the
ioie of Thy presence : Oh blessed Lord, how admir-
able dooe I fede Thy goodnesse in the inward works of
Thy grace ? faith a fruict of Thy mercy, repentaunce a
fhiict of fiiith, teares a fruict of repentance, ioie a fruict
of teares, and Thou only the fruict of all ; Thev art oh
Lord y« sname of all sweeCnesse, the substaunce of all
goodnesse, and in Thy selfe to Thyselfe the only height
of all glorie : Thou art the ioie of the heart, the com-
fort of the minde and the life of the soule : Thou art
the portion of mine inheritance, the longing of my heart's
loue, and the onely heauen that I hope for : who can
know Thee and not loue Thee ? or know what loue is,
and is not rauished with the thought of Thee ? O my
sweet Sauiour, since it hath pleased Thee to call mee vnto
Thee, I humbly beeseech Thee, let mee neuer goe from
Thee, but let mee line and die with Thee, that I male
die to liue with Thee : for y« onely art the life and the
onely life of them that come vnto Thee ; and to Thee
onely doe I come with sorowfull Mary beeseeching Thy
comfort in the greatnesse of Thy goodnesse, so to in-
spire my hart with the grace of Thy Holie Spirit, that
with y« teares of my soul mingled with one drop of Thy
pietious blood, I male wash awaie the filth of my vn-
sauerie sinne, and in the comfort of Thy kindenesse I
may kisse the feete of Thy mercie, till out of the wretched
vale of this woridly miserie Thou vdlt bring mee to the
ioies of the elected in Thy loue, that there beeing pre-
senied by the hande of Thy mercie, with the angells of
Thy traine I maie sing to Thy glorie. Amen.
A grayer vppon ElizaieiJUs muting with hir cosen. Maty,
ihe hlesstd virgin : Luke i. chap, IV, % vtru : Tkt
fruict thtrof: Tk* ioies of the elected that by the
hue of grace are allied vnto Christ,
Yp all the treasures of the world were layde together,
were they any better then trash compared (oh Lord) to
the least thought of Thy loue? are not the heauens
themselues the vrorkes of Thy fingers? and is not the
Earth with all hir glory, most glorious in beeing Thy
footestoole ? what then are wee but drossie creatures of
sUmy clay ? but wherin Thou hast made vs gratious to
encrease the greatnesse of Thy glory : shall we then
attribute vnto ourselues that is due only vnto Thee? or
thinck ourselues to bee anything that haue our bemg
but in Thee ? wilful were such a blinde-nesse and wofiill
were such a sight, as taking night for the day, would
seeke paradise in hell : Lord keepe vs from such a folly,
deere vs from such a blindnesse and saue vs from frUl-
ing into such an errour : be Thou the light of our loue,
the sence of our vnderstanding, the wisedome of our
knowledge, the meditation of our hearts and the ioy of
our soules : but sweet Lord, I reede that when Elisabeth
met with hir cosen Mary the blessed Viigin l*hy blessed
mother, the babe sprang in hir wombe ; which after he
came into the world did preach of Thy Kingdome aboue
the world : and now meethincks I fede Thy Holy Spirit
making entraunce into my soule, there rise vp thoughts
in my heart to honour Thee in the highest heauens ; but
the thought is yet yong and cannot prosper without Thy
blessing, it is conceiued in my soule by the blessing of
Thy grace. Lord preserue it with Thy mercy, that I may
bring it foorth to Thy glorie : thou^ when it is at the
best as it is fix>m me, it is vnworthy to loose the least
latchet of Thy shoe, yet as it is from Thee a guift of Thy
goodnesse, at the feete of Thy merde, let it speake of
Thy glorie : Thy grace hath begot it, let Thy good
Spirit breed it and Thy Holy hand so preserue it -f
bdng fed in this infiemcy with the sweet milk of Thy
mercy, it mai gather such force in the faith of Thy
Holy Word y< delighting in Thy Law and liuing but in
Thy loue, it may loath the whole world to be y« lest in
Thy kingdom : oh sweet Lord let my hart reioyoe to
heere of Thee, my sences to seme Thee and my soule to
praise Thee, bee Thou y« childe of my loue, the Lord of
my life and the life of my soul ; let my soule euer con-
odue Thee and neuer part from Thee : y* hauing Thee
for my comfort I may feare no crosse, nor care for any
calamity ; be yo swet lesu, my &ther and my child, my
husband and my brother, my loue, my life, my Lord and
my God ; in Whom my spirit may reioyoe when I but
thinck of Thy blessing ; that bedng wholy rauished with
the vertue of Thy loue in harmony of Thy graces, I may
glorify Thy holly name. Amen.
A praier vpon the talhe of Christ with the woman of
Samaria, Ihon ^ The fruict therof: the comfort
of mercy,
Pbeseles Loue and purest Life of Thy bdoued,
pardon I beeseech Thee the presumption of Thy poore
wounded creature, wounded with sinne and cureles of
hir sore, but onely in the merite of Thy mercy, in the
oile of Thy grace and wounds of Thy loue : oh sweet
lesv. Thou didst vouchsafe at lacob's well of the woman
of Samaria, to aske a little water ; Thou ulkedst with
hir and reueledst Thyselfe vnto hir, who vnworthy of Thy
comfort could not conceiue the greatnes of Thy kindenes ;
but alas Lord, heere is another woman that oommeth with
another thirst and to drinck of another fountaine ; which
fountaine ondy art Thou alone : Thou art the well of life,
of which who drinketh shall neuer dye : long hath my
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8
MARIE'S EXERCISE,
soule thirsted after Thee, yea in a barraine and drie
land where no water is : oh that I might so drinck of
Thy vertue, that beeing dronck with Thy loue, I might
bee so moistened with Thy grace that I might neuer
thurst more after sinne : oh sweet lesu how sweet is Thy
sweetnes, no hart can imagine nor tung can expresse ; a
foimtaine neuer dri, of the abundance of whose streams
all the blessed come to drincke, all that drinck are in
loue, and all that loue doe Hue for euer : such a spring
neuer drying, such a loue euer liudng and such a life
euer io]ring, wher is it but in Thee? and where art Thou
but it is ? oh Fountaine of all blessednes, oh blessing of
all happines, oh felicity of all ioyfulnes, quench the fire
of my thirst with one droppe of Thy grace, let foil the
dew of Thy blessing vpon the dile hart of my soule ;
that being refreshed with Thy loue, I male denote my
life to Thy seruice ; for sweet Lord, though the woman
of Samaria would not offer Thee drinck beecause the
Samaritans would not meddle with the lewes, yet sweet
Lxyrd I am sure Thou wilt not denie me Thy mercy,
because I am a sinner ; for Thou hast mercy in store for
all them that come vnto Thee : lacob their father gaue
y< well as it seemed to an vnoourteous people, that would
not giue Thee, a cuppe of their water ; but God Thy
Father hath giuen Thee to all people a fountaine of life
to all that in true iiEUth thirst to drinck of Thy loue ; and
how incomparable is Thy kindnes that with the blood of
Thy hart didst scale the bond of Thy loue : doest Thou
denie any one comfort that callest all vnto Thy mercy :
or doest Thou suffer any to perish that put their trust in
Thy word ? doest Thou not offer Thyselfe freely ? and
shall I not beg Thee with teares? yes, sweet Lord, I
humbly thanck Thee, I feele the sweetnes of Thy loue,
though I can not beeholde Thy presence, I tast of Thy
goodnes though I see not Thy person, and drinck of Thy
vertue though I know not Thine essence ; for had not
the medicine of Thy mercy cured my soul of hir sorrow,
I had died in my sinne, ere I had tasted of Thy grace,
but sweet Lord, the woman of Samaria had many hus-
bands and my soule desireth but thy loue : be Thou I say
the husband of my loue, the loue of my life and life of
my soule, the fountaine of my faitbe's comfort, the
water of my hope's life, and the sweet of my etemall
felidtie : let me thirst only for Thy grace, drinck onely
of Thy mercie and liue onely to Thy glorie : that from
the puddles of the worlde, deliuered by Thy mercy, in
the ioies of paradise I may sing haiainiaii to Thy hoUy
Maiestie : Amen.
A praytr vpon the woman of Canaan, hir sutU vnto
Christ: Afath, XF. verse oa. TMe/rmict thereof;
The blessing of faith.
Eternall, Almighty, euer-tiuing and euer-loudng
God, my deerest Master, sweetest Lord and onely
Sauiour lesvs Christ, the comfort of the sorrowfiill, the
hope of the fidthlu], and the life of the ioyfiill, the
surgion of the heart, the phisition of the minde and
the medicine of the soule, the power of vertue, the
wisdome of grace and the glory of mercy. Who liuing
in the heauens beholdest all the dwellers vpon y« Earth,
hearest y« cries of the afRicted, asswagest the pains of
the tonnented and oorafortest y« harts <^ the distressed,
that in true faith of Thy woord, fly to the mercy of
Thy will ; emong those miserable sinners that hane no
hope of reliefe but in the heauenly eye of Thy mercy,
voudisafe sweet Christ, to cast one k>oke of pitty vppon
the wounded heart of my vnworthy soule ; when the
woman of Syrophenissa came to Thee for the cure of
hir daughter possessed with a diud, though at the first
Thou gauest hir a kinde of denying answers, in that it
was not mcete to giue the childrens meate vnto dogges,
yet to hir humble replie that the dogs might cate of the
crummes that fall firom their Masters table, to the glory
of Thy mercy Thou madest a gratious conclusion ;
wherein the humility of hir fiuth, had effected hir ioy in
Thy Cauour ; hir daughter was made whole and shoe
departed away : but now oh Lord was she onely blessed
in this abundant measure of Thy mercy? or can sin
haue such power in the world, as to bar Thy seruants
Thy blessing ? or shal any dispaire of Thy comfort,
when Thou callest all vnto mercy? no» sweet Lord. I
know Thou art not partial in Thy loue, that lookest
onely into Thyselfe, Thou art not sparing of Thy bless-
ing, that art boGtifiiU to the whole world, nor wouldest
the death of a sinner, and therfore wilt surely haue
mercy on Thy seruantes : to Thee therefore sweet lesu I
humbly come, not for my diseased daughter, but Thy
distressed daughter vnworthy of so good a father, yet
praying Thee good Father help me and thi vnworthy
seruant beseeching Thee ; sweet Maister comfort mee
and Thy vnworthy creature crying vnto Thee, oh God of
all mercy haue mercy vpon mee, in the multitude of
Thy compassions do away with all my offences, in the
oyle of Thi grace heale my soule of hir sinne and in the
power of Thy mercy deliuer me from euill : I know not
with how many diuells I am daily and hourely tempted,
by a world of illusions to bee drawen from Thy loue,
but, were ther neuer so many, Thou canst deliuer me
horn, them all ; for Thy power is inuincible, Thy mercy
is almightie and Thy loue hath no limits ; sinne is but
an infection, the diudls are but ministers qH Thy wrath,
and Thou wilt haue mercy on Thy seruants ; heale
therefore my disease, oommaund away my tormentors
and bee glorious in Thy goodnesse : where Thy good
Spirit entereth no euiU Spirit will bide, where Thy Grace
toucheth, no sinne tarrieth and whom Thou inspirest
with Thy loue, they are allready in heauen : But alas
sweet Jesvs meethincks I heere Thee accuse mee of so
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MARIE'S EXERCISE.
dogged a nature, that I am not worthy to feede of the
fhiict of Thy &uour : Lord I confesse it that while dogs
waite one their masters trenchers, I haue not attended on
the table of Thy mercy : and therefore am vnworthy of
the least crwn of Thy oomforte ; Yet sweet Lord, since
Thy mercy is ouer all Thy workes, put mee not out of
the booke of Thy remembraunoe : Thou hast called mee
though I come late, giue mee a penny of Thy charity
though I desenie nothing of thy mercy : I am sick and
Thou canst heele mee, bee Thou gratious though I
be sinful], the diuell is a tirant, but Thou art y« God
of mercy, Who with one looke of Thine eie canst make
him flye from Thy presence, with one woord of Thy
mouth canst banish him from Thy beloued and with one
blessing of Thy hand canst make me line euer : but,
oh sweet Lord, since I haue by mine absence from
attending on Thy table deserued not onely to bee
famished with lack of Thy Comfort, and not to recetue
the least crum of Thy mercy, yet in the least looke of
Thyloue since Thy glorie is in Thy mercy, loose no
part of Thy right : Let me come behinde Thee emong
the throng of sinners, to touch the hem of Thy garment,
that by the vertue of my faith, I male finde grace in
Thy fauour and being cured of my sinne and comforted
by Thy mercy, by the Grace of Thy Holly Spirite, I
may glorify Thy hoUy name and not with the Sirophen-
issian. depart away with Thy blessing, but with y« ioy
of Thy mercy, folow Thy shadow with my seniioe, till
being wholely deliuered from the temptation of sin, in
the saluation of Thy mercy, with the elected of Thy
loue, by the good Spirit of Thy grace. I may euer sing
to Thy glory. Amen.
A praytr vp<m iki widdmoes two mtta — XI L of
Marke 41 vtrse, Tkt fruici thereof: the praise
of Charity.
Nothing is more comfortable to my soule then the
meditation of Thy mercy : sweet lesu. Thou alone art
Hee whom my soule loueth, and iust cause, for by Thy
onely loue, my soule liueth : When I beholde Thee in
my hart, I haue enough for my comfort and wanting
Thy grace, I consume away with calamitie : Oh vn-
spcakable sorrow to misse the ioy of Thy mercy, and
how great is their heaven that haue a fieeling of Thy
loue. Oh Sweet Lord, how greatly wilt Thou commend
a little k>ue in Thy seruant? but how infinitely art Thou
to bee glorified that giuest Thyselfe vnto sinners ? Oh
incomparable kinde loue to by downe the life of Thy
beeloned : Thou didst commend the poore widdow for
casting two mites into the treasury and Thou hast giuen
▼8 Thyselfe to bring vs into Thy treasury. Bee Thou
therefore commended aboue all commendation : She gaue
but a little, though all shee had, yv gauest Thy selfe, with-
out whom all things are nothing ; let hir then bee com-
mended of Thee, who sawest hir hart, and for Thy
bounty to the whol world be Thou glorified aboue the
world : Shee was called a poore widdow, beecause shee
wanted both the wealth of the world and the comfort of
hir kind husband, but how much might shee bee comforted
to be commended by Thy mercy? All comforts faile
wher Thou art wanting and all ioies abound wher Thy
comfort is comming: O comfort of comforts, when
wilt Thou come vnto mee? Lord. Thou art the hus-
band of my soule, the onely comfort of my hart, and
whole substance of my felicity : A poore widow am I,
that wanting the comfort of Thy loue. haue no ioy in my
life : I haue not a mite to present vnto Thy mercy ; Had
I a whole world, I would giue it for Thy grace : but,
alas, I am poore, and hast Thou any nede of welth?
that hast the whole world at commaundement : doest
Thou care for drosse. that art the Lord of heuen and
earth? no, Lord, Thou wantest nothing and therefore
what though I haue nothing? Thou hast giuen mee
Thyselfe, and can anything take Thee from mee? No,
sweet Lord, Thou hast saide Thou wilt haue mercy
and not sacrifice : a burnt offering I know Thou would-
est not accept, if I should giue it Thee : but, if any
sacrifice will please Thee, a contrite hart and a troubled
spirit is that whkh Thou wilt not despise : With this
sacrifice therefore Sweet lesu I come to Thee, beseeching
Thee, into the treasury of Thy mercy, with the teares
of my hart to recdue me body and soule, which though
lesse worth then one mite is all that I haue to giue Thee :
and well is mee, if Thou wilt take them, to cure them of
sin, to ease them of sorrow and to bring them to ioie :
but alas, I giue Thee but Thine owne, which Thou hast
bought with Thyselfe, and therefore I beeseecfa Thee
refuse not Thine owne that belongeth to none but Thy
selfe, and therefore since I haue nothing to giue Thee,
take Thine owne vnto Thee, commend whom it pleaseth
Hiee, and be Thou commended of all, of all I say,
for all and aboue all, since that for all in all. Thou
deseruest all commendation ; to Thee sweet lesus Christ
the husband of my soule, the substance of my wealth,
the ioy of my life, and assured hope of my saluation,
that by the bitter death of Thy body and predous bloud
of Thy hart, hast deerely bought the loue of Thy seruants,
who, by Thy ondy merit bdng redeemed from hell, by
the sauing fruth of Thy mercy are assured of heauen, to
Thee, I sale, deere Christ my deere loue, my best hus-
band, my heauenly Father, my gratious Lord and onely
glorious King, with Thy heauenly Father and Thy Holy
Spirit, the eternal Trinity in Vnity, one ondy almigfatie
and incomprehensible good God, for the infinit comforts
of Thy infinit mercies, bee all infinit glory, honor and
praise world without end. Amen.
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MARIE'S EXERCISE.
A fraytr npon tht rtqtust thai iki motJUr of lamis
and lokn. made vnto Christ : MaHUw ckapUr XX,
TktfruUt tkertof: Knowledge what to nske cfGod.
Blessed Lord and Lord of all blessing, boimtiful
God, and God of all bounty, King of beatien and
earth, to Whom all the worlde are bat beggeis ; emong
the infinit number of Thy incessaunt Sutors, y« neuer
kane to importmiate Thy mercy, voncfasale sweet lesu
I beseedi Thee, to heere an hmnble petltkm of Thy
poore, wretched and vnworthy creature : The mother
of lames and lohn made a suite vnto Thee for hir two
sonnes. that the one might sit at Thy right hand, and
the other at Thy left : little was hir discretion to mone
so presumptuous a petition, little I say shee considered
Thy greatnesse. or lookt into hir owne smalnesse, that,
deseruiii^ nothing but Thy wrath, woulde craue such a
blessing of Thy grace : who beeing aunswered with
deniaO, escaped wel without Thy further displeasure :
M my God, I come not to Thee with a spirit of sudi
boldnesse, but hi the humility of &yth, with the teares
of sorrow, my wounded hart beeoommeth a sutor to Thy
mercy ; An humble sutor I am, oh heanenly King, to
Thy holy maiesty, not for my two sonnes, but the two
paruof my selfe, my soule and my body, y« it will please
Thy gratious goodnesse, so &rre to take them to Thy
mercy, as not to set them either at Thy right hand or
Thy left, but, in one looke of Thy comfort, to make
than but cushins for Thy feet, where more loyfull shall
bee^my teares to wash the feete of Thy fauoure, then
an the pleasures of the world, to bee away fix>m Thy
mercy. This oh Lord is all my sute, which hi Thy
gratious pitty I beeseech Thee to grannt me, that from
this vale of misery, Thou wilt take mee to Thy mercy,
that in the ioye of Thy loue I may euer shig of Thy
glory : Amen.
A fr^er vpon the denotion of Anna, Luke II, chap.
Tkefrnict thereof: The eomfitrt of prayer.
Righteous Lord, holy King, and euerihiing God,
Who hast not to doe with the stoole of faiiquitie, but
with Thy countenaunoe doest bediold the iust, fotghiest
the sfames of the lepentaunt, and takest the laithfun
vnto mercy. Enter not, I beeseech Thee into ludge-
roent with Thy shifull and vnwoorthy seruant ; for no flesh
is righteous in Thy sight, and I most vnrighteous, am
ashamed to appeere beefore Thy presence, with hope of
comfort, or almost without despaire of mercy, but y* in
the greatnesse of Thy goodnesse, seeing Thee oflRer Thy
selfe vnto mee with all Thy graces, with a blushing feare,
I fidl at the feete of Thy mercy, beeseeching Thee so
to blesse mee with Thy grace, that my wickednes may
not destroy that which Thy goodnesse hath buiided.
Oh deere Lord, Thy seruannt Anna, putting of fhe world
and putting on Thee, shaking of all vanities, and clothing
hir sdf with Thy comfort, leaning the worid, beetoohe
hir seUe to Thy temple, where ooBtinuing manye yeeres
in festing and pnder, shee receined at last the ioyefoU
frui^ of hir hope in the gratious beeholding of Thy
glorious comming. But, Oh Lord, wo is me, that hand
so k>ng looked after the worid. that I haue so little
looked after Thee, that I hane rather lost my sdfe in a
wildemesse, then once set a steppe into Thy temple.
I hane feasted my flesh with the pleasures of the world,
and almost famiihed my soule with the lack of Thy
holy word, and haue beede rather lost many yeeres bi
vanity, then employed afanok any houre in deuout
prayer, as one rather fearing Thy wiath, then wishing
Thy presence : but, sweet Lord. Thou art the God of
eternity. Who hauing all time at Thy oomroaundement,
dost appoynt eoery houre at Thy plesure, to call Thy
seruants vnto mercy, and to oomfort them in Thy
blessing ; to Thee therefore my deere Lord, though
long first, yet at last, and I hope neuer to late, on the
knees of my heart with the tears of my lone I come
vnto Thy mercy, beseeching Thee most humbly, in the
spirit of Thy grace, so to instruct mee to pray and
oontiniie mee hi praier vnto the presence of Thy pitty,
that putting of the delights of the vanitie of this world,
I may put on the ioy of the vertue of Thy loue, bee-
taking my selfe to the temple of Thy truth, and only
long in my souk to bediold the blessing of Thy
oommfaig : Come I say, sweet lesu, come downe into
my heart, heale my wounded soule, quiet my troubled
spirit, deUuer mee from this sinftiU prison, tighten my
dardmed eies, take me out of this deadly sorrow into
the ioy of Thy etemall mercy, where feeding on the
firuict of my feith, in the feuour of Thy grace, at the feet
of Thy presence, I may see the paradise of my soule :
and in a new song of thanckes giuing, I may glorify Thy
holy name. Amen.
A pri^fer vpon the fueene of Sheha hir commuig to
Solomon : The frnict thereof: The troasmre of true
wiftdome which is onefy in the Word of God.
O infinitte and etemall God, the ground of aD vertue
and giuer of all goodnesse, the fountayn of vnsearch-
able deepe wisedome of the incomprehensyble Deity,
looke, I humblye beeseech Thee, vpon the simple soule
of Thy .silly creature. The Queen of Sheba came to
Thy seruaunt Solomon, to heere the wonder of his wit,
which, compared to Thy wisedome, is as nothing ; and
shall not I come to Thee for the knowledge of my
comfort? Yes, my deere Lord, let Thy mercy be my
tutor, Thy wisdome, my lesson. Thy oomfort, my lyfe :
Teach me euer how to pray, what to hope for in my
prayer, and how to bee thanckftiD for Thy blessfaigs ;
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MARIBS EXERCISE.
II
A wtodome to know Thee, knowledge to seme
Thee* and gnoe to to lone Thee, that I may neucr
Uue to kane Thee: bee Thoa the contemplation of
my stndj, the letters of my reading, and the woord of
my oontinnaU tememfacanoe, the note of my oomfort,
thewhiteof mykMie, andthe Ughtofmylyfe. Inspire
my hart with Thy Holy Spirit, leade mee hi the way of
Thy truth, and bleiee mee with the ioy of Thy peace ;
tint leasing this desart where fooles loose their wittes,
caong the foUowers of Thy will, I may beere the
wooden of Thy wisdome, where the &ith of the sbnple
linde the summe of their mydty, that beeing pardoned
my fanhs and healed of my ioUy, in the seinioeof my
fidth, I mai gfc)rily Thy holy maiestie. Bat, Oh Lord,
shoe bronght gifts of great mhie which she presented
vnto Thy semannt, and I haoe notUng to gine Thee
but my selfe, vnwortfay present for Thy presence : but,
tweet Lord, I beeseech Thee refuse not Thy semant,
thoQgfa vnworthy Thy ftmonr, and instruct me in Thy
law, tbov^ mworthy Thy ioue, that hauing Thy lesson
in my heart, I may teach Thy wil vnto the work! :
Grarnit this oh deere God, for Thy deete bekwed
Sonne lesus Cauist His onely sake, to Whome with Thee
and the Holy Ghost, three persons but one God, bee
all honour and glory, humb^ ascribed of mee and all
Thy poofe ▼nworthy seruants, in all things, for all
things, and aboue all things, worM without ende:
A fraUr vptm Um words 9f POtr vmio Christ in HU
Hmt of His imnsJigmraHom : Lmko IX, vtrss 33.
Tki/htici Oorof: the ioy o/tkefuthfuU,
O HOW amiable are Thy dweUings my deer Lord lesu,
how pleasant are Thy graces? and how comfortable are
Thy merdes? more sweet are they to my hart then
bony YUto my mouth, yea sweeter then bony and the
bony combe : When Thy holy apostle Peter beehdd
Thee transfigured, beeing raidshed in soule with the
sweet of Thy countenance, then could he say, beere is
good beeing Lord : so my sweet Sauiour when in my
soule I behold but one beame of Thy bright Ioue, I
can say to my self, it is good being with Thee Lord,
for better is it not to be at all, then to be without the
comfort of Thy blessfaig : blesse mee therfore sweet
lesu, I beeseech Thee with the feeUng of Thy goodnes,
the comfort of Thy mercy, and the ioy of Thi Ioue :
and kt me sale to my selfe, whiles I am fai this body
of sinne, m this wretdied world, heere is Ol being Lord,
wher I am so much without Thee, and onely their is
good beeing where I might neuer bee from Thee, that
being nudsbed with the sweetnes of Thy brigfatnes, I
might make my poore soule a tabemade for Thy
dwelling, that bedng densed from my sinne, by the
ondy merite of Thy mercy, and sweated in my soule,
by the oile of Thy grace, in the fruicts of thancks giueing,
I may glorifye Thy holly i
A fraier vpon Mary Magdaltms wttping ai the
Se^Uker: lokn XVL Tko fruict tktrtof: tko
veriMS of constancy, in tko lout of tJUfaitkfuli.
Knock saiest Thou sweet lesus and it shall bee
opened vnto vs, seeke and we shall finde, aske and
wee shall bane : Oh my deer God long bane I sought
Thee, with the sealous kme of my hart, knndiing at
the gates of Thy grace, with the sighes of vnfeined
sorrow and b^ging with bitter tears, but one drop of
Thy mercy : but my deere God shme did so blind mee,
that I went still out of the way that doth lead mee to
Thy will, sin did so oppresse me, I could not come at
Thy grace : yea, sinne did so dismaie mee, that I was
afraide of Thy mercy : but now sweet Lord being deered
of my blindnes, by the light of Thy holy word and seeing
the gates of Thy grace open to the passage of the repent-
aunt emong the hopes of the iiaithfull, I beg an ahnes of
Thy mercy. I reed, oh Lord of Maiy Magdalens great
grace who being a great sinner yet by a great repentance
reodued a great measure of Thy mercy : in sorrow she
songht Thee, in humility she loued Thee and in kme
shee found Thee ; yea, aliueshee touedThee, dead, shoe
mourned for Thee, buried she sought Thee ; and risen
she found Thee ; sweetly was shee blessed, that hauing
onoebeegon to seeke Thee could neuer leaue till she found
Thee, and hauing once found Thee did so deerdy Ioue
Thee that in the depth of hir Ioue shee had no ioie to
Uue from Thee : sweet lesu, so giiie me grace to sedee
Thee, that hi Thy grace, I may finde Thee, by Thy
grace I may Ioue Thee and m Thy gratious Ioue, I may
Uue to bediokl Thee ; Open mfaie eares that I may heare
Thee call; and open mine des that I may see Thy
goodnesse : open my hart that I may with teares attend
Thee, and open Thy handes to take mee wholy vnto
thee : mortify my flesh, that my soule may liue, shut me
not from the gates of Thy grace, but keep mee vnder
the shadow of Thy wings ; lead mee through the dark-
nes of shme mto the daylight of Thy Ioue ; the first day
in the weeke and earely hi the morning let mee seeke
Thee, let the prime of my youth and the whole time of
my pilgrimage bee ondy emploied to the finding out of
Thy fiuioor ; let mee feare nothhig while Thou art my
hope nor bee satisfied with anythmg tin I be filled with
Thy Ioue ; let mee weepe at Thy graue, that I may ioy
in Thy grace ; and so moume for Thy absence that I
may rek>ice in Thy presence, let mee not depart with
Thy disdi^es but abide with Thine angdls, till, hi the
pitie of my sorrow Thou wilt shew me Thyself : when,
hearing from Thee, but Mary, I may aunswere but
wherin my soule muished with Thy kme may
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MARIE'S EXERCISE.
deaoie the seruioe of my life ; but, Oh Lord, how
should I most wofuU, wretched, and wicked creature,
liueing in this vale of sorrow and misery, come to the
comfortable hope to dime the hil of Thy mercy? a
polluted vessell of the earth, to behold the pure and
bright glory of the heauens? but oh Lord, doe I aske
Thee how? and haue Thy holy word so deere a
lanthome to my lone: forghie my sweet Christ, my
forgetfulnes of Thy care and giue me grace to remember
the rules of my comfort ; wherein I finde after storms
&ire weather is sweetest, after troubles, peace is most
comfortable and after death life is most ioyfiilL Sweet
lesu therefore that hast mortified mee with, the stormes
of this world, comfort mee with the sunne shine of Thy
grace, after the troublesome temptations of euill spirits,
giue mee peace in Thy Holy Spirit and after the death
of this my camall absence, giue my soule life in the
bediolding of Thy presence : giue mee patience to seeke
Thee in Thy passion, that I may reioyce to see Thy
resurrection and that in the merit of Thy mercy
recdning the comfort of my saluation I may with the
tears of my hart witnesse the loue of my soule, not
desiring to liue, but to glorify Thy holy name. Amen.
A prayer vpon MagmiJUate^ not applying the history :
Tht Jruici there/: The ioy of the somle that is
ranished vfith the loue of Christ.
EsscBNCE of eternity, in y* holy maiesty of the trinall-
Vnity in the heauenly Ddty, Light of the heauens. Day
of the world, Beawty of votue and Glory of wisdome,
sweet lesu, the true and only beegotten and bedoued
Sonne of the true and only incomprdiensible eucrliuing
and eueriouing God : My Creator in Thy power, my
Redeemer in Thy merite, my Sanctifier in Thy loue and
my Sauiour in Thy mercy, how shall I of dodde and
daye, slime of the earth, dust and ashes, wretdied wonne
and wicked creature, presume to the happinesse to haue
a thought of such holinesse as to aspire, so high a
blessing, as to touch the smallest tittle of the due title of
Thy glory : yet sweet lesu, seeing that y dead earth in
hir fruictes dooth praise Thee, shall my soule liue and
in no seruioe honor Thee? And since the lining doe
adore Thee, shall I dye, and not praise Thee? God
forbid : but alas, shall darcknesse speake of light, error
of truth, basenesse of glory, or a sinner of God ? When
the earth quakes, the sea roares, the heanens shake and
the anngeUs tremble at Thy presence and yet I see the
elements giue theyr natures ; the Sunne his heate, the
water hir coolenesse, the aire hir moisture and the earth
hir drinesse, the trees theyr frnicts, the flowers their
sweets, the sea hir fishes, the earth hir gemmes, the ayre
hir comfort, the fyre hir light, and the worid hir wdth in
the seruice of hir creatures in obedienoe to Thy holy win.
to glorify Thy holy name ; and shall I of all the world
most bound to Thee in the i^ole worid, that haue tasted
so much of Thy goodnesse. so much forget Thy great-
nesse, as in no work of Thy grace to humble my soule
to Thy giory? God forbid. No, my sweet God,
I humbly beeseecfa Thee giue me the patience of Thy
saincts. the &ith of Thy martiers, the toy of Thine
angdls and the wisedome of Thy Holy Spirit, that I
may suffer all things for Thy knie, I may die in Thy
seruioe and so sing of Thy goodnesse that m ringing out
Thy praises the heuens may reioyce to heere Thy gkxy
in the world. Oh my sweet Christ, hdp mee to
honour Thee ; inspire my heart with Thy loue, tdl mee
what to thincke of Thee, teach mee what I shall say of
Thee, leamemee how I shall praiemto Thee ; that in my
soule, I may neuer cease to pniyaeThee. O gkxy in the
highest heauens, highest glory of the heauens, ondy glory
beefore the heauens, bee Thou gtorified above the heuens.
Oh that my hart could dissohie into teaies, to wash the ieele
of Thy fauour, or that my soule in sighes, could ascend
a sacrifice to Thy mercy, that in soule and body, I might
shew some seruke of my loue, which am worse then
nothing, till I bee something in Thee. But Thou hast
made mee, as it hath pleased Thee, and canst make mee
what it pleaseth Thee : let it therefore please Thee, I
beeseech Thee, to make mee ondy to please Thee : I
am a creature of Thy will, worke mee ondy to Thy will ;
draw mee to Thee by Thy Holy spuit, hold mee to
Thee by Thy holy loue, and hispire mee with Thy
holy wisedome, that loathing the worlde with the vani^
ties thereof in Thy ondy mercy, I may see the paradise
of my soule: that hautag with patience pa»ed my
purgatory in this life and in the merit of Thy mercy,
recdning the comfort of my saluation, where the angells
of Thy tone doe sing in glory of Thy grace, my poore
humble soule may sing Amen to thdr musique.
Gloria in excekis Deo.
LONDON
Printed by Thxy
mas EsUf dwelling in
Aldersgate streete.
1597.
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Wit's Trenchmour.
1597-
45
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-NOTE.
Only a single exemplar of ' Wit's Trenchmour ' is known. I am in-
debted to its possessor (Henry Huth, Esq., London), for its use ; and I
wish to return him publicly my heart-felt thanks for the loan of it. It is
in beautiful state : 22 leaves, sm. 4to. The curious title-page with the
Publisher (Ling's) odd figurative woodcut (a 'ling' fish), I have had
faithfully reproduced in facsimile.-^.
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Wits Trcnchmour,
In a conference had
betwixt a Scbollcr and an
(Angler.
Pf Written by NiVb. 5rrto«,
Gentleman.
AT LONDON,
Printed by 1, Roharts for N. Ling, and arc to be
fold at hisftiop at the Weft doore of Paules
Church. 1/97*
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d^R o9^ ^^^ ^9^ ^9^ ^9^ ^9^ ^^^ ^^^ ^9^ ^9^ ^9^ ^9^ ^9^ ^9^
Wits Trenchmour,
In a conference had
betwixt a Scholler and an
A ng I er.
^ Written by Nick. Breton,
Gentleman.
45
[Su/acHmiU of Htk-fagt firr a quaint tpoodeni Aere.j
AT LONDON,
Printed by /. Robarts for -A^. Ling^ and are to be
fold at his (hop at the Weft doore of Paules
Church. 1597.
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To the right Worshipfull and noble minded, the fauorer
of learning and nourisher of vertue, William Harbert of
the Red Castle in Mountgombiy-shiere, Esquire, the
highest power of the heauens giue the happinesse
of much honour.
|A^ humble seruice that in bounden dutU I doe owe vnto your honourable house^ with the true
report that I haue often hearde of the noblenesse of your owne spirit^ as well in regard of
the learned^ as fauourer of the vertuousy hath made me presume to aduenture the pardon
of your discretiony in offering to your patience a president of so simple a wit^ as dauncing a Trench-
mour in the shcuiow of understandingy dares not come into the Ught without the comfort of your
good countenaunce : to make a large gate to a little Towne^ were but a mockerie to a trauailery &*
no praise to the builder : therefore referring to your good leysure the reading of a mad discourse,
and to the happines of your good fauour the cdmandement of my better seruice^ I take my leaue in all
humblenes.
Your Worships ready at commaund
NicK Breton,
To THE Reader.
me that will thinke in writing to please all humors, must haue more varietie of inuention then one wit can hit
on ; for my selfe, I would be glad to please the best spirits ; for other, I wish them more perfection of
vnderstanding then lauishnesse of speech, and my selfe but the happines to bee out of the censure of the
vnwise, which sith I cannot be, putting my labours to the viewe of the worlde, where all minds are not of
one mould, nor all spirits of a like vertue, I will hope well of the best, and keep patience for the other ; and so loth to
make a long entry to a little house. I will leaue to your leysuies to reade, & your curtesies to like, of such matter as
you shall find handled, betwixt an Angler and a SchoUer ; how their talke came to light, & what you may gather of
their discourse. And so in hast, from my lodgmg, I rest for this time, and alwayes as I find cause :
Your louing friend
N. B.
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The Anglers conference with the SchoUer.
noDg the walkes of the wearie, where
libertie and ayre, are the best comforts of
the forlome spirits of the world, it was the
hap of a poore Scholler, (who feeding his
imagination with the perswations of contemplation,
making his passage downe a Calling peece of ground,
some-what neere vnto a little hill, fast by a riuer side,
whose streames seemed to slide along the banks of a
lower platforme) to espy a humaine creature, standing
vpright and holding out his arme ouer the water, whom
approching vnto some-what neere, and finding to be an
Angler, he saluted in this manner: True figure of
patience, no offence to your conceit, howe might it fare
with your colde exercise ? The Fisherman (as it might
appeare by his answer) beeing better trained in the
varietie of vnderstanding then could be contained within
the oompasse of a casting Nette, vpon the suddaine
made him this replie :
Shadowe of inteUigenoe,
To stay your furtbfcr eloquence
when fooles gape for flyes, madde men may goe a fishing.
Oh Sir, (quoth the SchoUer) I pray you enter not into
choller, with him that meant not to trouble your better
humour : but rather doe mee the fauor to instruct mee
in the reason, that might leade you into thys looking
labour, then to take mee vp for halting ere I come at
my ioumeys ende : I promise you I was halfe alraide,
that Quids tales would haue fallne out true, and that
Narcissus, or some of his kindred, had been so in loue
with theyr owne shadowe, that hee could not goe from
the Riuer side : but comming neere, and finding the
deceit of my imagination, confessing my folly, I am to
craue your kindnes in a little conference, touching the
profit of this colde pleasure, and what may be the fish
that you angle for with a flie.
Sir quoth the fisherman, to tume wit into choller, is
such a peece of newe Alkamie. as I neuer found written
in the true rules of PhUosopfay : and to tell truth, as I
remember when I went to the schoole of vnderstanding,
I found thys a sentence of discretion : It is but a trifling
of wit, to bee troubling of humors : but sith you craue
a fauorable histruction in a matter of small importance,
being perswaded that your hast is not great, nor affiures
waightie, if you will sit downe and beare mee company,
wee will feede the ayre with a little breath. My good
friend, quoth the SchoUer, (for so I would be glad to
finde you) to confesse a truth, neither is my hast such,
but I may stay weU, if not too long to jrour liking,
neither my afiicdres of such import, but that I may put
them of for a time, to enioy the benefite of your good
companie. Then sir quoth the Fisherman, let me teU
you, I sit heere as you see angUng for a fish, and my
baite a flie : for Uttle fishes, as Bleakes, Roches, and
such Uke, a flie wUl seme the tume : but for greater
fishes, wee must find out greater baits : and with these
flies wee catch such smaU frie, as seme to baite our
hookes for greater fiishes. Now, if jrou can apply this
figure to a good sence, I wiU hold you for a good
schoUer in ciphering.
I cannot teU (quoth the SchoUer) howe you woulde I
should interprete it, but this I ooncdue of it, that a
childe may be wonne with an apple, when a Coster-
monger will not be pleased without a whole Orchard.
I perceiue quoth the Angler, you are of Adams race,
you thinke so much vpon the apple, that poysoned him
and aU his posteritie, but if one should examine your
consdenoe, doe you not meane the golden apple?
Which quoth the schoUer? that which was oflfered to
iuno, Pallas, and Venus ? I thinke it to bee bat a meere
iest, for surely in these daies, and in such Countries as
I haue passed my trauaUe in, I neuer saw any creatures
so angelicaU, but they had spirits so terrestriaU, that if
a golden apple should be ofilered. it would be catcht ere
it could bee thought of: and therefore I pray you
satisfie your selfe with this aunswer to your first figure,
and so to other, as it wiU fall out The Angler holding
himselfe contented with this construction of his conceit,
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8
WITS TRENCHMOUR.
followed on with his speedi in this manner. Some
fishes there are that keepe altogether in the deepe, &
they we most angle for ¥rith a worme : now to this
worme we must haue a tine of haire, as neere as we can
of such a colour, as may best please the eye of fish to
play with. Now to this line wee must hane a plummet,
which must guide the balte to the bottom, which draw-
ing now and then vp and downe, at length so pleaseth
the fish, as ventring vppon the baite, aunswers the hope
of our labour. Now what tbinke you of this figure?
lYuUe, Sir, quoth the Scholer, I thinke that when wit is
ledde away with humors, reason may be intangled in
repentance, and the pleasing of the eye, is such a plague
to the hart, that the worme of oOsdence, brings ignor-
ance to destruction, while in the Sea of iniquide, the
deuill angleth for his dinner.
The Fisherman smiling at this aunswere, fell to him
with another peeoe kA angling, in this manner. We
haue, quoth bee, a kinde of flye made onely of silke,
which we make our baite for a fish called a Ttewt, with
which wee often deceiue the foolish thingj as weU as
with the flie it selfe. Alas sb quoth the acboller, this
shewes but the vile course of the world, where wit find-
ing out a foole, feedes his fende with such OlusioDSk as
makes him sometime loose hunselfe, with looking after
a shadow : as wordes are without substance, when they
are layd for easie beleeuers.
Well sir, quoth the Angler, sith you mue so neere the
marks of an vnhappy meaniag : I will noi yet trouble
you with further desdphering of conceits, but onely tell
you a little cause of my pleasure taken in this cold
ezercisa Before I had leysnre to leame this lesion of
patience, to sit on a banke side, and onely pleasing my
conceit with the hope of my cunning, to deceiue a silly
creature of her comfort, I saw diners kinds of fishing in
the world, which though they were easily learned, yet I
had no niinde to looke into, at least for mine owae Tse,
howsoeuer it profited other : but of these were diuers
sundry sorts, and of diners natures, according to the
Fishermen, or the fish that they baited for : of which
kinds, according to the permisston of time, I wil
acquaint you with a few, which I haue learned to foiget,
as vnpleasing to put in practise, Onekind was snbstaa-
tiaU, another meuphoricall, and the third fentasticaB.
The substantiall was fishing with the golden hooke,
which riefa men onely layde in the deepe consdenoea of
the covetous, where th^ plucked vp such ftuours, aa
brought them a world of commoditie : and yet I remem-
ber one aoce wehhie then wise, hauing. made a hooke
of a great waight, which was swallowed by a wide
mouth, the great fish puld the no little foole into the
water, and esrtber drowned him in the deepe, or so
swallowed him vp quick, that he was neuer seene after
in the world.
Alas sir quoth the Scholler. this fellow was eythcr too
greedy of his gaine, or perswaded himselfe to be
another lonas, that after three dayes hee shoulde bee
cast out of the Whales belly, and come to shore with a
Musde boat : but hee was pittifully decdued : for by
all that I can gesse of him. he had but one sillable of
his name, and that was the last, for he proued himseUe
but an Asse, howsoeuer lone fedde his humor. Aks
sir quoth the Angler, there are many such misfortunes
in the world, a man may swallowe a Gudgin, whilst he
is fishing for a Pickreil, and leape a Whithy, whilst he
u looking on a Codshead. Yea, quoth the Scholler,
but that is foule play, that a man should loose his stoole,
while he is looking for a cushion, and be robd of his
bread whilst he is reaching for butter. Indeed qd. the
Angler yon say true, when one siu by in neigfabours,
hee had need tooke to his skirts. But leauug these
Items, let mee oome to my first reckoning : fishing for
the great fish I tdl you, was wont to be with the golden
booke. Let the Mermaids sing neuer so sweetly, they
make no reckoning of theyr muaicke, it is the golden
hooke that they will onelie come vnto, and without that,
it is but vahie to lay for a fish and catch a Frog. Why,
I hane heard of fishes that haue been made drunke with
a golden Unde of gum. that after they hane but tasted
it in theyr mouthes, they haue turned vp their bellies.
Now for such great fishes as I speake of, the very
oyle of gold is of such vertue, as the quintescenoe of
halfe a million, will so oue9>oome the sences of th« that
last it, that they win tume vp both backe and beUy,
with the giddines of that operation.
Oh sir quoth the SchoUer, a vengeance on the deuiU,
heere is a long tale quickly construed : Jadce of both
skies for a bagge of money, where among the companie
of the Brokers the deulU angleth for Usurers. But I
prey you sir on ¥rith your fishing, and if you haue doone
with your snbataniian, begin with your metaphoricaU.
Sir. quoth the Angler, in truth my store of gold is so
tittle, that I care not if I speake no more of that hooke :
and nowB, towrhing the met^jhoricaU fishing, I found
it onely by wit, a conoeited kind of hooke, that is onely
layd in the shallow sence of vnderstanding, where kinde
fooles are coaend with faire words of fine deuises : as a
foule Crowe, to bee perswaded with eloquence, that shoe
is bdoued for her white biU, tiU to feede a flattering
humor, shee leane neuer a feather in her wing. Oh,
quoth the SchoUer, I vnderatand you, as hee that made
fidre wether with Vulcan, because hee would make faire
worke with Venus. No, no, that is a fooUsh kinde of
fishing, to fish for a Codshead. and carry a knaues
head to the market. Oh brother quoth the scholler,
you are too plaine in your Aduert)8. In truth, answered
the Angler, it is not worthy the name of a Prouerb : for
euery note of experience is not a golden sentence, and
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WITS TRENCHMOUR.
yet giue a foole a Cocks-combe, and let euery honest
man haue his right : for my selfe, I neuer loued to
angle for credite with a shewe of more sober counten-
aunce then simple meaning, for in truth brother, and
verily sister, made the deuiU daunce lYenchmore,
where hipocrisie blew the bagpipe. Yea, quoth the
Scholler, how catch yon a Trowt but with a silken flye,
and can you better decdue a foole, then with a TafiEEUie
&oe? Ob sir, laugh vpon euery man at the first sight,
make a curtsie of the old fashion, say a long grace
without booke, find &ult with long haire, and great
mflfes, and tell youth of his folly, and all imperfections
of the flesh, shall be excluded firom the spirit.
Oh sir, quoth the Scholler, you shoulde haue set downe
frtfbatum^ a good medicine for a mad humor, to take
phisicke without an Apothicarie, & to bleede in a lither
vaine. Goe to sir, quoth the Angler, such fits of
naturall philosophy, put you firom your booke, and mee
to mine angle : but leauing these new tricks of an old
daunce, let vs Call again to our old galiard : and touch-
ing angling, say that a madde felow made a baite of a
faire wench, to catch a foule churle withall, how many
fiauours might her sweete eyes plucke out of his sower
hart ? In deede, quoth the Scholler, it is not a little
treason in youth, to catch age in a wheelebarrow, espe-
cially when an Ape brings a Beare to seeke honnie in a
Bee-hiue. Well sir, said the Angler, what say you to
him, that angleth with a counterfeite Diamond, to
decdue an ignorant Lapidarie. Alas quoth the Schol-
ler, it is but a common Enterlude, betwixt the cunning
of witte, and the folly of pride. Yea, quoth the Angler,
but n^iat say you of honestie ? I think as fooles doe of
learning, it may be spared at the market, and hindereth
the Country firom good sport. In deede Sir, quoth the
Scholler, an Acddence in an olde oouer, hath no grace
in Court library. And a ballad, be it neuer so good, it
goes a begging after the Faire : and for honestie, it is
such a lest, that euen the begger is wearie of it, it hath
so little place among other people.
Oh sir, quoth the Angler, you forget your selfe, hath
not vertue beene euer the beauty of leamhig, and honesty
such a Badge, as puts downe a painted Cognisaunce?
In deed, quoth the Scholler, I must confesse, OUm
memimissg inuoHt, it doth mee good to tbinke of
honesty, though it thriue but ilfauoredly : for Tempora
WMtantur^ tt nos mutamur in illist we may goe in our
Jeridns in Somer, but we must haue a Cloake for the
Winter. Indeede I haue scene the deuil painted like a
Friar when he went to deoeiue a Nun, and ludas
looked like a holy brother, when bee played the villaine
with his best Maister. Did you take these for Fisher-
men, quoth the Angler? But ilfiiuored ones qd. the
Scholler, when the one of them layd his baite in hell,
and the other followed his hooke to the deufll : and yet
45
I haue heard it is a common note in the world, for
Friars to bee wanton, and rich men to be oouetous.
Indeede quoth the Angler, you say well, Mediocria
firme: better be walking in the high-way, then building
Castles in the ayre, or seeking Lobstars in the Sea :
but let me talke with you further of aqgling. Say that
Beggery had found out ambition, and laying a plot for
his possession, neuer thought of honestie, till his villany
were at an end, whe the bewitching of an idle care,
may breed the losse of an addle head : what say you to
this angling ? I say, quoth the Scholler, while the Pea-
cock is gazing at his trayne, the Foxe wil be knitting of
his hose-garters. Well sir quoth the Angler, sith I see
you so merry with this metaphoricall kind of fishing, I
wil teU you a little of the FantasticaU. This last kinde
of angling is onely in conodt, where wit lacking vnder-
standing, layeth his baite in a dreame, to catch a foole,
when he is awake : as when an ouer-weening spirit of
his owne power, wil compasse the course of the seauen
starres, with staring only at the Moone, and so looseth
the benefite of his studie. Oh sir quoth the Scholler,
such a one was he that hauing a Deere in chase in his
sleep, when hee waked, found that a Calfes head and
the braines, gaue but a Huntsman and his dogge theyr
dinner.
Well sir, quoth the fisherman, there is another fimtas-
ticall angling, called Quasi, as if it were : As a mad fel-
lowe in a poeticall furie, imagining he had a Mistres,
made loue to his conceit. Oh quoth the Scholler, I
know such a fellow, as making verses of Venus, who was
better acquainted with the black Smith, forgetting his
better businesse, and gaining nothing by his idle labour,
found he had beene better to haue kept his wits fiisting,
then to oosen his belly of his breake&sL Well, quoth the
Angler, what say you to him that baytes his hooke with
a Dained Ague, to steale &uour from Pitty. Indeed
quoth the schoUer, when women were wont to be kind-
harted, conceits in men were verie fiuiourous : and who
could be so pittUesse, as to see the conswaption of a
kinde humor, for a word of little good meaning. But
nowe a dayes I hope there are no sudi men, knowing the
nature of the femall sexe, giuen rather to loue a strong
body, then a strong breath, and a good purse, then a &ire
tale. Wd said sir quoth the Angler, but what thhik you
of him that angleth for authoritie, ¥rith a deuised coun-
tenaunce of oounterfdt maiestie. I thinke quoth the
scholler, that Fisherman to bee the Asse in the Lyons
skinne, whom the Foxe with long flattery leading to fear
the woIfe firom his borrough, no sooner hearde the Owle
sounde her Trumpet, but he threw off his proud oouer-
pcune, and ran home to his old Crib, like a tall souldiour
at a course Manchet. Well sir quoth the Angler, but
what say you of him that angleth for a Budget in the
high-way? Oh sir, quoth the Scholler, such open-eyed
C
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1V/TS TRENCHMOUR,
sleepers, ere they be well brocule awake, may hap to be
hangd for their dreame. In good eaniest sir, quoth
the Angler, I can not bat smile at your pleasant annswers :
But dnce I see the Snnne draweth downe apace, and I
feare we shall hafue shorter time of conference, then may
be I hope with both our good lykings, I win no further
trouble you with these kinds of anglings : but after that
I haue tolde you of the nature of some fishes, I will tell
you a little tale of the choosing of their King. Sir,
quoth the SchoUer, your kindenes being such as expects
no ceremonies in courtesie, let it suffice you, that what I
friendly reoeaue, I wiH thankftzlly requite, which if I
cannot as I would, I wil deserue as I may. Sir quoth
the Angler, to make no long haruest of a little come, I
will tell you touching the nature of fishes, I finde this by
experience, that the Porpoise sQdome playes, but it is a
signe of foute weather. ' True, quoth the Scfa<dkr, a
gentill Prognosticator, for him that is weary of his life :
An. The Whale is neuer hurt, but he makes his wiU on
the shore. Sch. Good : where his Oyle is better for the
Merchant, th% his body was for the Mariner. An. The
Herings seldom scull, but on a thick misty morning.
Sch. A wholsom kind of meat, like the ah« that he de-
Ugfats hi. An. The MadoeU t>ring8 in Sommer, for he
comes but in May. Sch. Like a Nosegay of flowers,
that b no longer sweet then it is new gathered. An.
The Stockfish must be beaten \ yea, and then quoth the
SchoUer, it makes a k>lly messe <A brewes. An. The
Cunger must be sowst, and the Eele in a Spechcock, or
els they &re not in their kind : In deed, quoth the SchoUer,
a raw Shrimp, and a burned Oyster, are no irery pleasant
dishes to dlsgest : But me thinks this is but the nature of
their dressings : You say wdl, quoth the Angler, for in
deede aU fishes are by nature windy : watry you would
say, quoth the Sefaoller, for I am sure take them out of
the water except it be bote water, & the wind wlU doe
them little good : No, quoth the Angler, I meane wfaide
in another sence : Oh you meane eyther breeding of the
chollicke. or blowing of the backpipe, but a good cup of
Sack, Wfll kin the tnalioe of a red Herring : but Sir, since,
to teU you true, I take no great care of their conditions,
hauing a stomadc of that disgestion, that was neuer
afi:aide of a raw Oyster, I pray you let mee heare your
tale of the dioosing of theyr king : Sir, quoth the Aqgler,
as I haue heard it I wUl teU you : in the vnknowne deepes,
of the wonderful water, caUed the neuer scene Sea : when
fishes could speake, and wanes carried newes to the
banckes of the earth to mocke the babies of the world,
it was a noise in the ayre, that if there were not a King
in the water. Frogs would eat vp the fishes : where-vpon
poore fooles holding an opfaiion, that wonders m^ht
come to passe, fdl to a counsaUe among them seines,
how to choose a King for their comfort For a Uttle
time great hold and show was among them, hi so much
that there was a great feare of chifll waires to \_
among them. Some would haue the Whale for his
greatnes, some the Dolphin for his swiftnes, other the
Sword-fish for his stoutnes : but when the Whale was
aeene ▼nwikly, though he were great, the Dolphin was
too nimble to trust to, and the Sword-fish too dangerous
to dweU by : they no sooner saw the Herring come with
his miUion of attendants, but his readines to beare them
oompany, at aU times, and at aU seruices, made them
with generaU consent to goe of his side. & so heieoeaued
his tytle : But among the slow fishes that sUding low
by the water, could make no hast to the Court, came,
the Plaise with a pied coate ; who had no little hope,
that his cost [coate?] wonld purchase him great honour :
But beeing met by the way, by one that either pittied
his expenoe, or hught at his foUy, he was toU be might
retume home againe, as he came : for the King was
chosen, ft aUowed. Who (quoth the Plaise) the Whale,
no : why so? He was unwildy : the Dolphin? no, and
wherefore? He was too nimble : the Sword-fish? no :
for what cause? He was too quarrelsome : the Codde?
neither : for what fault? He gaped so wide, his throat
was fuU of flyes : who then? The Herring : Hening
(quoth the Plaise) wrying his mouth so in scome, that he
oould neither [neuer?] shice set it straite. And reason
(quoth the SchoUer) when a foole in a pyed coate, wiU
be putting for a kingdome : he must haue his mouth, or
his necke, or somewhat stand awry euer after.
But Sir. for your tale I thanke you, for I haue heard
it often, but not in thismanner. But I pny you Sir let
me hitreate you, to tdl me a little of the properties, and
seruices of the fishes, espedaUy, such Riuer fish as you
take pleasure to an^e for. I wiU teU you (quoth the
Angler) for Sea-fish, I haue not beene o/vjufiinftd with
many : but so Cure as I can speake I wUl teU yon mine
opfaiioD. My iudgement is that the Porpoise b like a
Swine, a great denourer of Sprats, that makes him in
taste so Uke ared Herring: and beeing serued at atable,
he b a good grosse dish, for a course stomack. Olde
Ung without mustard b like a blew coate without a
Cognisauace, and a peeoe of Qreene-fish with Sorrdl
sauce, b no meane seruice in an Alehouse. A Whiting
b so old a Courtier, that he cannot loose the oedxte of
hb seruke : Fresh Sammon, Sturgeon, and CongeTi, are
no victuab for poore people, espedaUy for weake stom-
acks, that must haue wine for their disgestion. Oysters
are sUrting meate, espedaUy with the hdp of an onion :
Mussles, and Lobsters, Crabs, and Tortus, are daoge^-
otts for Agues : Smelts are good for women with child,
and Shrimps are pretty picking meate, for idle people
after diimer : now for Rhier fish which we cheefely caU
Fkesh-fish. The Pike b so rauenous. that he wiU destroy
a whole pond, and eate vp hb feUow PickreU : mary the
Pearcfa b so backed, that be dare not meddle with hb
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II
bristles : the Carpe feeds most in the night : the Eele
ener stirs most after a raine* and the Tench is the only
Soii^eon for al the Brooke : But for Roches* Bleaks,
Dase, and such fike, they are sodi little fooles, that
against euery little shower, they will be caught with a
Fly. For their seruioes» a Pike in breath, a Caipe baked,
an Eele rested, a Tench sowsed, a Smelt fried, and a
Shrimp new sodden, are serued in their best kindes : but
of all fishes, fresh, or salt, whatsoeuer opinion is held of
dainty tastes, the Herring is he that passeth Towne and
Countrey for a good fellow : and thus much for my know^
ledge in fishing. Now for the cause that first led me
into the delight of this kinde of angUng, I will tell you.
When I found the substanUall angling, with the golden
hooke, was sometime deuilish : the Metephoricail with
the conceited hooke, was often knauish, & the fantastical?,
with the dreaming hooke, was foolish, I thought it better,
lining (as I doe not fane benoe) to walke from my house
hether to the water side ;. and angle for a dish for my
supper, then runne into the. Towne I knowe not among
whom, to gape like a Codshead, or so practise with a
knaues head, that I may fearethe deui^ in my oonsdenoe,
ere I haue halfe made my market for my dinner. In
deede sir, quoth the Scholler,. you say well : for when I
was a SchoUer in the Uniuersitiek many yeares a goe :
mee thought solitarines was a sweete life, it did so auoide
occasions of euill : but leaving n^ study, and fjalling into
a little tranaile, I haue runne into sudb a world of varieties,
that finding all vanities but yertue, I bad rather walke as
I doe somtime, to contemplate the hopes of the blessed,
then to runne vp and downe among the confusions of
the wicked. Truly sir, quptb the Angkr. I am glad to
heaze a SchoUer make so.good ft benefite of his study :
as haning escaped the snares of the deuill, as it seemes
you haue, that yon are so adioted toserue God, as I hqpe
you doe : but since you haue beene both a Scholler and
a tmuailer, I beseech you let mee be beholding to you,
for a little both of your leamhig and experience. Sir,
quoth the Scholler, to acquaint ypu a little with my
learning, you shall vnderstand, that after such time as I
had passed the Punies forme, that I had gone throufi^
the rules of my Qrammec^ reade oner a little Poetry, and
Icnew the grounds of Logick, I €ell to the study of
Philosophy, where finding Nature such a Mistres, and
Reason such a Maister, dmt they could not agree with-
out patience, I tooke no little delight to note the demding
of the quanelL Furth^armore I found such secreu by
obsemation, as I would not haue. missed for a monnr
taine : As how, I pray yov,- quoth the Angler? Mary,
quoth the Scholler, I wiUieU you t touching the quarreH
first I will tell you. It is ui the rulesof Fhflqsopby, that
contraries cannot at one time be in one subiect : which
we see other wise doe fall out ina man, that warmies his
hands, and oooles his pottage, and all with one breath.
Yea, quoth the Angler, so a knaue may flatter his
Maister, and ahuse his friend, and all with one tongue :
but what of that ? I pray you goe on: howe decide yon
the quarrell ? I will tell you, quoth the Scholler, by onely
Ma^ and Minms^ for in respect of the cold, it is warme,
and in respect of the fire it is colcL Oh, quoth the
Angler, I vnderstand yon by a Candle : which in the
daric giues a pretty light, but in the Sunne it goes out
True, quoth the Scholler, so is a fooLe held wise, among
wits of weake vnderstanding : but in the iudgement of
discretion, he is quickly derided. Now the next point
that I learned in natural Philosophy, was this : Nahtram
txptUas furta^ iiait 9igu€ r§emrr§ii That which is bred
in the bone, wiU nener out of the flesh. In deede, it is
hard to tume bkek into any other colour : Kat after
kinde will be euor good Mouse hunt. In. deede, quoth
the Angler, a Jadc-daw is neuer like a Tassell-gentill :
but by your leans, what was your next note? This,
quoth the Scholler, Contra, frimci^ mm gstdisputatt-
dum: Which is this in efiect : There is no disputing
against principles. Oh, quoth the Angler, yon mesne
with Princes, and good reason, for their prerogatfaies are
greet, and therefore their powers must be absolute, their
displeasure feared, and their wills obded. In deede,
quoth the SchoUer, you say true, he is higher ndnded,
then witted, that will contend with his superiors ; but
that is not the sence of this sentence. There be some
Rascalls called Athiests, thai will dispute against the
maiesty of God. Oh, quoth the SchoUer, leaue them to
the mercy of the .deuUl : and as you say bee that is so
ooDceitedof hiswit, as togoe firemaU good vnderstanding,
let him goe hang himseUe in his owne Schoole, and God
blesse me from his learning. Amen, and me to, quoth
the Scholler : but now to^an other point : A particulart
ad geturaU : lum est tmtmdm, ratio: Though one man
be true'harted, eueiy knaue is not to be trusted. No,
quoth the Ani^er, for one Swallow makes not Sommer :
the Priest may be an honest man, and yet many a knaue
in the IWsh : and Viigiae wax is for Christmas lights,
which is not srtde by euery Chandler. TTue, quoth the
Scholler, somemen growe wealthy withgood conscience
but it is not generaU in these dayes. But to leaue these
Sentences, I wiU teU you frirthcr of my learnings I finde
by my reading, that man was compounded of the foure
Elements, of fixe, water, earth, and ayre. How, quodi
the Angler, is it possible? The fire drinke vp the water,
and the earth dry vp the aire, and when they are oon*-
sumed, what is left to make man of?
Oh ija quoth the SchoUer, I thus vnderstand the foure
Elemenu, ChoUer, Fleame, Bk>od, and Melancholia.
In^eede qd. the Airier, I Uiinke you say true, a chol-
lerick fdlow, win be angiie with bis ottne shadows : and
a flegmatick woman, hath her nose euer dropping : a
mdanchoUe lbole» ia like a dreame of a dry Sommer :
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Py/TS TRENCHMOUR.
and a sanguine faced youth, win Ueede at the nose if he
see a feire woman. Oh sir quoth the schoUer, you speak
menilie, but let mee tell you, the chollerick man is soone
angrie, and soone pleased : the flegmatick. is a better
land man then a sea man : the sanguine, is a fine Cour-
tier : and the mdancholie, a great studienL Just quoth
the Angler, the chollericke is like a hastie pudding, soone
bote, soone cold : the flegmatick is like a Culles, con-
sumed into ielly : the sanguine like a Cbenie tart, that
would say come eate mee, ere I came at it : and the
mdancholie, like a browne loafe that had beene halfe
burnt m the baking. Truely sir quoth the SchoUer, I
haue not often heard such descant vpon a plaine song :
but let mee tell you, that without the knowledge of these
grounds, it is hard for the Phisition to minister cure of a
disease. Well quoth the Angler, what soeuer you note
by your reading, this I finde by obseruation, that fire is
good in Winter, and water in Sommer, ayre sweet in y«
spring, and outh most comfortable in the haruest : and
good cheere and honest company, makes a meny hart,
and a sound bodie. I like not to study too fzm into
Nature, to forget God, or to confound reason : indeede
if Phisitions cannot iudge of simples, they may thinkeof
Coin, but they shall come by few pounds. But yet for
all my iesting, I pray you goe on with your good in-
structions.
Well sir then qd. the scholler, the next was this,
Naiura semper gigmit siH simiUm : an Eagle neuer
hatcht an Owle, nor of a Lyon came a Monkie. True
qd. the Scholler, a bird is commonlie knowne by his
feather, for euery long bill is not a Woodcock. No
quoth the Angler that is true, and yet maister Constable
may be wealthy, and his sonne an vnthrift. Oh quoth
the schoUer, hee may perhaps take after the Mother, who
did eate vp her Creame when she should haue kept it for
Batter : but to teU truth, a Greyhound and a Mastiffe
neuer breede but a mungreU. But I wiU tell you fiirther
of my notes : I leame the propertie, quaUtie and effect
of manie things, as first and chieflie of Man. Reason is
proper to euery man, honestie, to many a man : now
reason with honestie, eS&cts credite with commendatioiL
WeU said qd. the Angler, and contrariwise, a man may
hane reason to enrich himselfe, but if his quaUtie be to
foe a thiefe or a Traytor, the effect wiU be shame and
hanging, if he chaunce to scape heU after. Very true
quoth the schoUer : but now in other things, as in Come,
to grow is the property, to make bread his quality, and
his effect is our nouriture. But quoth the Angler, if the
ground be not weU tiUed, the seed weU sowne, and the
dow weU kneaded, you may happen as good be fitting,
as to keepe your stomacke for a loafe : but what say you
of quandtie? Indeed quoth the Scholler you say true :
a good quantitie of monie, wiU help to giue a Uttle wit,
but I haue scene one no higher then a horse-loafe, wiser
then a world of wormes-meat. But indeede according
to the quantitie of your Roses, you must looke for your
sweet water from your ScUL Oh sir quoth the Aqgler,
you meane according to the quantitie of your wit, you
must k)oke for the sweete of your takuentlons. Sirquocb
the sdioUer, how soeuer my innentions- are, I am sore
yours are so quicke, that if I were agame to goe to
achoole, I sbouM be glad of such a Maister. WeU qd.
the Angler, flattery is an idle poynt of Rethockke, and
therefore I pray you let me intreate you to giue me leaue
to bee meny with you, and crane a few of your notes
vppon your MoraU phUosopby. Sfa* quoth the schoUer,
in briefe, with thanks for your Undnes, I wiU grannt
your request : My first note was, that OmMss tiH wtiUms
etsemaUqmdaiUrio: Euery man had better be his owne
friende then his neightxMrs. Oh qd. the An|^, but
that is a rule against good fellowshipw
Why so, quoth the schoUer, I think he that wffl not
prouide for hisowne breake&st, can hardly bid his fiiende
to dinner. WeU sir quoth the Angler, what say you to
your sentence in this sence? A young louer in a cold
night, gaue his wench his ck)ake,:and went himselfe in
his doublet in the raine. I say quoth the scholler, knie
isdeerer then life, and therefore, shee beeing the summe
of his harts ioy, hee preferred his Mistres before him-
selfe, according to the onstOToe of kinde harts. Oh
quoth the Aqgler, such Louers indeede are pretty ftxrfes,
Uke the bird that flies in the ayre, and suifereth his
henne, to hatch her egges on his badce, while hee flies
vp and downe, for meat for her dinner. But in deede
to teU you truth, neerer is my skin then my coate, and
that is the plaine sence of your sentence. WeU then qd.
the schoUer, to goe on with another note : Pnutra sapU
qui noH sapit tiH: He is a foole for aU his wit, thai is
not wise for himselfe. Indeed quoth the Angler, he that
wiU tUl his neighbours ground, before he hath done with
his own, may hi^ypen to hane Cotne in the fielde, when
other haue theyr haruest in the Bame. Indeed sb quoth
the SdioUer, hee that doth for other, for I thanke you,
tiU hee say to himselfe I beshrew you, he may hane more
kfaide wit, then commodious vnderstandiog : but by your
leaue, among many that haue been studients in this
course of instruction, I finde one notable vile creature,
whose philosophy I may rather caU mortaU then morraU,
his notes are so ftiU of poyson, to the spirit of aU good
disposition : and this good old Gentleman, his name was
Machauile. Oh quoth the Angler, a vengeance of all
viUaines, I thinke there was neuer such another : hee
hath left such deufflish lessons to the woiide, that I thinke
hee wiU hardUe come at heanen. I pray you, sfr, quoth
the Angler, let mee intreate you to recite some of them.
I wiU teU you sh- qd. the schoUer, among many notes
that I tooke out of diners places of his discourses, I re-
member this was one of the first : That it was good for
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IV/TS TRENCHMOUR,
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a man of conscience to keep the bands of his oath : and
yet when poUicie may purchase a good purse, an oth
hath been ventered for a lesse matter then a million.
Ang. O baoe companion, a fit steward for the deuill, to
bring soules into bell. A gentle instruction to perswade
a couetous sprite, to bring the body and soule to destruo-
tioa But by your leaue, he that will venture his own
soule, shall haue nothing to doe with my bodie. Wei*
what was the next note? Mary quoth the ScboUer, that
Fathers in their gouemment should be feared of theyr
Chyldren : But quoth the Angler^ I am not of his minde
in that poynt : for loue breedes more assurance then
feare dooth o5forL But what eU? Sch. That it is good
for Maisters to be bountifull to their seruants, were it
not, that KeepefB will say, that fieute hounds will hunt
but lasOie. Yea quoth the Angler, such lessons as these,
driues so many poore seruing men. that pay for their own
liueries, to runne on the skore for their breakeftuts. But
I pray you what more? Sch* That he that will not
eurtsie to a Milstone, make musick to an Owle, daunoe
trenchmore with an Ape, and. fall to wonder at a Wether*
oocke, may hope after nuto, and pick on shells for his
comfort.
Tush man qd. the Angler, are these of his notes? Not
in these wordes, but to this effect aunsweved the ScfaoUer.
Indeede quoth the Angler, now that I doe remember
mee, I thinke he that can cany a Ring in his mouthy a
bo(Ae vnder his arme, a penne in bis eare^ and a knife
in his pocket, may hap to make himselfe good cheere^
when better minds may misse their dinner : but on with
your notes I pray you. Sir quoth the SchoUer, I will
tell you, I red in certaine notes of a schoUer of his, that
a man that ¥riU thriue in the world, must haue his eye
vpoQ one, his hand vpon another, his foote vpon the
third, and his tongue for the fourth : but hee must not
set his hart vpon any of them: for if he grow in lone
with a woman, or in league with a friend so fane, that
he commit his secrets to his keeping, his bead is vnder
anothers girdle, his purse at an others commaund, and
his wits in an others keeping: aodthen, for lack of a little
discretion, he may euen goe currant for a foole. Oh this
was a pretty schoUer at the deuiUs Alphabet, quoth the
Angler, was not Timon of Athens one of the fothers of
his diurch ? who gane counsaile to the afflicted to hang
tliemselues for dieir comfort I thinke he was quoth the
aelKiiler : but God blesse euery good ^nrit from such a
wicked kind of humor : But to goe on, I red further,
tfiat it was no little proofe of wit, to finde out a prodigaU
Mre to vse him like a younger brother : and if there were
•uer a Lawyer of a la^ coasdcaoe, what a bribe might
deo for a conueianoe. Oh quotb ihe Angler, the pillary
Is afit window for such viUaines to looke out at. But are
these the best notes tiiat you remember in his studie?
Not the best quoth the schoUer, nor the worst, but as they
45
come into my head, I tell you them. 1 pray you sir
quoth the Angler, haue you not beene a little red in his-
toriographie. or doo you not remember anie pretty
accident that hath iallne out in your trauaile, which in
the discourse of your kindnes might doe well to enter-
taine the tyme with.
Trulie quoth the SchoUer, I was neuer any great his-
torian, neither hath my trauaUe beene long, yet haue I
seene more than I haue red : but of eyther, as time wiU
giue me leaue, I wiU teU you a Uttle to laugh at First
touching histories, or rather indeed iained tales, as good
as fobles. I red in a booke whose Author I haue forgotten,
a discourse of a man whose name I found not vrritten,
but sith the matter is somewhat fresh in memory, I wiU
as neere as I can recite it, and thus it was. There was
an old man of more age then grace, who hauing spent
aU his youth in byrding. fell in his elder yeeres to Conny-
catching, but when the arrest of Time, brings the long day
to a darke night, that no coine coulde make excuse, for
none appearance vpon the sommon, Death would be
satisfied with no aunswere, but depart : thys old fellow,
hauiqg a young son, much after the greedy humor of his
grosse Sire, before hee ended his life, close at the bedds
side delinering him vp the keyes of his Coffers, left hym
thys lesson for a farewel : My boy, qd. he, if thou wilt
be wise and take heede, I leaue thee enough to keepe
thee like a man, and therefore looke to thy selfe, for when
thy money is gone, thou maist goe hang thy selfe for any
belpe thou shalt haue of thy friends, flatter thee as
many as list, as there be knaues enough in the worlde, to
find out a foole ere he be halfe bred : but marke wd my
words, make much of mony, for tis aieweU in these dales.
If thou haue land and mony, a frure house, and a good
purse, then if thy nose stood in thy forehead, and thine
eyes in thine elbowes, thy head like a paued causie
betweene two thinne growne hedges, nere a good tooth
in thy head, good word in thy mouth, nor good thought
in thy hart, yet if thou hast thy purse weU lined, thou
shalt haue prayers of the bcgger, a eurtsie of thy fel-
lowes, welcom of thy friend, and perhaps a glaunoe of a
faire Lady : if not, thou shalt haue a wench that shaU
ride as merrily to the market, as if she were sette on a
side saddle of the best iisshion. Nowe, if thy money bee
gone, the beggeris thy companion, the foole bidds thee
welcome to a Pesood, the knaue stands and laughs at
thee, and the honest man, perhaps more pitties thee the
releeues thee : the proude man soomes thee, thy vertues
are buried, thy name is forgotten, thy quaUties are trifles,
thy learning but lost thy wit but folly, and thy honestie
put to no vse : thy friend regardes thee not, thy wench
knowes thee not, and thy foe spares thee not : and thou
art left to sorrow to make an end of thy miseries, or by
some desperat oowrse to frdl into Gods forbid. And
therefore my boy make nucfa of thy money, it wiU bdqg
C2
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ly/TS TRENCHMOUR.
thee musick when thoa art melancboHe, phisick when thou
art sick, and company when thou art solitary. Remember
what I say, looke to the maine chaunoe : AurumfotabiU
wil fetch him to life that is halfe dead. Be true to thy
Prince for fcare of hanging : bee not busie with religion
for feare of trouble : striue not with power for fcare of a
fall, and spende not thy mony for feare to goe a begging :
Loe, this is all I haue to say to thee, oh I haue a paine
at my hart, and so hee died.
Why quoth the Angler, did hee neuer bidde him seme
God, nor call himselfe on him for comfort ? Alas quoth
the Scholler, how could he thinke on God, and the deuill
always so neere him ? Well quoth the Angler, wee must
not iudge any man, but I woulde be loth to be his halfe
at the day of Doome. But I pray you what other pretty
history or deuised tale haue you read in some other
humor, that may seme the tume to passe away the time
withalL Sir quoth the scholler, I haue red many pretty
toyes, too tedious at this time to call to memory, but
among all I remember one pretty discourse of a LAdy and
her semant Oh quoth the Angler, I beleeue tis a loue
tale ; if it be it shall be welcome. For, to tell you true,
though I be in this tyme of my declining youth, an vnfit
dauncer in such a Morice, yet let me euer loue musicke,
though I cannot tune a yirginall : it is a good confirming
of my repentance, to heere a president of my imperfection.
Then sir qd. the scholler, thus it was, or at least was said
to be. In the Iland of ill fortune, where idle heads seeke
for fauors and vertue hath little countenaunce, where
money is the great Monarch, it fell out that in the court
of the Duke of Callifiorida, among many creatures of
woorthy commendation, there was oneespeciall faire Lady
of so honourable a spirit, and excellent a wit, as gaue the
wise admiration, in her conference, and the valiant,
happines in her fauour : this pure Diamond among a
number of foire iewels, I meene this kinde of Angelicall
creature, among a troope of sweet Ladies, as shee could
not but be honoured of many, so was shee especially
followed with the affectionate semice of one woorthy
Caualiero, aboue many otha : much there was to bee
commended in them both, but let this for my discourse
suffice, shee was exceeding &ire and wise, and he no lesse
kinde then tmlie valiant, but as it seemed by that which
was written of them, his vnderstanding was inferior to
her wit, whose beautie had the commaund of his reso-
lution.
Long had this poore Gentleman with the silence of loue
followed this princely Lady : who more fauouring his
discretion, then reuealing her owne oonceite, tooke this
occasion one faire euening in a pleasant Garden, to single
herselfe from company, and in a solitary walke, espying
her seruant all alone, met him sodainly at a halfe turae,
when putting vp her Maske to salute his reuerence with
a word of fiauour, as though her comming thetlier had
beene by chaunce, which was done indeede of set pur-
pose, shee entertained the time with this speech. Sir.
quoth she, thus yon see the course of the world :
each oonceite hath his crosse, and a woman a crosse
conodte to a thousand. I am sure you little thought,
choosing out this solitary walke, for the better passage
of your meditations, fto meete so vnhappily, and vnlooked
for, with the subiect of so much uouble. The poore
Gentleman little expecting either so kinde a companion,
or so sweet a speech, with no little gladnes, made the
Lady this aunswere. Good Madam, to make a trouble
of comfort, were so vnkinde a constmction of happines,
as howsoeuer other oonceiue of it, I desire not to be ac-
quainted with it : but when the hart of a poore Souldiour ,
had rather with his sword make way for his Mistres
honour, then with his tongue for his owne fauour. Let
me humbly perswade so fJEure with your good discretion,
that if in the kindnes of your commaund, you will
vouchsafe the employment of my semice, I doe not doubt
but that in the proofe of my action, you will easily see my
affection, which in the onely hope of your good coun-
tenaunce, shall set vp the rest of my worlds honour : To
which short speech the Lady no lesse quicke wittcd, then
well reade, made him this'sodaine aunswere. Oh sir,
Souldiours generally are of that imperious humour, that
they had rather commaund a looke then yeeld to a tittle :
and in mine opinion, if Cupid were now aliue, Mars
would cut his bow-string, ere he should doe any good
with his arrowes, so that by want of the company of good
spirits, Diana might keepe alone in the Woods, while
Venus might make her will in her Chamber. Truly
Madame, aunswered the knight, I knowe not what fed
the Poets wits, to faine such fables as are written : but
for my selfe, while in your vertue, I behold the obiect of
my honour, I will rather diuote my semice to your
worthines, then trouble my selfe with trifles that I dare
not trust, as are the fictions of idle heads, or the painted
couers of inward imperfections. Sir Knight quoth the
Lady, by the little sight of our eye, wee behold a great
drcuite of the earth : and shall not the spirit of our vn-
derstanding through the eye of our minde, behold the
light of that tmth, that may leade the eare of our reason,
to the content of our conceite ? I hope the best : and
though as a mist may dim the sight of the eye, and dis-
sembling the sence of the mind, yet for that I will try
before I doubt, and commaund before I &uour : let the
patience of your discretion attend the pleasure of my
emplojrment : and for all courses what soeuer fall out, if
I doe you good, be glad, not proud of it, and open not
your window to the Sunne, when she hath power to
sende her beames through the glasse : and so not enter-
taining your semice, till I may acquaint you with my best
content : I pray you walke aside for this time : For I see
a Gallant, that I must talke with, and will soone be rid
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15
of. The good Knight vnwilling. by any motion of dis-
content to put out the fire, that was now in idndling.
with humble thanks tooke his leaue, and left his Lady to
her new Louer: who no sooner came neere her, but
obseruing all fine ceremonies, with kissing his hand, in
putting o£f his hat, with a Passa measure pace comming
toward her sweet presence, greetes her with this saluta-
tion. Faire Ladie, the Quintescence of your beauties
excellence, hath so enflamed the spirit of my affection,
that except I baue fauour in your eyes, my hart will
surely consume to ashes : and therefore if my seruice
may haue acceptation in your contentment, I will not be
behind with my good will to execute the office of your
oonunaund. The Lady with a blushing smile at this
wiseGentleroans formality, made hun this quickeandquip-
ping aunswer. Sir. if your new coyned eloquence were
not too farre out of the way of mine vnderstanding, I
would fit you an aunswere to your motion : but since
silence can best talke with wooden Rethoricke, I pray you
sir if you haue any thing to say to me, let me plainely
know your meaning : Why, quoth this Whippet, if I
should tell you I loue you, and you beleeue it not, if you
beleeue it, and yet regard it not, if you regard it, and yet
oonfesse it not : what shall I be the better to speake
plainliar then I haue reason? Well sir, quoth the Lady,
to this aboundance of little wit. if I did like to study vpon
such Riddles, I should perhaps trouble my selfe to finde
out a fit aunswere for the cipher of reason. But to tell
you plaine, your loue I knowe not, your selfe I loue not,
your words I regard not, and how you take it I care not :
But if you haue any thing to say to any other ende, I
will beare you as I thinke good, and aunswere you as I
see cause. Why then Madam, quoth he, to tell you
plaine, my Lord your Father saw you out of bis window
walking with Signor Felio, and vpon the sodaine vrilled
me to come for you. Well sir, quoth the Lady, nothing
dismaide at the message, I am ready to attend his
pleasure, though I wish he had sent a fitter senumt to
mine humour : But to make as short tale as I may.
sending word by this odde Gallant, that she would forth-
with attend his pleasure, calling to her a Gentlewoman,
that she saw sitting in an Arbour somewhat neere vnto
her, taking her in her attendance, away shee goes to her
good Father, who with a naturall kindnes dissembling his
discontent, in suspect of the talk had betwixt her and Don
Felio, with a smiling countenance entertained her with
this welcome : taking her by the hand, and leading her
into his Gallery, he began in priuat thus to fall in talke
with her. My best girle, whom aboue all the children
that I haue, I most .esteeme in the true ioy of my hart,
and well woorthy, for thy good caridge in all courses, as
well for thy dutie towardes mee, as thy reputation in the
world, I must oonfesse, I neuer had cause to suspect thy
discretion m anie cause of dislike, but if a Fathers care
prooue a kinde of iealousie. excuse the error in abound*
ance of loue, and tell me truth to a question that I will
put vnto thee. The sweet Ladie, not willing to delay
her Father with long circumstance, with a modest coun-
tenaunce, not once altering her colour, but keeping the
care of her wit, intreated her commaundement of her
dutie : who in kinde manner made her this speech. I
haue been heere in my Gallary walking most part of this
euening, and looking out at one of these windowes, I
espied Don Felio all alone, walking in a tume or two in
the long walke, where bee had beene but a while, when
you found him in the Muses, and entertained him, or he
you, I knowe not with what conference. The man is one
that I loue, and will be gladde to preferre to any honour
that he deserueth, but I pray thee tel mee, what was the
substance of your talke ?
Trudy Father, quoth Madam Fianta, for so was her
name^ I would gladly tell it you if I might presume vpon
her [your?] patience, and not doubt your displeasure, I
will acquaint you with as much as I can remember. The
Duke expecting another matter then she deliuered, with
a dissembled countenaunce of promised content, willed
her boldlie to say her minde. Then good Father quoth
the Lady, thus it is : little thinking to find any creature
in that walk, whs singling my selfe from my company, I
tooke my Booke of Daplisses in my hand, and meant
to contemplate some diuine contentations, beeing neere
vnto him ere I was aware, and loth either to disgrace
him with entreating his absence, or vpon the suddaine
to withdrawe my selfe from his companie, in such good
manner as it might well beseeme him, he saluted me
with this speech. Honourable Ladie, I am sorry that it
is my ill happe to become a trouble to your contentiue
solitarines : but howe dooth my good Ladie, and your
good Father? Him quoth I, in good health I lelt not
long since, and my selfe you see, not troubled with good
o5panie : but what shoulde make Don Fdio to chuse
thys solemne place for his solace ? Alas Madam, quoth
the po(^e Knight, I dare speake to your Ladiship. who
in the pitty of your vertue haue euer beene a good
furtherer of all sutes of your Fathers seruants : so ill
hath been my hap, that after the spending of many yeeres,
loosing of no little blood, and wasting of some part of
my little substance, nowe there is no vse for mee in his
waires, to make my aduenture vppon the enemie, my
yeeres growing to that hdght, that I must before the
declining of my best age, put my wits to some worke for
the better relede of my poore carkas.se, and maintaining
of my meane estate : hauing had a long sute vnto him,
which by the crosnesse of my backe friends I am almost
now out of hope to enioy, I am deuising not far hence
neere vnto the Cittie, in a large Orchard that I haue
bdonging to my house, to set vp an Ape-baiting : which
beeing a new matter, and neuer in practise, at least, that
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WITS TRENCHMOUR.
euer I haue beard in this Countrie, will tole a world of
wise people together, who shall pay euerie one for his
comming in, howsoeuer they repent it at their going out :
nowe I will teU yon in what manner it shall be. I will
haue an Ape tied to a great logge, which shall be rounde
about besette with Bee-hiues, and when the Ape is sette
among them, his nature is to catch at anything that
buzzeth in his eare : now when one Bee hath beene about
him, and hee fall to catch and misse, that Bee will bring
another, and that another, till in a little time Jacke will
be so stunge, that what with mowing, crying, and skip-
ping, he will make sport enough for a penny. Now
before the sport begin, there shall at the enterance into
the Garden sitte a blinde man, and a deafe woman, dis-
puting an argument of loue, and at the further end of
the Alley, a Bagpipe and a Cittron, play Trenchmore to
a Tinkers dogge. Now will not this doo well for a deuise,
to helpe a poore man to a little mony ?
Nowe fie Sir, quoth I, lay away this melancholy
humour, I will rather be your friend to my Father, and
help you to a farre better matter, then you shall purchase
by this badde or base inuention : and therefore I pray
you to lay aside your determination in this poynt, till
you heare further from mee of my Father.
The good old Prince, little thinking his pretty Monkie
could vpon the saddaine haue deuised this Apish tale,
giuing credite to her discourse, made her this ioyfull
aunswere. My deere Fianta, I must confesse, he hath
had back-friends in his fortune, yet hath not his desert
lien dead in my fauour : for no longer then yesterday,
haue I signed, and caused my scale to be set to the
graunt of his sute. which to morrow thou shalt giue him,
with my purse full of gold, for hee is one that I loue
deerUe, how soeuer I make shew of lesse matter ; soone
at night forget not to come to me for iL And so with a
few other good words, left her to her best copany to her
liking : who the next morning, hauing receiued her
fathers blessing, with his bountiful! tokens of fauour to
her seniant, secretlie sent to the Knight, to meet her in
^ the walke where he left her. The message not a little
welcome, made him not long in comming to his deere
Mistresse, of whd reoehiing for the terme of three-score
yeeres, the gift of a sUtelie house, with diuers goodly
Lordshippes and Parks to the same belonging, with his
parse full of mony, the better to defray his charges,
with humble thanks to bis gracious Maister, and no
lesie to his deere Mistresse, who had thoroughly ac-
qiuainted him with the course shee had taken for him,
according to her secret discretion hastend himselfe into
tiie Country, where after a few loue*letters that had
passed betwixt them, within a little time the Duke died,
and his daughter (with her dowrie) made a match with
her true Knight Oh fine tale quoth the Angler, made
Tpon the fingers ends : for it coulde not be but there
were many crosse tricks in the Gardes ere the game
went about, but you see the time is short, and therefore
you doe well to abridge the best. But now Sir, if in
kindnes I may, I pray you let mee intreat a little of
your trauaile, what you haue noted in your passage to
and fra Sir quoth the SchoUer, to tell you a little
heere and there what I haue scene and noted, I am
contented : and therefore to be short, I will tell you in
one Country where I came I sawe a strange wonder :
for whereas in many other Countries men did vse to
eate vp the sheepe, in that Country sheep had eaten vp
both the men & their houses. For in the pastures,
where I sawe great flocks of sbeepe feeding, I might
neere vnto certaine foote-pathes, behold heere and there
a peece of an olde stone causae, which had been in
times past some streete or by lane, in some Towne or
Village, but nowe there was neither house nor towne,
nor man left* more then the Sheepheard, and his sheep-
ish Maister to looke vpon them : this was one of my
first notes. In an other Country I found by ye speedi
of the people, a great alteration of men, for a number
of Gentlemen of aundent race, by the wiretched course of
fortune, or folly of their owne or theyr friends indiscre-
tion, were gone from the Court to the Cart, and the
Sonne of What lacke you, was become the onely right
worshipfulL This is my second note.
Well Sir quoth the Angler, touching your first note,
let me tell you, that the Wethers wool sticks not in the
Graziers teeth, and a good puise with quiet, makes one
plough worth two swords. But on I pray you with
some more of your notes, for I like these very well. I
will tell you quoth the SchoUer, in one Country where I
came, I sawe the Woods so braue it with great trees,
and the Barnes so florish with sheaues of Come, that a
number of poore people dyed with hunger and cold.
Alas quoth the Angler, tluit is too common in many
Countries : but indeede it is pittie to see such dogged
mmdes among Christians, or at least, such as make
profession of Christianitie : but on I pray you with your
discourse. In an other Country quoth the SchoUer, I
saw one yeere such bloodshed, that there hath been
warres there euer since. Alas quoth the Angler, the
massacre in Paris can be your witnesse for that truth :
where the deuiU and the P^pe made the Duke of Guise
the chiefe munherer. In anodier Country quoth the
schoUer, I sawe men giuen so to drinke, that God to
punish theyr sinne, drowned a great part of the Land.
You say true, quoth the An^er, they that poure ao
much liquor into their owne bellies, deserue to haue
some water in their beds : but proceede I pray you. Ifi
an other Country I saw many pretty accidents, though
of no great importance, yet worth the noting : of whKh
one I remember, which I am perswaded wiU make you
smile to heare, if at the least I can hit neere the mamier
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IV/TS TRENCHMOUR.
17
of it, as I heard it I pray jroa heartily quoth the
Angler, let me be beholding to you for it. Not so.
qooth the SchoUer, but to content your Idndnes, thus it
was. Hauing tiauailed long vppon a rainy day, and
after a weary ioumey beeing somewhat wet, come into
mine Inne, beeing brought into the Parlour to mine
Hoast, who it seemed by his sheepe-furd short gowne,
to be the Officer for that parish, I meane the pinching
of bread, and sucking of pots, besides prisoning of
Theeues, carrying beggers to the stocks, and watching
of the towne at midnight that it ranne not ouer the
bridge, for lacke of a gate to keepe it in before morning,
and keeping the kay of the Ct^, and the Cncking-
stoole, after the manner of some fonnall Constable :
this substantial! Yeoman, who as it should seeme to be
the Sonne of some Flesh-monger, as Muttons, Beefes,
and such like conmiodions kinde of Beasts, who to-
gether with his In-keeping, and the hdpe of Maide
Marian, a good Hostes to draw on gesse, could with
his grosse nodle, making a night gowne of an Qxe-hide,
keepe himsdfe warme in a colde '^^nter, and purchase
not onely the house that he dwelt in, for this young
Gentleman his biggest Sonne, but some olde Ruddocks
for his young Roiles, hauing brought vp this his heire
for sometime at the free Schoole, and a little before his
death put him to the Uniuersity, made this cipher of
wisedome, to obserue his Fathers rule, in the education
of a Sonne of his, who a little after my conuning in,
came home to his Father from the Academic, as it
seemed, being sent for by his Parents, against the
Christmas hoUidayes, to be posed by Maister Parson :
but to be short, after wee had supped, mine Hoast
calling for a chaire for himselfe, and an other for me, to
enuiron a good warme banke, of Sea-cole fire, few
gesse [guests ?] bdng that night in the house, began to
examine his Sonne of his study, in this manner. Come
hether Sirra, how haue you spent these fiue last yeares,
that I haue beene at no little chaxge with you for your
learning ? Let me heare you what haue you read, since
3rou gaue ouer your Grammer, and your Cato, and
those toyes. Sir, quoth the Boy, with a crooked curtsie,
I first read Logick : Logick quoth the old man, a ven-
geance on it, what should you doe with it, an onely
cunning of wit to play the knaue with a plame meaning :
a proper trick of treason, to maintaine a lye against
truth. WeD, what next? Forsooth, quoth the Boy,
Rethorick: iust quoth the old man, an other fine
peece of learning to teach a lewd minde to paint out a
false tale with faire words : but what more ? Forsooth,
quoth the Boy, the nest was naturall Philosophy.
What, quoth hee, doost thou meane to be a Phisition?
Vse abstinence, and keep good diet, and care not a pin
for the Apothicaiy. But on with the rest : what else ?
Forsooth, quoth he, Monll Phik>sophy : What, quoth
the olde man, to leame to leere and looke bigge, to
curtsie and kisse the hand, to be at your siluer f<nke,
and your pick-tooth ? Sirra, it is not lac your Fathers
Sonne, to trouble his head with these trifles, your Father
followes the Cart, and thou art not shaped for a Cour-
tier : but well, is this all : or is there any more yet ?
Yea forsooth, quoth the yong man, I haue reade a little
of Arithmatique : that quoth the olde Sir, I shall finde
by the account of your battailing : where, if In frimU
and /fest, make Totalis, aboue allowance, I wiU take
you from your booke, and teach you another profession :
but what else? Forsooth quoth hee, I haue a little
looked into Musique. How now. quoth his Father,
what, art thou mad, to be a Fidler? A head frill of
Crochets kept neuer wit in good compasse : but on I
pray thee with the rest? Forsooth, quoth the Strip-
ling, I haue reade somewhat of Geometry. Oh quoth
the Father, I like that well, thou meanest to sane
charges, when thou hast timber of thine owne, thou
wilt not be bdioling to the Plough-wright : but a little
more. What else ? Forsooth quoth he, my Tutor was
beginning me with Astrologie. What quoth the olde
man, teach thee to goe to Tennis with the whole world ?
No, the ball is too bigge for the best Racket of his
braine : but haue you looked nothing into Astronomy ?
Yes forsooth quoth he : and whereto quoth his Father?
to leame to lye in an Almanacke, to cosen fooles with
iiaire weather. But what haue you learned of Diuinity ?
Forsooth quoth the youth but little as yet, onely a few
rules of 'Catechising: yea so I thought, quoth olde
Twagge? Well, this is a wretched world, to see how
new Schoolemen, haue a new fiishion in their teaching :
they were wont to teach Uttle children when I went first
to schoole, before they learned one letter, to say,
Christes crosse be my speede and the holy Ghost, but
now among a number, Christ, his Crosse, and his holy
Spirit, is so little taught among little schollers. that it is
almost forgot among great Maisters. But leaning spell-
ing and put together, which is easilie learned in a Home-
booke, let me tell you some-wbat of all your studies that
you neuer heard yet at schoole, and if you marke it well,
perhaps it shall do you no hurt. Begin first with
Dhiinide, leame to know God, and know all, know not
him, and know nothing : Leame to knovre him in his
power, to loue him in his mercie. to honour him in his
goodnes, to beleeue him in his worde, and to confesse
him in his glory. Apply this knowledge to your com-
fort, and be thankfrill for your blessing in bis grace :
know him I say, humbly, loue him fiiithftilly, seme him
truly, and pray to him hartily, and so in despight of the
deuUl, how euer the worid goe with thee, thou shaU be
sure of the ioyes of heauen. Now, for your Logick,
leame to maintahie a tnith, and to confound the con-
trary : For Rethorick, onely leame this out of it, that
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IV/TS TRENCHMOUR.
to speake much in « few words, is a good note of a wise
ScfaoUer. Now for Aiithmadque. it is not amisse in
time of hast to make a reckoning quickly : but take
heede, that reckoning without an Hoast, put not thy
purse to a new ezpenoe. For Musique, a merry hart is
worth tenne crowdes, and a Bagpipe. And for Phil-
osophy, it is better to vse her efife(^ then know ber
aecreU : And for Moralities, be not too savoie with
thy betters, nor too familiar with base people, coy to
thy friends, nor too kinde to fooles, and with a little
obseruation of times and places, thou shalt be a Philo-
sopher without booke. Now for Geometry, rather
leame. and study to purchase Land, then buiki houses :
for it is a cost will soone decay, and titles in these dayes
are tickle holdes to trust to. Now for Astrologie,
rather loue a Mole-hill of thine owne, then a Mountaine
of thy ndgbbours : and for Astronomy, rather keepe
thee in the warmth of the Sunne, then ibUow the shadow
of the Moone : and whatsoeuer you leame by the booke,
be sure to haue this alwayes by hart : Cruwuma sins
pteuniat quasi corpus amima : A fmrse without money is
like a body without a soule : and therefore whatsoeuer
you remember, foiget not your purse, I meane your
money ; for when I was young, I saw mbnie doo so
much in many things, that there was almost nothing
doone (I meane for worldly matters) without it. I
remember not a mile from the towne where I dwell, I
saw a sweet young soule married to a sower old Sir.
onelie for moi^, ft hard at the townes end many a
proper man make his will vpon the gaUowes, and onely
for mony. I sawe a knaue that had oosend his fiuher,
loose his eares on the pillary for mony. I saw some
drawne, hangd and quartered, for clipping of money.
Some misers growe mad to part ¥rith their money, and
poore baggers starue and die, with ladce of meate and
drinke, and money. Why let mee tell thee, if thou
doost continue at thy learning, it will paint thy studies
and fomish thee with bookes, it will dothe thy back and
feede thy belly, it will guilde thy speech, and giue fiune
to thy wit, make roome for thy presence, and keepe a
cushion in thy seate : thou shalt sit vppermost at the
Table, feede on the best dish, and not be contradicted
in thy speech, but welcome with a world of kindnesse,
where wanting that Earths chiefe ornament, thou shalt
haue a sachell full of holes, a studie without glasse-
windowes, bookes without couers, and a thred-bare
Jerken without a cloake< thy belly pincht with lacke of
▼ictualls, thy head ake with fruitlesse studie, and thy
hart sick with gnefe of minde, thy welcome cold in
most companies, thy place belowe thy inferiours in
worth, shouldered of euery Jack, and sometimes stand
without a stoole : and therefore, if thou be a Diuine,
get a Benefice, if a Phisition, get a sute, if a Geome-
tritian, gette an office of surueying, if whatsoeuer, get
mony, and then seme God, and followe what study thou
wilt. So the time calling to bed, the old woman loth
to wast fire and candle, had shut vp doores ft anray :
when the good man with a browne kiafe gvpe, and a
hey ho at the end of it, betaking me to .my dMunber, got
himselfe to his Goose-rest Where leaniQg him to snoit
with his sow, I heard no more of his good mastership,
but in the morning, haning hast of my way, taking
order for my charges, gaue a fiu«well to the flying
Ostrich, which was the Ames of his Inkeeping* fiiire
painted vpon the signe-post.
Now tralie Sir, quoth the Angler, I thaake yoo lor
your metiy tale, I tbinke hee was some kinfmaw, or d
his race, that you told me yon had red of, who at hit
death left his Sonne such a lessonto looke to his money.
I thinke Sir quoth the SchoUer, they were birds of one
feather, though they lined not at one time : but it is
strange to see sometime, what sharpoes of wit a man
shall meete with in such a bald noddle. You say tni«
Sfa" quoth the Angler, but it is pittie that euer good
Whie should come into a fustie vessell : but might I
intreate you for one discourse more, of some accident
that you met with in your tnmaile, and so with the
setting of the sunne I will take vp mine aii^e, and
intreate your company to my poore house, where baaing
been a scholler ft a traaailer, I hope you wiH take your
welcome with a few dishes. Sir quoth the scholler, for
one discourse more I will not denie yon, but for my
trouble at your house, I must intreate your pardon ibr
this night, to morrow it may be, I will waite on you as
I come by you: for this night I am inuited at the
Keepers of the great Parks, where hauing past my
word, I would keepe my promise.
Sir, quoth the Angler, vse your discretion, now to
moiTow, or at an other time, your welcome is set downe,
and your company desired, and therefore I beseech you,
while I shall enioy the benefite of your good *wmpfip^,
let me be beholding to you for your discourse. Then
Sir, you shall vnderstand quoth the SchoUer, that in the
time of my trauaile, comming (by occasions) as well into
the PaUaces of Princes, as the cottages of poore people,
it was my hap, yea I may well say, that vnder heauen it
was my greatest happines that of this worlde | euer
founde, to light into the courtlike house of a ri^t worthy
honourable Lady, the desert of whose commendatipns,
far exceeding the stile of my study, I mus( leaue to
better wits to dilate of, while I poorelie speake of the
little world of my wonder. For in her eye was the seate
of pittie. in her hart the honour of vertue, and in her
hand the bounty of discretion : to see her countenance
the comfortlesse, argued a diuine spirit, to heare h^
speak, which was neuer idle, prooued an oracle of wit,
to beholde her presence, might speake of a mirade in
nature : to bee short, except Plato, I knew no such
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WITS TRENCHMOUR.
19
philosopher : except the excepted, I meane the Lady of
Ladies in this world, the honour of women, and wonder
of men, the teacher of witt, and the amaser of the wise,
the terrifier of the proade, and the comforter of the
oppressed, the beantie of Nature, the wonder of Reason,
and the ioy of honour : the hand-maid of God, the
heauenly creature of the Earth, and the most worthie
Qoeene in the world, the princely Godesse, or diuine
Mncesse, the gracious soueraigne of the blessed Iland
of England : except I say this sun of die earths side, 1
knowe not a starre of that state that can compare light
with thys Lady : while her thoughts keepe the square of
such discretion, that no idle humour dare enter the list
of her conceit. What praise can be ghien to that spirit,
that hath so ordered the carefull course of her sences?
she doth all things as shee did them not, and vseth the
world as shee esteemed it not : Honour is her seruant,
Vertne is her loue, IVuth is her studie, and Meditation
is her exercise : yet is shee affable, with such curtesie,
as winnes honor in humilitie : to make an abridgment
of her prayses, in a few words of her woorthines. let this
suffice, that Nature and Wit, Vertue and Honour, Pitty
and Bounty, Care and Kindnesse, haue so wrought to-
gether in the perfecting of a peerelesse creature, that I
may bite my tongue, and burne my penne, lay Yp my
Uttk wits, and wish for a more diuine spirit, to enter into
the conceit of her desert, ere I further shew my weak-
nesse, to speake of the wonder of her commendation.
But among many good parts, whereof her praise is top
fun, I wil tell you one action, and not the least, that fell
out in my time of attendance on her fauour : Her bouse
beeing in a maner a kind of little Court, her Lorde in
place of no meane commaund, her person no lesse then
worthily and honourablie attended, as well with Gentle-
women of excellent spirits, as diners Gentlemen of fine
cariage, besides all other seruants, each of such respect
in her place, as well might giue pndse to the Gouemours,
where honor setteth rules of such discretion. It might
perhaps seeme teadious, to set downe the truth of such
particulars as deserued a generall cOmendation, where
first, God daily semed, religion tmlie preached, all
quarrels auoyded. peace carefully preserued, swearing
not heard of, where truth was easflie beleeued, a table
fully furnished, a house richly garnished, honor kindly
entertained, vertue hi^ly esteemed, seruice well re-
warded, and the poore blessedly relieued, might make
much for the truth of my discourse, while Enuie can but
fret at her confession : but least in bkiwing at a coall I
doo but put out the fire, and obscure her praise, that
may bee pend by a better spirit, let this suffice for the
son of my speech, that where the^eye of honour, did set
the rale of gonemment, kindnesse was a companion in
euery cornerof the house: now, to this little Earths kind
of Faradise, among many sundry Unde of people, came
by chaunoe a poore Gentleman in the ruine of his for-
tune, by the deuise of a dose conueyance of an imagined
firiend brought in, hauing more wit then descretion, in
the nature of a good foole, to giue this Lady cause of
laughter : who no sooner sounded the substance of bis
wit, but with the deepe eye of her rare iudgement,
perdng into the humble vertue of his spirit, pittying his
fortune, and percduing his ¥nmt, made vse of his ser-
vdoe in a better senoe, and in the diuine nature of her
blessed spirit, determined the mean of his aduanoement.
With her oountemmaoe she graced him, with good words
she fbuoured him, with her bountie, shee relieued him,
and would suffer no man to hurt him : for seeing bonestie
want maintenaunce, and vertue oppressed with malice,
she did not Uke a helping hand to fill vp a halfe penny
purse with a poore reckoning, but like herselfe in the
absolute power of her honourable spirit, shee comforted
the afflicted minde, reuiued the hart halfe dead, and as
it were drawne out of the ditch of misery, sette the
spiiite in the warme smme of Gods blessing. Thus did
this Princesse entertaine thys poore Gentleman, till by
the faction of the malicious, the deodtfuU working of
the enuious, & the desart of his owne vnworthinesse,
finding in the deoeiuing of this his bright sun, the sink-
ing of his too happy Cuiour, suiting vp his sorrowe to
himselfe, taking leaue for a time, to trauaile about a
little idle busines, hi a cold snowy day passing ouer an
vnknowne plaine, not looking well to his way. or beeing
ordained to the miseiy of such misfortune, fell so deepe
downe into a Saw-pitte, that he shall repent the fall while
he lines : for neuer since daring to presume, but in
prayers to thinke on his faire lYinoesse, and lining in
poore Cottages, to looke towards that Court-like paUaoe,
he hath gone vp and downe like a shadowe without sub-
stance, a purse without money, and a body without a
spirit
For euer since, as he hath often told me, if he haue
come amoQgmen, ithath beene likea Faire of rude people,
compared to the sweet company of that house, if in the
company of women, like a meeting of Gossips, in respect
of the gracious spirits of the sweete creatures of that
little paiadice : and if it chaunoe in bis weary passage,
bee hath had any priuate conference, with some eqietiall
bird of the Countrey, yet for all the best notes that euer
he heard, they were all Spairowes to his Nightingale.
For aooctfding to the dispositions of their minds, bee
might see the weakenes of their spirits : as some would
talke of notUng, but the new fashion, pinning of ruffes,
starching rebaters, the Outlandish tire, and the long
bodies : the fine stuffe and theprettie pinke, the Lawnc
shadow, and the cutworke Lace : other of the pyed Cow,
the bay Horse, the black Sheep, and the branded Pig :
another? her Malt in the Kill, her Gates in the scuttle,
and her Rye in the sheafe, ber Cheese in the presse, and
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20
IVITS TRENCHMOUR,
her Butter in the cherae. Now with this galimawfrey of
such good matter, as filled his eares with more sound
then good sence, must he satisfie his sorrowful! hart*
that, when it got him alone by him selfe, with calling to
minde the excellent matter* that in variety of metbode
he had often heard from the mouth of his Minenia, would
so &U into a sighing, that had not the heauens the better
blest it* it would surely haue burst asunder. For* say
quoth he* that though some few I found of extraordi-
nary good spirits, yet among a number of these Countrey
daunoes, I did light on such a Galiard* as had a trick
aboue TVenchmour, and could speake more to the pur-
pose, then many of the wiues of the Pulsh, who hauing
red many English books, could tell pretty tales of idle
people, yet compare this Christall with my Diamond,
she would quickly shew her dimnes : and among all other
things, if by the reuenue of a pretty Dairy, she could
priuily put vp three pence to spend at a blind bridaile,
if perhaps in a good humour, ^e had a minde to plea^
sure a poore friend ; it would come so dropping out of
her fiDgers, as though it hoong at her heart blood : and
then perhaps with such a lesson to it, to take heede of
vnthriftines, with a shrug of the shoulders at the hardnes
of the world, that it would breake the hart of a good
minde, to thinke on the misery of such Almes.
To foe from Hiuet that gine the golden boBejr,
To thiUing Spirits, that will tell their money.
And then calling to mind the golden showres of his
Ladies fiiuours, bled inwardly in the hart, with such
drops of vnseene teares, as makes him like Adam out of
Psradice, hope of no happines, tiU hee come at heauen :
Or like the Pheniz, line in ashes. tiU he may get life by
the vertue of his bright Sunne againe : and now this is
only his worldly comfort, that she liueth, whom his hart
honoureth, and his soule prayeth for, though his vn-
worihy eye, be abandoned the blessing of his sences ad-
miration : Who though he line in the dungeon of sor-
rowes darknes, wiU neuer cease prayer to the heauens
for his bright Sunnes etemall blessednes : and that as
her name doth line ondy hi the high Meridianis, so her
soule may be blessed in the highest Coelis. Alas poore
wretch, quoth the Angler, why doe your eyes water your
oheekes, at the shutting vp of this discourse? If it be
your selfe, be not dismaide, Princes haue grackMis spiritt,
and great powers, who at the time of their pleasure will
comfort patience in misery : and after the woe of a long
Winter, giue the fruite of a little Spring, howsoeuer
hope hit on a good Sonmier : and therefore continue
thy constande. in thy prayers to remember the happines
of thy harts honour, and feare not, but vertue will one
day haue a glaunce of iauour : and therefore if I may
aduise thee, let not nud-oontent breede a madnes, to
driue thee fttwi thy sdfe to a worse companion. Seme
God, and care not for the world : for I am perswaded,
that shee that is made of so many ezceedings* cannot
but at her good time make thee happy in her comfort,
who though a while shee shut vp the hand of her bounty :
yet will send thee a little of that Qumtesoence. that will
saue thee from a deadly swound, howsoeuer sorrow
possesse thee. And therefore be her bead-man in thy
prayers* till she make imployment of thy further seruioe.
Andnowsincel see the Sunne growes so low* as will scarce
ghie vs light to our lodging : let me at this parting chal-
lenge your promise, that to morrow you will visite my
poore cabine : which with all kindnes that I can deuise,
shall be alwayes with my sdfe at your commaund. Thus
with harty thanks each to other, with a few good
words of dther side, taking a kinde leaue, the Angler
takes vp his hooke. and away they part from the Rluer
side. From whence when they were gone in a manner
out of sight, a certaine odde Diogenes of the world* like
a foriome creature on the earth, throwne latdy out of
the fortune of his Mistres fauour, getUng a Paper-booke
vnder his arme. and a penne and Inke vnder his girdle,
in a melancholike humour, meaning to trouble the
Muses* with some dolefull Ballad, to the tune of all a
greene willow, sitting downe on a little mole-hill, among
a thick growne plot of Osiers vnseene, in steede of his
intended peece of Poetry, writ as fast as he could this
discourse that he heard betwixt this Angler, and the
Scholler.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
TiTLB-P AGE : ' WiU Trttuhmour * ss an old hilarious
dance. See Memorial-Introduction on iL
Page 6, Epistle-dsdicatokt . . . William Harfoert,
ftc See Memorial-Introduction.
Page 6, To the Rbadbk, L 8, ' oj Ijindcause,* See
for the importance of this ending, our
Memorial-Introducdon.
„ 7, ooL X, L a (from bottom) * Alkamu* st a\.
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NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
21
cfaemy: coL s, L 15, ^Bleaka* s^hlijs,
small river fish : ii, *Rockis* s roaches or
rochet or piper fish.
Page 8, ooL z, L 96, ' nmi ' s shoot an arrow at an
delation : L a (from bottom), * quick* s
living : coL a. L 5, * MuscU boat' s boat
for taking of sheUpfish called *muss61s.'
,» 9, ooL z, L z, ' Coekt'combi* = the fieuitastic head-
gear of the Fool : L 8, ' TqgatU ' s smooth
as : L z6. 'HtJiir* » suppler : L 43, ' Q^-
nisaunct' s heraldic term, cognisance :
ooL a, IL Z3, Z3, 'kmiiHng of his hose
garters,' i,t, into a noosed line or rope by
which to hang him. This act forms the
dose of ' W. N.'s " Bariey-Breake ' (Z607),
reprinted in onr Occasional Issues : 1. 39,
' coiuwq^iioM' = conception? 1. 49, 'Aor-
rotigk ' s bnirow : L 50, ' comer-paim ' »
oonnterpaine : L 5a, 'cottrst MamcJUt' s
coarse white bread: 1. 53, * Budget* ^
wallet
„ 10, ooL I, L Z9, *wiU on, the shore' Cf. page z8,
L 30. =: dies : 1. aa. ' scuU* s form into a
'sdiool : ' L 96, *brewes* s broth or brew-
ing: L 99, ' Cunger* s ed so called : ii,
'sowst* s sowsed : id. 'Spechcoeh:' see
Glossarial Index, s.v. : coL a, L Z3, ' PlaUt '
s place : L 39, ' couru * s coarse : L 4Z,
' Coguisauuce ' » cognisance, as before :
ii. ' Green^Jtsh ' » cod : L 44, ' Sammm '
s salmon : ii. ' Conger* » ed, as before :
1. 48, ' MussUs ' s mussels : ib. * Tortus '
a tortoise or tvtle.
„ II, col. z, L 4, 'Dose* a dace : L Z4 (firom bot-
tom), ' Punies /brm ' s child's seat at
8dux>l : L 6 {ib.), 'Afary' ss marry : qu.—
from Mary the mother of the Lord ? col.
a, 1. zy. ' TasuU-gentilV » male goshawk,
well-trained.
„ la, col. z, L 8, ' CW/^' as strong broth ? 1. 18 (from
bottcmi), ' mungreW s mongrd : 1. 7 (ib),
* nouriture* s nurture ; coL a, L 8 (from
bottom) *Machaiuli* s MachiaveUi.
„ 13, col. I, L z8, 'shore* s ddvt
„ Z4, od. z, L 94, * Morice* ^ Morris : 1. 36, '/rv-
sident* ^ precedent.
„ Z5, coL z, 1. az, ' Whippet* s a dog bred between
a greyhound and a spanid — used metar
phorically : ooL a, L za, ' in the Muses ' s
45
musing or meditating : L 96, ' Daplisses *
=s Du Plessis— translated by Sidney and
his sister.
Page 16, coL I, L I. ' i^Zf ' s toll (as bybell)and collect
together : 1. 99, ' baeh^lHends * = secret
enemies : col. 3. L 19, ' massacre in
Paris:* this allusion, among others, settles
the question as to Breton's alleged Roman
Cathottdsm. See Memorial-Introduction.
„ 17, col. z, L 7, ' shtep-furd* = funed with wool :
1* X3i ' Cage* = for offenders and public
exposure therdn : ii. * Cuckimg-stoole ' =
ducking stool for punishing 'shrews:'
L z6, * Fleshrmonger* » butcher or flesher :
had these terms not yet been created?
L 93, * Ruddochs:* see Glosssarial Index,
s.v. : 1. 34, *Roiles*ss ibid. : L 40^ ' Cato'
ss school4x>ok. See Memorial-Introduc-
tion on this : col. a, L 3, ' siluer ftrhe * —
then a luxury : L 9, ' battailing * a com-
mons at College s accounts for : L 16
(from bottom), ' Home-boohe '» first school-
book. See Memorial-Introduction on this.
„ 18, coL z, 1. 6, 'crewdes* s musical term : coL a,
L 4, ' browne loafe gape : * qu. — ^from the
opening in the crust ' gaping ' and showing
the interior? L zo, *Jlying Ostrich:' see
Memorial-Introduction on this and other
Inn-signs.
„ Z9, col. I, L 9, 'soueraigne of the blessed /land of
England.* This whole inddent has an
autobiographic looki See Memorial-In-
troduction on this. The homage to the
great queen was early and permanent :
coL 3, L 80, ' ^ warme sunne of Gods
blessing.* See Memorial-Introduction on
this : 1. 6 (from bottom), ' rioters * s
plaited ruffii : L 5, 'bodies* « bodice : L 4,
' cutworhe Lace * a fine netted diamonded
lace : ib., *pyed Cow,* Ac, « Inn^signs--
on which see Memorial-Introduction.
„ 90, coL z, L z, 'cherme* a chum : ib., 'gaUmaw-
firey * s mixture of odds and ends. Bre-
ton uses the word for title of one of his
radest books: L zz, 'Go/tanf'slivdy
danoe so named: ooLa, L Z5, * exceedings*
eicdlendes : L Z9, 'swound* ss swoon :
1. 7 (from bottom), ' melanchoUhe hstmour.
$ee Memorial-Introdnctioii,^G.
D
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4^isi^:igmimMfkmemimi
THE WIL OF WIT,
Wit's Will, or Wil's Wit,
Chuse you whether.
Containing fiue discourses^ the effects whereof follow,
L A Prette and Wittie Discourse betwixt Wit and Will.
The Author's Dreame of strange eflfects.
IL The Scfaoller and the Souldiour. A Disputation
pithily passed betweene them, the one defending
Learning; the other Martiall Discipline,
in. The Miseries of Mauillia.
IV. The Praise of Vertuous Ladies and Gentlewomen.
V. A Dial<^^e betweene Anger and Patience.
A Phisition's Letter.
A Farewell.
^599-
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NOTE.
The *Wil of >^t' must have been known in manuscript (as was
common) or m print, so early as 1582, as Breton is incidentally men-
tioned as the Author of it in the well-known Diary of the Rev. Richard
Madox in 1582 ; but the earliest extant edition now is that of 1599
(4to), which is our text, from the unique exemplar in the British Museum.
At the end of the ' Pretie and Wittie Discourse ' there is the date * this
8. of June, 1599,' but in the edition of 1606 the date in the same place
is 'this 21. of February, 1606 ;' and Breton generally adapts his dates
to the date of the edition, as notably and somewhat confusingly in his
' Letters.' The 1606 text offers no various readings, and only occasional
and slight changes in orthography, though it professes to be * Newly
corrected and amended, being the fift time Imprinted: London,
Printed by Thomas Creede.' The following is the collation of 1599
edition: General title-page; P*- L 21 leaves; P^ IL 9 leaves; Pt-
in. 14 leaves and blank leaf; Pt- IV. 10 leaves ; P*- V. 6 leaves.
In the ' Wil of Wit' as throughout, the Author'i own text is given
in integrity, though it has not been deemed expedient to continue * u '
for W (save as specimens in the preliminary epistles, etc.), or contrac-
tions, as *yt' for 'that,' and the like. Occasionally verse is printed as
prose in the original and early editions ; this inadvertence, or economy
of space, has been corrected by us in the places, e,^. pp. 7, 8, 30^ 31.
I have also herein, as throughout, silently corrected obvious misprints
and misplaced punctuation, e.^. page 26 (line 6 from top, first columnX
' wildy' for ' wilddy,' and (line 21 from bottom, second column), 'pur-
suing' for 'perusing;' and commas, etc., by evident printers' errors,
€.^. page 40 (line 16^ second column^ a ; (semi-colon) before instead of
after 'hurt'
Sir Egerton Brvdges reprinted the ' Praise of Vertuous Ladies
and Gentlewomen' (181 5, 8vo, 80 copies), and Mr. J. O. Halliwell
(now Mr. J. O. Hallfwell-Phillips) the whole work (i860). Mr.
Phillips's reproduction was limited to 26 copies. A comparison of
both with the original has enabled us to correct not a few important
errors. See Notes and Illustrations at the dose, on the whole 'fiue
discourses ' and our Memorial-Introduction for further bibliographical
and other details from the Stationers' Company Registers (Sept 7th
1580), etc., on this qusunt and vivid book, and the phrase ' Wil of Wit
and Wit's Will,' etc-G.
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THE
WIL OF WIT,
Wits Will, or Wils
Wit, chuse you whether.
Containing fiue discour-
ses, the effects whereof follow.
Heade and iudge.
Compiled by Nicholas Breton,
Gentleman.
N«H hi, Che non Sd.
Vims «it VoumtB VcuTAf.
«
LONDON:
Printed by Thomas Creede,
»599.
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To Gentlemen, SchoUers, and Students, whatsoeuer.
|ENTLEMEN, or others, who imploy your
time in the studies of such Arts, as are the
Ornaments of GentHitie^ to your courtesies
I oOmend the vnleamed discourse of my
little wit, whidi as I wU not intreate you to commend,
deseruing the oontiarie : so I hope you will not disdain,
though it deserue disoommendation, but so by your
pardons, eicnse my small discretion by great doire,
that hereafter with lesse hast, I may take as great care
as pains, to publish a peece of worke somewhat more
worth the perusing. Till when, wishing you all the
fiuior of God, with good fortune of the worid, I rest in
honour of learning to you and all students.
A kniing friend, N. B.
The Epistle to the Gentle Reader.
NEW booke says one ; true, it came forth
but tother day ; good stuffe, sayes an other.
Read, then iudge. I confesse h may aeeme
to a number, a bold attempt, to set out a
fonne of wit, considering the witty discourses of such
fine wits as haue deserued such cOmfidation, as may
driue this meane peece of wooike of mine into nter
disgrace, were it not that periect courtesie dooth beare
with imperfiBct knowledge, rq^arding more tlie good
minde in the writer then the matter written : and there-
fore the best will giue good words, whatsoeuer they
thinke, to encourage a forward will to doo better, when
indeede, it were a fontasticall head that could doo worse.
Well, when Wit is a wool-gathering, and Will wand-
ring, the world without guide, what a case that manne
is in. that is in such a taking ; I referre you to mad
foDces, of whom you may see examples sufficient : and
so I beeing in a certaine melancholie moode, past all
Gods foiborbod, tooke my Pten and Inke and Paper,
and somewhat I wouU go doo, whatsoeuer it were, to
put out one conceit, and bring in another, at last, and at
first, of a sttddaine waires, and at aduentures, by Gods
good heipe, and good fortune, the Ittle wit that I had,
meeting with good Will, I knew not how, fell to worice,
(at first) I know not what, but bailing written a while,
I made somewlua of it, whidi, though litle to any great
purpose, yet, if it please the Readers, I am contented,
ft if any man tUnke it well done, then Wit shall thhike
Wm a good boy, and WBl shall tUnke hee tooke Wit
in a good vaine, and Wm and Wit shall haue the more
heart hereafter, to fiJl to further wooike ; but if I haue
bin more wilf ull then wise, to trouble your wittes, with a
witlesse peece of work, pardon me for this once, ye stiali
see I win please you better hereafter : in the meane
time, desiring your courtesies to commend what you
thhike worthie, and not to disdafai without desert. I rest,
wishing your content in what you wish well, as I pray
you wish me as I do you.
Your fiiend, Nicholas Bkbton.
Gentleman*
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AD LECTOREM, DE AUTHORE.
|HAT thing is Wfll. without good VTit ?
Or what is Wit. without good Win?
The one the other doth so fit :
As each one can be but ill.
But when they onoe bt well agreed,
Their worke is likely well to speed.
For proofe, behold good Bretons will,
By helpe of Wit, what it hath writ :
A worke not of the meanest skill,
Nor such as shewes a simple Wit.
But such a an'/ and sodi a wiii.
As hath done well, and hateth UL
I need not to commend the man,
Whom none can justly disoommend :
But do the best, the best that can.
Yet some will spite, and so I end.
What I have said, I say so still,
I must commend this Wit and Will.
FINIS.
AD LECTOREM, DE AUTHORE.
|HAT Shan I say of Gold, more then tis Gold :
Or can the Diamond, more then precious :
I Or praise the man, with praises manifold
When of himselfe, himseUe is Tertuous ?
Wit is but JVit, yet such his IVit and Witt,
As proues iU good, or makes good to be iU.
Why? what his Wit f proceed and aske his Witt,
Why? what his Wiltf reade on. and leeme of Wit:
Both good I gesse, yet each a seueraU iU,
This may seeme strange, to those that heare of it.
Nay, nere a whit, for vertue many waies.
Is made a vice, yet Vertue hath her praise.
Wherefore, O Brtifm, worthie is tfay worke,
Of oommendndons worthie to the worth :
SIth captious wittes, in euerie oomer hirke,
A bold attempt, it is to set them forth
A forme of VHt, and that in sudi a sort.
As none offends, for aU is said in sport
And such a sport, as serues for other kinds.
Both young and old, for learning, armes, and love :
For Ladies humors, mirth widi mone he findes.
With some extreames, their patient mindes to prone.
Wdl. Breton, write in hand, thou hast the thing.
That when it comes, loue. wealth, and fiune wfll bring.
W. S.
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A PRETIE AND WITTIE
DISCOURSE BETWIXT WIT AND WILL.
|ONG have I traydtod, much ground have I
gone^ many wayes have I trode, mickle
mony have I spent* more labour have I lost,
in •^'JHng an olde friend of mine : whose
oompanie so courteous, his counsaik commodious, his
presence so pleasant, and his absence so greevous, that
when I thinke of him, and misse him, I find such a
misse of him, as all things are out of frame with me.
And out of frame, can come to no good fiuhion. Oh,
what shall I do ? It is long since I lost him : long
have I sought hiuL And too long (I fear) it wil be
ere I find him. But wot you who it is? Oh, my
Wit, I am firom my Wit, and have bin long. Alas the
day, I have bin almost mad with marnhing through the
worid without my good guide, my friend, and my
companion, my brother, yea, my sdfe. Alas, where is
he? WhenshaU Iseehim? How shaU I seeke him,
and whither shall I walke ? I was too soone weaiie of
him, and am now wearie of my sdfe without him.
Well, I win go where I may, I may hap to find him :
but hap is unhappie. Therefore hap good, or hap HI,
I will walke on still : if I find him, happie man. If I
do not, what then? Content my selfe even as I can,
patieooe where is no remedie.
Long have I lookt, fer have I sought, oft have I
wisfat, and sore have I longed for my merrie mate^ my
quidw sprite, my deailing, and my dearest byrd:
Whoee courtesie so contentive, whoee heipe so neoe»>
sary, whose neoessitie so great, whose presence so
pleased me, and absence so angers mee^ that when I
would have him, and see I am without him, I am not
in order, and being out of order, can take no good
course. Alas, what shall betide me ? I have tost my
tove, or my tove hath tost me. Would God wee might
meete againe, and be meiry togither : which I cannot
bee without him. Oh, what have I tost? my Will,
whither is he gone ? when will he retume? who hath led
him away ? or will bring him backe agafaie? what com-
pany is he fidne into? or how doth he leade his life?
Well, time yet may tume him. THI when I wish for
him, hoping to meete hfan, but hope is unoertaine ;
Yet hope wdl, and have well.
Thus alone I cannot dwell ;
If I find him so it is :
If not, then I wis,
I must be content with this.
Patience is a vertue.
But whom doo I behokl so neare?
It is my Win, with heavie dieere :
Wdl, I am sofie for this geare,
Yet wffl I to him out of hand.
And know, how so the case doth stand.
What ? WUl? WiU, Who? Wit?
WiL Whither away?
Wm. Where I may.
WU. Whereunto?
WUL Oh. to da
WU, What?
Will. Teach thou me that
Wit. Why, sigh not, boy?
WUL Oh. an my joy.
Wii. Where is it. Win?
Wm. Among the iU.
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A PRETIE AND WITTIE DISCOURSE
Wit. What, is it lost ?
Will, That greeves me most.
Wit, And not to be recoveiM ?
Will, Oh, my heart is ahnost dead.
Wit, What. Will, hold up head,
I will be thy friend to death.
Will, Then give me leave to fetch my breath.
And welcome : twise and thrice well met :
Where my hearts joy is set
Many a walk have I fet.
But no comfort could I get.
Till now by thee mine ondy friend,
With whom I meane my life to end.
If thou wilt give me leave, good Wit.
Wit, Yes,good8weeteVrill,andgladofit.
Will, Then harke. good Wit, unto my tale :
Not of amidde my blisse bi bale,
Nor any such like stuffe so stale.
I studie not to taike in verse,
But I will unto thee rehearse
A plaine discourse, in homely prose.
Wherein I will at huge disclose :
How I have lived, with whom, and where :
How I was tossM, here and there :
How I did chamice to travaile hither.
And so we will be menie tQgither.
Wit, Contented. Verse is good sometime,
But sometime prose, and sometime rime.
But be it either prose or verse,
What so thou wilt, good '^^ll, reheane :
I meane to heare it to the end.
And quit thee quickly as a friend.
But since thou likest prose so wdl.
Begin in prose thy tale to tdl.
Wiiks Taie.
Oh, good Wit (if thou doost remember), I lost tbee
in tiavaUe to the Well of Wisedome. Since when, I
have wandred through a wildemesse of woe, which in
the Mappe of that Countrey (I find) is called the
Desart of Desire. Wherein I saw so many wayes, as
now in this, and then in that. At last I came to the
hill of Hard Happe, which ledde mee downe into a
Vale of Vanitie. There did I live in the Lake of
Miseries, with the lost people, that having followed
Fande, found Penitence, the reward of running heads.
But Lord what a life it is? I lothe to thinke on it.
Bdeeve mee, sweete Wit, there is sudi ftlling out with
Fande, who shifts aU upon Folly. Such ezdamation
upon Folly, who brings tiiem to Fortune : audi cursing
and banning of Fortune, for her frtnvard dealing : in
gentle hdping them uppe uppon her wfaede, and then
suddaine dinging them downe (ahnost to their destruc-
tion), that if thdr bee a Hdl in this worid, there is the
place. God keepe all good mindes from such a filthy
comer. Wit, Amen. But tell me how camst thou
thence? Will. I will tdl you anon : but first I will
tdl you more. There is of all States. Princes crie out
of caies : Lordes, of lacke of living: Ladyes, of fiJse
love : souldiers, of want of pay : Lawyers, of quiet :
Poore men, of Lawe : Merchants, of shipwiadce : Maiv
riners, of fowle weather: Usurers, of sermons, and
Divines, of usurie : Players, of Preachers, and Preachers,
of Players : Dicers, of loosing, and losers, of didng :
Cryples, of fighting, and fighters, of hurts : the Rich, of
sickne«e : the Poore, of want : the Stdce, of peine :
the healthful!, of ill happe : the unhappie, of the time
that ever they were borne. Oh, it is a pittions crie :
I would not be there againe, to heaie it as I have done,
for the gaine of Europe.
Wit Bdeeve me, I cannot blame tbee : but tdl me.
how camst thou thence? Will, Oh, brother, I will
tdl you how : you know, sometime travellers must
needes have rest, which they must come by as they
may : Now. I having walked (as I told you) through
this unpleasant place, weary at last, I kdde mee downe
hi the ditdi of Distresse : where, finding many dead
seniles, and other boanes, I there thought to begin
a deepe, or deepe my last : now lying there in such
sort as I ten you, mee thought in my sleepe I sighed,
in which sorrow a good motion of minde set my heait
to prayer ; which tended to this eflfect, that it would
please the migfatie and merdftill Majestie of the Most
Highest, to send me some meane, to lead me out of this
miserie ; beemg as it were fix>m my Wit, and altogither
oomfordesse. Now, suddenly there appeared unto me
an oMe aged man, who tooke me t^ the hand, with
these words : Arise, thou duggish wanton, waDce no
longer out of thy way. tume thee backe firom this straie
pathe, experience doth teach thee: What is 'VfiSi
without Wit? Prayer hath procured thee pardon,
the high and ondy God hath given thee Grace ; by
Grace goe seeke that is worth the finding ; look where
Wit is ; too him. and make mudi of him. With joy of
that word, I awaked, and with shame of my folly in
leaving thee, I hung the head ; with sorrow whereof I
was almost of life deprived ; but now by thy sweete
wdcome wholy revived ; now awake (I should say),- I
saw none but thee ; and now, while I live, I will follow
thee.
Wit, Why, was it heere you dept, or have you come
fiure since yon waked? Will, No, no, heere did I
deepe, heere is the place of paine so unpleasant : bat
now I see thee, I have leodved comfort, for that I know
thou canst leade me to Wisdome, who will soone shew
me the way to paradise. Wit. Why then. Will, wdl
hast thou slept, better hast thou dreamed, but best hast
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BETWIXT WIT AND WILL.
tbCMi waked, to hk on mee so happily, who intend to
bring thee to that good beginning, that shall kade thee
to endtesse blisse. Bat to quit thy tale, I will tell thee
a little of my travaile, and so we will away togither.
Wits Tale.
Will, thou knowest when I left thee, in the hme of
Learning, I went on straight to the schoole of Vertue,
and with her Testimonial!, to the Well of Wisdome,
which stands within the pallaoe of Patience ; where I
found the foontaine kept with foure ladies, whose names
were Wisdome, Temperance, Fortitude, and Justice.
Now, when I came thither, with sufficient warning from
Vertue, yet (for order sake) they thus used me ;
Wisedome, which stood with a snake in her hand
(over whose head was written), J see the hoUi that ntktill
serpents make, thus used her waiie speech unto me.
Sim (quoth she), how presume you into this place?
from whence came you, and how and whither will you ?
I^ady (quoth I), from Fancies forte I came, and am now
travailing to the forte of Fame. I came now directly
from the schoole of Vertue ; brought thither by Learn-
ing, had by Reason, servant to Instruction ; and heere
behold Patience, who hath lead me, who is further to
plead for me. Welcome (quoth shee), but art thou not
wearie ? No (quoth I), nor would be, if the walke had
beene longer, to have my wilL Will, Why didst thon
thinke me there abouts? Oh, lord, I was far wide.
Wit. Pttuse, Win, a while : when I denide wearinesse ;
Yea (quoth Fortitude), an other of the Dames (over
whose head was written, / yield to good, hut overthrew
the ill)t I will see if you be wearie or not, I must trie a
fell with you. At first I made no account of her, but
when I begun, I found her of great force. Yet in the
ende, shee was content to give me over, and let me
come neare the WelL Now, upon the well brinkes
stoode Justice, over whose head was written, aty hand
hits right, death is my stroke, my ballance will not lye.
Then was my words written down by Memorie, and
weyed with Thith ; which being even in judgment, shee
bad me welocnne, and so was content to let me lay my
lips to the sweet lycquor of Sapience. CXi it is a delicate
water 1
Now, as I stoode, I heard a trumpet sound ; which
done, I heard a voyoe which said : What trumpe can
sound the true report of Fame ? Now desirous to see
the place, whence I heard this sound, I craved the ladies
pasport to the said place, who gave me no other pasport
than the commandement of Patience, warning me in any
wise to take hold of Time, when I met him, and tune
him to my use : with these two, I should come to the
forte afore me. I, right glad of my good hap, tooke
leave, and forth I went ; anon I met Master Time, with
his sithe in his hand,' singing, Sax/e vertue, al things I
cut daume, that stand within my way. But as he came
working, I watcht him neare, and as he strodke aside, I
suddenly stept to him, tooke him by the noddle, and
turned him to my work. What wouldest thou (quoth
he) ? I must not stand idle. No (quoth I), thou shalt
walke, and leade me to the fort of Fame. Come, then
(quoth he). Goe away scrfUy (quoth Patience). Con-
tent (quoth I). And so togither we go to this stately
Court ; where, being first entertained by Courtly, we
were brought to Favour, and so led up to Fame. Now,
being on knee before her higfanesse, she first gave me
her hand to kisse, and willed the lords to bid me wet-
come. See here (quoth she) the perfection of aflfecdon,
iriiat a travaUe he hath undertaken ondy for our fiivour,
which he shall be sure of. The Nobles used me
honourably, the Gentlemen courteously, the Servants
reverently, and Favour freendly. Now, as I stood, I
heard such sweete musidE, such heavenly songs, it
made my heart leape to heare them. The prince did
sing in praise of peace, the lords of plentie, the ladies
of true love, the lawiers of quiet, the servaunts of lawe,
the mercfaaunts of sayUng, and saylers of faire weather,
the rich of health, the poore of charitie, the healthfuU
of good happe, and the happie of Gods blesshig : there
was no usurers, dlcera, players, nor fighters heard of.
Oh, there was a place of pleasure ; if in the wortd there
be a paradice, that was it. Oh that thou haddest beene
with meet
Will, So would I, but tell me, how came you againe?
Wit. I will tell thee. When I had beene withfai, and
without, and heard such sweete harmony, of sndi
lingular musicke ; at last, I came downe into the base
oourt, led by Favour, to a lodging which was called
the counting house ; there sate Memorie, to take the
names of such as had bin entertained, and meant to
seeke fiivour, at the hands of happie Fame. But as I
was going through the court, I met one of the maides
of honour attendaunt upon the princesse, whose name
(Favour told me) was Belesa, accompanied with
Gentilesza, another of the maides. Now, as I was
walking, I stared so earnestly on them, that (not
looking to my feete) I stumbled against a stone, and
with the fiJl I awaked : now awake, I thought of my
good Will ; and see how soone it was my happe to
meete with thee ; but no sooner then I wished for
thee, nor then I am heartily glad of thee. WiU.
Gramercy, Wit. But yet I beshrow thee. Wit, Why
so? Will. For looshig mee. Wit, Thou mightest
havefoDowed. ITt//. You might have heM me. Wit,
When? WiU. When I was neere you. Wit, Where
was that?
WiU, When you lost me. But tell me one thing,
mbat was it you slept, and awaked so sodalndy?
B
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lO
A PRETIE AND WITTIE DISCOURSE
What? was it heere aboats? WU. Yea, heere V^n,
heere, heere is the Forte of Fame, as thou shah finde,
when tfaoa halt beene with me a while ; tiiere is no
house, but hath a sinke ; no field so fiiyre, but hath
tonle ditch ; no piaoe so pleasant, but hath a corner of
anoyance ; be that mnnes zetchlesly, fidfes headlong ;
and hee that is in a hole, he knowes not how, must
come out he knowes not when. Care is to be had in
all things, at all times, and in all places ; well, thou
hast knowne some aonowe; leame to leave seUie
judgement ; fbUow friend, go with me. WiU. Why?
I would never have lost thee, but— Wit, But that thou
wert wearie of me. WilL "Wlsf} I was not wearie,
but— WiL No, but that 70U wen a wanton. IViii.
Why? I was not a wanton, but— IVit. No, but that
you were wilfuU. Wiii. Why? I was not wilfull, but—
Wit. No, but that you thought better of your sdfe
than any else. Will. Why? but I did not tUnke so,
but— Wit, Nay, yon may say you would not have
thought so, but—
Will. But idiat? or why? Wii, But became you
did not see your seUe. Wi//. Yes, indeede, but I did ;
I did see my selfe and you too. Wit. Indeede, but
you did not ; for if you had seena me. you would aot
so have lost mee. WiU. Yes. but I did see you, but
when I had looked on you a while, I looked on my
sette so long, tiO you were out of sight, and then I
kxiked after you and could not see yon. Wit, Wdl,
but then you sawe mee not, and so yoi^ lost mee ; but
since you now have found me, follow me neere, stay
but a buts length bdiinde mee, least I snddainly steppe
a flights shotte before you, and then a fuilong farther,
you never overtake me. WiJL But soft, ruaaes Wit so
&st. Will is weerie. Wit. Goe too, throw off your
clogge of care, trust to me, so 3rou do as I bid you, al
shall be welL WiU. Yes, but— Wit. But what?
WiU. ButaUttleofyourhelpe. Wit, Yes, but— WiU.
But? What? Wit. But that yon must of jour sdfe
labour. WiU, So I wiU, but— Wit. But not too
much : well, contented, I will worice. Wilt thou
help? IfV//. Yea, wilUngly. (KfV. Howk>ng? WiU.
Till death. Wit, Why, wiU thou dye? WiU, Not
with woiidng : yet will I wocke son. Wit. Whereto?
WUf. To winne my wish.
Wit. What is that? WiU. You can telL Wit.
But tdlme. WiU. What? Wit Is it fiivour ? WiU.
That is one parte of it. Wit. Wealth? WiU. An
other parte. Wit. Honour ? WiU. The greatest next
Wit. Content. WiU. AUinaU. Wit, Where? W*U,
In heart. Wit. How ? WiU. By hnppe. Wit, How
is that? WiU, By hope. Wit, Oh, hope is vaine.
WiU, Oh, do not discomfort mee. Wit. Doubt the
worst WiU. Wherefore? Wit. Becanse I bid diee.
Witt. Why doo you bid mee? Wii, For this leaaon :
the best wiUhelpe it selfe. (KtAl What is the worst?
Wit. Envie. Will What wiU bee doo? Wit Mis.
chiefe. WUl. To whome? Wit. To good
WUi. HowshaU I doo. then? Wit. L
prayer, God will preserve His servants.
WUl. That I shaU : then it is not fanpossible. Wit.
What? WUi. To get content? Wit. It is hard.
WiU. What then? Wit. Doo our best WiU. Con-
tent. Wit. But harke. Wm : shaU I tdl diee a Uttle
men of the fort of Fame, what I sawe and heard befon
I came away? Over die gate at the entrie, I sawe
written pretie posies, some in Ladne, some in Italian,
some Flnendi, and some FuglLsh. In Latine I remem-
ber these : Qmd tarn d^fUiU qmod mom aoiertia vimeitf
By that was written, LiAort vertus: and by that,
Veriute fama: and o^rer that, Pama imtmartaKs: and
that was written in many places about die house. In
Italian was written, Giwemik vecckoMa : by that,
VkeclUMga AUrtt, tt Biorte Temf9, €t Ttmpe Pama : but
over all, Sopra tmtH, triumpka Iddio, In FVench, U
J9I Eorfumty U prmdemt Famu. Fame £st iBvimi, diui^
nitia at frttiaust, Diem est mostre gmarde. In Engliali
was written. Padenoe is a vertue. Vertne is fionous.
Fame is divine. Divinide is gntioos. Qraoe is the
gift of God : and God is the ondy giver of grace.
Which by patience seekes the vertne that is fionous, to
die divine pleasure of the Giver of all good gifts :
blessed be His name, this aAudl he find, that enters the
fort of Fame.
WiU. Oh, Biraete speeches. WU, Then wfl I tdl
thee further : as I walked up and down with Favour, I
beard Courtesie and Content (a couple of courtiers) dis-
coursing of thee and mee. Of the vertues of Wit, and
the vanities of WUL
Wit, they sayde, was desirous of knowledge, but Will
oould take no peine : Wit would have patience, but WiU
would be wood with anger: Wit would worke, when
Will would stand ydle : Wit wonU be walking, when
Will wonU bee skmddull : Wit wonlde call for WSIes
hdpcwhenWill cared not for Whs coonsaile: Witwoulde
bee wise, and V^ would be wanton : Wit would be
vertoous, and WiU vaine : 1^ woidd be fiunous, and
Will foolish : Wit would be sober, and WiU frantic^ :
VTit would be carefoll, and Will cardesse : Wit study-
ing, and WU playing : Wit at good exercise, and VHl
idle, and worse occupied : Wit mourning for Will, W^
making no mone for Wit : Wit in his dumps, and WUl
fai deUgfats : Wit would doo wdl, and have Wm doo no
worse, if he would follow him. But '^NK^ would k>ose
Wk, and 'Wx must worke without ^^ and against Wit:
and yet this is sttannge, th^ were sworne brethren, one
oould not be without the other. Yet Wit could make
better shift alone : 'Wx could finde WiU, when he had
tost UBMdfo, and WIU (yet) would please Wft wdl,
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BETWIXT WTT AND WTLJL
when ha vrould be a good boy : which he woukL never
be tiU he were beaten, and that with the smart of his
owne rod : then he would oome home to Wit. foUow
Wit as his best freend, and never leave him to the lost
boure.
Now when I beard this discourse, I remembied thee,
and beeing able to tarie no longer the hearing of such
matter against him whom I love, I entreated Favour to
bring me forth into the court, towardes the counting
bouse : whither walking, I stumbled by the way, and fell
as I told you : wherewith I awoke. Now, good Will,
since I have found thee, and now thou seest the miseries
of the world, come, foUowe me, let me bring thee to a
better course : let not mee moume for thee, nor other thus
talke of thee: I will make much of thee, if thou wilt love
mee : I will make thee give them cause to say : See what
a chaunge 1 Will is come home. Will is oontent to be
ruled by Wit : hee workes with Wit, he walkes with
Wit : he moumes and is merie with Wit : he is travail-
ing to Vertue with Wit, he will finde Fame by Wit : why
be. Will ? He is as welcome as Wit, as worthie as Wit,
now he hath learned of Wit how to direct his course :
beleeve me, Will, I love thee.
Will. Gramercie, good Wit. and I thee. But tell me
one thing, mee thinks all this was but a dreame, for in
the ende you did awake with the CeOI. Wit, True, Will,
I was in a dreame, and so wert thou. WU, Oh, then,
you did heare men talke so much of me in your sleepe :
awake, I wanant you, you shall never heare so much
amisse of me. Wit, I hope so too : now I have met
with thee, I vrill shewe thee a way, whereby thou shait
deserve no such discredit WiU, Gramerde. But shall
I now tdl thee a little that I had forgotten, that I sawe
and hearde in the Lake of Miserie? WiU Contented,
good Will, and gramercie too.
WU, Then, Wit, thou shak understand, I heard these
speedies past among penitent people : when Wit is way-
ward, Wil is nobody : wofiill V^t, blames wanton Wil :
wanton Wit, chides worthy VTA : unhappie Wit, hasty
WO : fimtasUcal Wit, forward WiU. Over that, Wit
thinks scome of Will, but yet he caimot bee without him :
Wit hath lost Will, but yet he is glad to seeke him : Wit
moumes for Will, but Wit sees it not : Will travailes for
the stone, that Wit must whet himselfe uppon : Will is
painefiill, but Wit unthankful : Will is courteous, but
Wit curst : Will soone content, Wit too curious : Will
would be ruled, but Wit had no reason : Will would
have beene fiunous, had Wit beene vertuous : V^ll had
beene good, had not Wit beene bad : Will had not lost
Wit, had Wit lookt unto him : Will would doo well, if
Wit wouM doo better : Will woukl leame, if Wit would
teach him: but Will must woike vrithout WH, and
against Wit : and yet it was wooodeiful that swome
brethren should so disagree, yet onesoneoessarie for the
other in all actions, as nothing could hit well, when they
were asunder. Will could meete Wit in a mase, and
comfort him with his company : Will could bring Wit
into a good order, when he was quite out of oourse. Wit
would be glad of Will: but niien? When he found the
want of his freend, which he would never doo, till he
were wearie of working akme: and tiben he would
embrace WiU, make much of Will, and nenrer leave WiU
for any worlds good. Now when I heard so mudi of
my good Wit, I could not tarie any longer in the com-
pany, but firom them I go, and by my seMb sate downe,
where I slept, and awakt, as I told you.
WU, Gramarde, good WiU ; wii^ then I perceive we
were both asleepe, we lost one another in travaile,
and tiavaUed in sleepe, to sedce one another ; which
walking we have found : happy be this day of our meet-
ing, and twise happy houre of this our fireendly greeting.
Hee runs &rre, that never tumes ; bee tumes weU, that
stayes in time ; and hee stayes well, that stands fast ; he
stands fieut, that never fiEdles ; hee foUes kme, that never
riseth ; he riseth wdl, that stands alone when he is up.
Good WiU, weU met, let us now bee merrie, shake hands,
sweare company, and never part. Wit, Content, heere
is my hand, my heart is thine. But ere we goe any
further, let us be a littie merry. WUL What shaU we
doo? If^f /. Let us sing. ^f//. Content But what?
WU, What you wiU ; begin, and I wiU answere you.
A Sofighetweme Wit and WUL
Wit, What art Uiou, WiU?
Will, A babe of natures brood.
Wit, Who was thy syre?
Will. Sweet lust, as lovers say.
Wit. Thy mother who?
Wai, VTild lustie wanton blood.
Wit, When wert thou borne?
Will, In merrie moneth of May.
WU. And where brought up?
WUl. InschooleofUtUeskiU,
Wit. What leamdst thou there?
Will, Love is my Lesson stiU.
Wit Where readst thou that?
WUl, InUnesofsweeteddigfat
WU. The author who ?
WiU, Desire did draw tiie boohe.
WU, WhoteacheUi? >r«7/. Time.
WU, What order? WiU. Lovers right
WU, Whauthat? IKf//. To catch
Content, by hooke or crooke.
Wit, Where keepas be schoole ?
WiU, InwUdeinesseofwo.
WU, Why Uves he there?
WiU. The fioes appomt it so.
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A PRETIE AND WITTIE DISCOURSE
Wit, Why did they so?
Wm, It was their secret wilL
Wit, What was their wiU?
Will. To worke fond lovers wo.
Wit. What was their woe?
Will. By spite their sport to spUL
Wit. What was their sport?
Will, Dame Nature best doth know.
Wit. How grows their spite?
Will. By want of wish.
Wit. What's that?
Will. Wit knowes right weU,
Will may not tdl thee what.
Wit Then. V^. adue.
Will. Yet stand me in some steed.
Wit. Wherewith, sweete Will?
Will. Alas, by thine advise.
Wit. Whereto, good WiU?
Will. To win my wish with speed.
Wit. I know not how.
WiU. Oh Lord, that A^mi were wise.
Wit. Wouldst thou be wise?
Will. Fill fieUn. then come from sdioole.
Wit. Take this of Wit:
Love learns to play the foole.
Will. Content, I wil oome from Schoole, I wil give
over Artem AmamiU, and I will with thee to some more
worthie study, which may be as well to my commoditie,
comfort, as content. Wit. Well said. Will, now I like
thee well; and, therefore, now I will do my best to
worke thy delight But for that now I have a peeoe of
worke in hand, which none must be privie too. till it be
finished ; we will heere leave off talke. and Hall to our
woike togither, so shall I the sooner and the better
dispatch it.
Will, Content, You shall have my helpe in it. or any
other thing, wherein I may stand you in steed. And
since you are so glad of my company, vre will live and
die togither. WU. Gramerde. good WiXL ; and meane
time let us pray God to prosper our worke ; let us have
care how we worke ; what, when, and where we woAe,
that we may find it oommodioas, not oontxarie to Gods
will, contentive to the best, offensive to fewe or none ; let
the matter be vertuous, so shall he prove fiunons. Will.
Good V^t. I thanke thee for thy good counsaDe ; God
give us His grace to doo so. I am glad to see thee so well
bent ; now I must needs love thee ; thou wert never
wont to be so well minded. Wit, Better late than
never ; it is good to be honest, though a man had for-
swome it ; there is no time too late to thrive. Will.
True ; and I promise thee now, I hope I shall doo wdl
by the comfortable oounsaile of so good a firiend. God
be t*'f»"^*^, the old vaine is gone. Sttt fro ratiaiu
tfolmmtas, Smm ymvmisjruar koe mmrndo, Semx colam
pittatem. Omtna vimeit amor. Faint heart never
woon frure lady. Let us be merrie while we are here ;
when we are gone, all the worid goes with us ; let them
take eare that oome after. A man is a man, if he have
but a hose on his head. Oh clu hdla domut f favor
delta Sigmora, ok tMa amort, La Sutnora tt spada,
sauM estos nada, PirU Amor dediou : Beau damoiselle;
ok krave kmom; Che gallante ckevalf il faut avoire
eomef That makes no matter; then sweetes had no
sower ; but now Wit, oh WOl, dost thou remember all
this? I pray thee forget all. and think no more of such
tUngs. I am sorie that ever they were in my heart,
but now thou shalt see we will do wdl inough : we will
take another way, to both our comforts. We wiU to
Care, and intreate him to lend us his helpe, for without
him, indeed we shall make an QfiEivoured ende, of what
we begin untowardly. I promise thee, I heard the
pretiest song betwbct him and Miserie that I heard a
good whUe : if thou wilt set it downe in writing, I will
redte it unto thee. Will. Contented, right willingly, and
thanktheetoa K^>/. Then k)e thus it was.
I%e Song bdweene Miserie and Care.
M. What art thou. Care?
C, A secret skil unseene.
M. Whowasthysyre?
C, Sound Wisdome. M. Mother who?
C. Devise. M. And who thy nurse?
C, Delight I weene.
M. When wert thou borne?
C. In harvest A/. What to do?
C, To worke? M. With whom?
C. With \sat and honest WIL
Ai, Whatwofke? C. lagraine.
To gleane the good from ilL
M. What good? C. The best
M. And how? C. Bywarieeye.
M. Whose eye is that?
C, The eye of perfect sight
M. Who beares that eye?
C. The head that hath me nie.
M. Whose head is that?
C, Each one that loves delight
M. But what delight?
C. That longest doth endure.
M. Oh, Care. C. I come,
Thy comfort to procure.
M. Whence dost thou come?
C, I oome firom loftie skie.
M. When camst thou thence?
C, Even now. M, Who sent thee so?
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BETWIXT WIT AND WILL.
13
C The gods. M, Whereto?
C. To comfort Miserie.
i/. But how? C. By Wit
To woike his ease of wo.
i/. What wo? C TbeworsL
M, Whats that? C. The griefe of mfauL
AT. Oh. C Feare not, Care
Will quickly comfort find.
Bdeeve me, I like it well : bat is Care so comfortable :
yea, indeed is it Care is both a oorsie and a comfort,
all is in the use of it Care is such a thing, as hath a
great a doo in all things : why Care is a king in his kind.
Did you never heare my discourse of Care in verse ?
IVili. No, that I remember : if it be not long, I
pray you rehearse it And for my better remembrance,
henceforth, I will write it Wit, Then give eare, thus
it was.
THE SONG OF CARE.
Come, all the world, submit your selves to Care,
And hun acknowledge for your chiefest king :
^th whom no King or Keisar may compare,
Who beares so great a sway in every tUng.
At home, abroad, in peace, and eke in warre,
Care diiefly stands to either make or marre.
The court he keepes is in a wise conceit.
His house a head, where reason rules the wit :
His seate the heart that hateth all deceit.
His bed, the bndne, that feeb no frantk:k fit.
His diet is the cates of sweet content :
Thus is his life in heavenly pleasure spent
His kingdome is the whole world round about.
Sorrow his sword, to such as do rebell :
His counsaile, vrisedome, that decides each doubt.
His skill, foresight : of things to come, to tell.
His chiefe delight is studies of devise,
To keepe his subjects out of miseries.
Oh courteous king, oh high and mightie Care,
What shall I write in honour of thy name ?
But to the world, by due desert declare
Thy royaU state, and thy immortall £une.
Then so I end, as I at first begun.
Care is the kii^ of kings, when all is done.
FINIS.
Will, Surely I never heard so much of Care before :
but Reason hath shewed roe, all is true that you have
spoken of him. And therefore, let us humbly crave
his helpe in this our worke which we are to take in
hand, I dare warrant his liavour. Wit, Sayest thou so,
Wil? then let us goe ; tune trudgeth away, we have
talked long : mountains never meete, but friends
often : good happe comes oft unlookt for, but never
unwelcome. I thought not to have found thee heere.
but we see Fortune doth much, but Fates more, to
bring friends togither : and friendship doth much,
where £EUth is fixed : and faith is a Jewell, and Jewells
are precious, and predous is for princes.
Oh God, trust me, Wil, we must be warie to work,
so with advise of Care, that as we are firiends one to
another, so we may prove in all actions to shew our
cheefest jewell, our £EUthfull heart to God and her
Majestic : to whom might we once be so happie as to
present a peece of worke worthy the receit : oh how
glad shuld then our hearts be, which with fidthful dutie
would adventure death for her most excellent fiavour :
which till by desert we find, and alwaies let us love
and honour our singular good lord, that hath vouch-
safed us his undeserved &vour : and let us heartily
pray for the preservation of her most excellent ma^
jestie, with long and prosperous raigne over us : as for
the advancement of his honours estate, who by his
vertues deserves, and by deserts hath found favour of
her highness, love of her peeres, honour of us, and a
number our betters. And so let us away into my
dosset of Conceit, where from company we will thinke
upon such matters as here wee will not talke on. Will,
Content We will go togither, studie thou, and I will
make my pen, readie at thine, or his honors oom-
mandement And thus till we have dispatcht our
worke in hand, let us take our leave humbly of our
good lord, and courteously of all our firienda : Wishing
them to emptoy their studies to the pleasure of God,
content of the best sort, profit of themselves, and good
example to others : and so Bacciando U wtani del
Signon, let us bid them all adiu. From our heart,
this 8. of June, 1599.
INGENIJ VOLUNTAS.
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THE AUTHORS DREAME OF STRANGE EFFECTS,
AS FOLLOWETH.
|0T many dales sinoe. it was my hap to
travaile, not &ire hence, into a oountrey
called the iland of Invention : where I
met with many of mine acquaintance, as
well friends as foes. Now my foes began to flatter
me, and my friends as fast to finowne on me. My
fnends were Wit and Reason, Wlsedome and Care,
Wealth and Content. My foes were Wil and Rage,
Folly and Rechlesnes, Woe and Discontent. Now
there were other, betwixt friends and foes, that stood
looking at mee, with a straunge comitenanoe : as who
should say. Wilt thou, or wflt thou not? These were
Fande, Love, Frenzie, and Patience. Now there were
two ladies, that sate in such a state, that I had much
a doo to looke up to them : these were Vertue and
Fame. Now, bdowe there were two sprites, which I
was vily afiaide off : the one was pide. of all colours,
and the other as blacke as a coale : the oolonred was
Vanitie, and the other Infiunie.
Now, as I lookt about me, I remember my first
words were these : God blesse me from sprites. And
then looking upwards, I wisht to God I could dimbe
up to the two ladies.
But soft a while, there is moire in it then so, more
steppes in a ladder then one, and more sticks then one
to the making of the steppes. Soft fire makes sweete
mault : Norn cuhn's atiingit adire Corinthum, The court
is not for common persons, let beggers stand at gates :
I am but a poore traveller, I must acquaint my sdfe with
meane men before I seeme to looke so high : let me go
speak with my friends. But what meane my foes thus
to use me with courtesie? What, would they be fnends
with me? But let mee see who is hee that frownes on
mee, while I am looking on my foes? Oh, it is my
friend Wit ; let me go to him, and leame the cause of
his choUer. Why art thou angrie, good Wit? Will is
at thy command ; if thou thinkest well of thy friend,
leave those frowning lookes, that win soone bring me
out of love with thee. What (quoth Reason), remember
who is thy friend ; hast thou forgotten what I have told
thee? What is Will without Wit? Yea (quoth I), and
what is Wit without Reason? Oh. (quoth Wisdome),
colde wordes, ^^sdomesfaowes Wit cannot want Reason.
Yea, but (quoth I) where is Wisdome? Oh (quoth
Care) come to me and I wH tell thee. Tush (quoth I),
what is Care without Wealth? Oh yes (quoth Wealth),
Content is sufficient riches. Yea, manie (quoth I), but
where is that ? Tush (quoth Fande), oome away, and go
with mee. Come, thou hast beene from me a great while.
Wit is become a swome brother to Reason, and they two
are servants to Wisdome. lA^sdome, he is consulted with
Care, to hunt after Wealth, and Wealth forsooth must
winne Content. Oh it were a trim life to take in hand to
follow these fellowes. Come, go soft (quoth I), I have
bene fantastlcall inongh already. Then (quoth Fande)
looke where Love is. Tush (quoth I), my heart is done.
What, wilt thou go with me? (quoth Frende). No
(quoth I) ; I would I were further from thee. Then
(quoth I^Ltience) I trust you and I shall be friends yet.
No (quoth I), for I am sure thou never earnest to me for
any good. With that, Fancie turned her &oe. Love
lookt another way, Frensie fomed at the mouth like a
bore, and PaUenoe lookt like a poore companion. Now
came my foes neere me ; Will he comes swearing, that
Wit was so wayward, that no bodie oouki abide him.
Rage hee swore, Reason was so woonderfiill, as he knew
not what to make of him. FoUie he badde fie upon
Wisedome, why nobodie could taike with him for Care.
And Retchlesnesse sware. Care was too covetous for his
conscience to meddle withalL Wo cried out upon
Wealth, saying : it was the txash that he was wearie of.
and had brought him to that passe, by penitence of too
much estimation of it. Discontent, hee told me that
Content was but a flincher, he would never abide with
any man long, and he would be my companion during
life, if I would.
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THE AUTHORS DREAME OF STRANGE EFFECTS.
»5
Now was I in sudi a maxe, with muziiig what to do,
that I was, and I was not : I oooU not tdl where nor
what I was : jet with much adoo, I made them all this
annswere. Will, thou knowest I have tried thee a
wanton, therefore no more wordes : if tho« wilt followe
me doo, otherwise fiueweU. Rage, thou art not ignorannt
of thy vnnily mdenesse, therefore ranne after mee if thou
wih, for else I win gladly rest witboat thee. FoUie, thou
didst so mncfa follow Fande, that thoa hadst almost
midone me: I am afrayde of thee, therefore come
behind me if thou wilt, for follow thee I will not, except
thou steppe albre me nnawares, and that nnwiilingly.
Retchlessnesse, doest thou remember what thoa hast
lost me? go looke a companion, lie aloofe, for I like thee
not Woe, doest thou not knowe howe often thou hast
made me weq>e? then go water other mens cheekes,
mine eyes are wet inongh alresdie. And Discontent,
thott haK done mee such despite, that I can never ddight
in thee: tberefiore depait, for I win never bid thee
wdoome.
My freendes that frowned on me, now hearing these
answeres to these customers, came a little neere me.
First (quoth Wit), how now? shall freendes be foes?
Wilt thou no more of my company? Yes (quoth I), if I
wiU. to what purpose. Why (quoth he), I will bring
thee to Reason. What to doo? (quoth I). Nay (quoth
Wit)«aske him that Well (quoth I). Content So when
Reason had espied us, he beganae somewhat merOy to
kx)ke uppon mee. What (quoth he), hast thou lost Win
and found Wit? Now I see we shaU be freendes againe.
Yea, but (quoth I) vdiat wilt thou doo now for me?
Why (quoth he), I wiU brii« thee to Wisdome. To
what end (quoth I) ; he shaU soone shew thee (quoth he)
such suffident good, as thou shalt be glad ol
Wisdome, with grave countenance, thus saluted me.
OUe freend, hast thou left Wm with Rage, and foUowed
Wit with Reason? Welcome. Come, let us goe to Care.
For what cause? (quoth I). Of him thou shak quiddie
knowe (quoth he) to thy comfort Nowe, being come to
Care : Oh, olde acquaintannoe (quoth bee). What, is
Wit. Rage, Folly, and Recfalesnes, gone together? and
art thou come with Wit, Reason, and Wisdome? Twise
wetoome. Come let us waike to Wealth. Wherefore?
(quoth I). Thou shalt knowe that anon (quoth he) when
thou const to hioL When Wealth saw me, Benedidtie
(quoth he), is wilfiiU Rage left with foolish Rechlesnesse.
and Woe wome out ? Wdoome, freende ; looke who is
heere. Who? (quoth I), and with that I spyed Content,
who thus saluted mee : My good freende, nowe better
weksome then ever. I like it well, that thou wflt ather
seeke to recover thine olde freendes, then to nmne after
newe. Keep stm with Care, and Wisdome wiU so
perswade thy wit with Reason, that thou shalt find mee
ahroies at an mdt with thee. Many, as Wit is ruled by
Reason, Reason by Wisdome, Wisdome kept by Que,
and Care hath ondy Content at commanndement : so
must thou, now thou hast founde us out, use us in
our kinde, which if thou art desirous to leame, thou must
intreate with Wit, by Reason, to demaunde of Wisdome :
of whome thou shalt knowe more than I can teU thee,
and so weksome : I have no more to say unto thee. I,
glad of this their freendly greeting, went first to Wit
My good Wit (quoth I), thou knowest how long I have
longed for Content : how long I have sought him. and
could never finde him : and now having found bun. I
am to crave thy oounsaile how to use him.
Alas 1 (quoth WiU), I am heartfly gladde of thy good
minde. Come, vree wiU to Reason ; for without him I
am nobody. Reason presently perswaded with mee,
that it was his dutie to demaunde oounsaile of
Wisdome. Now, when wee came to Wisdome, bee
saide hee woulde taUce a little with Que. and give mee
annswere.
Which, attendmg a whfle, at hist, thus it was. My
freend (quoth hee). Content is to be used as hee is
taken : if by the eye, let the head lodge him a while,
before hee come to the hearte. When hee is in the
heade, ktte V^t waye vriiat he is. let Reason runne
him over, and lette mee with Care have the considering
of him. If wee like weU of him, lette him sit neerer
thy hearte : but if eyther Wit or Reason thmke him
not vrortUe the bringing to mee, or I, when I have
considered of bun, thinke him not worthy the keeping :
as by the eye you founde him, so by the eye loose him.
But howsoever you finde him, love him moderatdy ;
least with too much you be wearie, or too little you
cannot knowe bun. If you finde hhn by Concdt, Wit
wiU soone knowe vriiat he is.
Then Reason, having tallct with him, I shaU soone
with Care so consider of him, as thou shalt not tairie
fong for knowledge how to use him. If by Wit and
Reason both thou hast him, it win bee but little worke
to bring him to me. When I and Care have considered
of him, thou shalt not doubt how to use him : if by mee
thou camst by him. Care wiU tell thee, thou canst never
make too mndi of Urn : and as wee now and then give
him kaive to bee abroade in the vrorid awhile, so must
thou give him leave to be bbddng avriiOe, thou shalt by
our hdpe finde him againe weU enough. Good syr
(quoth I), your vrill be done. Then (quoth he), I vrill
teU thee what, there are three compamons that hee
doth often keepe companie withaU, whose names are
these : Fande. Love, and Fstience. Now. sometimes
are see him among them, and let him alone, to see what
they win doo with him : Nowe, sometime when they
have had him awhile, they would lead him away to
Fotty, Redilesnesse. and those idlows. which, when we
see, then we fetch him home, and lette them atone with
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THE AUTHORS DREAME OF STRANGE EFFECTS.
Discontent. Whome, when they are wearie of. then
they leave him, and come to crave his company againe :
which, for a time, we grant them.
But what doost thou looke up at so? Oh, syr, it is
at the two heavenly Ladies ; how might a man come to
knowe them, and to doo them service? I will tell thee :
one is Vertue, and the other Fame. Now the way to
them is this, thou must goe along by Fande, slippe
along by Love, skippe away by Fkvnzie, and shake
Patience by the fist : beholde, Content is with Fande
before thee, take Wit and Reason vrith thee. I with
Care will not be fiurre from thee, and by our helpe shall
the Ladies entertaine thee. Nowe, Hast may hinder
thee, and Slouth may set thee behindehand : lo(dce
where the sprites be, take heede least they catch hold of
thee, and then all we leave thee : and then bee sure
the Ladies will ever di.sdaine thee: novre follow my
counsaile, and God speede thee. Thus with humUe
thanks unto Wisdome, I tooke "Ww and Reason, and
set forth toward Fande. Sir (quoth shee), whither walke
you? Friend (quoth Wit), tell her whither Wit and
Reason shall carrie me with Content from Fande?
Lorde, at this aunswere how shee scould. Canst thou
not passe by mee (quoth shee), but thou must robbe me
of my Content ? Well, thou must aske Love leave, jret ere
he goe, and if he will let him go, take him to thee ; and
away she flung to FoUie. Now as I came by Love :
Friend (quoth shee), whither now? let us have a little
talke with you. Say (quoth Wit) your tale will bee too
long, I cannot tarrie: I am going whither carefull
Wisedome, wilde Wit and Reason, to lead me with
Content from Love. Oh how he frowned. What
(quoth hee) wilt thou not leave me my Content ? Well,
Fauience hath a part in him. See what shee will say to
thee, since I cannot keepe him : so away hee ranne to
Rage, and so I lost himu Now must I come by Frenxie,
who lookt on me so terribly, that without giving eares to
his speeches, I fetched a leape, almost from Wit and
Reason too. but, thanked bee God. when I came to
Patience, I found them both againe. How now (quoth
she), whither will you ? Tdl her (quoth Wit) whither
Wisedome with Care, hath oommaunded Wit with
Reason to take Content from Patience, and so to
acoompanie me til I retuine againe. Alasl (quoth
Patience), ultra passe turn est esse, I can not hokl him,
thou must have him : and so heavily she went to woftill
Discontent, with whom shee abode, til our retume
againe. Now was I in most daunger : wee must passe
along by the spirits, whom as I came by with Content
in hand, they snatcht and caught at us. When Wit
and Reason, by careful Wisedomes warning, kept us
aloofe from their fingers : then when they sawe they
could not catch us, Lord what meanes they made to
allure us. Vanitie had a million of toyes, which so
pleased mine eye, that Wit and Reason had modi adoo
to hold me from her : she would shewe mee sudi gallant
inchaunted glasses, and in them such sweete ladies,
sudi heavenly faces, and such smgular bodies, with
such exodlent graces, that if I had had Fande with
mee, shoe had bene last for starting : if Love, he had
beene lurckt : if Fraude, he had bene in his kinde : if
Putienoe, shee would have forgot her selfe. I may tdl
you, that V^t and Reason had never so modi in their
lives to doo to keepe Content and me from them : but
cardull Wisedome may dxx> mudi.
Now when Beautie could doo nothing, then did she
fill out dilicate wines into artifidall glasses, and set
daintie junkets to moove mee to that vaine ddigfat.
But my stomacke was full, what could I wish more
then Content ? When this would doo no good with mee,
then brought shee forth a sight of gallant horses, their
heads fiill of fathers. Tush, Content could go on
foote : then thought shee, now or never : Oh shee had a
dtteme, on which she plaid me a fine peece of Italian
musidc, and sung, Cke cowifradi Muttomne, Tush. I
was not then fitting, and therefore I cared not for her
flesh.
Then did she open a pretie diest, out of which shee
drew out rich jewelles, xare pearles, precious stones ;
and after them, silks of all colours, fine ribbons, cut-
worice ruffes, strings, laces, purses, points, pinnes,
gloves, and a thousand things, with What do you lacke.
syr. None of these (quoth Wit), Reason would be
gone.
Now suddenly began the blacke sprite to sound his
trumpet, but Lord what an unpleasant noise it made !
Now it was time, for I began to be afraide, wfaidi Wit
' and Reason seeing, comforted me with Content, of hope
to see the end of my happie journey.
Now, when I was past them, I askt of ^^t what
they were ? Why (quoth he), we shall heare by and
by. Knowledge here before, keepes the key of Vurtues
gates, he will tdl us.
Now when we came to him, he told me. the one was
a pyper. and the other a pedler : now Knowledge not
ignorant of my travaile, nor my guides, brought us all
before the two ladies, Vertue and Fame. Before whom
we fell on knee : and first to Vertue, beseediing frivour :
she demaunded of Knowledge, what and whence we
were ? who reported no other then truth : and she con-
sidering the friends that sent us. her chiefe counsd-
lours, and Wit and Reason their chiefe servants, badde
Content be of good cheere, hee should reodve Courtesie :
so in short, she did vouchsafe us her frivour : now was
I become servant to Vertue.
But (quoth she) for mine dder sister Fame, &vour
you may have promise of, but not enteruinement,
untill you have fulfilled certaine of my oommaundements.
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THE AUTHORS DREAM E OF STRANGE EFFECTS.
17
Which are these, heare them : let Wit note them,
Reason remember, and Wisdome talce care, to see thee
execate them. The first is, when 70a passe by
Vanitie, tdl her you are sworne to Vertue. And ere
yoQ go, sweare to shunne Vanitie, and esdww her
'Vices : looke in her glasses, bat kyve not her painted
&oes : come not on the backe of her pampered pal-
frayes, and give a puffe at her foolish feathers : delight
not in her glasses : drinke not of her wine, nor feede
of her dainties : stoppe thine eares from her fidling
mnsicke, and dose thine eyes from her trmnperies :
shake the head at the shameftill sound of Infrunie, and
so passe that jeopardie.
Passe akng by Patience with pleasure, flie by
Pyensie with feare, looke away from Love, with toyaltie
to Vertue, frowne on Fande, with fidelitie to Fame :
make much of M^t, and k>ve Reason, honour Wisedome,
by careftd wisdome seeke wealth suflident : let Wealth
not make thee covetous, least that thou kx)6e Content.
This is the sum of my will, whkh, as Wisdome writes
hee sees with Care performed : at your
I promise you preferment to Fame, and thus
iu€ jrou well.
Thus backe againe went I, through all the perillous
passages that I had gone through before. Now, first I
most passe by the two spfritt, whkh. as I came by, the
pied spirit firet bagan thus to play the tnill with mee :
shee hekl mee out a glasse, wherein she did livdy
sbowe me such entising toyes, as would have made a
man that had any life in him to have lookt towards
First, she shewed me a troupe of bire ladies, everie
one her lover, colling and kissiQg, chinning and em-
bracing, and looking babies in one anothers eyes.
Anon they were set downe, eveiy lady with her lover
hard by her, with his head in her lap, and his hand in
her purse. By them a sight of sweete soules, sitUng
by a candle, catchfaig of fleas.
There were other sights of more effect then all these,
to set a younge mans heart on fire : but let them all
go, when I wisht my selfe a lover. What I (quoth
Reason). Love hath no Reason, wouklst thou kxe me,
when I wisht my selfe a flea? Why (quoth Wit) wUt
thou be a beast ? want Reason, and be subject to every
shittes fingers? then. I had done. When I wisht my
sdfe somevriMt dse, not to be named. I must rule
you (quoth Reason), dse I see you would quiddy
runne to mine.
Now, when Vanitie saw she ooukl do nothing with
me this way, she beganne to use vUlanie with me :
Come, slave (quoth shee), doost thou thinke scome to
fooke towards her, whome princes do so deariy account
of? thou art my slave, and darest thou dcnie mee
service? Yea (qnoth I), I dare and doo denie thee ; I
am sworn servant to Vertue. Therefore a poynt for
thee and thy viUanies : doost thou challei^ mee for a
servant, that do scome thy slaverie ? prate to patches :
when thou findest a foole for thy diet, feede him with
a dish of diddledomes, for I have done with thee : if
ever I served thee, I am sonie for it : and since my
wages was but lost, I meane to live no longer by it.
As Will brought me to thee, so hath Wit by Reason
brought me from you both.
At these words her cake was dowe, shee hung the
head, her trumpetter sounded Tout est MoaU: thus I
past the first perriU. Now must I come by Patience,
who sate with Discontent, whome I ondie smiled on, as
I went by, to see her simplidtie. Promise (quoth shee),
let mee have my Content Tell her (qnoth Wit),
Reason sayes, enemies are too neere: send away Dis-
content, and as wisdome aUowes of it, you shall heare
more of him : till then, perforce Patience be stOl, and so
adieu. Shee aunswered nothing, but putting finger in
the eye, let mee passe.
Then came I by Frenxie, whose madde countenance
so amasedme, as that noweit was no boote, to bidde me
le^M lightly, till I were bqrond him : for Wit toUe mee
before, that Ftensie was an enemie to Reason. Then
escaping his dutdies, I must come by Love: nowe began
I to looke away, as it were over the shoulder, towards
my mistresse, who had oommaunded mee to take heede
of looking towards Love. Yet did I heare him utter
these speeches: Is ^^t and Reason not sufficient to
deale with Love? Why, art thou afrmyed to k>oke?
Why Cupid wOi not strike thee blinde. Tush (quoth
Wit), tdl hfan. Reason sayes. Love is too k»ftie for
Reason to rule : and Wit too weake when Reason must
yeekL I would bee loath to venter mine eye sight.
At this answer. Love with Rage kept such a reakes,
that I thought they would have gone mad togither.
Wdl, thus leaving them not feire from FVenxie, I must
passe by Fande, whom I frowned on so, that she had
little minde to flatter me : and, therefore, brutdy she
askt mee : What, friend, are you angrie with me? and
wherefore? For that (qnoth I) thou art a bfocke fai my
way to Fame. I wouU (quoth shee), Fande were no
body. Yes (qnoth Wit), tdl her Reason doth admit
her one with Love, but not with Wisdome : and so bid
her ferewdl. Thus, thanked be God, I had wdl over-
gone this companie, and with Wit and Reason, I brought
my Content to Wisdome. To whom, when I had ddiv-
ered my message firom Vertue, Wdl (quoth he),now shalt
thou once passe backe again, through this oompanie,
and then thou shalt have entertamment of thy desired
lady. My sdfe wiU so accompany thee, that though
great will be thy daunger, yet little shall be thy harme,
and easie thy passage.
Now thou hast passed hitherto with Wit and Reason,
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THE AUTHORS DREAME OF STRANGE EFFECTS.
I will this give thee to undentand, that I have a friende
andasenrant, hochofoneiiaiiie. My firiend is Reason,
and so do I call my servant : my friend is Reason, given
me by divine grace, who hdpes mee to see how high the
power of Ood is, abofe fhe greatest potentate upon fhe
earth : how much naturall Reason is subject to divine
judgment, by the dutie that Nature doth owe unto her
Creator.
Now as thou goest by Fande, perhappes shee will get
heipe by naturall Reason, to brtag her to thy bowe : bat
I will be by thee, to keepe thee from her bent So will
Love use Reason, to bring thee to his hire, bat let me
akme to keepe thee from his lewdneese. FVeosle there
is no talking with, let us flie him speedily. Patience
win persoade thee with Reason, but I will p3eade with
her so fn- thee, that thou shalt passe her well hioagh.
Now, if Vanitie get Reason, wee shall doo ill inough
with her : yet will I find her vaine so, as that if I lette
her bkmd, I will strike her so dead, as that riiee shall
have no stomacke to strive longer with us : nor Infiunie
for sorrow have power to sound his trumpet.
And therefore nowrejoyoe, that though thou hast long
nume astray, yet that now at bst, thou hast hit on a
happie way : well time tnidgeth away, thou woaktest
fain be gon, and I would as fiune prafore ray servants,
therefore let us be going.
Now, anon woe came to Fande, who had gotten Wit
and Reason : and as soone as shee had espied me.
Friend (quoth she), welcome, better late then never.
Now I trust wee shall not part so soone as we have done.
Yes (quoth I), for anything that I can see : What shall
I doo with thee? What (quoth shee). wilt thou not
yedde to Reason? Yes (quoth I), so lA^sdome will mee;
Why (quoth Reason), am not I servant to Wisedome?
Yes (quoth I), so is Wisedome thy maister. And (quotii
he), hath not my maister sent me hither to teU thee, that
there is no man but must yeeld to his Fanoie. TeU him
(quoth Wisedome), where Grace doth goveme, Fancie
must obey. Yea, bat (quoth Reason), Nature fidlowes
Fande. Yea, but teU hfan (quoth Wisedome), divine
grace bridles Nature. Yea, but (quoth Reason), Nature
will have her course. Tell him (qooth Wisedome), with
leave of divine power, else not Why then (quoth
Reason), shal Fande be nothing? Yes (quoth I), with
aaturall Reason, but not with divine judgement Why
then (quoth Reason), what doo I with her? Tell him
(quoth Wisedome), hdpe her to costal fooles, and so
farewelL
Now, Love, we must passe by, who thus saluted mee :
Why, now I trust we shall be friends^ for all our fifdling
out Not a whit (quoth I), I have done with Love :
gnunerde, I will no more of thy companie. What?
(quoth Love), wilt thou not be n;ded by Reason? Yes
(quoth I), so he be not ruled by Nature. Why (quoth
be), wilt thou not aUowe Reason to yeelde to Nature?
Yes (quoth I), NatunUl Reason. And (quoth hee), will
thou take Reason for nobodie? Yes (qnoifa I), when I
am without Wisedome : and when you are with him,
viiat doo yoo thinke him?— a line to leade a foole to
Love, and a jest lor Wisedome ta langh at Then
(quoth hee), I see thoa art out of liking with Love, or out
of Love with mee. With both (quoth I), but with tbee
never so much*, as when Aoa wouldest briog mee in
}Mo% with Love : Aerefore leave tiiy Uhiskms, for I tike
ndther them, thee, nor thy Love ; larewdL Nowe was
hee sklpt from Freasie, and got to Patience, with whome
(iiiiien we had escaped) FVensle, wee found sitting
togither. Nowe (quoth Patience) at bst I trust (though
kmg first) we shall bee friends. Come, let us Uve
togither^ Soft (quoth I), no haste but good, I ranenK
ber an Italian provefbe : Ptteiemuia g cosd di FoUroM,
PBOience is the patteme of a P^asannt Pttioe (quoth
Reason), yon will not be against mee, will you? Yes
(quoth I), if I tike yoo not? Why (quodi hee), dooth
not Reason affirme Patience a reraedie in all peipleBties?
—A renedie? (quoth I). No : shee is a rest betwixt
Rage and Reason, in a discontented mfakle. Why
(quoth hee), is shee not a vertue? Not (cjuoth I), as
thou canst consider her. Why (quoth he), dooth she
not set the discontented minde at qaiet? No (quoth I),
but shee makes the minde that would ease the hadkt,
with outward rage, kill the heart with hiwarde freattiag.
No (quoth hee). Patience is a Content Yea (quoth I>,
with a Discontent What? (quoth he), will you admit
her nobodie? Yea, (quoth Wisedome), with naturall
Reason, but with Wisedome a forced Content, m eflfect,
an unwelcome rest to a wc^ull minde, a Vertue amisse
conoeyved, yet better so taken then reAised for Rage :
but when bad is the best, let both ak>ne. Thus
Wisedome deemes her a Vertue, that waites on
^^Uanies, and sudi a Vertue, as the vertuous mind
doth not tove to trouble it sdfe withaL Adieu. I
have no more to say to thee, nor will I have to do
with thee. Well, now was oar first passage past over :
now must we passe by Vanitie : there was a peeoe of
worke.
Now forsoothe began Vanitie to reach out her hami
Fteend (quoth shee), welcome, I thought I had lost tfae&
Soft (quoth I), hand off, triumph not before the victofie.
Why (quoth shee), shall not Reason stay thee? No
(quoth Wisedome), tell her, not when I see him so near
Vanitie. Why (quoth Reason), is not the beautie of
ladies, the braverie of apparell, the sweete sound of
musidce. the pleasant taste of wtaies and delicate daintiea,
the gallant shewe of stamping steeds, with flaunting
feathers, rich jewels, and such like, sufficient to perswade
thee to keepe us companie? Then art thou obstinate, I
thinke. No (quMh I), I see a sentence over your heads.
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THE AUTHORS DREAME OF STRANGE EFFECTS.
19
sufficient to set mee ferre inough from you. What is it ?
(quoth Reason). Oh (quoth I), Vanitas vanitalum, et
omnia vanitas, Nowe (quoth hee), I have no more to
saye : I see my maister is too neare thee : Vanitie, fare-
wdl. I must away with my maister. So away went we
by Infiunie, who was readie to weepe for sorrow, to see
that now his lady had gotten nere a servant, nor hee
nere a companion to make him so merrie, as to sound
his trumpet
Now passing alone, towards the Gates of Vertue wee
came to Knowledge, who presently as hee had esjrfed
Wisedome, vayide his bonnet, fell at his feete, and
having done his duetie, rose off his knee, and led us
through the baseKX)urt, and so to the hall : where first
we met with Courtesie, who conducted us to the starre
chamber: there was T owning with his Artes, which
led us to Experience, who brought us to Time : whom
as we caught hold of, they brought us to Vertue. Who
first weteomming Wisedome, and shewing good coun-
tenance to Wit and Reason, gave me a friendly nodde,
and so staying a while, talking with Wisedome, She
came at last to mee, with this sweete and &vourable
speech. Servaunt (quoth shee), I see thy dutie dis-
charged, my commandement kept, and my will ob-
served : for thy continuance, Wisedome, hath given hie
words, and I am content to take it. Now promise is
to be performed, thou sbalt have entertainment of my
elder sister, who I know, at mine and Wisedomes re^
questes, will not refuse thee. So onwards we go,
towards this goodly ladle, whom when I came before,
and fd on knee, she bad me welcome, with these
words : Youth (quoth shee). the good report that 'Wvait-
dome hath made of thee, the good mind that my sister
Vertue hath to thee, doo make me desirous to doo thee
good : I wish thee well vrith all my heart, and uppon
Wisedomes word I could be content to entertaine thee.
But there comes no man to me without he have done
some notable acte worthie memorie : If thou hast done
any such thing, let us understand it. thou shalt be pre-
sently admitted : if not, beeing servant to my sister
Vertue, thou maiest soone attempt it, (and once be-
gunne) quickly finishe it : till then, content thy seUe
with her entertainment, and thinke thou hast attained
no tittle honour. So turning fnm me, shee went to
her sister, to whom she used these words : Come, let
us talke a little with Wisedome, touching the travafle
of this fellow. Content (quoth shee). so away they goe
tc^ther to the Garden of DeUght, a place of such plea-
sure as passeth my skill to set out. Now as they were
going thither, I hoping to heare some good newes of
entertainment : at the comming backe againe of Wis-
dome, I heard the suddaine sound of such a trumpet,
as with the kmde noyse thereof I started, and so
awaked. Oh good dreame, oh sweete sleepe, oh blessed
vision, to give so good instruction, to keep me from
destruction, from which God deliver me, my well
wiUers, my fiiends and foes, and all one another that
will thereto say. Amen.
Now I have beene entertained at the hands of Vertue,
swome her servant (though in sleepe), I must now
(according to the commaundement of Fame) attempt
some such enterprise, either by Learning or Valiande,
as may (by Vertues knowledge) purchase mee enter-
tainment of Fame. Now for a young man it is hard,
for now a dayes the gallantest youths become so
amorous, as that in long time, they have much to doo,
and a great grace of God, if ever they growe vertuous.
Wd, yet have I (better late then never) bdng warned
in sleep, taken care now awake, to devise which way
to worke, and what to take in hand, to deserve my
ladies &vour : and this I vrill promise you, there is
mettalls in the fire, which though they came from many
countries, yet are they heere so mingled, and abide so
wdl togither, as that if it shall please God to let me
finish it, I hope to bring to such perfection, as shall be
worthie to bee put in memorie. Till when, beseeching
God to grant me His heavenlie and frivourable aide,
and all good mindes to pray for the same : I pray for
them, and all other, that it will please God to graunt
us all His grace, that wee may not attempt any thing
but vertuous, that to His glorie may make us £eunous
on earth, and in heaven acceptable to His omnipotent
merde. So be it
N. Breton.
FINIS.
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The Scholler and
The Souldiour.
A Disputation pithily pas-
sed between them, the one defending
Learnings the other Martiall
Discipline.
Written by N. B., Gentleman.
LONDON:
Printed by Thomas Creede,
1599.
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To the courteous and gentle Reader.
HENTLE Reader, reade no further then you
like : if you finde any thing to your content,
tbinke well of me for my paines. If there be
nothing that likes you, my lucke is naught : in nothing
there can be nothing, yet something may be found,
though nothing to any great purpose. Well, there are
divers nothings, which you shall read further off, if you
will take paines to tume over the leafe, and peruse the
rest that followes. Now, though I will wish you looke
for no merrailous, or worthie thing, yet shall you finde
something ; though in effect (as it were) nothing, yet in
conceit a pretie thing to passe away the time withall.
Well, if you stand content with this nothing, it may be
ere long, I will send you something more to your
liking : till when, I wish you nothing but ¥re11. And so
I bid you farewell, from my chamber at the Blacke
Fryers.
N. R
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A DISCOURSE OF A SCHOLLER AND A SOULDIER, &c.
The Sckoller alone, talking to himselfe.
||N a coantrey unknowne, travailed certain
persons unnamed, of which two onely un-
acquainted, met togither unlookt for, the
one a Scholler, the other a Souldiour:
which ere they met, had passed many a wearie walk.
Among which, one day about three or foure of the docke
in the aftemoone, the Scholler almost tyred with eattream
travaile, sate himselfe down on a banck side, under a
shady tree, where, with a hungrie stomack (having not
dined nor supped well many a day before), he fell to
sucking of oertaine rootes, which he had gathered in the
fields as he went : and finding no better fare, to fil his
bdly withall, he thought good to feed his fancie with
some contentive conceit or other : but finding no occasion
to make himsdfe merrie, all comfortlesse and solitary to
himselfe, he used this speech.
Oh. what a wearie life it is to tiavaile ! Knowledge (I
see) is hardly come by, and hardnesse is unpleasant to
the heart : when the heart is ill, all the body is the worse :
the body not well, how can the mind be at quiet? And
the mind disturbed, what case is man in 1 Ah, moulde
of mishappe, framed to so many miseries I Oh, cursed
fortune, that bringest out of frame a thing so blessedly
framed 1 Oh, fond will, to crie out upon fortune : oh,
wilfull wit, that dost not see thy folly : oh, vaine folly,
that so hast led my fJEmcie : oh, fooUsh fimcie, that so
hast followed foUy : and oh, foole I, so much to follow
fiuiciel
But why do I make this mone? I see nothing to dislike
me : alas, so see I nothing to like me. Why? am I
discontent with nothing? No, but that I see nothing
to my content. Why? doth it dislike me, that nothing
contents me? No, but that nothing doth neither please
nor displease mee. Why ? in nothing is nothing, then
what so disturbes mee? That what must be nothing,
for some thing it cannot be, yet some thing it is. And
what is it, trow I? It is Aliquid nihil, that some
nothing know I. What! do I know nothing? No:
yes, I know this thing, that nothing is something : and
what is that something? Why nou^t else but nothing.
Then since tis but nothing that breeds my disliking, let
me see what something is, in this same nothing, which
nothing seemes something, and yet is but nothing ! It
is my conceit. Conceit. What is that? A secret gift
unto the mind. What secrets are hidden? Whats
hidden is not knowen, but that it is hidden. What is
that is hidden? Something unknowen : then till it be
knowen, what is it? Nothing in knowledge, yet some-
thing unknown, then something tis nothing, as was
before sfaewen : in truth little something, but prooves to
be nothing : and yet that same nothing, no little sore
something to breede mans disliking. Beautie, riches,
honour, vertoe, friendship, love, time, &c.
Beautie, what is it?'-« deception of sight, a secret
gyft of nature given to the body above captivitie, saving
that it may be conceived to be nothing ; yet is it some-
thing in shewe, though in substance nothing, yet thus
much to disliking, that it breeds a liking, whereby growes
a greater disliking, yet both as much as nothing. For
beautie is but a secret allurement of the eye, to liking of
the person where it is placed. Now that likmg grows to
love of the person beautifiill : which but for beautie
(sometime) were more worthie hate ; then, in this it falles
out to bee an illusion, a deceit of conceit, by allurement
of the de. But whereof growes this ? but <k the fault of
concdt : which I shewed before, is (though something)
nothing. Then of nothing growes nothing, but nothing :
if then this decdt grow of the fiiult of concdt, which is
something, the fault can be no something, and then
cannot beautie be any thing but a shadow : which in
substance is nothing, though in concdt something : but
in knowledge nothinge. But let mee leave this vaine
nothing, and thinke of something dse : which wdl con-
sidered, may come to as little, or as much nothing.
Riches, that must needes be something : and yet let
me see, is there no mo nothings then one ? Oh yes, how
many are there? and what are they? Oh, there are seven
nothings, one in respect nothing : another nothing, in a
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A DISCOURSE OF A SC HOLLER
maner : another nothing, to trust too : another nothing,
duxable : the sixt, a new nothing, called nothing at aU.
Nowe let mee see which of these nothings is riches : in
effect it is something, and that thing that woriceth great
things: it purchaseth love, friendship, and oontrurfly
hate and envy : it buyeth honour, and seDeth honestie :
it maketh things of nothing wonderfull, and wonders,
things of nothing. It is a comfort to tlie mhid, and a
cormpter of the oonsdenoe : it rdeeveth the poore, and
pleaseth the wealthie : it is a hdp to obtaine ▼ertues, so
it is an occasion of vices : it is a worker of warres : it
maketh peace : it is tlie occasion of much treason : it
makes truth come to light : it makes the travailer : it
keeps some at home : it makes the fine workman : it
breeds kUenes : it makes the brave court : it beggers the
countrey. What should I stay any longer upon it? It
is sudi a thing as hath such a sway in many things, as
almost there is no worldly tlUng to be counted a greater :
and can this then be nothing? Yea : and how? Why,
it is nothing in this, it is nothing duzaUe : it is a gift of
Fortune, who gives notUng but mutable : for a rich man
to day, to morrow is poore: it is subject to many
casualties : and in that it is so uncertahie a thing, it is
nothing certaine, not certainly nothing, but nothing
durable, then in this it is nothing, though otherwayes
something : but inough of this nothing, and now to some
other, which seemeth something, but in fine, fisdles out
nothing.
Honour : that is a thing greatly sought, little found,
and much made account of, not for the Vertue of the
substance it carrieth with it, but for the majestic of the
matter, idiidi in substance is nothing ; it purchaseth
to the person honourable reverence of his inferiours,
fiuniliaritie with the nobilitie, and &vour of the sove-
ndgntia Now there are divers honours : one honour is
gotten by riches, which is a thing nothing durable : of
nothing growes nothing, then riches decaied. dies the
honour, then that honour is nothing, in that it is a
riches nothing durable.
Another honour is got by valiande, and that is in
warre, nAnenSby the captame winneth the armes, that
after during life, he to his honor, and after him his
posteritie, to his and their honour, do honourably
beare : yet for all this, wdl considered, it is nothing,
for that it is not certaine : for that in warres today is
got, that tomorrow is lost : today hee geU an ensigne,
that tomoRow looseth his owne armes, body and all :
if hee come home wdl with his victorie, yet VirtuHs
amus invidia : hee that did dime by vertue may be
overthrown by viDainie : hee may bee acccused and
attainted that never did amisse : perjurie may make
foigerie to seeme no knaverie : many times might over-
conuneth right, and then executed upon condemnation,
his house is come to destruction : then this honor.
I see likewise is the nothing, that is the nothing
durable.
But leavhig this, there is now another honour, got
by leammg, wfaidi gameth the knowledge of many
things, and the use of the nme. The best things it
sheweth, and descries the woorst : it teacheth to know
God, and how to serve, love, and honour Him : it
teacheth to knowe the diveO, and howe to Uesse us
from him. "Bf learning comes wisedome, by learning
ill used comes folly : by learning comes fame : by
learning comes lavour of the highest : by learning
comes all goodnesse : by learning comes that honour,
that longest dooth endure : for after death, fiune of
leamhig is an honour to the person dead : and yet that
honour nothing durable, for fiune indeede is but a
fiuned tUng by frmde : and nothing layned can be
true, wfaicfa proves fiune to bee no true thmg : then in
trueth it must be nothing. If then fiune bee the chiefe
honour of the learned, whkdi, wdl cooskierBd, is neither
any tUng in snbstaunce, nor yet dursble : then this
honour (though many wayes something), yet in some it
is nothing.
Wherefore, leavhig honour, let me see what thing is
vertue. Oh, a heavenly thiug, it is that which maketh
the souldiour by vahire honourable, and by the hdpe
of learning fiunous. It is the enemie to vice, it is that
which advaunceth the poore, and makes the ridi ho-
noured : it is an honour that the most honourable doo
most honour : it is, in summe, the woonder of the
worlde, the staye of wisedome, and the high-way to
heaven : and can this so worthie a thing be thought
nothmg ? Oh yea, and howe ? Alas, money is sudi a
thmg, as without that thmg, there is nothing accounted
m a manner anie thing. Vertue is a Jewell they say,
but it is of small price : who will give any money for
it ? Nay more, who will not for money become vidous
of vertuous ? Alas, too fewe : then, by this I see, that
vertue in respect of riches is nothing, whidi riches in
respect of vertue ought rather to be counted nothmg :
but beeing as it is (in respect of riches), nothhtg, I see
it is the nothing, that is termed nothing in respect : and
dooth not this nothing breede suffident disliking in that,
m respect of a thing of nothing, it shoukl bee thought
nothing ? Yes, sure, but when nothmg will helpe it, let
mee see some other thing which found out hi kinde, in
fine comes to be nothing.
Friendship, what b that tUng : To bee short, it is
such a thing as I have found so much deodte in the
thing, as I care to say no more of the thmg, then that
it is nothing to trust to : then for me it shall stand for
nothing. Some will say, it is that keepes princes in
peace, and countreys in quiet : of peace comes plentie,
of plentie pleasure : pleasure maintaines health, and
health makes a meny heart, and all this comes of
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AND A SOULDIOUR.
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heartie friendship. Yea, but where is that? Nescio.
I can not tell, for the world is fiill of fieOsehood : that
there is almost nulla fides left in terris : and where
there is no fsuth, friendship is nothing to trust too ;
and so let it rest that nothhig, and to some other thing
as much as nothing.
Love, what is that? Oh it is a marvellous thing.
Some say it is a god, called Cupid, but that is but a
fonde thing that Fande &ines : and no lained thing
can be thought anything, but nothing. Some other
aay it is a straunge thing devised by desire, found out
by fruicie, followed with affection, obtained with friendly
liking, and kept with iaithiull care : But what thing is
all this thing? I never ooulde see. heare or reade any
thing, that found it more than nothing. Some say, it
is no god, it is rather a divell, that sets mindes on
maddhig, and then it is a madde thing ; God blesse us
from such a thing, that is woorse then nothing. Some
say it is a common thing, and yet it is such a thing, as
is past mans conceiving, and all mens descrying, at
least without fruning, and frdned things nothing, howe
can this bee any thing (but in a manner) nothing? then
leaving this nothing in a manner, let mee go to some
other thing, which yet will prove nothing.
Time, what may that be? a straunge thing that
ruleth all things, and yet itselfe nothing. Some frune
it to be a thing like a man, with a balde head, saving a
locke before on the forehead, with a pair of wings on
his shoulders, like an angell, and with a sithe in his
hande like a mower, fetching his stroke, as though he
had alwayes some worke before him : but this is but a
iained thing, which they set out balde behinde, and
with a locke of hayre before, for this reason ; that time,
when it is once past, is not to be caught ; it is to bee
used as it comes, and narrowly to be watched, that it
slippe not away unawares, lest when it is past, repen-
tance findes it too late to wish for. His wings betoken
speede, that he makes where hee goes, according to the
old provertie, 'Time tarrieth no man.' His sithe
shewes his labour, that hee never stands idle : for Time
win bee ever set about some thing, and if Wit want dis-
cretion to set him to some good worke. Will is not with-
out some toy or another to tume him to. Hai^ b
hee that can use him well when he hath him, and twice
happie he that doth alwayes warily watch him, to tunie
him to good use.
But who is he that ever sawe him indeede, as he is
set out in shewe? Ntmo. None that ever I could
heare of. Then being but a iained thmg (as many
other are), let it passe as those things, for a thing of
nothing : which being knowne to be nothing but a
iained thing, let it rest in substance nothing, (though
in conodte, a secret thing), which may proove in a
manner (well considered) nothhig. But nowe there is
a newe nothing (as yet) unspoken of, whidi if a wise
man heard mee keep such a prating to my selfe about
nothing, hee would hang it on my sleeve for a rewarde,
for him that deserves no better thing. Well, the cheefe
nothing of all, whidi is the nothing at all, that is the
nothing that I see here to delight me ; which made me
use all this speech of nothing.
But whom do I see yonder before mee ? What, is it
a man? why then there is some companie to comfort
mee in this calamitie : then that is some thing yet to
drive mee out of this nothing. Well, I will rise to him,
to see what he is, and whither he travailes : whence he
came, and what he intends to doo : it seems a stout
feUow, by his steme looke : it seemeth by his warlike
countenance, hee shoukl be a souldiour. A souldiour?
what should hee doo heere abouts without a captaine,
iarre from any towne, and alone without company? Is
he not some outlaw, that liveth here in the wildemesse,
who takes the spoOe of such poore travailers as my
selfe? and heerby, it may bee, he hath more company
at hand, eyther in their caves, or in the wooddes
heereby, God knoweth. WeU, I hope the best, that he
may yet be some man that travailes this way in Gods
peace, meaning neither me nor any else harme. There-
fore, towards him I wilL And therwithall up he rose,
and to him he went. But what countreyman may he
bee? I win see. And so when he came somewhat
neere unto him, he used his speech.
Tlu SckolUr to the Souldiour.
Beu irovate, signort; Hen trouve, mounsieur; bueme
kalaco, es la vuestra mefved. Sahfe, Domine. Coun-
treyman, well met
The Souldiour,
Well met, good friend. Che sete voif Inglesef
Dou vemes vous, Amiga f die mihi queeso.
The Scholler.
Oh, syr, for that I see you understand the English
tongue, and my travailes in these oountreyes hath not
beene long : lotving other languages, you shall under-
stand, that first for my countrey, I was borne in Isola
Beata ; I come frx>m I know not whence, and am gob^
I know not whither ; by profession, I am a scholler :
now what are you ?
The Souldiour.
Friend, I professe armes ; and to aunswere thee
otherwise, I was borne hi Terra Fortunata ; I come
from a combat, and am going to a challenge. But what
a frmtasticall fellow art thou, to tell me thou commest
thou knowest not frxHn whence, and art going thou
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A DISCOURSE OF A SCROLLER
knowest not whither? What? hast thoa studied thy
selfe Starke mad, thou speakest so undiscreetly?
TtuScholUr,
No. syr, but indeed I am somewhat wUde headed
with want of oompanie, and ahnost halfe mad for kcke
of meat, so that blame mee not if I speake wildely : for
hideed when a man hath bene kmg fiisting, the bndnes
will be out of temper, and when the head is ill, all the
body is the worse, and the wits^not at best : and yet
schollers are hardly brought up, therefore they should
away with hardnesse the better: their allowance in
colledges is but small, therefore little meate shoukl
content them.
Tlu Souldiour,
Schollers brought up hardly I No, it is the soiildioixr
that hath the body to beare hardnftMe : he is seasoned
(as the carpenter says by his boords) for all weathers ;
he can go further with a crust and a cuppe of oolde
water then the schoHer with his pound of beefe and his
potte of beere : the sdioller must have his diet at due
times, or else his stomacke will wamble, and hee must
be sick like a woman with childe : and oh, it must be
well dressed, or else it goes against his stomacke, and
if hee fare ill once a wedee, he lives hardly. Alas for
him, tlie souldiour must have his meate when he can
get it, and take pains himselfe to diesse it, and eate it
perhaps at midnight, disgest it as he may, give God
thanks for it, and thinke himselfe happie if he so may
have it Therefore in respect of the souldiours life, for
his fiaune, the scholler is at Carre better sute then the
souldiour : but then for honour, the life of the
souldiour I
And why so ?
The SchclUr.
The Souldiour,
For that the scholler sits alwayes crowding at home
in his diamber, eating up the wealth of his oountrey,
with his nose over the fire, or lapped up in a furred
gowne, to defend him fiom the cold of the Winter :
and in Summer plucking uppe the flowers that should
benrtifie the ground, and so goes he plodding up and
downe, with his eyes bended downwards as though
hee were seeking pearles among pybles, or else staring
into the element, as though he viratched when the man
in the moone would come out among the starrcs : and
when they come in againe, then they £aU to reading of
one booke or other ; sometime they reade the famous
acts of gallant souldiours, such as Caesar, Alexander,
Hanniball, Hect<»', Achilles, (and many other that I
leave to recount), whose victorious deedes they take
pleasure to peruse : but the base-minded fdlowes are
never the more ready or vdlling to stine their owne
foote out of the oountrey to see an inch of scnrioe.
TheSckolUr.
Oh, good sir, speake not so in disoommendatioa of a
schoUer : for why. If he sit at home (as you say) he is
not idle ; when he is reading on his booke. and when
hee kmketh downwards, it is because (his braine being
busied about studie) hee would not lift up his eyes,
least the beholding of some vaine thing or other (whidi
the world is lull of) should carrie away his wittes with
a wanton ddigfat from his desire otherwise deteimhied.
If he lift them up faito the heavens, it is either for
heartie repentance he makes unto God for his offences,
or else for His grace, to studie no higher causes, then
may be granted with Hb lavour.
Now, though hee stare, as you tearme, upon the
moone and staires, to maike thdr courses, and by them
to disoeme and note ftffther ooises, it aigues not there*
fore that he watcheth a man in the moone : for indeed
I have studied somewhat mysdfe, and I have contem-
plated the skie, the sunne, the moone, and starres, and
this I will say, I have divers times scene a man or two
in the sunne, but in the moone never any : therefore he
was too simple to be a schoUer, whatsoever he vras,
that would stare upon the moone to looke for a man
fakit.
Now for your noble captalnes, whose triumphant
deeds you speake of, that schollers take ddigfat to reade,
but not to follow, you are deorived : for there bee
schollers that beare as high minds and as valiant hearts
as any men, and to tdl truth, a good captaine was first
a scholler, who perusing the valiant deeds of other
men, hath beene by them set on to attempt the like
enterprises.
Beskles, sometune you will giaunt mee (I think)
that oonnsaile and w<Hds dooth mudi in wanes : is not
poUide one of the chiefest poynts in warres ? Experi*
enoe doth wdl, but with art it doth better. What sakl
Cicero? Plus ^ togatust quam armoH decern. Hee
did more in his gowne than ten in their coate armours.
Cedant anna togm ccmcedant lamrta Umgua, Let the
gunne give place to the gowne, and give the bcave
tongue the bay tree. Was not Cicero oraicrum ptt-
sUmHsHmusf an excellent scholler? Cataline was a
brave souldiour, but yet Cicero and his side gave the
overthrow. Again, how should the fome of your gal-
lant souldiours renuun in memorie, had there not bene
schollers wilUng (for the good will they bare them), to
set them out with such a grace of glorie, that all men
shuld be glad to read and heare them, yea, and a num-
ber to foUow them ? But every man must not, nor can
bee a souldiour : for some must be at home for divers
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AND A SOULDIOUR.
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ouues of importanoe appertinent unto the Common
wealth, whidi in tbdr kinds are as worthy honour as
the souldiour.
The Souldiour.
Not 90. I giBunt that it is neoessarie for some to sit
by tlie fire-side while the other fetch wood and cole.
But they are sloathfiill, while the other take paines ;
and whether is more worthy lionour, labour or idle-
aesae? Againe, when the souldiours of Rome had
plaide the men, in the overthrowe of Cataline, was it
not a luilt in Cioero to show such arrogande in his
speeches, to take upon him more effect then ten men
in armour? Eyther he meant it merrily, by some
odde tenne persons, that never came out of the
towne to the battaile, because yet he said somewhat
unto the souldkiurs to encourage them : and they that
were away neither sayde nor did any thing. And so
hee meant it to tlie discommendation of their cowardise,
in keeping fiure enough from the fight : or else he
meant, hee prated more hhnsdiie then any ten soul-
dkMus in the campe. But happie it was for him that
the day went of liis skle, though the Tictorie came not
by his ekxiueaoe : I graunt hee did great good with
his perswaskms, for indeede good wordes wiU move
nmcb, especially in good causes as that was : besides
God is good, and He dooth oommouly give the good,
victorie : and if He suffer them to be overthrowen. it is
fisr a further good He meanes them.
Now therefore, if he had given the chiefe gknie to
God, and tlie rest to the valiaunt captaines and soul-
diours, in my judgment he had done wd : but to
eome out with fha 4^, methinkes he played the
fMrie, ipsi, Againe, whereas you speake of the great
Csvonr of scholkrs, that they doo unto souldiours, in
setting foorth their dEunous deedes, I must ghre them
commendation for their paines, but for honour, eonfesse
who deserves more honour, the man that dooth the
deede, or he that wrytes of it when it is done.
I giaunt learning an ornament and a neoessarie
appertinent unto a soukUour. Otherwise indeede, it
is hard for him to be a good captaine ; fix* by leamkig
he knowes upon what cause it is good to beginne
wwre : and warre ofiiBred, upon what cause it growes,
and if It bee without cause, howe good then is the
defence. Else if a souldiour will upon a fiigarie or
madde humour in the head goe showe his great busi-
nesse and little wit, hee knowes not, nor cares not,
upon whoHM, where, or for what cause : I will say his
foolishncsse makes hfan unworthie of the name of a
soukUoor : his deedes worthie to bee put hi oblivkm,
and himselfe unworthie honour. Therefore I oonfesse,
n good captaine had neede to bee somewhat a schoOer,
ere he take armcs in hand ; but yet in his schoOershipk
not so worthie honor, as when he hath shewed him
selfe a souldiour. Maine this I allowe of the un-
learned, the scholler is to be honoured, and the soul-
diour to be beloved. But yet I say still, the souldiour
is to bee honoured, both of the scholler and the un-
learned : of the scholler for his wisedome with valure.
and of the other for his stoutnesse with vertue. Now
what say you for the schoUer ?
TkeScholUr,
This I say : the giounde I think was before the grasse,
the tree before the firuit, the pkine-song before the
deskant, and so foorth. The ground I must confesae.
is worthie love, for bringing foorth grasse : so is grasse
to be loved for the' cattailes sake that it feedes, which
wee live by. Now if the ground brought out nothing
but mosse, then were it little to be loved ; againe, the
grasse cut, and not wdl handled, would do little good,
and were worthie as little love. The tree were ill,
would beare no finite : and the Ihiite in, would please
no taste : the plaine-soog, were pkdne stuffe, without
deskant, and the deskant were a madde peeoe of musicke.
without plaine song to be the ground.
But as the ground for the grasse, so the grasse for
his sweete juyoe : the tree for the fruite, and the fiuite
for the sweete taste : the plaine-song for sweete deskant,
and the deskant for skin, are loved. So is the sdioUer
for his learning, and the souldiour for vertue, to bee
honoured alHce : and if any more then other, the schollar,
for that hee findes by learning, what is honour, howe it
is to bee gotten, howe maintained, and what to be
esteemed. Hee sees whether his bodie be to his minde,
and if it bee, then if both be fit to abide the Hfe of a
souldiour. then dooth hee proove a famous fdlowe, if
God send him good fortune. If not, why then he takes
in hand, law, phisidce, or divinitie, the most excellent
study, whereby to winne no less honour during life,
then feme after death. By leaniing comes knowledge,
by learned knowledge comes a man of meane coun-
tenance to give oounsaOe unto princes : by learning is
scene what sinne is, howe it is hated of God, and what
hurt it doth to man : by learning is vertue founde, and
howe it is bdoved of God, and honoured of the best
minds, and so ought to be of an men : by learning
comes the knowledge of the nature of many things, and
the use of tlie same : by learning can the phisition cure
the souldiour beeing sidce or hurt : by Icammg dooth
the man of peace knowe the law of armes. In summe,
I know no man excellent in anie thing without learning,
which b the ground of aU exceUende. If then learning
be exoeUent, the time that is spent in that, is most
exodkntiy wen bestowed, whidi time may be wdl
called the sdiollers time, and the sdioUer for so well
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A DISCOURSE OF A SCHOLLER
bestowing that time, most worthie to bee honoured.
Now what flay you for the souldiour ?
The Souldiour,
Marrle this I flay, the better the graste, the more is
the groimd esteemed : and till the ground beare grasse,
what was it to be esteemed, but as barrain, and there-
fore a thiqg of little worth? but when it brings forth
good grasse, then it b called a lat grounde, good
ground, and so forth. Maine if this grounde lie in a
colde comer, it will be long ere the grasse spring, and
being come up, it commonly proves sower, and doth
not so soone nor so well fiuten the cattell, as other that
lyeth somewhat neere the sunne. Againe, if the grounde
lye verie high, and neere the sunne, then is the
grasse so pardied with the heate, that there is little
sweetenesse left in it for the catteU. Then must it be
kept with watering to ooole the heate, and to refiesh the
roote of the grasse withaU. Againe, the oold ground
must be often dunged, thereby to give it more heat, and
with that warmth, to comfort the roote of the grasse,
that it may the better come up.
Now I do not denie but these grounds may bee
both indifferent good in their kindes, after they have
bene well used as I say. But the ground is to be con-
sidered of according to his nature : and if the ground
bee of nature to beare grasse, and such common heaibs
as will feede catteU. it is not to bee despised. But if
it bee of nature to bring forth flowers, hearbes, rootes,
and fruites for man himsdfe to feede on, is it not to be
made account off, ferre above the other ? Yes, surely.
And this mind am I of. that at the first creation, when
God had made the earth, He gave it a secret nature to
bring forth fruites, but many sundrie grounds, sundrie
kinds of natures, whidi according to the same are to
be esteemed. God, when He had made the ground,
Hee said, let us garnish it with grasse, flowers, heaibs,
trees and fruits, and so forth.
Now He thought it not worthy the looking on, till it
had brought forth the fruites, flowers, and heaibes,
which His heavenly ma|estie had given it a secret nature
to bring forthe, to beautifie it seUe withalL Whidi flowers
and fruites, some Hee sawe heere, some there, and
according to the fruites. Hee esteemed the plotte of
ground whereon they grew ; therefore say I, the ground
is to be thought off according to the goodnesse of the
fruits, which naturally and not by helpe, it brings foorth.
The tree was before the fruite, but till such time as it
brought forth fruite, what was it but a stocke, not
worthy the proyning ?
Now there are divers trees, which according to the
nature of the soyle wherein they grow, bring foorth
fruits ; nutmegs, doves, dnamon, ginger, maoe, pepper.
orenges, limons, pound-dtrons, pomegranets, grapes,
and sugcr in canes, meiones, abrioockes, artidiockes,
prunes, raysons : and for rootes, eringos, potatoes, and
a number of other, too long to redte. The colde
countries yedd waterish fruit, as plumbs, peares, apples,
benies, and such lik& The temperate soile brings
forth fruit, ndther too waterish, nor yet too drie, but
betwixt both. Now the trees are to be thought off
according to their fruits: is not the dnamon tree to
be esteemed above y« apple tree? is not the damson
tree to be accounted off above the blackthorn tree?
Is not the pippen tree to be esteemed above the crab
tree ? The abrico^ above the common plum ? and the
cherrie above hauthome beirie ? Yes out of doubt, ac-
cording to the sweetnesse of the taste, is the fruit to
be bdoved. In the garden of Paradise, there were
divers fruit trees and fruits, but one chief that was to
be honored above al other: for feeding wherof man
was driven out of the ground, and forst with toile to
get his living abroad in the worid, with Gods hic^
displeasure. Therefore some trees are above other to
be honored. Flaine-song is good musicke, but not so
good as when the deakant is made to go with it.
Now there are divers grounds, vi^idi according to the
deskants are to be esteemed : what sweeter heimonie,
then among the byrds of the fidd? what byrd so much
honoured as the nightingale? and why? but for her
sweet change of notes : when she first begins to record, it
is a pretie byrd. But when she sings out in the midst of
May, about midnight, the weather iaire, and she in a
fine bush : oh tis a heavenly noise, to heare the sweete
wretch.
So the schoUer is to bee made account of for his
learning, for his sight in divers arts. But now men are
borne under divers planets : as some under Jupiter, those
are imperious fellows, those are good to be princes:
some under Satume, they are froward of nature, and
good to make lawiers : some under Venus, and they are
good to make solidtors of love : some under Mercuric,
and they are good to be secretaries, for they are (com-
monly) ingenious: some under Sol, those are hot
fellowes, those are good to make marriners, they may
best abide the cold of the water : some under Luna,
and they are weake of nature, and subject to mnch sick-
nesse, those are good to make phisitians, to hdpe them-
sdves and other that have need of them : some under
Mars, and they are the men that prove the gallant
souldiers. Now if the scholler be borne under that
planet of prowes, and in his time of studie be addicted
to follow that which he sees worthy honour, which both
reason perswades his minde, and nature leads his body
too : is not he worthy to be honoured above the scholler
that is weake of nature, and unfit for any ezerdse of
great honor? Yes, surdy. My sdfe have studied a
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AND A SOULDIOUR.
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little in divers aits : but ever I was most bent to this art
of wane, when I scarce knew what a gun meant ; me-
thought it did me good to looke on a sword blade, ere
I knew whether it should have a hilt or not.
What shall I say? I loved a drum and a fyfe, better
then all the fiddlii^ musicke in the worid : and growing
to someyeares, I would practise now and then a little of
warlike exercises, tin in the end, the delight therein,
drew me quite from my bodke: so that when I had
learned first to serve God, and how to serve Him, to do
no man wrong, and take as little as I might ; I left my
sdioole fellowes, and foorth I go to seeke adventures.
Now [of] law I have inougfa, for mysdfe (as I said) I will
doo no wrong, and take little. And among sonkUours,
Stafford law, martiall law, killing or hanging is soone
learned. For phisicke I have inough, I know a little
turpentine will heale a greate cut : a cobweb and salt, or
bole armonick, will stint a bleeding. If I be ill at ease,
I fast it out : I doo as hogs doo, never eate meate, till
they see whether they shall live or die. Tush, sicknesse
comes by ill diet ; then learn by one surfet to use the
better order twise for it : but souldiers use, is to keepe
no dyet, but to abide all hardnesse; therefore they
commonly are not sidce, but upon the bullet, which, if it
light in the breast, they lie not long on it : so that they
have no need but of the heavenly Phisitian, to crave His
heavenly merde, to purge their soules from sinne, that
it may appeare pure and acceptable before Him, at the
day of judgement. And now minding not to say much
more in this matter : what say you for the scholler?
SckoL Sir, I must needs say, you have said well for
the souldier : but yet I must say, that note the lives of
them both, and you shall see the schoUers life most
worthy honor ; and why? the scholler findeth (as you
say) by discretion, whether his body be to his mind, and
both apt for arms : if not, yet he is readie and able to
instruct those that are able, in those chiefe poynts that
do most appertaine unto that art Whereby the willing
mind (having but little knowledge) may speedily purchase
great perfection by small experience.
Further, the schoUers booke will not let him be ydle,
but to fiall to some honourable studie or other. As if he
study phisicke, I fetch my axithoritie out of Scripture :
doth not Christ bid us honour the phisitian ? if he studie
law, what thing is more honorable, then that which
keeps countreys in good order, the prince in peace, and
the subjects in awe, the well dooers in continuance, and
the offenders in feare? And is not law then, an honour-
able studie? If hee studie divinitie, who in the world
more worthy honour, then he that pronounoeth the
Word of God, to the comfort of the penitent, and the
perdition of the obsthiate? In that studie is scene, who
is the good souldiour, what is the good quarrell, against
whom it is good to fight, and who gives the overthrow.
The true Chrisdan is the good souldier, which with onely
fiuth, fights against the foule fiend Sathan, and all his
filthie and hellish crew, whom Christ hath overthrowne,
and troden under his feete ; this is the good fight : to
God be given the s^orie of the overthrow.
And is there any time mwe happily spent, then in this
war? is there any man so worthie honor as he that spends
his time so happily? no sure, this is the good souldiour,
and this souldiour is the sdkoller. Againe, the schoUers
Ufe is iArSi, modest, content with Utle, desiring no mans
hurt, and wishing aU men well, loath to have his hands
embrued with blood, and sorrie to see the crueltie of the
bloudie souldier. The schoUer studies how to set out
the souldier, how to keepe the subject at home in order,
the countrey in quiet, and himself in health : the schoUer
seeks by law, to redresse the poore mans wrong : the
schoUer studies to knowe aU good, and eschew aU iU.
If the souldiour do so too, then is he as worthy honor,
as y schoUer, but no more. But in truth, I have not
heard many such Uke souldknirs as your selfe seeme to
be : for you were an old scholler I perceive, before you
were a yong souldiour : if your practise in armes hath
beene as great as your studie in arts, I mustthinke you a
rare souldier, yea, a captaine worthie to lead a great
armie : but if you wiU oonfesse a truth, I thinke you wiU
not any longer defend your opinion, hi that the souldiour
should deserve honor above the schoUer.
SouL Yes surely, though I must oonfesse, I see in
you the mind of a souldier, and the perfect points of a
good schoUer, and for your learning worthie honor, yet
wiU I (though unworthie of any commendation, having
never done any famous expk>yts) give the chief honor to
the souldier. For though the schoUer do find by reading,
what is the good fight, who is the good souldier, who is
the enemie to be overthrowne, and who gets the victorie :
yet if he know this and wiU not put it in action, it is
then but for others instruction, and not for his owne
soules health. Againe, he that hath read Utle, by grace
may have sufficient knowledge, that the diveU is naught,
and &ith is the onely defence for him : God is the onely
victor, and Hb be the glorie.
But fiirther, he that is borne under Mars (as I said
before) and hath any thing studied the Scriptures : he
wiU in the honour of God, go travafle the world, seeke
out such obstinate rdMls to Christ, as take them unto
Antichrist, leave God, and serve the diveU : such when
he findes, he wUl destroy them, that they may not Uve
to infect other. What better death, then in such a
quarts? What Ufe so worthy honor, as such a death ?
What action so £eunous, as sudi an enterprise? Oh
good souldier, that so honors his God : sweete Christ,
that upon the crosse lost His hart bloud for his sake,
that he wiU hi his quarrel, to do him service, adventure,
and wUUngly loose his heart bloud, and his Ufe in this
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A DISCOURSE OF A SCHOLLER
world for His sake : knowing assuredly, that he shall
find it again, with ten times more blessed joy in the
world to come. The souldier seeketh adventures here
and there, slayeth wild beasts, and would destroy the
simple traveller: the souldier diallengeth and slayeth
the viUaine that skundereth the vcrtnous : the souldier
Is courteous to all men ; he is modest, with modestie, to
shew the height of his mind : the souldier is content with
any thing, and sometime with nothing : the souldiour
doth helpe the oppressed In a ri^tiid cause, and doth
hurt no man but enemies : the souldiour imbrues neither
his hands nor his blade, in the bloud of any, but those
that would do the like in his breast : the souldier hath a
martial] law, for such carelesse persons as will not obey
the law of armes, appointed to maintaine good laws, and
to cut off the offenders of the same. In sum« the
souldier, is the servant of God onely, the sdioller waites
too much of our lady to do God good service. I say
not an schoUers are so. but I wish that the souldiers
were so, but as God Is above our lady, so His souldier
above her sdioller to be honored. How say you,
■choUer, will you allow me this or not?
SekoL Syr. I cannot but allow you this, that the woorthy
souldier is to be honored above the wanton scholler ;
but I must say the wise and carefiill scholler is more
worthy honour, then the wild and carelesse souldier.
But I will a little speake of the sdioller, and so I wHI
either have it, give it, or gree upon it. You must con-
sider, sir, we are by nature all the children of sinne, but
by adoption the diiklren of God.
Now for the planets, indeed the diiki that is borne
under Mars, is most fit for battaHe, and under Mercurie,
for studie. But he, say I, that is borne under Jupiter,
whose parents were borne, the one under Mars, the other
Mercurie, he shall have the operation of Jupiter, wholy,
and partly each of the other in him, and such a fellow
say I, will prove the man of honour in deed of all other.
As for eiampte, was not Marcus Aurelius a gallant and
worthie souklier? did he not bestow great time in his
studie? who wrote his works but himsdfe? I will not
stand upon examples : was not David a brave souldier?
A man worthie of great honor? dkl he not bestow great
time in hb Psalmes? had he not as great a delight in his
booke, as in battdl? Well, was he not in love with
Berseba? and was he not sorie for it? Wdl, though he
served our lady a litle, he loved God best, and God loved
him for all his offence : and why? for that he left his
follie, was sorie for his sinne, and was ashamed of him-
sdfe: he craved merde in heart, and was therefore
received into &vour.
Wherefore, good sir, condemne not schoUers for
serving ladies, which indeed is your meaning : for Ber-
sdiaes beautie, bewitched the wits of kiqg David, and
made him quite forget his wisedome. Now there are fewe
king Davids left for their wisedome : but for beautie, many
Benabae& If then the world be as lull of fiure ladies as
ever it was, and not men of so rare wisedome, blame not
sdioUers for their service, nor make souldiers saints for
their mindes to GodHWud.
But as Davki was both a good souldier and no worse
scholler, and Mareus Aurdins as good a scholler as a
souldiour, and were therefore more honored then the
nnlffamcid captains : so I pny you grant that the valiant
scholler, in honour, is to be piefened before the unlearned
souldier : and that the sdioUer is so fit a companion for
the souldiour, as they cannot well be one without the
other : and bdng toghher, do deserve the greatest honor
of all men living. There is such a love and union betwixt
them, and the one is so necessarie unto the other, that
some men think, theoneand theotherisastt were«A^
ipu: so that they doo deserve like honour, and not one
to be higher then the other. Now, sir, what say you ?
Will you thmke so wdl of the achoUer or not ?
SwL Beleeve me, sdioUer, since thou oommest so
neare me, wdoome : this I must say to thee, I see thou
hast a good minde to a souldiour : and therefore since
thou art entered into travaile, and I have bin in some
skirmishes, let us both fcnget we are at home, and bdng
here, let us determine to season oursdves for all weathers ;
let our fiuthful praier be our defence against the divdl
and all his temptations : my sword be our defence against
bodily enemies, and thy wise counsdl my comfort, to
arme my sdfe with patience. Let us feare neither fire
nor water, care for no weather, bire nor fowle : stick not
for night, nor day : take what we finde thankfuHie. part
It fiiendly, and spend it merrily : live togither lovingly,
and die vertuonsly : so shall we be spoken of on earth
famously, and live In heaven eternally : which that God
may grannt willingly, let us fall downe presently, and
pny heartily, that we may rise roundly, walke
wisdy, and speed luckdy. What sayest thou,
schoUer?
SckoL Oh, sir, right gladly : and since you have so
courteously vouchsafed me your oompanie,! here sweare
my sdfe, your owne at commanndement alwaies, and as
much as may bee.
I rejoyce to have found you,
I hope to live with you.
And never to leave you ;
So deardy I love you.
That I will die with you,
Ere I will forsake you :
And as you doo love me,
So put your trust in me.
And this bee sure of me ;
That you shall comroaund mee,
Till lives ende, bdeeve me.
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AND A SOULDIOUR.
y
Now that we may togither,
To the heavenly place thither,
The only place whither
The scholler espieth,
The good souldier hieth :
"Wwh humble hearts lette us pray,
That we may walke the way.
That at the latter day,
We may have cause to say,
Truth will not lead astray.
To which good and blessed place,
God grant us all his grace,
That when we have runne this race,
That we may waUce apace ;
That within little space,
We may all £ace to fece,
Behold our blessed Lord,
Whose name with one accord,
Let us with laud record.
And so let the souldier
Make much of the scholler.
And trust to the scholler,
That he loves the souldier ;
And let us be sure of this.
When we do pray, I wis,
Gods hand doth never misse,
To work for our avaHe.
Thus did the souldiour put the scholler out of his
nothing : and togither they are gon about something :
but for that I know not what, till I see them againe, I
wil here bid them fiuewell, and with my selfe wish you
well : promising, that if I do meete them, you shall heare
what became of them.
Till when, and ever,
God so blesse us here,
That we with joyful cheare,
May all at once appeare.
Before his heavenly throne :
To which his grace alone.
Guide us right everie one,
Both men, women and children :
I would hee were hanged that will not say, Amen.
Marti Mercurim
FINIS.
N. B.
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The Miseries of
MAUILUA.
The most unfortunate Ladie, that
ever lived.
First found by the said Author N. Breton,
Gentleman.
LONDON:
Printed by Thomas Creede,
«599.
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To the courteous and gentle Reader.
HE thinks I heare a number say, What meanes
this fellowe to fill our eares vrith miseries?
Why ? our eyes are full ynough alreadie :
tell us some merry tale, if thou wilt have any money of
us. Such i answere, A Christmasse song is worth a cup
of ale : I am no byreling for half4B*pence. And this I
will tell you, it will do you no harme, but keep you from
worse exercises. It may be, you may think it well
done ; if not, I wish it better, and you well.
FINIS.
N. Breton. Gtmt.
THE ARGUMENT.
H SWEET young souU, in time of Under
In souldiours hands t eskaptd killing nurt :
And growing on, did run through many breers.
As in the booke, do plainly follow heere.
Long wandering, in a world of miseria :
Loathing her lift, she lamentably dies.
Her miseries, in number are but Jive,
Yet in those Jive, Jive thousand haps of hate :
Which she endurde, whiles that she was alive.
And dide at last, in miserable state :
What need more words, the rest herefbllowes on :
For mourning minds, to sit and muse upon.
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILLIA.
|HAT, afaaU I write the dttonide of ndne
owne calamities? Why? The greefe is
so great to remember them, as my heart
must needs burst ere I can halfe nuke on
end of them. Sorrow sokes long ere it slayes ; care
consumes before it killes ; and destinie drives the body
^to much miserie before the heart be strooken dead.
Oh, ladies, looke upon me ; princes, pittie mee ; lords
and gentlemen, let some remorse move you to bemone
the marvellous mishaps of no base person, whom losse
nor gaine. wealth nor want, {Measure nor paine, greefe
nor ease, feare nor hope, weale nor woe, one thing nor
other, could once bring downe to submit her minde to
the slaverie of the world : but in spite of fortune, both
moone and starres against her, and none but one to
comfort her, wandred through this wretdied worlde,
escaping the poysoned snares of most pestilent and
subtile mindes, breaking the force of wanton affection,
and conquering the crudtie of cankred Cuf^d : con-
teining her sdfe with all discontent, lived till all
woridly mindes were wearie of her companie, and dyed
k>ng after shee was wearie of the world, wfaerefai sbee
had passed sudi innumerable woes, as fewe will be-
leeve. lesse can indure, none but her onely selfe can
recount
But why shall I tell this tale? who takes plearare in
a tmgedie? Why? myrth is in many ptooes, and
sorrow is no where welcome. Then let me holde my
peace : alas I I cannot. And why? I have swome to
my selfe, the worlde shall see my miserie but what am
I the better? Oh yes, shouM I sit still and weepe?
so shall I but spOl mine eyes, and mane mine head.
Sit still and sigh? Alas, so shall I but abide more
sorrow, wiliuUy then wilfully : and can my griefe be
any thing eased by laying my miseries before me?
Why? They say, that the eye sees not, the heart rues
not Oh. thought is the torment of tormentt : and can
I diuse but see my selfe ? and by sight of my sdfe, to
bring in memorie the sonowes that I never put out of
my mind. What need I then to record, that I cannot
bat remember? I most keepe mine oath, how shall the
world wonder at me? Some mindes pittie me, and
other bee warned by me. and all mindes enie when they
thinke uppon mee^ if I say nothing.
Wherefore, sweete friends, that Cure ladies wi^
their welfare to you and all the worlde besides, I will
here nnfolde a trunke full of such torments, as no
minde can wdl beare, nor any heart but wouU bnrst
with the carriage : the vcrie sight will af&ay the eye to
looke on it, and the heart will pant with griefe to
thinke on it But since I now am gone, that to my
lives ende have borne it, and none I thinke now wtt
dare to meddle with it, nor if they were enforced were
able to abide it, I will heere set it downe to the pittifiill
viewe of all good people, whose wiu win conceive, and
wins penise, judgements bdeeve, and harts lament, the
summe of sudi sorrow as never was heard ot
In the troublesome time of a king unnamed, in a
countrie too wdl knowne, a oertaine towne sacked by
suchesottldiours as hadde Uttle merde uppon the harme>
lesse enemies ; it was my unhappie pazentt hap (amoi^
many other) to £edl into the hands of these bloudie feU
lowes, who, embrewing their blades in the aged breasts
of my poore fiither and mother, caring no whit to heare
me crie at this cruen act, nor pittying the teares that
bitteriy feU from an infants eyes, spumed me at their
feete, spet hi my frice, flung me out of doores to goe
seeke my fortune. Whereas I laie weeping, hearing
some say. Knocke the dfe on the head ; Peace, squaU
(quoth another) ; Let her bawle. sayes a vile boy ; Be
stil, you were best, baggage (quoth a hard hearted
man), with a drawne sword in his hand. Not one
woukl say. Alas 1 poore girle, take her up ; but stiU must
lye uppon the bare earth, tin some good mind would
looke upon me, or merdksse mind wold make an end
of me, or dse God of His mercy would some way com-
fort me.
And being then betwixt foure and five yeares of age,
wen able to bring out a word, I cryed, Oh Jeso, Jesit,
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
37
and said, sweet God, though He had many to helpe
besides me, yet, as in the Scripture you may reade,
Christ ever loved the little ones ; so surdy (bedng
little and unable to helpe my selfe) He shewed His great
merdfuU might in helping me to the handes of a poore
laundresse that followed the campe, who taking me
Into a cabin where she kept her vitling, so intreated
with her friend, a souldiour of the campe, that he gave
her leave to kaepe me (though hardly), yet better than
to lie in the streetes.
But Lorde, what miserie did I then abide ! When
my houres of bfeakefast, dinner, or supper came, then
(as I was wont) I called Mother, but I heard no sounde
of Daughter. I was wont to be set in lap, and dandled
and danced, and ooUed about the necke, with many a
swete kisse : my father would take me by the chinne.
teach me to hdlde up my head like a prettie maide, and
then call mee good gyrie, sweete mouse, owne wenche,
and dads byrd, and in the ende with a prettie smile,
please mee with an apple or peare, or some such chil-
drens Joy or other. When I came out of the parler,
happy are they in the hall, oould first catch me in their
aimes, with God blesse my sweete mistresse : love me?
yea, oh it is a fiUre gentlewoman ! who oould finde in
fheir heart, to hurt such a sweete soule ? The maidens
would sing mee, the neighbours would give me prettie
things, and straungers that I never sawe. vrould make
nmch of me : and every prettie childe would be glad
when they might play with mee. In summe, the world
went with me.
But nowe, thb (something) kinde, but greatly curst
woman, with whome I must now make an ill chaunge to
take her for my mother ; when I would crie A little
drinke, Some bread and butter, I would go to bed: Peace,
you little whore, would she say ; leame to lie in the
atrawe, you are like : tanrie and be hanged, is meate so
good cheape? I will make you grate on a crust, ha,
you mcmkie, yon shall have butter with a birchen rod :
then if I cried, take me up, dap. dap, dap, dap, set me
downe agame, crie till thy heart burst, I thinke it longs
to bee knocked on the head, you were not best to kaepe
sudi a wrewUng, heere is a trouble with a monlde.
Oh, heere was a miserable metamorphosies ; then got
diee me a booke, and a feskew : now began a new
miserie; when I woukte bee at play, either with the catte,
or a little dogge, or maUngof ababie. of anolde ragged
doute : then woulde shee come with a rodde. Come on,
yon urdien, yon will never oome to good ; pcdl the dout
out of my hand, slapt it in my free, tosse mee by the
ahouklers, and squatte mee downe so miscfaievouslie,
that I had more mind to crie, then to my Christs crosse
But yet at last, with much adoo, It pleased God to
make mee somewhat apt to my booke, that within a
while I had learned to reade any place in the Byfole, so
that then she tooke some ddight in mee, and then she
wouki use mee somewhat more kindly.
Then did she set mee to my needle : there was another
miserie. I must learne to nuke a waterflower, in an old
ragge, good enough for a sampler for mee.
But many a time dkl shee make me prick my fingers,
with suddaine shoving my hands togither, before shee
would learne me to hoU my needle : many a whyrrit on
the eare had I, before I could leame to take two stitches,
and leave two: with Thou untoward apes fooe, wilt thou
never be handsome ?
But see how good was God unto me yet in these my
miseries, He made me so cunning at my worke, that
within a while, I could make a pretie hemme, gather a
plaine ru£fe, and make pbine worke pretdie, so that then
she began indeede to make very nmch of mee, with Thau
agood gyrie.
But, oh I what a miserie of minde it vms to me, to
heare that woord: alasl then I remembred my good
father, who commonly was wont to say so, when I held
up my head at his bidding.
But with that miserie, see another : nowe was I set to
my worke, and if I wrought wdl and apace, so that I got
her any money, then I had a peeoe of the better bread,
and a cuppe of indifferent drinke, or dse bread and water,
and many an unhappy bang had I, poore wretch.
And thus continued I, sedie wendie in this miserie,
till it pleased God to graunt mee ddhreranoe by this
blessed meane.
The towne was besieged, the walls were scaled, the
souldiours entred, slewe a number, some they raun-
sommed. This poore bwndresse I saved the life of by
my humble suite to the captaines: which bdng my
countreymen, and knowing my parentage, hearing my
tale of her kindnesse (not as I tel it nowe), but otherwise
to tbdr content, graunted her life, and with a hundreth
crownes, sent her by water away with a poore fisherman,
with oommaundement upon peine of death to see her
safety conducted to the duefe dtie that she desired to go
too. Thus was I now rid of my first miseries, in my
tfane of bfiukde, which continued with me for the space
of three yeares and upwards.
Th€ end ofihifrst MistrU,
The seamd miserie
Sow when I had sent away this olde vitler with more
cnwnes then shee was mistresse of many a day before, I
now fdl to worke to mend the captaines ruffes, to dmw
up a bradc, or a broken stitch : uriiich done, I would to
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
my booke, which both pleased God. and the captaine
liked very well of : and so well, as seeing me oftentimes
sit sighing by my selfe, to thinke upon my parents death,
my losse of wealth, my hard life with the lawidresse, and
my present mihappie estate, nothing to my hearts con-
tent : one day in the morning, walking about a garden,
he called me to him, and there used this speech unto me.
Mistresse, &c., I am soiie to see your sad and heavie
countenance. I perceive, though you be yoong of yeares,
God hath blessed you with a good wit : crave His grace
to use it well: take thankfully the crosse that He hath
laide upon you, and give Him thanks for His great
merde, in delivering you out of the hands of your
enemies : no man is sure of life, the woilde is variable,
you see to day a man, tomorrow none : this soouige of
warre is a plague for our sinnes, and a warning to peni-
tende. We now have wonne the towne, but God knowes
how long we shall keepe It.
Wherefore, seeing that I see you growe in yeares,
likely in short time to proove a propper woman, and
that now having escaped the handes of enemies, I woukl
bee loth you should rest neare them, I will send you to
such a place with my page, and such and sudi gentlemen
my friends, that I know will (for my sake) safely conduct
you thither.
What I said to him, I have now forgot, save I remember
this, that (yeelding him thankes) I beseecfaed his speedie
dispatch from thence : where being but a foolish girle, I
should bee eyther attempted to vanitie, or fiJl in some
too good liking, whidi (perhaps) one unworthie, or else
in the captaines absence (the souldiours somewhat over-
seene) I might be offered some viOanie.
Therefore I had no minde to stale, but thfaiklng every
day a yeare till I was gone, I remember within two or
three dayes after, I was sent away, with two or three
gallant gentlemen and the little page : by whome the
captaine had sent a letter unto a brother of my fiuhers
there in the oountrey, to whom he wrote for me, in
earnest and friendly sort, as you shall see hereafter.
But first I vnll tell you of a newe mlserie, that by great
mishappe befell mee. As wee were travelling towardes
the towne that wee were determined to goe too, about
foure score myles distant from the place whence the
captaine sent mee, suddainly, at unawares, there issued
out of a woodde a horseman or two, verie well appointed,
who, drawing somewhat neare us, began to charge
uppon us : and to bee short, sette uppon us, and for the
time, (O Lorde 1 ) mee thought it was the sorest fight that
ever was : the speares flewe in peeoes, then went the
swoordes dish dash : anon they were unarmed, downe
were their horsses, and the men on foote fen to it so
fiercely, that now one, and then another, were cut and
mangled so sore, that I was even halfe dead to behokl
them.
What shall I say? kmg lasted this oombate : but at
last none had the better bargaine, for first the horsses,
and then their maisters, were forced to give the world a
iSsreweU.
Oh Lord, that ever aedy wench should be borne to see
sudi a day 1 Judge nowe what miseries was I fidlen
into? my parents dead, their goods gone, I in enemies
handes: yet onoe escaped, and safe in the captaines
guard. Nowe, looking more Ubertie, am felne into
further daunger : in the enemies oountrey deprived of
my company, manned but with a poore boye, and in
perill of my life, ferre from any towne, my horse runne
from mee, and I on foote. How shall I doo? a hungry
stomack will call for meate, meate will not be had without
money, money is none heere, except with the dead
souldiours : and alas I my heart will not serve mee to
rifle a rarkasse ; but see what is use? The page is in
theyr pockettes, hee is fildiing for crownes. But come
away, boye ; alas 1 what good will money doo, where
there Is no meate to get?
Yes, mistresse (quoth hee). you shall see, God will
send us some odde pesaunt or other this way, with a
bagge of bread and dieese, who will gladly sell his
dinner for crownes : if not, I hope to kill some odde
pigeon in the fedde, or one thing or other, that we will
roste findy and quickly, and away. Why, alas 1 boye,
howe shall wee doo for fire ? Oh, mistresse, the fire-locke
of my pistoll, my matdi and a little powder in my flaske,
and light my match ; and then a fiewe rotten stickes out
of the hedge, and a few of these drie sedges, oh, they
will bume roundly.
Thus did the poore boye awhile comfort me, bat
having wandered all that day, that night, and the next
morning, without dther meeting any man, or seeing
anything to shoote at for our rd^e, sighing with
sorrow, I prayed God yet to provide us some poore
repast or other.
Who heard our prayer, and gratiously graunted our
requests : for having past a little further, wee espied
oommiqg towards us a oowe, which had a goodly
udder, to whom wee came neerer and neerer, praying
God that shee would stand still till we had gotten of
her milke to comfort our sdves withall : and (as God
would) the poore beast made no haste away, but seemed
glad to be milked, her udder was ao full : well, thanked
be God, heere we sped well.
For in steede of a pa^, I took my hatte, and
though shee was the first oowe that ever I milked, yet
I fdl to it so handsomly, that I got my hat full : out
of which, first my selfe, and then the page, drunke so
heartily, that it sufiioed us for that day, and that we
left in the hatte served us till the next day at night.
When the poore page bying him downe upon a banke
side to take a little rest, being heavie with great weari-
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59
nesset foigot to looke to his little dagge that hee had
under his girdle, the spring whereof beeing started up,
and hee leaning on it, made it of it selfe discharge a
bullet into his right hippe, so that hee was not able to
rise alone, but lay in such torments, as that I was
ready to swounde with sodaine greefe to beholde him.
But the little wretch bearing a better heart then his
poore mistrease, made little bones at it Mistresse
(quoth he), the hurt greeves me not so much, as to
thinke how I am hindered firom my heartie desve to
shew mine humble duty in conducting you to your
uncles house. But since God hath laide His punish-
ments upon me, I beseech Him to graunt mee His grace
to take it patiently : alas I I thinke I am the most un-
hai^ie Yil^ine in the worlde. But. mistresse, this is
the worlde; a man that hath travelled many ooun-
treyes, and passed great perilles, being tossed in many
tempestes, among the boyling biUowes of sore seas, in
the ende comes home, and perfaappes, walking but
through his owne ground, his foote slippes off a bridge,
and is drowned in a ditch : Though I bee but a boy. I
have beene among men, I have carried my maisters
peeoe and target in bote skirmishes, when the bullets
have flyen about mine eares, yet alwayes I thanke God
escaped hurt : and see, now am halfe spoyled, and no
enemie neare mee. But, alas ! goode sweete mistresse,
weepe not so, then you will kill me outright, for the
griefe of your sorrowe will goe nearer my heart then
the hurt by a great deale ; you shall see it will do weU.
Was not this a wise boy? Yes, surely, and such a
kinde hearted wretch, as it would have made a heart
of stone to have bewayled his miserie. But nowe in
this eztremitie, what was to beedone? Alas 1 howe did
I devise to helpe this poore maimed page : first, the
blood must bee stinched, and howe was that done ? I
remembred, that in time that I lived with the kiwn-
dresse, I saw a soukliour come in one day, with a
wipe over the shinnes, that hee lay by ten dayes, ere
hee could go on it. Nowe a surgeon of the campe,
to stinch his bleeding, tooke certaine droppes of his
Uoud that fell uppon a hotte bricke. which beeing
dryed, he pared off the bricke, and strewed it into the
wound, which dust did quickly stinch the bleeding : so
tooke I the drops of blood, which befaig dried against
the sunne, fd to powder : whidi I used in like maner,
and so helpt the poore boy.
His bleeding stencht, the ladde began to looke some-
what chearely, and with the water in his eyes, for kinde
dutiful k>ve, with humble thanks, thus spake unto me.
Oh deare mistresse, how shall I ever live to deserve
this sweete fieivour? surely, if I may live to do yon
good, I shall thinke my selfe a happie man : surely,
mistresse. the world is neere at an ende, when things
fall oat so oontxarie, the mistresse to serve her servant.
Well, God reward you, I will pray for you, and if I live
I will somewhat deserve this your singular goodnesse.
Alas I mistresse, I remember my maister was wont to
use a kinde of leafe, that growes neare the grounde ;
there be great strings in it, I thinke they call it a
Flanten : will you see if there growe any here abouts?
I will make shift to put it into the wound ; it will draw
it and keepe it deane. till wee come to some towne,
where we may meete with some surgeon.
No. boy (quoth I) kx>ke heere growes wilde isope,
and that is good indeede, for the olde woman that I
was withall, I see once heale her hand with it, which
shee thrust through vdth a knife, as shee was opening
of oysters. Even as you thinke good mistresse (quoth
the boy). So now wee have got some hdpe for the
hurt, our meate was iarre to seeke : but God is a good
God, and ever will be.
In this miserie, as we sate sighing to thinke how wee
should do for meate, comes by a foze with a little
lambe on his back, whom first the boy espied, and
cried. Mistresse, mistresse, looke yonder is a fox with a
lamb on his back ; for Gods sake run to him, and crie
Now, now, and the foxe will be afraide, and leave the
lambe behinde him : and as the boy said it fdl out :
the waight of the lambe beeing too much for him to
run withall, I overtooke him, and fraying him with a
loude crie, hee let fiedl the lambe, and away he went :
thinke how glad was I of this lambe. Whidh bringing
to the boy. Good mistresse (quoth hee) let mee hdpe
to flea him : and so kindly togither wee sate, plucking
off the sldnne, and cutting the quarters one from an*
other: which vrith the boyes devise of powder and
match, and the fire-locke of his dagge, wee made fire
and roosted finely. And I remember oftentimes as I
went for sticks to make the fire, the poore boye would
somewhat yet shewe his kinde honest dutie. He would
entreate me yet to let him tume the spit, that we made
of an old sticke, and as he was turning, to make mee
laugh (which was hard to doo in this miserable case)
he would say, Mistresse, you are cooke, and I am skul-
lion ; if I bume the meate, beate me for my labour :
who would thinke that such a young gentlewoman
oould pby the cooke so pretily ? Alas 1 do not bume
your sdfe in the fire : God deliver us quickly of this
miserie, and defend us from all other. Amen (quoth
I). Anon he would sing one merrie song or other : now
he would whistle in his fist, and by and by tdl mee a
tale of a rosted horse, ondy to make me merrie withall,
but when he saw nothing could make me leave my
heavie thoughtt, then fdl he to sighing with mee for
company, and I might perodve by litle and litle, how
his sorrow of heart more and more increased, by the
teares that did ever distil downe his cheekes, [and] I was
fntst to force a smile. Why, weepe not for mee, boy
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
(quoth I), I am well enough, and I hope shall do better
ere long ; I am sorie to see thee in this case.
Alas 1 misrrffMft (quoth the boy), it were better I were
hanged, then you should be so sadde for mee : for Gods
sake let me see you merrie, and I shall bee even wfa(^
withaU. Willyehavean olde soQg? Then would hee
have up a peeoe of stufie, that would make a dog haUe
dead to laugh at it : thus with a little ptoasure, we
lived in this great miserie a long time. But oh good
God, that sent us the good lambe, to doo us so much
good, the flesh served us many a day, and the skinne
served to lap about the boyes lame kgge to keepe it
warme. Which beeing dressed orderly, evening and
morning everie day, within a fewe dayes grew so wd, as
that he was able to set his foote on ground, and then
leaning on my shoulder with one hand, and resting on
a stafie with the other, we went onwards through a
great forrest, where when we had travelled many a
wearie steppe ; at last we came to a great hiD, which
when he had gone over, at the foote thereof, lay a wilde
bore, who when he had espied us, came runidng with
open mouth, and at the poor page he strooke, who with
the pistoll that hee had cfaaiged, shot him full in the
head, but not before he was sore wounded in the l^gge :
I, poor sottle, was in such a case, as that heart I had
not to fight with the bore, nor power to leave the lame
boy. But abyding still the ende of the combat, I
stinched the bloud, bound up the hurts, andtodke of the
grease of the bore, to annoim the olde hurt withaU.
Which done, we wandred on, till anon we came to a
poore cottage, where dwelt a poore sheepheard, to
whose house when we came, and findhig none about the
house, we knocked at the house, and not remembring
common country speech, God be heers : we heard none
ask who is there, a great while. At last, comes out a
crabbed old woman with her daughter: How now,
what would you have? beere is not for you. The
daughter being of somewhat younger sight than the
mother, paid her by the arme : Mother, mother
(quoth she) it is a gentlewoman, she is in silke, and fine,
she is as brave as our young landlady. Is she? then
let us go see what she is, I will goe talke with her : and
so with a countrey curtsie, Mistresse (quoth she) whenoe
come you? and whither will you? what doo you ladu?
and what young boy is that you leade so ? Good mother
(quoth I) a poor mistresse as it &lles out. I came finom
the campe, and am going I know not whither.
This poore boy was a page unto a captalne, a friend
of my Others, who with two other gentlemen, was sent
with me to mine undes house, a gentleman heere in the
oountrey. But my friends are both slaine by the
enemies, who likewise at one instant, took al their
leaves of the work! togither. Thb little Uul ondy
escaped away with noe alive, who by misfortune caught
a hurt first hi the thigh with a bullet, and scarce aUe
to go alone, hath here bene hurt againe by a wilde
bore, at the foote of the hill, yonder by the woodside :
but he hath slaine hhn : for witnesse, bdiold here is
some of his greaoe. But because the poor boy is some-
what stifle, with the hurt of his kgge, I beseech you
let me have a diamber, and a bed for him, and not of
the woorst, I will content yon wdl for it Yes, mis>
tresse (quoth she), with all my heart, oome neare, God
be thanked that the wikle beast is dead: oh it was a
vengeaUe theefe, hee did much hurt heere in the oooa-
try, many a time hath he made me leave my burthen
of sticks behinde mee : hee once fraide my cfailde here,
almost out of her wits.
Well mother (quoth the page), I warrant you now
he shall do no more hurt ; I am the last, I warrant yoo,
that is, or wiU be slaine by the wikle bor» here abouts.
Wherefore good mother, let us go fai quiddy ; I find my
sdfe somewhat fiunt with Meeding : Marrie oome
(quoth she), mine owne sweete boy, and therewith she
kist his dieeke. Oh, mother (quoth I), I thanke yon ;
bdieve mee, it is the best natured boy on earth.
Thus m we went with him, bad him to bed, opened
his wounds, washed them with milke, for ladce <3i white
wine : and then asked counsaile of the old woman,
what was best to lay to the hurt? Tane, mistresse
(quoth shee), we commonly use when the wound is not
deepe : but, berlady, lor this I can tdl you what we
win doo, a little flagre, and the white of a new laid
egge, mfaigled with a little hooey, you shall see, I will
make a medicine for him : but let him take a sleepe
first, oh it win do him good, and against he awake, wee
will have some warme thing made for him. Content,
good mother (quoth I), with twentie thankes : holde
here is five crownes, take them to you, Uy out what
you win for Gods sake ; if any good toune bee neare
send for some white wine and suger, and a bottle of
good ale. Yes, mistresse (quoth she), and God His
blessing on you : whiles this holds, you shaU not want
any thing, and when this is gone, fle sell all the sheep I
have, before ile see you miscairie. Gramerde, good
mother (quoth I), God reward you, and if I live, and
ever be able, I will make you amends. I thanke you,
sweete mistresse (quoth she). But see the boy is faax
adeepe. Let hhn atone ; my dau^^ter shall sit here at
the doore to watch when hee wakes, and if he need
any thhig, she sbatt see him have it
Will you go a little into the garden and gather a
Ikywer? (or cockes my bones) I have not bkl you dxinke
yet Come, shaU we have a mcsse of milke and a peece
of cheese? I tell you, though I be but a poore woman,
I have a cup of good ale in my house *, my good man
loves it and hee wiU have it and he is worthie, for why ?
he gett it Thus went this oki woman and I to our
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILLIA.
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vittailes, which I fell too full Bavotirly : but as we were
sitting, being in summer time, the window open against
us, the old woman espied her husband oomming home,
through his field afore the doore : now under his arme
he had a burthen, whidi the old woman mervailing at :
Mistresse (quoth she), iooke. yonder oomes my good
man with somewhat under his arme ; I muse what it is,
shall we go see? Yea, mother (quoth I), and so we
went to meete the olde man, whom when we cameneare,
we perceived it was a hogs head. Nailes, mistres (quoth
she), what have my man brought home, on Gods name,
a hogs head? hath he come by it trome? Thus at last
as we were talking, the olde man put off his cap, and
made a 1^ or two. What, landlady (quoth he), how
doo your mustriship? I have good news for you to
Carrie mine old mistresse ; the wilde bore is dead, and
here is the head of him.
Gramerde fiuher (quoth I), for thy good newes ; but
I pray thee be covered, thou art deceived. No, &ith,
man (quoth she), but it is a good gentlewoman ; Iooke
here, man, what gold she hath given me ; she knowes
of the wikle bores death : here is a litle lad withhi that
kild him ; he is asleepe. Oh he is sore hurt When he
wakes, we win give him some warme drinke. Is it true,
woman? (quoth he). Yea, man (quoth she), I pray you
bid this gentlewoman welcome, and to morrow go to
my landladies, and tell her of her ; I know she will send
for her, and make much of her, and for the boy too :
there he shall be well tended, and have better things
made him then we can devise for him. Yes (quoth he),
I care not if I goe to morrowe morning. Wdoome,
mistresse (quoth he), I pray you if you ladt any thing
here, call for it
Thus as we were talking togither, in comes the little
gyrle. Mother (quoth she), the gentlewomans boy would
have his mistresse. Oh Lord (quoth I), let me go to
him. So to him we went all, asked him how he did?
Mistresse (quoth he), well; and better (quoth he), I
shall be shortly, for I feele my selfe at a good poynt I
am content to go whither God doth cal me. With that
word, I sunk presently downe to the ground, and living
in a trannce a pretie while, at hut I came to my selfe
againe : when k)oking on the poore boy, I was ready to
&11 dead againe. Good mistresse (quoth he), be con-
tented ; doth it greeve you to thinke I shoiild go to
heaven? believe me, but for you, I would not wish to
live any longer. Mother (quoth he to the olde woman),
here, hokl this purse full of g(M ; I tooke it out of the
dead captains pockeU : take it, spend it but let not my
mistresse want And here is another for my mistresse ;
lay it up for her till she demannd it, but do not koope it
from her, for Gods sake. Father, Iooke well to my
good mistresse, it is the best gentlewoman that ever was
home: oh what paines she hath taken with me, in
dressing my wounds, in leading mee up and downe, not
able to helpe my selfe. Alasl her parents are dead,
and she Csrre from her friends, her yeares but young, her
sorrows great, her comfort small, and she alone : if you
shoukl not use her well, you will soone kill her, and God
will plague you. Good fiuher, remember my words;
and, good mistresse, since I must needs bid you
fiuewell, let me kisse your hand, for the honour I beare
unto that most noble and vertuous heart of yours, which
I knowe will pray unto God for me. Here, my sweete
mistresse, take this pearle joye, set it in the ring that
hangeth at mine care ; weare it for my sake, and God
send you great joy withalL
Heere is the letter that my maister sent unto your
unde, the waxe is so dried, that it is almost open : I
beseech you reade it Though my capadtie bee but
grosse, yet sure I had a great ddigfat in hearing of my
maisters talke, or to heare divers of his letters reade.
Therefore, since this is the last that ever I kx>ke to hear,
good mistres, leave your teares weeping, and do me this
favour. With mudi sobbing and sighing, at last, as I
could, I read him these lines.
To the right worshipful his very good friend^
Maister H. F.^ Governour of such a towne^
This with all speed possible.
Commendations considered, with thanks not foigotten,
for continuall courtesies, present good will doth send
you this newes of our late good hap. So it is, that we
have had a sore conflict with the enemie, lost many of
our men, and put to hard pushes. But in the ende we
drove them to retire, followed them to their fort, drove
them out of their skonoe home to their doores, lakl
batterie to the walls, made breaches in many phuxs.
entred the towne, and by Gods helpe got the victorie ; to
God be given the glorie.
Now in the towne we found none of our countreymen
nor women, but this litle soule, your neare neece : whose
hasards and hard unhappie life, I referre it to her owne
report God hath done His part in her, and the wench
is well minded ; I am glad to have found her, I loved
her parenu well : for whose and for my sake, I pray
you use her well ; she is worthie to be made much of :
let this page attend cm her, and send these gentlemen
bade againe to me with all speed, that I may heare of her
safetie, which I greatly desire. No more, but God keepe
you. From the campe, this present and alwaies.
Your friend to commaund, F. W.
Oh Lorde, what a worid of miseries brought this letter
to my minde 1 First, the remembrance of my parenu
F
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death, then my hard life with the lawndresse. my libertie
got t^ the captain, his fiivoar 90 greatly, extended so
little to my good, the death of the gallant gentlemen, my
hard escape with the boy, our perplexitie for lade of
meate, the boyes unhappie hurt, and last of all, this
deadlie wound by the wilde boie : whidi of these was
the most grievous thought? And then ^h^uu griefe was it
to thinke of them all togither? Wdl. to set me in
fiirthcr eztremitie of sonow.
When I had read the letter: Mistresse (quoth the
pooreboy), now I thanke you ; I see I was sem purposely
to attend upon you ; now, I trust, I have performed my
dutie, I can but ende my life with you. Farewell, good
mistresse, once againe let me kiss your hand : which
when I gave him, hee dapt it earnestly to his lippes, and
kist it twentie times togither. And fetching a deepe
sigh, held up his eyes, and called to God for merde :
and with th^ last words, Farewdl, good mistresse, the
good poore wretdi let go my hand, and gave up the
ghost * But, Lord how I cried I Jesus, how the old
foQces wept, and with teares intreated me to take it
patiently I Good God 1 how the little girle cried. Mother,
mother, &ther, &ther. And oh, sweete Christ, howe
then my heart throbbed, and was readie to burst with
griefe to thinke I had no &ther, no mother, no companion,
no page, no freend, nobody, to iiave any comfort in 1
WeU, this was such an houre of sorrow, as never poore
soule endured : and thus I continued, till what with
entreade of the olde folkes, that had me out of the
roome where the boy lay, with pittie to see the olde
folkes lament with mee : and with crying so mudi, I
could crie no longer, and with Gods gratious perswasion,
I tooke it as quietlie as I ooulde, and for that night I
got mee to bedde, where how little I slept, I leave to
indifferent judgements.
Tht ende of the secomd MiserU,
The third titfie of Miserie with the
Sheepheards wife.
Now, the next morning when I awaked (having had
little rest all night), comes the old woman to call me up,
Mistresse (quoth she), you will but hurt your sdfe with
lying in bed; come, you must leame to rise a litle
earlier shortly. Oh God, thought I, now doo I feare
that afterwards fell out: the boy they carried out to
buriall to a diurdi a mile off, but would not let me
follow him, except I would put off my appardl, and
put on an old russet peticoate of her daughters : which
I was contented to doo ; for the good will I bare unto
the boy in his life, I would see him buried, thou£^ I
had gone in a peeoe of an olde sacke, as (alas 1) that
was a little better. Wdl, now began a new miserie :
after I had (with sorrowe enough), seene the boy buried,
I returned home, as one as ready to go to the grave as
he. But, Lord, to see the villany of these olde folkes ;
the olde woman had devised, and so had achoolde her
husband, to say as shee sayde, that I and the poore boye
were brother and sister, that walking up the forrest,
shee found lyiAg in a higfae way, begging oif almes ;
and for that w« were a couple of pretie chQdren, shee
bad a minde to us, and for pittie tooke us home. Nowe
the boye was somewhat sickly with fruite, benies,
plummes, and such geare that he had eaten abroade.
that when he came to good lodging and good dyet,
he even turned up his hedes. This was I also threatned
to say, or dse I were as good, &c Nowe thinke of my
extreame miserie, my last worldly comfort, my good
companion, the poore page gone. Alas 1 That ever I
was borne ; I dye to thinke what woes I now was to
endure.
Now being come home, I was even faire set to hem-
ming of such hempen stuffe, and vdth such needle and
thread as my tender fingers were never used too : but
now must of force leame to acquaint my sdfe withall.
But it was even a peece of worke [not J fit for mee at that
time, for mine eyes were so sore with weeping for the
deathof the poore boye, that I was not able scarce to see
the threads, as great as they were. Oh, vilde creatures,
of such cankred mindes, who could be so hard hearted I
Now was my poore pages words forgotten. Now were
my crownes that should have bin my comfort fallen out
to be the ground of all my calamitie.
For not many days after, when the olde woman and
her good man had tolde over their golde, and sawe wdl
what summ^ it did amount unto, then fdl the olde
fellowe to purchase a peece of lande and a £ayre house
ttppon it. And now^ Jacke will bee gentleman, no
longer a sheepheard : now sheepheards must make a
Icgge, and doo reverienoe to this fdlowe. But, Lord,
how ilftivouredlie the olde woman could gentlewoman
it. Well, now began my miserie indeede, to see my
money laide out for others commoditie, and I nothing
the better, but a great deale the worse ios it : oh, it
Idlde my heart, and yet I could not dye, and kiU my
selfe I would not, for feare of Gods displeasure : for
desperation is the high way to damnation : God ddiver
mee firom that ill thought. So then passing on the thne
as wdl as I could, I was now sent into a miserie of
miseries;^! must both become a 4<>ul>le servant, and
halfe a mistresse. I must serve the olde woman, I
must leame to spinne, to reele, to carde, to knit, to
wash bttckes ; and by hande brew, bake, make mault.
reape, binde sheaves, weede m the garden, mUke, serve
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43
hogges, make cleane theyr houses within doores, make
beddes, sweepe filthy houses* robbe diitie ragges, beate
out the olde coverlets, drawe up olde holes : then to the
kitchin, tunie the spitte. although it was but seldome,
for we had not rost meate often : then scoure pottes,
wash dishes, fetch in wood, make a fire, scalde milke
pannes, wash the cheme and butter dishes, wring up a
dieese dout, set every thing in good order. And, alas !
to all this was but another maid and I, and it was such
an idle droyle, that shee would ahnpst do nothing but
deepe, so that the greatest part of the worke was turned
to my hand.
Nowe for all my paines, I was fidne to content my
sdfe with a cup of sowre whigge, or a dish of sowre milke,
and a crust of browne blacke bread : lye upon a matte at
night, m one sheete, and that so course, as everie threed
was readle to runne through my ribbes. Judge, gentle-
women, how little was my rest ; yet Use made mee in
time (too k>ng) abide it a little better then at first
This life continued I, tUl the peece of land and the &yre
bouse was purdiased : then was other maides taken in,
and I put to another ofiioe, a greater miserie to my mind
than that befoce.
' Nowe, forsooth, I must attend uppon my young
mistresse, the olde womans daughter, the most iUhvoured
and untowarde urchin that ever was borne: This baggage
must I go teach her booke, and forsooth toudi her I
must not, bat Good mistresse, looke on your booke : Yea,
that is a &yre gentlewoman, when shee saide never, a
word, but I wasCeunetospeakeforher. If I complained
of her, then. Oh you thinke much of your paynes ; would
you have her reade as well as you the first daye? Go,
oome not to mee with sudi twittle twattle ; then go to
the gyiie. Ha, mouse, doth she say thou wilt not leame?
Manie she lyes. Holde heere, wilt thou have a plum or
an apple? yea marrie, it is a good gyrle : then was I
glad to get apples and peaies, and such geere, to bring
her to the bodie. And then the apish elfe for my heart
Would not say a word, so that I could not for my life but
give her a little dap on the shoulders : and if I did but
even toudi her, the monkie would set out the throate,
and crie so vengeouslie, that to it must the mother oome :
and then, How now gyrle? tell me, doth shee beate thee :
Minion, you were best not touch her, see you? the wench
would leame well enough, and you were willing to teadi
her ; wdl, you were best use her gently, least yee fiiue
Uie worse for it ; and so away shee goes.
' Nowe would I sit weeping for greefe, that the squall
woulde leame no fisster : and if the hilding had got out
6^ my sight, that then shee had runne padUng out of my
dgfat, and by channoe spotted any of her doathes, or
taken a £b11, (and yet it was olde inougfa, bedng betwixt
seven and d^t yeeres of age, to go akme) ; yet, as I say.
If ought were amisse with her, I wascheckt, snibd, called
proud minks, rated like a dogge, and nowe and then
beaten so extreamdy, if the old crone were iii an angrie
moode, as shee was sddome little better. But yet the
olde man (I remember) many times, when shee was laying
on mee with a foggot stfck, he would oome and pluck
her off me, and say : Why, wife, foibear her : doo not
use her so cmdly ; let us not alltogether foigette our
sdves : wife, we are the better for heir, remember the
boyes wordes, surdy God wiU plague us for it. Tush,
woulde shee say, meddle with your men, let me alone
with my maides, you are a foote, you were best piate
that all the worlde may heare you. Foole, I thinke yoa
are madde ; and I be plagued, you shall not be the Krorse
for it, I warrant you. Thus woulde the olde man, yet
somewhat speake for mee, and if I were in the way, then
was I the better at quiet : and many times I did marke
the olde fellow, who for kind heart, yet to thinke of my
abuse, he would fietdi a deepe sigh or two, and so, with
the water in his eyes, he would go his way fitnn her.
' Now when she was out of doores, he would come to
me, and sometime out of his podcet he would pluck a
peece of white bread and rost meate, that he would steale
from his wife, and give me in secret, and now and then
he would pluck me forth a peece of gold or two, and bid
me lay it up for my marriage, if he should die before his
wife. Why? shee was so hard hearted, that hee was
afrayde I should have nothing. Thus was yet the good
olde man somewhat Idnder hearted of the two, and the
money that I had of him from time to time, I would lay
uppe as he bade me. But in his absence, thus oonthraed
I hi the oMe womans handhng, till it pleased God for
her wicked mind, to laye His plague upon her. After I
had passed away three or foure yeares with her in this
miseries, then fell the olde woman sicke of the goute,
which hekl her so sore in the feete, toes, fingers, knees,
and almost all her joynts, that shee could ndther go,
ait, stand, nor lie in rest : oh, shee was so eztremdy
tormented, that (notwithstandhig all her crudtie towards
me), it greeved me even at the heart, and made me shed
many a teare to see her in such taking : but yet I had
sudi a miserie with her in this time of her sicknesse, and
almost would have killed any but mee : such an ill sent
of oyntments and medicines, that she layde to her lame
Joyntes, such adoo in making her ready and havhig her
to bedde, such a filthy sight to see her spitting upon the
walles, such a vile ayre as was in her chamber : what
with her fihhiefleame that she spitte about the diamber,
and with the beastly sweate of her unholsome flesh, that
a dogge would have scarce beene able to abide the roome.
Yet was I enforced still to tarrie, sometimes so long, tiU
I was almost stifled, and oft onnstrained to make all her
medteines, so loathsome to my stomadoe, that I was oft
ready to swound with ftdnesse of the ill ayre, that it did
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILLIA.
This wearie life lead I, tiU it pleased God totaise away
this cursed creature out of the world, whose covetous
minde, even at the houre of death, called for the keycs of
her chest, and scarce contentum^ her selfe to call to God
for merde, without either minde ci the pages wordes, or
my good service, or cheefely of Gods displeasure : her
husband, her daughter, and one or two of her neighbours
about her, with the keyes in her hand, not giving me one
groat, in a suddaine sore pang (halfe franticke) dyed.
This miserable life continaed with mee for the space of
fouxe yeare, or there abouts, and longer had continued,
had not God by her death sent me comfort, which lasted
not long. For that now having passed a few dayes in
some better estate with this olde widower, then I had
done, in the time of his wives (it goes against my stomack
to tearm her mine olde mistresse) life. This old man,
beeing as it were betwixt fiftie and threescore yeares of
age, and somewhat sickly, made mee his nurse ; I must
looke to him, make him brothes, have him to bedde,
make him readie in the morning, warme his slippers, and
his staife end, keepe his chamber cleane, which was so
filthie with his spitting, that it greeved me to come into it.
Beleeve me, it is no little miserie to a yong minde to be
an olde mans nurse : well, yet for his kinde and honest
usage of me, I could fiuxe better away with him, then
with the olde woman, which hee seeing, made yeiie much
of mee, and committed unto my charge the keyes of his
counting house, where his money lay, the keyes of his
chests, and in a manner the charge of all his house.
Nowe in this good life, I continued but two monthes,
when the olde man fell verie sere sicke, and beeing ingxeat
daunger of death, sent for one or two of his neighbours :
of which in one hee did repose his spedall trust, for per-
formaunoe of his wUl. Which finding himselfe verie
weake, and faint, he made verie short : but I remember
thus much he sayde of mee. Good cosen, I beseech you
bee good to this wench ; let her have the five hundreth
poundes, that I give her : my daughter shall have a good
portion enough, besides her landes. I pray you take
care to see this wench doo well, let her not lacke any
thing : I and mine have beene the better for her, so God
blesse her, and all yon : God have merde upon mee ;
and so calling mee to him, taking mee by one hande,
tooke his daughter by the other, and willed her take mee
by the hand. Whidi done, first he kist her, and then
me, and after uttered his last speech. Daughter, thou
knowest howe well this wench hath deserved at our
handes : as your handes, so let your hearts be joyned ;
shee hath brought you that you are the better for, and
taught you that you are bound unto her for. As dther
thou lovest me now, or ever doost thinke to have love
at Gods hand, make much of her, and in all respects use
her as thy sdfe : I am not able to talke any longer unto
you ; God blesse you both. Good cosen, remember my
woordes ; for Gods salce, looke well to this wendi, and
make much of her : Lord, have merde uppon mee, and
so £Eue you welL Thus dyed the good olde man, and
thus sprung anew my sonowfuli miseries, which fell out
asfoUoweth.
Th* md€ rftht third MUirU,
I7u fourth Miserie.
While I was weeping almost mine eyes out, with
sorrow erf* this good old mans death, the executors, as
cardess of his words, as he and his wife of my poore
pages speech, no sooner was the life well out of the body
of him, and he scaxcdy cold, but they came to me for
the keyes of all the ch»ts in the houses : and presently
tooke an inventorie of all things bdongmg to the
houses. Which (while they were dooing) what oonspi-
rade was wrought against me 1 The covetous villahis
(loath to let me have the sum bequeathed unto me),
went unto a maide in the house, who envying my litle
fovour, and credit with the old man, did agree (by their
perswasions, and bribes togither) to accuse me of fellony
in this sort. So out she comes among them.
Syr (quoth she), to the trusted cardesse man, the
chide executor, have you not the keye of such a chest,
pointing to mine? No (quoth they), not yet. Well,
(quoth shee), there is something in it worth the search-
ing for. So then they came to me for the keye, which
in that sorrow of minde, making as little account of the
chest, keye, or that was in it, as of myselfe, I tooke
it to them: wherewith presently they went unto the
diest, and the maide with them. To whom (before my
£bu») they gave the one halfe part of my mony, and
the other to the poore, calling me hippocriticall queane,
I mought leave my weeping wdl inough : ah, young
whore, had she oosoned the old man of so mudi money ?
So then they came to me, and asked me how I came
by all that money? I tolde them (as it was) by gift of
the olde man, and wherefore. For that (quoth I) he
thought me worthie of no lesse, as was wdl scene by
that hee had further bequeathed me. Yea (quoth the
vile maide), mudi giving: I will tdl you what, my
mistresse knew her fiashions wdl inough, she was the
death of her ; you may see how she loved her, she would
not give her a groate. But she had the vaine of mine
olde maisler ; aske my young mistresse heere, she was
so proude after mine olde mistresse death, that she
would be haile fdlow with her. Yea (quoth she), that
she would.
How now, minks (quoth the dieefe executor, , the
author of all this villanie), how like you this geare?
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILLIA.
45
You shall have five hundred pounds, yea marrie shall
you, for robbing the olde man of his goods. Oh, you
will make a trimme peeoe, if you hold on as you begin.
This is well for a beginning ; I see you love to begin
betnnes. Yea, syr (quoth the anant honest mayde
againe), I am sure she stole it from my maister : for
divers times when he had sent her into his counting
house, she would serve her sdfe as shee list : now shee
thought because hee had inough, it would never be
mist. I had tolde him of it long ago, but that nobody
might be welcome to him with any ill tale of her. And
therefore till now I never said any thing ; but because I
see her have so much bequeathed her, and yet will not
oonfesse it of her selfe, I have thought good thus to bring
it to light.
I have scene her my seUie, when shee hath put three
or foure peeoes of golde into her chest at once. And
therefore now you see idiat shee is, thinke of her
aooordinglie.
Yes, mairie (quoth the executor), that I wilL And so
sending for the constable, who with mine accuser this
maide, sent mee before an unjust justice, who having
heard my accusation, when I began to aunswere for
myself, cut me off short : and with Ha I idle huswife,
the world is too full of such, bidde away with mee
to the gayle, whither (in hope of death, wearie of life), I
went as willingly as to a place of greater pleasure:
where, howwofiilly I passed the time, I leave to the
judgements of such as have esc^)ed thraldome and live
atlibertie.
This onley I will recite, the filthy ayre of the place^
pestered «i^ infectious persons, the loose of lij^t (the
comfort of the minde), in so daric a hole as one could
scarce see one another, the hard lodging upon the bare
earth: the hearing of songs, laughings, and other
tokens crf^nurth <ii ptsaengen by the doore that lived at
Ubertie: the hunger and thirst so great, and rdeefe
so little : and, last of all, the companie of such accursed
creatures as in theb offences had passed the boundes of
Christianitie : such vile behaviour among them, such
blaspheming of God, sudi cursing of the world, such
desperate inventions, such filthy complections, and such
beastly conditions, such sighing on one side, and sob-
bing on the other : sudi weeping, such wayling, such
wringing of hands, and sometime such terrible cries, as
were enough to pearce through the walls, or at the least,
breake the hearts of them that were within them : oh,
most miserable life*
Well, this life conthiued so long tiQ the time of Ses-
sions came, the prisons should be emptied, prisoners
should be called, the guiUie condemned and executed^
and the guiltlesse discharged.
Now when the time was come, and I among the
prisoners 9ent lor to the bane, and my aoouer there
readie to tell her tale against me, the sheepheards
daughter (by me made the young gentlewoman, hi time
of my imprisonment being married) came with her
husband to see and heare mine anaingnment.
Now as I stoode at the barre, so soone as I bdield
her, I swounded, but anon being called to the barre
againe, I held up my hand, and being asked Guiltie or
not, looking againe upon this young gentlewoman,
being great with diUde, Oh my Lord, (quoth I), let that
young gentlewoman with the great belly answere for
me : for I can say nothing for my selfe : GuOtie ? I
should condemn my selfe. Not ? yoa would aske, how
I would be tryed : and I would answere, by God and
this young gentlewoman, and none else. Susanna was
accused by two of the Elders : litle Daniel delivered
her, by the just will of God. The olde miser, and this
maide my accuser, God by this gentlewoman may show
to be as untrue as they. Gods will be done, I will say
no more, use your authoritie, I feare not death. •
This gentlewoman hearing my speech, considering
my case, remembring what good shee had got by mee,
not foigetting her fethers words : and last of all fearing
Gods high displeasure, suddenly stept downe unto the
barre, beseeching the judges to cause my irons to bee
knocked off, which they granted : tooke me by the
hand, and felling on knee before the judges, pronounced
these words.
My lords, to dally with the world in some causes, is
daunger of death : but hi such a cause as this, to dallie
with God. may purchase damnation : oh my Lords, I
am to aske God great forgivenesse, for my hainous
offence, in seehig her miserie so great, without redresse
or rdeefe unto this houre. Her imprisomnent for
mine offence, her anaignement for my fellony, and her
discredit and defeme. for my defeult. My lord, indeede
the money was my fethers, and I stole it : the day
before I fell sicke, I found the keyes of his cubborde,
I tooke out the money, and finding the chest open,
threw it into it, and covered it with the fowle napldn, as
it was found, minding to have carried it to mine owne
chest : but hearing one come up the stayres, I flung it
hi thyther, for haste, fearing to be discried before I
should get to mine owne chest, standing two chambers
off, but meant, when they that came up the stayres were
gone, to have taken it out, and caried it hito mine owne
chest : but up comes shee her selfe, and as she past by
her diest. (finding it open) she dapt downe the Ud, and
so lockt it.
Now my fether coming home verie sicke, she went
to him, made a fire in his chamber, watdit by hhn all
night, and untUl he died, never stirde from him. Nowe
the maide perhaps, seetog me, and tbfaiking that wee
two had beene halfes in this bootie, envying this poore
gentlewomans deserved fevour, and yet not daring to
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
aocnse me, hath heere wronglany accused her, utterly
gttfltlesse of the matter, or knowing qf the money.
Hioufi^ being taken of suddaine, in extremitie of sor-
row, she said shee knew not what.
But now, my lordes, that you have the offendoor,
discharge the prisoner ; and if the daughter for robbing
of her lather deserve death, let me have lodgement
without fiirther lawe? Now were the judges appalde,
the people amated, the husbande astonished at hia
wives tale, mine accusers a£ndde, my sdfe a little com-
forted.
But yet seeing the kmde nature of the yong gentle-
woman, that would rather wrongfully cast her sdfe;
and her little one, both away, then see judgement passe
uppon mee unjustly, my heart was so full of sorrowe,
with a deepe sighe, I brought out these wordes : My
lord, the Ix>rd of lordes dooth knowe this tale to bee
untrue, and her unguUtie. For indeede I tooke the
money, but given, not stohie : I laide it in my sdfe : not
given mee, I Towe for any ill desert, but uppon good
will, and that npon good cause. Shall I say mme
accusers have doone me wrong? yea, they have accused
mee of money stolne, found in my chest ; the money
they founde, I not denie, the stealing let them approve.
I am but a young wench, God be on my side, I caie not
who be against mee, now let mine accusers say thdr
mindes. With that came the maide to the bar. My
lords (quoth she), to deare both these persons, of this
fdlonious crime, I heere craving pardon of God for
wrongful accusation of this guiltlesse prisoner, forgive-
nesse at her hand, for the wrong I have done her, and
of my young mistiesse, for the hurt I have wrought her,
being virith childe, to briog her to this arraignment,
where she woukl bring her sdfe unto as untimdy as
undeserved a death, and with confession of aficnce,
shame of the same, of you my lord, and all the vrarld
besides; humblie beseeching pardon I will heere unfolde
the secret of all this endigfatment.
My lord, it is not unknowne to a number here pre-
sent, that I have bene a long time servant of the sbeep-
heards : this prisoner I knew, since the first houre of
her oomming to this house, not brought home (as mine
Okie mistresse sakle) but oomming to her doore by
chance, travelling wkh a page with her, who was the
death of the wilde bore in the sandie hOl : which com-
bat cost him his life. It were a tragedie to tdl yon the
discourse of her commfaig thither : but this in breefe :
the boy that was buried heere at Whitsuntide last, was
\at who brought with him sudi store of crownes, as
purchased the land that my maister left my mistresse.
Now whether he had good cause to love her or not I
referre to your judgements. ...
• My lord, the money my maister gave her, in her
curat mistresse time, to hdp her yet toward. her maiv
riage, if he should channce to die before his wife, whose
covetous minde (he feared) would affoord her litle or
nothing : shee hath beene a good mistresse they might
say (if they were now living) imto them : and I will
BOW say, for a servant, there was never a truer, more
painefull, nor Idnde hearted wench in the world ; no
fenlt in her, but too much sorrow (whidi wdl consi-
dered) was cause too much for any good gentlewoman
in the world. And, my lord, a gentlewoman she is ;
for proofe, heere is a letter that shee brought with her
to the house ; she lost it, and I found it, and until this
day have kept it. Therewith shee gave him the letter,
which as hee perusing, My lord (quoth she), if there be
any theefe, it is I, wIk> by felse accusation of another,
would openly steale her money out of her chest, ho-
nesdy come by. Wherefore, if law passe npon any, let
me have it, that most jusdy have deserved it. With
that, stept unto the bane the olde executor, the author
of all the accusation. My lords (quoth he), the maide
hath told a true tale, -and suflBdent to approove both
the other guiltlesse, yet hath she not tolde what she
might : she is not onde guiltie, but another more
wordiy death, which is the author of all this miscfaiefe.
and that is I, who seddng to defeate the gentlewoman
of the summe bequeathed her, with feire woords en-
tised, and with bribes perswaded this maide unto this
villanie. Who beeing poore, and having recdved the
half of that I found in the chest, was content heere to
confiime her accusation. But now having the feare of
God before her eyes, repents her of the feet, and crar-
ing pardon, hath bewrayed the whole effect of our most
villainous trecfacrie : if then, a theefe that would rob a
virgin of her dowrie, entise a maide to folly, and seek
the death of a guiltfesse person; by sudi unchristian
oonspiiade, be worthie to deserve death, let me have
my desert, for I desire it.
Jesus blesse us (quoth a number of the people), who
ever-heard such an airaignment? A great while there
was such a noise among them, that till sUenoe was cryed,
wee could not heare the judges : at last, when all was
stilL
Gentlewoman (quoth the judge), by your letter that I
have read, I see wiiat you are, and whence you come ;
of your travaOe, I vrill talke more at home with you.
' Ftom your accusation I discharge yon, and this order
I take before you. The gentlewoman there with you, for
that shee is with diilde, I commit to your judgement :
after her deliverance, what punishment shee shall have
to content you : her bndes and goods (as your owne of
tight), I give you. Tlie mayde for her accusation shall
presently as you will, be handled before you ; her money
recdved, she shall repay you. The executor shall pay
you double the summe bequeathed you : his lands and
goods shall be confiscate for the oonspizacie agafaist you,
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
47
and his death you shall see (if you will) to satisfie you :
if not, say what you will, it shall be done, we wDl graunt
it yoo.
Then, my lords (qnoth I), the gentlewoman shall have
her land and living still, in reoompenoe of her kinde love
in offering her life for me. The mayde shall have her
money still, for leveaUng the villany ; her pardon I graunt,
for confession of offi»ce, and henceforth I will that shee
shall attend upon me. And the executor shall pay me
my money bequeathed me, and bee and the mayden
shall aske me foigivenesse before all this compenie, and
I win heartily forgive her conspirade. Good my lord,
graunt me this &vour, and so tomorrow, or sometime
ere long, this gentlewoman and I will waite upon you ;
till when, and alwayes, God preserve you.
Content (quoth he) ; so order was taken, the ofiendors
asked foigivenesse, pardon was graunted : other prisoners
were called, and I with the gentlewoman departed : and
into the oountrey we came to a (ayre house of her
husbands, who made mee great welcome, and used mee
verie weli But see, I was borne in an unhappie honre,
and under an unhappie planet, for not long this good
hap lasted with me, but an ill and sore ill hap befell me
asfdlloweth.
The end of the fourth MiserU,
The fifth Mtserie.
Alter I had passed away in indifferent {Measure the
space of two yeares with this gentlewoman, now did
divers gentlemen become suters unto me ; one must be
servant, another my fellow, one my friend, another my
friendly enemie: another my selfe, another my trust,
another my love, one this, another that Now among all
these was one (that I called my servant), by birth a
gentleman, and of no worse behavior, of personage a
proper man. and for his vertues a rare man as could he
found in a whole realme : this gentleman began in jest to
make love unto me, perswadedmee he loved me deardy,
and that so entirely, as that except I would affoord him
fovour, he would fall hito such desperation as I should
be sorie to behold. Now began I to think this of my-
selfo, I am here a straunger in this countrey, this gentle-
man is well knowne : I have beene in great disgraoe,
though wrongfully: he was never dishonoured that I
could heare off, his personage is sufficient to please a
daintie eye, his qualitiesare of the best to bee commended,
his speech is such as may allure a wiser then myselfe to
give eare unto it : the contents of his words well con-
sidered would move a hard heart to compassion : and
what a grief were it to a good mmd to drive a man into
desperation 1 Surely he cannot dissemble with me so
deeply, his vowes are sufficient to perswade me to a good
beleefe, yet young men can use friire words : why? foule
words are not worth the hearing. Oh, fidre words come
of ilatterie, and lovers can lie vildy.
When it is full sea, sweete baites for fishe, but the fish
that are fraide will swimme along by the line : though
some foolish fish will leapeat a flie, and be caught with
a hooke. The world is so full of crafr, that I know not
what to doo, say nor thinke almost, to avoyde the snares
of subtiU mindes. I have heard much talking of love, and
no litle harme that hath befoUen lovers. Let mee then
take heede betimes ; if flEmcie be once caught, it is but
folly to repent. What shall I doo? Gnumt him love,
then when he hath it, he will make no account of it : for
the rarest thinge in the world once obtained, within a
little while is liUe set by. And love of all other things
lasteth the least while, for today I love dearely, tomorrow
reasonably,, next day indifferoitly, next day a litle, to-
morrow I am not in love, next day almost out of love,
and one day more, fieoewell love.
But now let me see, whereupon doth he now move
his sute? What? have I played the wanton in smiling
lookes, which mig^t give suspition of lightnesse? and so
hee thinks good (bemg a proper man) to set in foote first
before another? thinking, perhaps, that a lustie gyile is
soone got with gaUant speeches : no, sure, I doo not
thinke but I have more care of my credit then to shew
such ill countenance : then that is no ground of his sute.
What then ? am I so proper a woman of personage, or
so £Eure of fieioe, as that every man that sees me should be
in love with me? Much, in faith, then this is no cause
of it. Is he in love with my money? Alas 1 what is five
hundreth pounde to make a man mad for? mon^ is
good ware, and much made off. But idiat then? if he
shoote at my money, he wiU make the more of me for it.
Why? if I had nothing, who would care lor me? Doth
he see any vertues in me for which he doth honour me?
Perhaps he gesseth I have a good minde, and he is not
deceived m me.
I gesse likewise of him; I prayGod he doo not deceive
me : as for my money, surely hee needes it not, he may
well enough live without me. Well, good mindes will
thinke the best ; God forgive him if hee halt with mee,
his good nature is such he cannot abuse me.
Thus was I one day in a garden, pcatiqg to my selfe,
when walking all alone in an arbour, hee espied me, and
in this sort saluted mee. Mistresse, I hope you have
made an ende of your Pater noster, and if you have put
me in your creede, you shall have me at more then ten
oommaundementt : I heard you at your prayers, I hope
I was not quite out of your mhide. If you prayed for
me, I hope I shall thrive the better ; and if you thought
of mee, I hope it was for no harme ; and if you forgot
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
me, it was because I deserve no good thought. Now I
thought it not manners to trouble you at your devotion,
but when I sawe you rise from your seate, beholding
your sadde oountenaunoe, I thought good to make 3rou
merie with this mad salutation.
Welcome, good servant (quoth I), but as I was not at
prayer, and yet in a Beleefe, in which you were not left
out. so, I pray you, let me intreate you to jest no more
with commandements ; what you doo at my request, I
will requite you with courtesie : my sadnesse was not
such but may be soone laide aside, and for your merie
salutation, good servant, I thanke you.
Good Mistresse (quoth he), a thanke well deserved
might be as heartily given as happily received : I am
sorie I have deserved no more, and you can give no
lesse. Now though the gift be but little, the cost not
great, yet is the recdt not small, the desert no greater,
to have a thanke for a thing of nothing, where dutie
could not well deserve a greater thing, I must consider it
your courtesie, and honor you accordingly. But if good
hap would give good occasion to shew my good minde,
you should see my good nature hi deserving your
goodnesse.
Good servant (quoth I), your speech is good, and if
your meaning be as good, then shall I thinke as much
good of you, as a good mistresse may of her good servant.
But since I have yet no good occasion to try your good
will. I will be so good as to thmke the best of you, till I
have cause to think the contrarie : wishing you as much
good as you can wish your selfe, and sorie that I am not
able to doo you as much good as I wish you : ready to
doo you what good I may.
I thanke you for your good company, good mistresse
(quoth hee) ; if my company, my selfe, my service, my
swoord, my love, or my life, may doo you pleasure, or
halfe that good that your goodnesse deserves, I should
thanke God for my good happe, and wishe for no better.
Good Lorde, what a world it is to deshv, and not
deserve 1 and what a miserie to deserve, and goe with-
out desire I Alasl to use glosing speeches gives
suspicion of little good meaning : to speake groselie to a
person of so fine capadtie will make my wordes not
woorth the hearing : plaine Dunstable Is the high way,
and yet there are many holes in it ; by a drcumstaunoe is
found an effect. Who dare not speake must looke as
hee may: hee that desireth to please is afiraide to
offiende : servantes must not bee saude, leest they be
shent for their labour: ladies may give leave, and
servantt so be bolde. I would if I durst, and dare if
I would : but because I dare, I will not : and because I
would, I dare not These speeches are darke, and yet
they carrie light with them : you may understand them,
and as it please you answere them, or thinke of them at
your pleasure.
Good servant (quoth I), of darke speeches I must not
give light judgement : suffiseth as I saide before, I will
thinke the best : and for that by a little I gesse at a
great deale, I pray you in plaine speeches say your mind
plainly. I promise you pardon, if you say that which
may dislike me, and thankes for any thing that shall
content me.
Mistresse (quoth he), upon pardon a man may be bold
to say his minde : and therefore, not to trouble you with
any long talke, thus it is. You know I have a long
time beene your servant, yet never did you service.
How kmg you have beene my mistresse, and yet would
never set me to worke, wheiiiy I might deserve your
&vour : I have often merilie (fearing to drive you into a
melancholie) mooved a sute to you in jest, which now in
earnest, I am to beseech you to graunt mee : thus it is.
The comfort of my minde, the joy of my heart, the
staye of my health, and the onelie savegard of my life,
lyes in your hands. I moume with feare to misse my
faithfull desire, I joy m heart to thinke what I desire,
this joy mamtaines my health. Now my life lies in your
handes, which by the love that at your handes I desire,
(which desire is nothing but love, that craves but like.)
with humble sute obtained, my health may be mamtauied,
my life preserved, or (my sute disdained) my seUe soone
dispatched.
Alas I good servant, I am sorie to see your eztremitie,
so doo I pittie your perplexitie : and if you meane but
honestly, you may speede happily. Otherwise, your
dissimulation will soone be descried, and your seiliie
accordingly esteemed. I will not use many words unto
you, company comes, and therfore now let this suffise
you. Write me your mind, I will answere you ; deliver
it me wisely, I will retume you my resohition speedily.
Meane time, I prny you absent your selfe, for yonder
comes mine olde woer, your adversarie : I must handle
him kmdlie, give hun fiaire words, and send the foole
packing : to morrow let me heare from you. Thus with
as humble as heartie thanks tooke my servant his leave,
and to me comes mine olde doting lover, a ridi chuffe in
the oountrey, who having lately buried his <dde Jooe,
woukl now £Bine play the young gentleman with me.
But no, it would not be, contraries can never agree : age
is iroward, and youth foolish : age is lame, and youth
lustie : age skkly, youth healthfull: age is melancholic,
and youth merrie : age is modest, youth mad : age is
towards death, and youth lookes for life: age is jealous,
that cannot youth away withaU. How then, is it likely
that we two shoukl agree hardly, yet I can do little if I
cannot speake him fiure, give him good words, and let
hhn goe. But the loole will be kissing, and the stubble
of his olde shaven beard new come up so pricks mee and
tickles my lippes, that I am ready to scratch them after
every kisse : but yet his nose is so great that hee hath
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
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much a do to kisse kindly : besides, he hath a stinking
breath and a holk>w eye.
Further, I feare by his complexion, he hath bene a
txavener into some kywe oountreys, where he hath bene
inlected with some unholesome ayre : Igesseitthemore
by his speaking in the nose, and never a good tooth m
his head. Hee is as deafe as a doore ; I must tell him a
tale in his eare, that all the towne must be privie to, or
else hee cannot heare mee. He hath the goute in one of
his legges, and blinde of one of his eyes: hee hath
almost iio hayre on his head, and he hath lost one of his
eares: hee goes crup shouldred, and sits downe by
leisare : hee is continually coughing, and betwixt everie
three words spitting: bee never playes at tables nor
cards without a paire of spectacles. Oh, what sporte I
have to deale him the knave of chibbes : his play is not
great, thirteene games for three fivthings, and yet
wrangle too, and in the ende looke uppon both sides,
whether it beapennyor no: yet vnll hee have his purse
full of golde to make a brave shew withall, and a fieure
chaine about his necke to set out a filthy body withall :
a biooche in his hatte with a good deale of gokle m it,
and a seale ring on his finger with an ouiuse of golde at
least. liAarTie, sir, who would not be glad of such a
bargaine ? Faith, not I. Oh, this filthy fellow now must
I meete, and have a little talke withall, and a kisse as
good, saving your reverence. But patience, we must
now to the matter.
Mistresse (quoth he), what all alone? lacke you any
good company? Yea, thought I, fiEurre better thai yours,
else none for Gods sake. But yet I answered. Oh, syr,
you are wekx>me ; how have you done this great while?
Well (quoth hee), good sweete lady. And then the old
horse would have a young filUe : and, for all the worlde,
like an olde horses neyghing, would he be smoyling.
And then must one hand go about my middle, which if
I did but put away with my hand, he would be ready to
fiill on his nose, for hee had but (me good legge to stand
on, and therefore my side was a good rest for him.
Nowe when I sawe his foolishnesse, I would merily
say : Oh, syr. you are a metie man, I pray you talke of
somewhat else. To be short, I couM not away with his
stale jestes, and therefore making little answere to his
propositkyns, I came out of the garden into the parler,
whoe we found sitting at his booke the gentlewomans
father of the house, a goodly, wel&voured, weU coloured,
and well sp(Aen olde man : who marking the doting love
of this olde disard, notwithstanding that he made great
account of him, he would say to hfan : In fiuth, sir, you
doo but loose your labour, shee is not for you ; you and
I are past the world. Tush, syr, would the olde foole
answere, you knowe not vdiat may hit, I have a graunt
abeady. Oh, shamelesse viUaine, thought I ; and there-
withall, sir (quoth I), I hope you are in jest. Jest?
(quoth hee) nay, I hope yon will not goefipom your worde
so soone. Why, syr (quoth I), what word have I spoken
for you to take holde by? Why (quoth hee), did you
not plight me your troath, even now in the garden? No,
sir (quoth I), I thanke God, I never meant it. Yes
(quoth hee), but you did meane it, and you did it, and
you shal performeit, or I will know why to the contraiie.
Oh, shamelesse sir (quoth I), can you so much abuse a
poore gentlewoman? God will plague you for your
viOany.
No (quoth he), not a whit : but I will plague you for
your histinesse; and therefore resolve to make mee
amends with courteaie, or I will requite thee with such
crudtie as thou shalt repent thy pride, I warrant thee.
0 wretch (quoth I), vdiat art thou a Christian, and canst
deale thus dishonestly? Fie upon thee (quoth I); I
defie thee, I curse the time that ever I saw thee, and
while I live I will never looke upon thee.
Good words, gentlewoman (quoth the good olde man
of the house). And, sir, though you bee my fireende,
and welcome to my house, I pray you abuse not anie
heere: if the gentlewoman had given you her word, I doo
thinke so weU of her, as that I dare undertake shee would
not have denied it What ? (quoth the olde theefe) will
you give credit to this young baggage before mee; you
doo abuse me. But a fig for you, and your house too ;
1 will never come more in it, and yet I will have her out
of it. What? sir (quoth be), good words, or get you
paddrig out of doores.
Thus were the olde men ready to fiill out for mee :
now away in a heate, without fivewell to one or other,
goes this olde gander. And the okle man of the house
fell to straight examination of mee, whither it were so or
not : to wfaome, when I had upon solemne oath tolde it
was nothing so, he bade me be of good cheere, he shouki
doo me no hanne. Now yet my heart beeiitg sore
agreeved to see the viUanie of this olde fornicator, and
Joying to see the Unde heart of this other olde gentleman,
sorie to be an occasion of such anger to himselfe, and
trouble to his house, betwixt a menie, go sorie, I fell to
such weeping, as quite spikle mine eyes, and had ahnost
burst my heart. But comforting my selfeahraiesm God.
I tooke it, and brookt it as well as I could : so sometime
sighmg and sobbing for sorrowe to see my hard happe,
and sometime comforting my sdfe whh the hope of my
servants fidelity, I past away the time as well as I could
till the next morning, when oomes my servant to me
with my letter ; v^ch being delivered unto me m the
garden all alone, I perused the contents thereof, as
foUoweth.
My good, sweet, deare, and ondy mistresse, the con-
fort of your courtesle, at your last time of company, hath
e remember my diaige, for which I longed for
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
leave a great while. To trouble yoa with many words I
win not : let this suffice. My snte is bumble, my mean-
ing honest, my love heartie, and my heaxt youzs : my
hope happie, by your high Celvout. My aelie yours
ahraies, and ondy to commaund. R. G.
When I had perused this letter : Servant (quoth I),
whereas I thought to answere you by letter, it shall be
now by word of month. If my company did comfort you,
I am glad of your amendment : in your perfonnanoe of
promise, you have showne the dutie of a friend : let your
humilitie henceforth beocxne fitmiliaTirift : and for your
honest meaning, I grtnt you heartie fovour : for your
heartie good will, I thinke my sdfe highly in your debt :
yomr hope shall have what hep with honour I may grant
you, and I alwaies and ondy will nst yours, as mine
owne : my sorrow that I see you disnudde at, came by
the accursed dealing of the olde youth, that would bee :
the matter is, he daimes promise at my hand, which I
vowe contiarie : he hath thzeatned me viDanie, and I
feare it shrewdly. But to avoid this eztranitle, I will
tell you what you do for mee: I wiDrevealethlsimtothe
oUe gentleman of the house, he is a very wise, ooorteoos,
and kinde hearted man. If he be made privie to the
matter, I knowe he will pittie the case : and far that he
sees your living not great, dming the life of your fitther,
I know he will let us one of his fiumes good cheape.
And so with my stodce of money, with Gods Ikvour, care,
and good usage, we may thrive and come forwards wdL
Mistxesse (quoth be), I like your advisement well ; do
as yon wil, I am contented. Then w«nt I to the olde
man, and tolde him the matter; whidi heard, he
presently promised us his fiEEvonr : and willed him to
provide an things leadie, he with his son and his daughter
would accompany us, and he would g^ me himselfe
unto my sweete servant.
Now the day appointed, appointment kept, aH things
in readinesse, and we in the church, comes this old
viUainous lover, or enemie of mine, who having heard of
the matter, met us at the church doore, and there with
thieatning words, swore to be revenged of us, which in
most horrible sort he thus perftamed.
My husband and I walldng abioade one day into a
fielde, a pretie way from oar house, toseecertahiesheepe
of ours, thisoklevillafaie, watcUngtohavehiswiUonus,
beset us suddainly with two merdlesse knaves, who
staying there for the purpose, ran upon us, with eadi of
them a sword drawne hi his hand, and he on horseback
by them.
Now to my husband they came, and hhn they tooke
by the shoulders, shaking him like a dogge, and reviling
him with these vrords : Thou tnytour, raskall, begger,
knave and boy, thou shalt deardy boy this thy saude
part with my maister^ Would none serve thy tume but
his swome wife? she shan not be glad of her baigaxne
ndther : and therewith, turning them to the olde man,
they askt. Sir, whom wiU ye have first dlspatcht? The
queane is with diflde (quoth he) spare her a while, and
let mee heare what the scab can say for himselfe, and
then yon shan use him, as I win tdl you. Then fdl my
husband on his knees : Sir (quoth be), I can say no more,
but that I have offended you, if this gentlewoman have
made you any former promise : if not, let your conscience
accuse you of wrong to us and offence to God : and if
you have dtiier feare of Him, or love to Hfan, change
yoor minde in this murdrous enterprise. God is merd-
frdl, and here we vow not to bewray you, but during life
to do you what service we may be able. If you do
voodisafe us this fevour, it is more then wee lo<dce for :
and if you graunt us it not, it is no lesse then you wffl
bee damned for. Let my wives great beUie moove you
to compassion, and let my faumiUtie perswade your
demende. This is aB I have to say, to use your dis-
cretion and shewe yoor good nature.
Now, mistresse (quoth bee), what can you say for
your sdfe? Oh, syr (quoth I), you know that you have
done me wrongt wid by your countenance I see you do
confesse it : I am sure hi heart you are sorie for it,
and assure your sdfe, God wiU therefore forgive it : if
there be any humanitte in you, looke upon the beUie
that is to brfaig forth a humane creature : let the pittie
of the in&nt perswade you to merde : if there be any
qparke of good nature in you, lament these bitter teares,
that shewe the sharpesonrowes of an unhappie heart. If
none of these, if there be any wisedome in thee, look
upon thy Utle discretion, in this imwise and ungodly
pretence.
If thou doest dther know God, feare Hun, or love
Him, or bdeeve that He is, and such a just God as wSl
plague thee hi the infemaU pit for tiiis thy unchristian
pretence, looke up to the heavens, see how God doth
frowne on thee, and threaten thee, hi His high dis*
pleasure : tune from this divdlish determfaiation, looke
how God doth fredy forgive thee. What dwuld I say ?
God win have no murther hidden, and when it comes to
light, thoowooldstbehatedofGodandman: thebyrds
of the ayre wffl bewray thee, the diildren in the streets
wffl throw stones at thee, and every woman wffl be ready
to scTBtdi out thme eyes. Now use thy wffl, I wffl say
no more.
Wdl, dame (quoth he), I promise thee, thou hast
turned me from my wicked devise : some revenge I wffl
have of thee, yet not such as I entended. Therefore
cfause, whedier thou wih loose tiiy husband, or thy nose :
the one is a disgrace to thy face, the other a discontent
to thy mind : dinse which thou wih, for one of them
I wffl see before I goe, and make haste for I may not
taxri^
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THE MISERIES OF MAUILUA.
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Alas (quoth I), my husband spare, whether I live or
die, and if my life may content you, I pray you take
it : I rather chuse to die, then to be disgraced. Well,
then (quoth he), come hither, let me have a kisse for
all the love I have borne thee, and so I will bid thee
fiEuewelL I with teares in mine eyes, leaping in heart
for joy of this good promise, ranne to him, and taking
him about the nedce to kisse him, the cankred olde
▼Olaine (with the il&voured teeth that hee had) bit o£f my
nose, and so with his two villaines like himselfe, away
he goes.
Oh laskall, begotten in an ill houre, borne to mis-
chiefe, brought up in vUlanie, and continuing in the
same. God wil plague thee, and those teeth that tare
my harmlesse face, will the divel teare out with a hot
fire-hooke.
Wd, yet Ood foigive thee : and gramerde, jret for
saving my husbands life : since I am borne to miserie,
Gods will be done. Thus went I away with my good
husband, who notwithstanding my disgrace, made so
deare account of me, as first taking great paines and
care, in procuring medicines for my hurt, and being
whole, keeping mee alwaies within doores, or not letting
me goe ftxrther then the garden without suffident garde ;
loved mee, tendered me, and used mee in all respects
as well as my heart could desire. Now but himselfe all
men kMithed my company, for my Ufavoured £bux : and
he himselfe would often sigh when he lookt upon me.
yet would he not say or make any shew of dis-
liking.
Wen, in this miserie, passing foorth a weaiie life, I
took my pen and ynck, and oftentimes sitting alone in
my chamber, when I had not much to doo, I penned
this tragicall discourse: which, scarody ended, my
husband one day gdng abn)ade, met with this olde
miser that had done me this mischiefe, and not bdng
able to brooke the sight of him, suddainly ran to him.
and with his dagger slew him, and then with sore hurts
escaping the hands of his company, came running
home, and almost wmdlesse, revealed unto me this
tiagedie. Now I beemg great with cfailde, fdl hi a
traunce, and recovered againe, I fdl to dressing of his
wounds, wfaidi bleeding sore, and he &intmg, I was in
no good case to behoki. Let this suffice, hitherto I
have written the tragicall discourse of my unhappy life.
Now gomg to my husband, to see how he fores, [I saw]
that he [was] left speechlesse, [and I am] so weake my
sdfe, as that mme eyes doo feile mee. In hope to goe
to God, I bkl you all £EurwedL
N. a Gent
Fide nam Fartuna.
FINIS.
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THE PRAISE
Of vertuous Ladies.
An Invective against the discourteous
discourses of certaine malicious persons,
written against Women, whom Nature, Wit, and
Wisedome (well considered) would vs rather
honour, then disgrace. For proofe
whereof, reade what
foUowet.
fVritten by the said Author N.
Breton, Gentleman.
Hie et hoc homo,
Considera quid muliert
' LONDON:
Printed by Thomas Creede,
1599.
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To the courteous and gentle Reader.
of them ;
lENTLEMEN and others, to whose view shal
come this wonderful peeoe of work of the
Pnise of Women, considering how little
cause of commendation is found in a number
I beseedi you, before you begin to read,
resolve with your selves to take in good part what you
think Z have written against my conscience. And
though I have, periiaps, as great cause to write the
oontrarie, in respect of the little good I have found in
some : yet the hope of good that I have to find by
£avor of some one, (none such) hath made me in the
behalfe of women generally, (for her sake) say as much
as I wish to approve, and I would as gladly affirme.
In the meane time, I hope I have o£fered none injurie.
in domg them a courtesie : I crave pardon of none for
saying my minde, and good thoughts of them, of whom
I deserve it. Meaning, to deserve as wd as I may of
al the world, and desiring too, as little ill to any as may
be. Thus wishing you to wish women no better then
you tee them worthy, I pray you wish mee no worse
then your selves, as I wish all you. FVom my chamber
in the Blacke Fryers : this present and alwaies.
Your fnend, N. BXETON.
Gentleman.
The Author to the vertuous Ladies and Gentlewomen.
|ADI£S and GentUwomeH^ or other well dis-
posed whatsoever : I have fin your commen-
datumsj said as much as 1 hope you toill
deserve : and more then I thinht hath beene
said far you this great while. Now if ye thinhe that I have
said is said far Jtatterie, you should shew me Htlefaevour,
Far to Jlatter all, I should but have ajloute of a number :
and to speakt well of all, I hope will mahe none mine
enomie, I crave no further friottdship then i deserve,
nor greater thanhs then may requite good will, which
wisheth well to ye all that are well minded: and if you
thinhe I have said trulie, in that I have written, thanhe
your selves for giving so good occasion : tf contrarie, do
your endeavour to mahe good what I have said, astd will
be glad to see: ated so rest, readie to do you a greater
service : from my chamber, in the Blache Flyers,
N. B. Gent.
FINIS.
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THE PRAISE OF VERTUOUS LADIES AND
GENTLEWOMEN.
|HEN I peruse and consider of the strange
disoooxses of diyers fontasdcall feUowes, that
have no grace but in disgracing of women,
in invectives against them, in most despiteful
description of their dissimulations, in sudi shainefull
setting out of their seze ; whereby for a few mad-headed
wenches, they seek to bring all, yea, most modest matrons,
and almost all women in contempt : surety, meethinks,
I can terme them by no name fitter lor their folly then
madde men, that fiedne would bee authors of somewliat,
and knowing not what to take in hand, runne headlong
faito such absurdities as redounde to their utter dishonor.
For let a man not quite foi|^ himselfe, and but a litle
kx>ke faito himselfe, hee shall see so great a part of a
woman in himselfe, as that, except hee will runne from
himselfe, hee cannot but with as great honour account of
them as of himselfe. Let me goe to the beginning : was
not the first woman made out of man? and was shee
thenany thhigelsebutapeeoeof liimselfe? Now when
some would envie against her for her deceit, did she it
of her selfe? No, it was by the serpent. And further,
if a man should consider narrowly of it, was shee any
other then himselfe that deceived himselfe? Furthermore,
if it were but for the paines they take in bringing us into
the worlde, besides the pleasure that we have in the
world, we ought rather to cover any crime or cause that
might breede their discredit, then of our selves unworthily
to seeke their defiune.
Some men may thinke that some one woman hath
hired me to flatter all, or else by flattering of alll shuld
hope of fiLvour of some one. Some wHl say, perliaps hee
hath a woman to his mother : some other, a woman to
his mistresse : some other, he is swome to the candle-
sticke : other, it is pittie he was not made a woman : and
some, oh he is a good womans man.
Now, all these I answere in their Idndes : as all women
are not of one nature, so neither are all natures of one
disposition : as one loves to be flattered, so other love to
sutdy dealt withalL Therefore, if I should sedce to
flatter all, I should but floute my sdfe : and commonly,
the hyre of fiatterie is but hate, wliich is so cdde a
comfort to any mans conscience, as hee were well
worthy of a frumpe for his folly that would bee hyred to
such a service. Further, they are fooles that love to bee
flattered, and women have ever naturally had so mudi
wit as to finde a fidshood in a fain tale. But if fidre
words bee truly spoken, and by authoritie confirmed ;
they cannot but bee as friendlyly taken, as fiilly allowed.
Wherefore, my words in their behaUe shall shew testi-
mony of my true meaning, else let me abide the slander
of such hypocrisie as is hatefiiU to an honest
minde.
That I have a woman to my mother, I graunt, and am
heartily glad off : for surely, he that is not borne of a
woman, wants a peeoe of a man : and he that despiseth
his mother, in that she is a woman, is to be disdained
himselfe, in that he is no man. Areweenotoonunaunded
by Ood, to honour father and mother ? Is it not written
in the Holy Scriptures, Thou shalt honour thy &ther,
but thy mothers paines shalt thou never foi|^? Then
remember the commaundement, and doo thy mother due
reverence: disdaine her not, for feare of Gods displeasure:
discredit her not, for God and mans disliking : defame
her not, for feare of thy soules destruction.
Now some will say, that I have a woman to my
mistresse ; I will not denie it, for saints are none upon
the earth, and dtvels I would be loath to doo service too.
A woman of honour may well be mistresse to a man of
worship : in reason consider, and graunt me this : what
souldiour so valiant, what oourtiour so fine, and what
schoUer so profound, but will use his armes, his allege-
aunce, and his art to win the favour of his mistresse ?
I have heard some talke theyr pleasure in a heate,
that the fieiyrest lady in the world should not make them
stoupe to there lure. But when (without an hostler) they
walked themselves a-cold, oh then ere long recant all, it
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wu not I. and erfpeecavi, for a fiELVounble looke of an
indifferent Iwe.
Now some will say, that I am nrorne to the candle-
stk^ ; such I wish their noses in the sodut. And this
I say fbrther, my fiuth was not yet so much had in
question to bee called to the candlesticke : but if he thai
say so have beene brought to the like booke oath, I wish
bee had eaten the strings for his labour.
Some will say, it is pittie he was not made a woman :
I woonder why? My beantie is not such to alfane a
wanton eye, nor mine eye so wanton to aUure a wicked
mind ; my qualities are not ondy fit for a chamber, nor
in my chamber ahrayes in bed. Then what see these
feUowes in mee? If they say so, they know not why ; I
answere them, I care not how.
Now some will saye. Oh, bee is a good womans man :
bdeeve mee, I thinke it better to bee thought a good
womans man then an ill mans woman. Bat as no man
can be counted a mans woman but figunuirely, so then
a good womans man I thinke a man cannot bee teanned
more fitly : but if any man speake it in soome, I answere
him in scoffe : if he speake it in despite of women, let
them disdaine him : if in displeasore with me, as he is
angrie without a cause, he shall be pleased without
And to conclude, I am of this mfaide, thai as nowe the
world goes, he is verie precise, or little wise, thai wonkl
not rather choose the favour of one woman then the
friendship of any man. Now havhig made answere to
these objections, I will go onwards with my opinion tottcb-
iog the worthinesse of women.
Let me see what man was ever so good, so just, so
pittifull, so libemll, so learned, so fiunons for rare
eKceHencies, but there may be found a woman everie
waies his match? fetch anihoritie out of scripture.
Was not the blessed Virgin Marie a woman? how good
did God thinke her, that Hee would vouchsafe to con-
joyne in hinr most holy wombe. His divine Grace, with
ho* humane nature? Mee thinkes there is no man of
any good minde at all, but would think well of all
women for her sake : and such as are not good, to wish
them grace to amend, rather then so to disgrace them,
as makes them never have heart to fell to good againe.
Admitte Eve was ill, so wa« Adam toa Cruell was
the woman that killed her childe, so was Gain hi
killing his owne brother AbelL But leaving disoom-
mendatuMis : now to commend for particnlar causes.
For beleefe, who before the woman of Canaan? For
repentance, Marie Magdalen ? And fw causes tooching
salvation, what greater poinU then feith with peni-
tende? For worldlie causes touching feme. What
greater vertue, then leanUng, the ground of all know-
ledge? howe better knowne then by appamnoe, and
where? But where there is none such, I list not to
I
trouble you with recounting the names of wortbie
ladies. Let this suffice, if there never were any so
wortUe commendation as men before this instant ago.
yet nowe is to be found a woman worthie a more
worthie name (if more worthie might bee), who for
repentant feith, with rare vertues, may be as well
honoured of all godly nUndes, as with woonderfull love
woorshipped of all good mindes. Was there ever maft
learned? so is shoe; and by his learning vertooos? no
lease is shoe; and by his vertues femous ? shoe as much
ashee. Now tho«gh there bee none sodi as diee, yet as
she is of all most esodlent, so are there some other for
oommendatkm, more then indifferent. But for that I
will not give too nnich to anie, nor can give her suffi-
cient: I say this for all women, thai men are madde that
sedces thdr dishonour. The proveite sayes, ** That it
is an evill Urde, wiU file its owne nest" Then let man
oondder the henne thai hatcheth hfan, and woukl bee
loath to have the oodbe have all the meat firom her.
Some disprayse virgins because they be obsrhmte.
For my sdfe, I thhike it a signe of ill nature m a woman
to bee hard hearted ; butifitoomewithcareof credite,
or content, I wiQ allow it, say lovers what they Ust, for
thai fittes one man's eye is ferre firom fitting aaodMr
man's fende : he may like, and shoe may loath ; shoe
may k)ve, and he not like. All are not of one mould,
one mfaida, one nature, one complerion, nor one con-
dition : love hath no reason in his dioyse. Then such
as have found such hard dealing in feyre damoeds, let
them consider of these danses, and let them
Lucke is a great matter in k)ve, and so let it rest
Some win dispraise women for wantonnesse
I am perswaded, if the world were examined, we should
find a Jacke an Apes as wanton as a monkie : we should
find a youQg man as wanton, in looking babies in a
ladies eyes, as her with flirting him on the lippes, with
her little finger : him as wanton in wearing a toy, as her
in wishing the like : him as wanton in his devices, as
she in desyres : and he In desires, as much as shoe in
delights : hee as wanton in cost as shee in cokmn : hee
as wanton in gift as shoe In recdt.
What shall I say ? he as wanton as shee every way,
and shee one way wiser then hee : if shee bee bragge
of her beantie, hee is as proude of his proper person-
age : if she stretch out a fine hande, hee strouteth out
a stvsight legge : if shee have her hand on the pette in
her cheeke, he is twyiUng of his mustachfos : if shee
play the wanton with a little dogge, hee will bee so
wanton as to wish himsdfe a whdpe. To bee short, if
she bee vaine hi one thing* hee will be as little vertnous
inaaodMr.
Some will say women are covetous. Are not men as
handfest? beddes, UberaliUe of courtede breedes losse
of credite. Let not men be niggards, if they wiU have
H
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THE PRAISE OF VERTUOUS
women frank&^earted. Some will say, women are yll
mystresses, they give slender wages in deede. I have
heard some called knave twentie tymes a daye, yet
hath not had halfe that hee deserved. Some sawde
servaunt will looke for a Celvout, before he deserves a
fayre kxike. And some servauntes thinkes their mis-
tresse is covetous, though they give them never so
much, if they give not themsetves also. But such as
woulde have all, shall loose alL
Therefore, let men weigh liberalitie in kinde, and
they shall finde women free4iearted, in extending
favour (not fiillie deserved), and themsdves covetous,
in beeing never contented. Some will say, women are
foolish : hee never heard that the wisedcme of a
woman. shouM bee no more then to goe out of the
raine when shee is in it, and know her husband's bed
from another man's.
But now-a-dayes men be so phantasticall (I dare not
say foolish), that if a woman be not so wise as to make
a man a foole, shee is no wise woman : no forsooth,
but he is a very wise man to match with sudi a
woman. Women have witte naturally ; wisedome must
be bad by grace, grace was given to our Lady : then
whowiser then a woman? Weigh worldly wisdome by
wit and experience, and let mee see who, with all the
experiments he can devise, can make a woman a foole
in any thing, but himselfe, m the same as unwise.
Some will say women are unconstant ; but I say not
all : for Penelope, and Cleopatra, Lncretia, with diven
more too long to rehearse, shall stand for examples of
such constancie, as no man (ever) more constant And
for foUy in fiemde : who wiser then Salomon? who more
wanton in love.
Some will say women are deceitful, but they that
say so, be such as decehre themselves in women, to
thinke them tnistie. For as well of men as women
it is sayde. Ferrt nulla fidis est in terris. Lette not
men cosen themsdves with a wilfull ooncdte : bdeeve
no more then reason leades them too, and they shall
finde women but like themsdves, devising all meanes
they may, and employing the best witte they have to
worke theyr willes. And for deodt, vrfaat greater treason
was ever found in any woman then hi Judas when he
betrayed Christ.
But leavhig this, some will say a woman to a neoessaiie
evilL That shee is necessarie I graunt, but eviU I
denie ; except it be meant onely in respect of man, that
desheth not any thing that is good, and so his desh«
makes her ill in estunation of minde, for that shee is the
content of an ill concdt : but (indeed, well considered),
he should finde that the ill were in his conodte ondy,
and not in the woman, who is no other substance then
another himsdfe. And if I nrast graunt, as I cannot
choose, that there is none good but God : so indeed I
must yedd that woman is iD, and man no better ; for if
that woman be ill, how can man be good, unto whome
ill is so necessarie? But whether may man bee
thought worse then Ql, that will use that iU worse then
it should be? Therefore let man first mend his minde
before he so discommend a substance of his owne
natural! kinde.
Some will aay women are pittiiulL Howe is that
knowne ? by lookes and speeches. Men are more : which
is showen as wdl in words of mouth as writing.
Some will say a woman is a wo to man. Who put in
that to, did it of his owne authoritie, and therefore it is
not to be allowed.
For oonskler right of the word, and the to is as wdl
left out, as the worde &lsdy written ; for indeede it
ought to be written wooman, not woman, for that she
dooth woo man with her vertues, who weddes her with
vanitie. For man bdng of wit suflldent to consider of
the vertues of a woman, is (as it were) ravished with the
ddigfat of those dainties, ^diich do (after a sort), draw
the senses of man to serve them.
Now a woman having not so deep a capadtie to oon-
cdve or judge of the conditions of man, is ondy wedded
to his will : wfaidi thing how vaine it is, is scene when
it is bent to little vertue.
Some have a delight to tearme women by nidcenamesi
as in the door shee is an image. But how wise is the
man that hath his wittes so cosened, to take one thing
for another? They be lunaticke, or in love, that wor-
shippe such idols. And this I will say further, if shee
be an image, shee is hker nothing then a man : hi the
house, she is a number of things : hi the kitchen she
is a cormorant : if she dresse meate, is dieenot woorthy
to eate? I have scene a man eate the meate that a
woman hath dressed: and men liker cranes then
women cormorannts. In the milke house she is a
cat : why, if she mflke a cowe, is she not worthy to
taste it for her labour? In the cheese shee is a mouse ;
why, if shee set the curds together, shoukl she not
taste the meate? In the bakdiouse she is a bee, for
busie stirring about ; yet her sting is but her tongue,
that hurts no body, except shee be troubled: then
allow the bee her hive and let her resL In the buttrie
she is a sprite ; but shee doth no hurt, but fray a mouse
from the bread, and a theefe from the cubbord. In
the seller she is a sow ; and yet I have scene one Dutch
man drinke more then five English women. In the
hall she is a hare ; but bemg tame, take heede how you
hunt her. In the parier she is a parrat ; she leames
but what is taught her, and an abnond will please her.
In the duunber shee is a birde ; and who sings sweeter
then the nighUngale? In the bedde shee is a flea,
if she laye on the blankets, shee is more woorthy to lye
in the sheetes.
But wdl, if it were not for making women to be
worse then they would be, I would tell them how they
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LADIES AND GENTLEWOMEN.
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might tCBime men in nmdrie places, both within and
Without the bouse. But let this suffioe, I meane but
onely to commend women, and not offend men ; and if
I have unwittingly offended any, I willingly aake pardon
of all, with promise of amends if my power serve me.
For qualities wortfaie commendation, see who is to
bee prdieiTed, the man or the woman. Without the
boose for husbandrie: if he mowe, she can tedde: if
bee tedde, she can tume : if he cocke, she can take : if
bee loade, she can laye abroade: if hee sowe, she can
reape: if hecanshodce, sheecanbinde sheafes: if hee
can thresh, shee can flume: if he grinde, she can
booU : if bee lay leaven, shee ean heate the oven : if
hee knowe howe to buy a oowe, shee can mllke her : if
hee faraake a horse, shee can ride to the maiket on him :
if he buy a sowe, shee can serve her: if hee bring
home the milke, she can sette it togither : if he make a
panne, shee can fleeie the mSke : if he make a dieane,
she can make butter : if hee make a presse, shee can
make cheese : if bee dresse the garden, she can weede
it : if he sowe good heaibes, shee can gather saUels : if
be sette sweete ilowers, shee can make a fine nosegay :
if hee gather good heaibes, shee can make good pot-
tage : if bee bee a good oooke, shee is a good dairie
woman : if hee bee a good baker, shee is a good brewer :
if hee bee good in the pantrie, shee is as good in
the pastrie : if hee bee at his penne, shee is at her
needle : if hee bee a good Uylor, shee is a good semp-
ster: and if he bee a good brusher, shee is a good
laundrer. And which is more woorthie love, a deane
shyrte or a fine coat?
Nowe fai higher causes : if hee be valiaunt, shee is
vcrtnous : if hee can leape well, shee can daunoe well : if
bee can playe weU, shee can sing well : if hee can oom-
mende, she can thankfully consider : and if hee can
take it well, shee can thinke it well bestowed : if hee can
write, shee can reade : if hee can swearetrudy, shee can
bdeeve fieiythfully : if he can deserve, shee can give due :
if hee can like honourably, shee can love heartily. In
fine, if hee have any good qualitie, shee hath another.
It were but a follie to fin my booke with enmples of
this woman for oonstande, and that for fidelitie, another
for huswiferie, and the other woman for worthie wit.
Let this suflBoe in breelie, there is in sicknesse no greater
comfort, m health no better companion to a wise man,
then a wittie woman.
Now for wise women, I thinke he should shew himselfe
a verie unwise man that woulde wish for such a one. I
remember a pvettie q>eech once uttered by a verie wise
man : when a man (as it seemed) not very wise came to
him for his coonsaile, what he might doo to come by a
certafaie Jewell that was stoUen from him out of his
diamber, and (having told his fosse) before he would
heare of his advise : Sir (quoth he), were I not best to go
to a wise woman? Yes, many (quoth hee), if you knewe
where any sodi were. Meaning that they were so hard
to hit on, that it were but foDie to sedce them. Now
what pittie it b to see some men so unwise, to thinke
such wisedome in any woman : after he had lost Us
Jewell, if hee would have lookt into himseUe, and found
his own follie, before hee had sought sodi wisedome in
a woman, hee should have scene that it were more
wisdome for a man to keepe that he hath warely, then
unwisely to runne to a woman to seeke for wit how to
finde it againe.
But I will stand no more upon this poynt; let it
suffice that it is wisedome for a man to take heede that
a woman be not wiser then himsdfe : and how vrise so
ever he bee^ to count them no fooles. For in deede, as
the common ptoveite is, The wit of a woman is a great
matter : and true, when a man with all his wisedome, is
sometime to leant wit of her.
In mine opinion, I heard a verie wise speech of a verie
wittie woman, touching the wisedome (if any) that ought
to bee in a vroman. In a mayde, to take care m choyse
of a hudiand ; in a marryed woman, to love none but
her husband : in a widow, to provide for her children :
in an old woman, to have care of her end.
Now for men : if a batcheler take heede what wife hee
takes, and baring taken a wife, to love no other woman :
a widdower, to looke for his children before a new wife,
and an olde man his grave : is it amisse? No, I warrant
yee. Nowe men must be wise in caring for women, and
themselves too, and women no wyser then in caring for
sudi men as care for them. But if a man bee so unwise
to trouble a womans wit to care for him, how wise is hee?
and what a wit hath shee? Confesse you that have
gufltie consdences, and learae to bee wise : and thinke
this suffident commendation for a woman, if shee bee a
virgin for chastitie, with virginitie venuous, of condition
oouneous, and true of love : such a woman ought to bee,
and if such they be not, prey for them as I doo, and
such as are, honour them as worthie : and for their sakes,
all other whatsoever they bee, judge the best till you see
the oontiarie : and where you knowe it, shake your head
and say nothing, but It is pittie ; God hath done his
part in her, God amend her : put the fiauh in pride, and
not in her, and you shall see such a cfaaunge, that it was
not shee, no forsooth (as little children say) it was the
bulbegger.
They say now the world is towardes the last yeare,
and men towarde thdr last wittes : then let women bee
towardes thdr first wisedome. And if they shew but
little wisedomo, yet let that have such commendation,
that they may bee encouraged to continue and encrease
the same. For surely (wdl considered) a man can not
do honour to a more worthie person then a woman. Is
itnotanabuseinamantodispraysehisfiiende? What
greater fiiend to a man then a woman? Who can dis-
commend that he kwes? except he dissemble sore?
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THE PRAISE OF VERTUOVS LADIES AND GENTLEWOMEN.
Hypoeriaie is as ill as bcresie. What can a man love
mofe then a woman? what, such love as betwixt them?
Marrie, some wiU say, they must love deerdy, or hate
deadly. God foihidde that anie man dutdd bee out of
diaritie: I would thinke it a harde matter to hate a
woman. Yet since it is possible to doo little better, I
thinke it wisdome to conoeale it, for there is nothfaig
gotten by revealing it.
Wen, not to seeme tedious, let me diawe towards an
ende : thinke well of as many as you may, love wbome
you have cause: hate none: whatsoever you thinke,
say notUng in thefar dishonour, least you growe in their
utter dislyking : and then your roome as good as your
company. When you seekefor CsLvour, takeaflowte with
you : I marvaile you can away so long with a womans
companie, ftc.
But well to avoyde the frumpes, flowtes, skowles,
disdainefttU speeches, quippes, tauntes, and angne count-
enaunoes, that women wfll soone bestow where they see
cause, do this : if you cannot love, yet doo not loath : if
3rou will not honour, yet d<x> not hate: if your conscience
let you not oonunend them, yet let your couitesie not let
3fOU doo the oontraiie. Remember your mother, fcfget
not your firiend : olfend not your mistresse, and make
much of your sdfe : if you like my oounsaile, foOowe it :
if not, disdaine it not : if you love a woman, remember
mee : if you care for none, wee will none of us trouble
you : if wee doo it, it is agafaist our willea. But who is
bee that loves not a woman? and wherefore then wiU
any looke awrie upon mee? I knowe not, and shall I
say I care not? Wdl, let it goe, since it is not, I doo all
for the best, and I trust the best will take it so : as for
the rest, there lyes neither life nor death upon a looke,
and therefore hoping the best, I wiU not doubt the con-
traiie. And if men be as well contented with me for this
prayse of women, as I am determined to content them,
with the like of them heereafter : it wHl be not froward>
and wit iaile me not, I trust the ace of dtomonds will
go to the stocke, and everie man will be pleased. In
the meane tfane about some better woike, then I meane
to make boast of : I must attendmy harvest, ere I iall to
hai^dK*
Thus if I said anything amisse, God forgive me : if
I have sayde well, God bee thanked, take it among jfou :
if I have said truly, it is not to bebtauned : if otherwise.
I have but spoken mine opinion, which I hope to see
foUy approved. And so sorie if I have sayd that
the wise vriU misUke, and glad if I have written that
the good will take weO. I oondude of a snddaine with
this short sentence, Hie it kmc komo, amsiitra qttid
muHir: like of them as you list, love whom you can :
when you sedce for favour, God send you good fortune.
And so fere yon well.
FINIS.-.N. B. Gent.
^^'^S^
A DIALOGUE BETWEENE ANGER AND PATIENCE.
|IE on the world, the flesh, and the divelL
PaHenci. What is the matter? Anger,
The woild is naught. PaHemee, It may
amend. Angtr, When it is too late. Pa^
Hence, Better late than never. Anger, As good never
a whit, as never the better. Patience. A crust is better
then no bread at all. Anger. A crust is hard of disges-
tion. Patience. Not for a hungiie stomacke. Anger.
Oh. it will aske vile chewing. Patience. Take time
enough. Anger, My belly will thinke my throat cut
that I feede no fester. Patience. A little suiBceth
nature. Anger, When shoe hath enough. Patience.
Then shee needes no more. Anger, Yea, but where is
that enough? Patience, In Gods grace. Anger, Why,
I have the grace of God, but I want the wealth of the
world to grace my sdfe withaB. Patience, Alasl the
braverie of the world is but beggerie before God.
And the rich man to heaven goes as a cammell through a
needles eye. Anger, Yea, but begging is a vile life
in the meane time. Patience. Then vrorke. Anger,
That goes against the woolL Patience, Paines brings
profit. Anger, I have often lost my labour. Patience.
Take heed, then, how you vrorice. Anger, Had I wist
wasafoole. Patience. Then leame to be wise.
Anger. But how? Patience. Not vrith haste.
Anger. How much leysnre. Patience. A little and a
little. Anger. Wordes are good, but that they bring
no substance. Patience. A colde winde is good in a
hotte summer. Anger, Yea, but the winde of wordes
is but a blast. Patience. I perceive one oooUng card
will not serve a hot gamester. Anger. Oh what a skve
was I? Patience. Wherefore? Anger. Play. play.
Patience, Play no more. Anger. Oh, Primero.
Patience. Rest fixno rests. Anger, And what shall I
do? Patience. Be quiet Anger, I cannot Patience,
What troubles you? Anger. All things, men, women,
and chOdren: men be deceitful, women worse, and
diildren costly. Patience. Condemne not all for a few,
and take heede whome you trust. Men are vrise.
vromen wittie, and children must bee cared for. Anger.
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ANGER AND PATIENCE.
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Whjr dooat tbou croase me? PmHmee. To time
tbee to right. Ang9r, Vnxy7 wbitber was I going?
Patitmct, Fhm my aelfe. Angtr. Why, am I mad?
PaHence, No, but in a melancholy. Angtr. That
is but an humour. PatUmu. Know you whereof it
oomes. Amgir, No; I pray you tell me. PoHeiue.
Of choDer. Angtr, How should I get helpe of it?
PaHdmee. It must be puigedby patience. Angir, That
is forst phisicke. PaHmct, Yet will h woike wdL
Angtr, When shall I take it? PaHimce. Evening
and morning, and every day. Angtr, For how long?
PaHtnet, During life. Angtr, What I wOt thou
binde me to a diet? PaHtnet, That shall doo thee
good, refuse not Angtr, What shall I pay for it?
PaHtnct, Repentance. Angtr, Who shall have it?
Paiitnet, Selfe wiU. Angtr, Will that please hhn?
PaHtnct, Hee may not refuse it Angtr, When must
I pay it? Paiitnet, When you talte your phisidM.
Angtr, What good wiU it doo me? PaHtnct, Great :
it will dene you of choUer, it will make you finde a new
worlde : teach jrou to knowe your friends, and to beware
of your foes : the way to a quiet life, a happie end, and
heaven hereafter.
Angtr, Oh. good pbisick. PaHtnct, None such.
Angtr, When is it good taUng it? PaHtnct. In the
fell or spring, or at any other thne. Angtr, How shall
I take it? PaHtnct. Fasting hi the morning, and eate
what you can gette after : deepe not before your eyes
be together, and keepe you as warme as your doathes
will give you leave : walke up and downe about your
businesse, and suppe not late, except you have not
eaten anything all day before. Keepe this order, and
my lifie for yours, this heate of yours will quite away :
keepe it for an excellent peeoe of phidck: youmaymake
it with a little cost, and no great labour.
Angtr, Syr, for your good will I thanke yon, but for
your medkane I gesse it of meane efiect ; yet for that I
am troubled with a mekmdioUe, I meane to trie your
cunning. In the meane time I will fetch a sigh for my
sinnes, and bid you foreweU. I am but yong, and afai
going to age : he hath promised me to leame me some
good lessons. PaHtnct, And with him shall you finde
me, and so till we meete, forewdL
Thus is youth gone to age, of whose meeting yee
shall heare more ere long : In the meane time, I crave
you patience to beare with that hath passed, and if
heereafter you heare of any better stufTe, thinke of it
as it deserves, and of mee as you liave cause, in minde
to give you as good cause as I can to thinke the best of
Meane time, hoping I have given no ma
to say 01 by me, I wish all the worlde to thinke the
best of evcrie man, and so of mee among the rest.
Who wish none ill, hot all as wdl as I desire them
to wish me : and so fore you wdL
PaHtnHa PtnittnHa,
FINIS.— N. B. Gent
b^ddt yon fartwtU, camt to my rtmtmkrannct an oldt
pttet ofPhisUkt, good for snckt ptrsont as art sickt Hkt
my u(ft, wkick for thai i gtsst it as frtfitaiU as it
may sttmt pltasamnt, I am to dtsirtyon to rtadt a littU
sinct) to it vtrit sickt, Vfktn, so wtakt as I conld not wtU
walkt ahroad^ J tookt my fttuu, asid wrote nnto my
fritnds tf snck matttrs €u stoodt mtt i^pon not to ki
tJking tkat 1 tookt cart of, I wrott nnto a friend of mine,
whom i connttd a good /JHsition, to ministtr me some
snck pkisickt as ke tkongkt good for tke distast. Norn
ratktr to contort mtt witk some mtrrie connstll tktn
wtaktn met witk two massy mtdicints, wrott me word to
okstrvt snck a diet as i tkink is vtrie rtfnisittjbr all
mtn that shall fall itUo tke likefevtr to take cart to
keepe: asulwken tkey kavtfmnd as mnck tast as I kave
done in it, tken I skaUkavtas mnck tkankes as kee kad:
bnt least I seem tedious trtlbtgin, tkus it was.
A PHISITIONS LETTER.
DMMENDATIONS oonddered, sorie for
your heavinesse, yet glad of your good
remembrance (notwithstanding your great
weaknesse) : this is to let you understand,
that now you are detexmined to take my counsaile,
and trouble your sdfe with no more phidcfce. Upon
Thursday fortnight (God wfflfaig) I meane to see you :
till when, for that I see no daunger of death in yoo, I
have heere written you word, what order you shall
take, and when I come, we wiU talke further. First,
considering that the cause growes of conceyte, which
hath bredde sndi a heeru greefe in you, as wUl hardly
bee cured without Gods great goodnesse : and yet 1^
His grace is not past hdpe. This you shall doo, thinke
not of that you have kMt, for the kMse will gaine yon
nought but greefe : and cast not to get any tUng iU
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62
A PHISITIONS LETTER,
least the gaine breede as great an aftersoirow as the
losse : and to recover your health and estate by such
good meanes as it may continue, this you shall do.
Observe this order.
In the morning when you rise, serve God, and He
vrill see to you : wash your hands with running water,
it is good for the heate of the liver : make your break-
Cut of a wanne broath, which you shall make of hearfoea
in this sort. Take a handful of time, and put as much
rewe into it : stampe with these two, a roote or two of
repentance, and stiaine them into a fiEiyre dish, with
the juyoe purseline ; let it stand on the fire till it be
luke-warme, then taste it with your fingers ende, and
if you like it not, throwe it out at the window : upon
my word, it will never hurt you. For your meate, you
may now and then, if your stomacke stande to flesh,
eate of a little warme mutton, but take heede it be not
laced, for that is lU for a sicke body : for chaunge now
and then, eate of a rabbet, it is as restorative ; olde
cunnies are too dry, and too hard of digestion. You
may now and then eate of a laike, it is good and light
meate ; but buntings are two bitter. A partridge is
not amisse, but eate not of a pluct plover. A chkke
now and then of a moneth olde, but Mardie birds are
too stroiig meate. A woodcocke manie sicke foUces
may be bokl withall, but a goose of all other is a vile
bird, a perillous meate for a sicke person. And of all
meates, foule or other flesh whatsoever, take heede of
venison, as does flesh, and hares flesh, and such like ;
they are stirring meates, and will distemper the body
very much.
For fish, of an, beware of swallowing a gudgin whole,
or a leaping whyting ; a ooddes head is not verie good,
and a salt eele is unholsome : if I lye, aske the ship boy.
Drinke not too much wine, least it inflame the bloud,
and bring the purse into a oonsumpticm.
Comfort your selfe with hope of better hap then you
have had, constdoing you cannot wdl have wo^rse.
Follow bard the good worice you have in hand, and
finish it as well as you have begun ; it will make you
amends for a great deale of mispeni time, it will
purchase you credit, payment for your paines, good
thoughts of your bettos, thanks of your fi«ends. and
content to your selfe.
Thus loth to trouble you with any more matter at
this time, I pray you foUowe my oounsaile, and when I
come, tell mee what ease you finde : in the meane
time, as the fidkr sayes, I pray you bee merie, as you
may (I meane) though not as you woulde, and so God
keepe you, sende you your health, both of His grace,
and all friends a meny meeting. In hasten from my
chamber in SmithfiekL
Your better f riende,
then phisitioD.
R. S.
// same mom ka bisegna d€l msdico.
A FAREWELL.
|HEN I had received this Letter fix)m this
my friendly phisition, I tooke more com-
fort in the mirth of this order set downe
then care for the observance of the same.
But as now and then a sick mans spfaits shall be some-
what more revived uppon a suddaine menrie jest then
a sullen medicine, so was I more pleased with this
merie counsel then I thinke I should have bene with this
phisicke : but as in health no better company then a
pleasant firiende, so in sicknesse no better comfort then
a merrie companion.
I must needs say, both doo weU : for, as phisicke
doth minister medicines to purge such ill humours
as doo inflame the blood, infect the liver, and so bring
the bodie into diseases : so doeth the pleasaunt speeche
of an honest friende, puige the minde of such mdan-
cfaolicke conceits as bring the braine into such hurlie
burlie, as that all the bodie is the worse for it For
make the bodie never so dean from all causes of in-
fection, yet let the minde be disturbed, within a little
time you shall see the bodie brought into such sidce-
nesse, as is hardly to be cured. But let a man be
never so sicke if he have the company of sudi a com-
panion, as he may finde content iidth all : his sicknesse
will by little and little so soone away, as all the art in
the world is not able to doo without it.
What shall I further say? There is no sicknesse,
no sore as that growes of sorrow, no better meane to
cure it then the company of a contentlve fiiend : and
whereas company cannot be had, meirie oounsdl must
serve the tume.
I speake by experience, in sorrow no man sicker,
with phisirke no man weaker : desiring myrth, no man
more ; enjoying no man lesse : by Gods good helpe
in the middest of this miserie, found a fiiende unlooked
for ; that seeing me in such eztremitie, of a sudden fell
into a great laughing, not for joy to see my sorow, but
for a woonder to see me in sudi a wofull case : now
knowing my firiends nature, scarce able to force a
smile, I laughed a litle for company.
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A FAREWELL.
63
Now to make mee merrie, the best medicine for
a widdaine meeting, lie begins to tell me what hap he
had to visit sicke folkes : for that not an hom« before^
hee had beene with a yccj friend of mine and his too,
whom he had left halfe franticke, of a fiantasrirall
fever. Fonoothe he was so fiEore in love, as nothing
would serve his tuzne bat death.
No giaoe with him, but shaking the head with a
terrible sigh or two : and not a woord, bat ah, and oh,
and now and then rise off his bed in a rage, knit-
ting his brows with Cancro, and then be spake Italian,
and by and by make obeysanoe to. the window, downe
on his knees» lift op his hands, kisae his hand, let fell a
tear or two, with madame : and with that word, teare
open his buttons, throw off his hat, fling away his
pantoffles, fareake all the strings of his lute, knocke the
beDy against the bedde poste and lunne to his sworde :
when then it was time to catch hold of him, and so with
friendly perswasions, to bring him to better qoieL
And in the ende of his tale, bat thou art not so : when
God knowes; he found me in fiar tamer taking. Yet to
be short with this pleasant tale, he trifled out the time
till my fit was over : when we fdl to such friendly
communication as merily passed away that day, and
after many moe, till in the ende with Gods helpe
I recovered, to iriiom bee given the glorie of all health :
who indeed in health is the ondy good friend, and in
sidmesse, the ondy phisition that comforteth and
cureth the most sicke, that tnisteth in His heavenly hdpe.
Thus have you heard what good a merie friend doth
in time of sicknesse : which (as you shall have occasion)
send for to your comfort, alwaies accounting and
honouring God as the diiefest phisition. To whom
for our health, and other His benefits otherwise bestowed
upon us, be given all glorie and praise, world without
ende. Amen.
Medico dd anima Idio,
Dd corpo buon oompagno.
N. B. Gent.
FINIS.
A TABLE OF THE DISCOURSES.
The fiRt : 7^ Will of WiU
The second : Tlu Authors Drtame,
The third : The SchoUer and t/U Souldumr,
The fourth : The Miseries of Mauillia,
The fift : The Praise of Women.
The Farewdl : A merrie peece of Pkisicke.
What frmlts are escaped in the printing, finde by discretion, and excuse the Author,
by other worke that let him from attendance to the Pkease.
Norn Md che nom sd,
N. B. Gen.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Wil of Wit, etc.
P. 5, Tbb EnsTLB, etc., 'gmUk * s trell-boni : ako kindly :
ooL I, L 10^ *tJkem' as than, aad m throag;lioiit : L 10, 'Jortot^
Amd* s tar-hear-hoodt or Jbrbeannoe : coL a, L a, ' tmltfmme
P. 6, Ad Lbctok
ocL 9, I tij * ly, S/ On« should ghuily accept this for
W[niiaai] SMkespenel aad tha opemag as a first lo«
m, dc, ooL 1, L 9k 'eetteraH* :
^' Oat shoold aladlv acce|
__ _ _ « ioCdBC for
the later enridicd thooght in Kif^ Jelm iv. a, 'giid idisiad
gold.' etc.
A Prsttie and WrtTiB DiscouKSB, eta
p. 7> coL z, L a, 'MftTit^' smiich : L a8, *dearUn^ =
darling : coL a, L %Xt *auiofkmmd* = instasthr.
P.8,cd.t,Lzo,V»' = fetched or taken: I xj.'ofmmidde
mgf Uute im hdU^ f .#. woe : piobaUy the refrain or a aoog :
1. ja, '^mV'ss requite: L 43, *rmtmmg heads '=: repentant,
P. 9b coL I, L 3a, *faU* s wrestle : ool. a, L 33, *hasecourit*
either basement or court on the under floor, or the first or outer
court of a mansion or casde. See Glossarial Index, r.v. So
Shakespeare,->*Mylord,m the base-court . . . doth attend'
iRickard 11. iii. 3) : 1. 48, ' Grammera^:* variously q>elled : s
great thanks— « minced oath : ih., ^beshrow* s beshrew, or
cone (in a mild sense).
P. 10^ coL z, L 4, 'eimke* = cess-pool : L 6^ * reteklesfy* =
recklessly : IL xa-a4 et teqq. t Davics of Hereford has a stmilar
pUy on 'but'
P.- ^5'
on 'but' See hia 'Scourge of Folly,' A Ccmlusim,
(our edition) : coL a, L za, ^poeies* = poesies or inscrip-
: 1. 37, *W0Qd* s mad : L 47, *dmtttAs' = duhiess or grief.
P. zz, col. a, L 6, ^freendr note spdling of *friend :^ L 5
firom bottom, '2^ kooke orcrooket* early use of the proverbial
P. za, coL z, L 6, '4/^'==flPoU: coL a, L 6^ *ho$e'^
Btodrinfe— cufious use of word and thing.
P. Z3, ooL z, 1. zo, * corHe* 9 caentane; L az, * KeUar'
Caesar, Czar: L a9,''ra/e«' s delicious viands:' col. a, L Z7,
■JItfrJIfaiwrtw.' other r " —. . . ^
Memorial-Introduction.
' Queen Biary or Elisabeth. See our
The Author's Dkeamb, etc.
P. Z4, coL z. L 9k ' RechUtnes* s recklessness : I. 17, 't«(r,
as we say, ' villainously :'*(.,' pide^ s pied or parti<oioured :
ooL a, L f 5, ' trim ' = orderly (used ironically) : L 36^ ^ftutcher?
as dqiarter from his promise.
P. Z5. col. z, hut line, ' at an inch witk thee* =rtTy near^
usually in the plunl, 'at inches:' ooL a, 1. 5, *intreate*»
treat well : L 34, *waye* s weigh : L 3a, 'Igasr s lest.
P. z6k coL z, L as, ' wmciS/' = scowled : L n, *j/lunr* ^
throw herself away: L 3Z, 'i^lead me:' qu. 'dot' col. a, L 7,
*lurckt* = hirched? the lurch-line was the Ime by which the
io?' dbl. a.'L 7,
B lurcn-ime was me line by which the
fowliug-net was pulled over to endoae the game : I. Z3, *arti-
JlcialP = skilfuOy-madt ..... . -
ficialP •=. skilfufiy-made : 1. Z4, 'hmkett* — sweetmeau : 1. 18,
'Jiaiken* as plumes: L 37, 'cnt-worke* = pierced: id,,
'^/ointt* sz tagged bees : L 38, ' Vnrtnets ' note the spelling.
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NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS,
p. 17, col. I, L 1
' trull s= woman
. M, '^itd* a paiti^GokMired, at belbic : U,,
Qt looM character: 1. 33^ *e0llm£* s ea-
bradng. clasping : ib., *cknu$mf* ^ chin-to-diln (in kianng):
L «4, ^oaHut* Mdsg each otho't facea in the pupil of each
otoer's eyes : 1 |8, 'jKra#* ^ flies! L 43, '/ smjsM my tg{fr a
ftta:* see our Memorial-Introduction on this: ooL s^ L i»
*a p^ynt*^z. dot, a nothing-at-all : L 3, */«I^A«f* s fools :
L 5, 'dUdU-dfrntti* tq,'did2e'istoci^.<deortrick: '
SB young ducks : tmt tUs word the Eiutor has not met with
elsewhere : qu. trifles t L as, ' hooU* s adnmtage : L 3«,
*rtakt9* s prank : 1. 39^ *hruUlgf* e roughly (as a bntte}.
See GkMsarial Index, «.v.
P. 18, coL a, 1. s8, *fintaiimi ' s fretting.
P. i9» ooL 1, 1. la, ^vayldt* = raised or unooirered.
col
A Discourse of a Scrollek, etc
P. 04, col. I, 1. 4x, 'arMi#«' (in heraldry):
' vtdurt ' s valour.
P. as, coL X, 1. 9b */nide* sfeoUsh.
P. fl6, col. X, L 3x, 'iMitM^ilr' ss as wind in the stomach : L 36,
'cmudit^:' qu. 'crowdling' s sickly, dull: L 43, '/r^i^rt^as
pebbles.
P. ar, coL X. L x, <4^^^»r/AM«i/'s appertinauntorbekiiiging :
1. 7, Vk**""* 'careiulness: 1. 9 from bottom, *fMnt*ss
vagary : ooL a, L ix, *^imf mm£ * b simple mclooy : L la,
*4U*kmmi* =descant, or variation in music
P. a8, col. X, 1. as, 'imd^imU g99d'^wKtioat prejudice:
L 43. '^^W<»' = plat, or poitioii aeparated : L 49, ^priyning'
B prunmg : col. a. 1. x, *abrte9cku^ s anncocks : L 3,
'#»iMeM*s provocative herba: 1. 98, 'rtc^nr s chatter pre>
paratively: 1. 3a, 'wrticA:* see (Sloasarial Index, s,v., and
note its tender use : L 49^ '/rvcMir' s prowess.
P. aa coL X, L xc *9imfirdt* a pun on * staff:' 1. x8^ *Mt
armomacki * an anoMni medicinal prescription.
P. 30k coL X, L so, '^wtAmA^'b Vixgin Mary: I. aS, 'gfw*
sagree: L 45f ' Stneim ' s= Bafhsheha.
The Miseries of Mauillia, etc
P. 35, Thb Asgumbnt, coL x, 1. 3, *Snttrtt* 3
P. 36» coL X, L 30, put : after miserie : L 3a, '^^* s spoil :
col. a, 1. X, put : ahu oath : 1. 3, 'grmt* = yearn: L 87, **^*
aarial Index, s.v, : L 19, *ituUlyrf ^
i,n/jey*^tayiib.,*parltr*^
ss extremely cheap: t^,*^rait*
Umf* = bawling outary : I. 44t \
pointer to udicate the letters :
seetffti/:
t, ut. a
pin or
doU:l48,
I iuui 01 reproach : but ci.
bi^imrB papas pet: se<
:e parlour: L 37, jgooat
r* = teeth cranoi : L4a,'
, *>s<fcrw'=fea<
M L 46, '^oM
M * surchin, a hedge-hofc— 4erm of rei
p. 43. col. X, 1. afiv 'urcmn': T 51, *CkritU crmu
alphaoet— usually headed with a cross
^^ol-wc •
!l. XI
*•< - - .. - — ,
, ury npeDittg : L 46^ * vitkr* s victualler : I 49^ *hmch
s break or flaw.
P. 38. col. X, L 8, 'Mittmu* s young nnmaxried woman
L 89, ^atttmpted* = tempted : 1. tx, S
La8,
wool-woik ornamental sewing : L a ' wkyriu* s pinch and
1. xa. * AmmAmw' b neat-handed : 1. 87, ' bmr = bk>w :
sMlu* s silly, bnocent: 1. 37, *kundrttht* the con*
1. 9b * lookiMgM^rt Uoertu* siiUx\ more liberty : L x8, '>(
img* s thievmg or plundering : L aa, *^naMnV'st peasant :
from bottom, *handmmly^^ neatJumdedly. Cf. p.
89, ^aii§mj^ted* = tempted : 1* 3i»
intended :^ coL a, L _s, 'Mtly'js^jSSj, iiuiocent,^-«s before :
:1.6
11 ' . . as.
OOL a, 1. xa.
P. 39, coL X, L X, *<fiufv's pistol: L 6^ 'jtnMMidSr's
swoon: L8, 'AvMwy's maoeno great matter of it: lrj,*grfmi
ptriUnl etc. James Bruce, the great traveller, u an msunce,
who, after all his journeys and eacapes, k)st his life by frlling
down his own stair at oome: L 33, * sitMclUd* = staunchad ;
L 38, ' snijte' B blow or hurt,— this(iiow) vulgarism is andent :
OOL a, L 6, */ȣmi!m'B plantain : L xo, Nm^' s hynop:
L a6k *>»/»v'ss frightening: L 33, 'di^ppt'^^kuH: L 34,
' fVM^iatf* B roasted.
P. 40, col. X. L 34, 'e^mUfyipMcA.'* note this usage : col. a,
L XX, ^wivms^i^'Bfieroe: 1. xa, */nUde s frightened: 1. 98,
*b€rUuly* b by-oinvLady, Lt Viigin Mary: 1. 99, *Jlagn* =
acnndle: L 49^ * t^cku w^ b^mn f' a mincad oath: see doa-
sarial Index, «.v.
P. 4x, col. X, L xo^ ' Nailnt ' evidently another nrfnced oath
in exdamation : aee (Hoasarial Index, «.v. : L 4^ from bottom,
'^^* = keep: spelling noticeable: coL a, L xx, *M*rle
/9v s pearl for his 'ioye,' his bdoved : L 38. 'tJk^nce* =
fortification,— walls or dennces.
P. 4a. ooL a, L ao» 'mMr'svfle: L 53, 'MccAir^'ai buckets.
P. 4^ coL I, L 3, 'dinatiir' ssdarn or mead: L xa *droyU*
3s drudge : L X4, 'twfam' s buttermilk or iHiey : L x6^
<^..».«/'««i.^«^. 1 -«"T--.^AA,.» Cf. on p. 37, col X, 1. 48 :
b: L 48, '^yM/Z'sbawtiiuK
1.8,
J : L X4, 'tn^WPr'
T~ coarse * L ao^ w^
*^A ^^HtNfl* = ^^^ or slattern
chfldrnc '^WWiv's
» snubbed : ooL a, L x, '
«.v. : L X3 from bottom, 'am/'s
phlegm: L a, ' MwwiMf ' b swoon.
P. ^4, coL 9, L a fixm bottom, *mhdtt'^ minx, as before :
see^Glossarial Index, t,v,
** * i/'b notorious (but not as now
E gad : ooL a, L x8 from bottom,
* cup-board.
P. 4l^ooL X, L 84, '4^|M9-Mir*B prove: coLa, L ao,dM£
P. 4& ool. z, L xa, ^ Du»uUibu:—^<t well-known aeat of
straw'plait manufrKture : L 7, 'skmi* b abashed, UaoMd:
coL a,L x5, '£*fl|^'s ok! miser: see GkMsarial Index, «.w.
P. 49k coL X, L v^*crupl s round, short : L X4, 'iabks* b
' 9m»yl'
■ee oioiBansi tnaex, <.v.
P. 4Sf col x» I- 5> *arrmmi*i
cuHfi^mt SS cup-board.
^ _^ - -^ . L X4, •«„
back-fammon : L 99, * brooch^* 'ss. ornamental pin : L 35* '
img* B smalins : L 4^ *diM^ird* b fiwl : coL a, L x:
bottom, ' hrookt ' b bore or endured.
P. 10, ooL z, L 90^ '«Afvtw£(r'B sagaciously: L 96» '/mm/
rAfti^^ B extrsmelv cheap: coL a, L 4, * cuttmf' st youmt
woman: L s, 'scab:' terra of reproach : L 6Bom bottom, *tn-
itudtd: ' note the ' en-.'
P. ». ooL a, L 9k '^rwalir'B bear, endure: Lax, 'fitrmtel:'
Tke Praise of Vertuous, etc
P. <s. To THS . . . RsAon, coL a. L x, 'itf^rmt* sprove.
as before : Tm Authok, etc., coL x, 1. 7, */louU* b reproach.
P. 5^ L 6 from bottom, *cmmdUUkh: See p. C7, ooL a.
U. 3-8 : coL a, 1. 5, *Jru$mp9* b lie, rudeness : 1. 31. ^wortJU/^
B of poittion and renect : 1. 37, ' /Jbrr lure' b their.
P. 57, coL X, L 8 from bottom, ' i^](t^fmuv ' b appearance :
L z, ^/ifr^'Bcare not or wish not: ooL 9, 1. 3, 'uutamt'ss
present: L 19 from bottom, 'babies,* as before: see GkMsarial
Index, *.v. : L xx. '^nMrv'Bboastiul: L 9^ *«<rw«MA*B
strutteth, stretcheth : LT, '>r/i!«' = pit, ie. dimple: L 7,
«/>iwri«v'=twirlfa»: lastline, '>la^^
P. 58, col, a, L X4 from bottom, * bmttrie* ^ buttery : L xx.
*ar/£(r'B cellar: L 8-7. *parrmi . . . almoitd: ' gives title to
one of the Mai^Prdate books : see Gkssarial Index, t.v.
P.a&ooLz,1.8. * tfidUr'B gather up orderly :L 9, 'cseke'
Bmake into cocks or heaps: 1. xx, 'UarAr'B make mto
bundles: Lx3,'^Mf/ir*B bolt, sift: L x8. *if^'Bikim: ib..
' cAmtw ' B churn : L 9t, ' M^lrilr ' B sallads : L 30k ' AHMHfnrr'
B knndress: ool. a, L xx firom bottom, *b$abeggfr' s bug-bear.
P. 60^ ool.x.Lx4.'>CMa«r'B flout, as before: Lx8k'f»4^'
^ : ooL a, L x8, '/ Aotv b$tt ^^aknt ma$u ^unm:' a
A Dialogue, etc
P.6o,coL a,L4. '^«f/«rft/;' see (»oamrial Index, «.r.
P.6x,coLx,L96»*>Sii7*Ba
A Phisitions Letter.
P. 68,:ooL X, L 9, 'Him , . .
' thyme ' and ' time,' ' rue * or ' re
'^MTjM/fW B purslane, a garde
'a pun on the plant
'rew* and 'rue,' to repent : L xa,
. J garden pot-herb, and uaed for gnr^
_ L x8, * lactd:* laced-mutton is a proatitttte, as m
Shakf^re (7>w> GnUlmum 0/ Verona, L x) : L ao^ 'cmmiet*
B coo^ : ooL X, L n,* bmmtittga* b wood-larks : L 93, 'phict*
B plucked: L 99^ 'dSiw' s female deer.
A Farewell.
P. 69, col. x.L XV, *A»HiCrterJ&' s noisy tumult. SoShake-
speare : Macbeth l x ; x Henry iv. v. x.
P. 63, col. X, I. XX, 'Cawcrv's minced hnprecation: L x6,
'PanUaU** » pattens or slippers.
A Table op thb Discoursss.— L 8, ' iM ' b hinder. -G.
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THE STRANGE FORTUNES OF
TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES,
ETC.
1600.
51
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NOTE.
The only copy known of 'The strange fortunes of two excellent
princes/ etc., is in the Bodleian — from which our reproduction has been
taken. It is Breton's usual small quarto and black letter. See our
Memorial-Introduction for notice of this bright and characteristic little
book.~G.
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THE
STRANGE
FORTVNES OF
TWO EXCELLENT
PRINCES; IN THEIR
Hues and loues, to their e-
quall Ladies in all the
tides of true ho-
nour.
Imprinted at London by
P. Short, for Nicholas
Ling. 1600.
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To the woorshipfuU my verie good friend the fatumrer of all good actions,
and nourisher of good spirits loAn Linewray, Esquire, Gierke of the
deliueries and the deliuerance of all her Maies tie's Ordenance, and other
munition as well within and out of the Tower of London, as all other
her Highnesse' Stores within the Realme of England, health, happines
and heauen.
SIR, vnthaxikefulziesse is so neare to vnhonestie, as to anoid the touch of both, I haue been often desirous of some
good meane, to deserue some one of your many reoeiued fiiuours, which loath to burie in such obliuion, that I
should be thought vnworthie the regard of so good a minde, 1 haue thought good to acquaint your kind-
nesse with such occurrents, as haue lately come to my hands. Though they bee no matter of this state, yet were
they such tracts in the fortunes of two Princes, as being read with that discretion, which, in your good leasure, can
iudge of the labour of wit, in the honour of vertue, I doubt not but that you will lauourablie patronage this first
apparant proofe of my loue, till in some better occasion of employment, you maie haue a more sufficient triaU of my
affection. The substance of my historie being loue, the subiects Princes, the nature honorable, the aduentures
dangerous, the fortunes strange, and yet the ende happy ; will suffice I hope, to perswade the wittie to reade, the
wise to lauour, the learned to allow, the honest to commend, and your good mind to accept of : which being no more
then I desire, nor lesse then I hope of, leauing my booke to ybur kind patience, with my selfe to your oommandement
I rest.
YourSt vtry much in assuranct^
N. Breton.
Co tl^e Eeatier*
COurieoMS Reader ^ for so I hopi to find you, or else shall I hee sorie, to haue bestowed so good a iearme vpon you :
Writers in these dayes haue so manie humors to censure their lahoures^ that it is easier to runne mad with
seeking to please euery hody^ then to be wise with displeasing of any : but since this is nothing to that which
followeth^ let me tell you, that if you will hindlie reade, that is friendlie offred you, and part with a little mony, for
a matter of more worth ; it maie be you shall haue more contentment, then you loohe for: in briefe you shall reade of
much varietie of matter, the fortunes of Princes, the true honour of Ladies, the vertue of loue, and the life of honor,
the subtlety of a hnaue, and the rewarding of a villaine: the constancie of ejection, and the ioie of comfort. But I
feare if I goe a little further I shall tell my storie without Booke : and therefore leauing you, through a little Doore,
to go into a great House, hoping of your kind patience, to take al wel, that is ment no worse; and to speake as well of
my labours, as my goodwill would be glad to deserue, I rest
Your friend, N. E
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The Historic of two Princes, FaLatiro and Penillo.
IN the nandes of Btlino, neere vnto the Cftie of
Dolno, there liued a great Dnke named Firento
Sandli. a great Lord I saie, for that he was great
both in honor and possessions : he was wise, and ther-
fore much honored ; honorable and therefore much
beloued ; with his wealth he was foil of charity, and
therfore enoied of none but the oouetoos : hee was
valiant, and therefore feared of the widced : but ooui^
tons, and therfore followed with the Idnde : and ver-
toons, and therfore blessed bjr the highest This Lord
had to wife a sweete Ladie, called Merilla, a creature of
much worth, in the best construction of commendation ;
and if a woman might be like an Angell, she might be
saincted for her vertues : her modestie with his giaoity,
her pittie with his valour, her loue with his charity, her
bountie with his wealth, and her scale with his vertue,
made such a ooniunction in perfections, as that vnder
the heauens, there were hardlie found such creatures on
the earth.
This blessed Lord and Ladie had issue male, oneHe
one Sonne named PteniUo, and female one onUe daughter
named Merilk : the parentt of these two cbadren, Uued
till they sawe them both to foUowe their course in the
best content of their affecdons : Penillo was of the age
of foure and twentie yeares, of suture tall, ruddie of
colour, wdl complenoned, but not too fidre ; his haire
not blacke, but somewhat inclining thereto, his coun-
tenance mUde, but not effeminate, his proportion in no
part imperfect, & for his minde, it was of an excellent
temper : be was silent, but vpon good cause, and then
not to leame what to speake ; resolute, vpon good
aduisement, but not rash vpon anie aduenture : he was
well read in histories, and well qualified in manie pointes,
but espedallie in the varietie of languages, wherin he
exceeded manie of his fiiUher's court : he was staled for
his wit, gentle in nature, kinde with discretion, bounti-
fun in rewards, not vaine in affection, and constant in
friendship ; in somme, be was amiable among Ladies,
affiible among Courtiers* sociable among souldiers, and
honorable among all : such a one, as was a ioie to his
Psrents, a spectacle to hb Court, a comfort to his
friendfls, and an honour to his country.
Now for his sister, as shee was exceeding fidre, so
was shee admirably wise, yet with such modest kind-
nesse, that she was so honored for the one, that she
could not but bee loued for the other : For euerie part
of her proportion, let it sniBce, that nature shewed her
Arte, in leaning nothing fanperfect ; for her stature not
tall, nor verie low, but in a sweete mesne ; her coun-
tenance sober with such a sweetnesse, as rauished the
loue of much discretion; her speech not much, but
▼ttered with such gouemment, as amased the hearers,
that could ittdge of the worthinesse of commendadon ;
her affection chiefely carried vnto vertue, and her loue
knowne but vnto one, of wbome dependeth a great part
of my historic, as hereafter you shall heare. But I win
teaue further to talke either of her or her louer in this
place : and onelie entreat of another Duke, who dwelt
in the Ilandes of Cotasie, confining upon the aforesaid
Ilandes of Balino.
This Duke had to name OrdiUo, a man famous for
much worth as wdl in wit as valour : who in all his
warres against his enemies was neuer knowne to tume
his badce, but with aduantage vpon retire, gane ouer no
assanh till he had entred the strengths, nor surceased
his wanes till he had the honour of the field : he was at
home a Lambe, and abroad a Lyon, where wisedome
with demende so gouemed the nature of his disposi-
tion, that his subiectes no lesse loued him, then his
enemies did honnor him : In particular, to laie downe
his commendation were but tedious, and therfore in
somme let it suffice that be was a Prince of that worth,
that made him hdd worthie of his gouemment
This Duke had to wife a gratious Ladie, whose
goodnes was such in the woride, as made her soone fit
for the heanens : for such was her ddigfat in diuine
contemplations, and so little her foie in anie earthlie
substance, that languishing in the woride with longing
after heauen, shee lined not manie yeares with her
kming Lord on the earth, but the Lorde of all loue
tooke her vp into the heauens : yet before her departure
firom this life, she had by her Lorde the Duke, two
blessed diildren, a sonne and a daughter ; her sonne,
named Fantiro, and her daughter Sinffla. The young
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THE STRANGE FORTUNES
Lord, a man of ezoeDent partes, both for bodie and
mind, whose particular perfections would require a
volume to describe in their true kindes ; but for that bjr
a little light, male the whole dale be considered, let thus
much sufBoe, that both for valour and vertue, he might
well be called the Souldier's Dictionarie, and the Cour-
tier's Looking glasse : And for his sister, if I coulde as
briefelie set downe her ezodlende, I would not thinke
it the least point of doquenoe ; but for all those rare
perfections that maie dignifie the name of an earthUe
creature, I maie sale, shee was in the honour of reason,
the wonder of nature. But least in my introduction into
my historie, I growe more tedious then pleasing, I will
leaue this Duke Ordillo with his blessed children for
awhile, and I will retume to the Duke Fbento, of the
Hands of Ballno, and his sonne PcniUo, one of the most
gallant gentlemen in the world.
This Duke Firento finding his sonne of so noble a
spirite, as could not oontaine his content within the
confines of his father's oountrey, but that as well by his
delight in the reading of histories, his forwardnesse
to the warres, his cottuersation amoqg strangers, and
espedallie such as professed armes, noting I say his
disposition so endined to the trauailing life, that he
lieared he should not long keepe him at home, vpon
good ddiberatk>n how best to adutse him either for his
stale, or trauaUe to his likiog, findhig him one dale by
chance aU alone walking in a dose arbour in his garden,
commanding apart all his attendantes, tooke occasion
in great kindnesse thus to deale with him.
PeniUo, what fondnesse it were in mee, to flatter thee,
with thy much worthinesse of my looe, I had rather thou
shouldest conceiue, then I ezplaine, although I reioice
therein more of my knowledge, then I would haue thee
prowd of my content : but my deere sonne, let me teU
thee, that as I thinke my selfe not a little happie in my
hope of thy good, as well for my priuat comfort, as the
profit of my whole oountrey : so, if by the indiscretion
of thy disposition, or by the cnieUie of fortune, crossing
alwaies the course of vertue, thou shouldest not ondy
deodue my hope, but destroie my happines, to the
sorrow of mine age, and cutting off my dales, thhike
with thy selfe my deare sonne, if it may Ue in thy power
to preuent the worst, and performe the best, shouldst
not thou find thine owne vnkindnes, in proouing so
vnnaturall, as to grieue the soule of him that deerely
loueth thee, and to be an occasion of his death, who
vnder heauen was the originall of thy life? Be not
appanled my son, speake finedy, I giue thee leaue ; if
thou canst imagine the cause of my speech, and as thou
best likest, without the least doubt of my displeasure, I
pnie thee giue me thy answers.
The young Lorde, little expecting this kind of greeting
with his good father, and neuer vnprouided to answere
the darkest demand that might be made him, •^r*^^^^
from his fiuher, in whom he could not hane anie thought
of the least dislike of him, with a staled humble counten-
ance bq;an thus to frame his replies My gmtkius
Lord, as I rdoioe not a little in the gnatnes of your
more naturall then deserued loue, which looking ondle
into your owne goodnesse, hane buHded your hope of
my happines, so if I could finde In my selfe the least
thought of vnthankfulnesse, wherdiy I might iustly pur-
chase your harde opinion, surdy, I should thinke my
sdfe worthy of death, that shonlde Ihie, to giue oiieaoe
vnto the fiJrest comfort of my life : But, as my ooo-
sdenoe doth assure me of no SQdi criminall cooodt, so
do I protest that I doe not a little marueile what should
leade yon into this manner of question : for as I cannot
bee vnnatmall so wHl I not ieare you to be vnUnde, but
humbly beseech you for the better accomplishing of your
content, in some plainer method to acquaint me with
your good meaning.
The Okie man loath to mooue griefe in his some,
whose deserued loue he was fiillie assured of, and yet
willing to be satisfied of his true resolution, toudiing his
humour of trwnaile, with much adoe brake into this
speech with him. Penillo, I haue of late noted in thee,
as weU by thy studie in the languages, as by thy conuer^
sation among straagers, and thy loue to soukUers, that
the aduentnre of thy fortune abroad will be more pleasing
to thee, then thy best contentment at home : but If I
might by the aduise of my experience, perswade thee to
the care of my knowledge, I should easfly make thee
finde the sweete of the oki prouertie, that home Is home,
be it neuer so homdy : The rowling stone gathereth no
moBse, and that prospereth in one ground maie perish
in another. Aduentures are daogeious, the seas boi»-
trous, and the warres perilous, and great is the diflGer-
ence betweene strange companions, and home friendes :
what canst thou see abroad, that is not here? The same
earth, and little diflerem hi nature dther for heat or
cold ; the same sunne shining there that sUneth here ;
men and women in the same shape that thou seest here ;
in thdr vniuersities, the same kinde of scholers ; in thehr
dties, marchantes, and men of trade and tmfliqne as
we haue in ours ; in their villages, such formers and
labourers ; in their tribunall-seates, such iudges ; in thdr
warres, such men of armes ; in thdr court sudi Lords
and Ladles, and in all places such kinde of people as m
some places of otu- dominion, thou maiest take notice
of, if thou be circumspect : what shall I sale to perswade
thee rather to stale at home, then stray abroad ? Thou
hast a fiuher that foues thee more deerely, then any
friend can doe ; a sister, whose vertue with her beautie,
deserueth an honorable fortune, and which I thinke
not thy least charge in conscience to haue a care, in as
much as maie lie in thee to accomplish, thy mother
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
boldef tiiee ao deere as ber life, thy friends make a iewell
of thy MndniBSSft. thy foUowen in thine honour settle the
hope of their fortune, and my subiectes in thy wisdome
repose the happinesse of their whole state : AU this and
manie more partioilar causes of content, thou hast here
at home, Ukelie enery day to encrease^ where ahroade,
how bitter wU be thy change, I feere to thinke, sboold
sorrowe to heaie, and shall not line to diageste, thongh
perhaps such maie bee the merdfhtt nature of the glorous
heigfat of the heauen's highest grsoe, as maie finour
thy dispOBtion, prosper thy aduentnres, and Uesse
thee in all thy actions. Bat as it is ill to distmst God,
so is it not good to tempt htm : answere me therefore
truly to that I demand of thee, whether thy desire be to
tnumile, or not, and what are y* reasons that perswade
thy resohitkm, howsoeoer it be, y^shah find in methat
kindnes, that the condition of thy loue desenieth.
The young Prince caried no lesse in obedience to the
loue of his lather, then willing to adnenture his fortune,
to atchieue the honor of his hope, in as good teannes
as he oottldSi vppon the sodaine made his fsther this
answere. If it maie become so vnworthie a son as my
seife, to so honourable a fioher as your maiestie, to stand
vpoQ afgumentes of controversies for the direction of his
oonrae of life ; craning pardkm for what soeuer I shall
qjeake, that maie pertiaps be vupleasing to your ezpeo-
tation : I will not onfy deliaer you the truth of my
intent, but the reasons that bane induced me into the
determinatiott of my resolution. I haue heard your
maiestie often sale that nature begetteth no deformitie,
hot rather the true image of it selfe ; and as in outwarde
proportion, ao do I thinke in the qualitie of the spirit,
the Sonne may participate with the fiuher ; and although
that vertue be the gift onelie of God, yet in the faidina-
tion and disposition of the mind, the sonne maie take
somewhat of the lather's spirit For proofe whereof, I
haue often heard jrou sale that you were your father's
Sonne, such was your desire to see the world, for till he
was maried he had no desire to line at home, harde fiue,
colde k)dgii«, bitter atormes, ahaipe aightes in a foneine
soile, or in the Ocean sea, were mere pleasing to hnn,
then the most daintie banquet, the scrftest bed, the
calmest weather, and the sweetest peace, that either his
fothcf's court, his own chamber, or the most pleaaant
Furadise that his whole countrie at home oould yedd
him : and such were your deli^tes, rather to heare a
Trumpet in a fielde, then a Lute in a diamber, and to
see the assanlt of a forte, then the daundngof a maake.
Your maieatie would euer preferre a trotting courser,
before an ambling footedoth, apeale of ordinance, before
a ling of belles, and a blondie sword before a painted
looking glasse : in somme, if in alsuch courses of your
conceit, jrou followed the htrtlnation of my Grandfother,
will you think it strange hi me to folfow the steps of your
affection? Hane you not allowed my reading of his-
tories, and how many of any account are written onelie
of home actions? Hane you not wiaht me to make
mudi of strangera? and ahall I not studie languages
wherewith to entertaine them? I must ooniease there b
no friend to a fother, whose loue cannot be separated
from the fruit of his own body. Home dwelling is foil
of ease, but not of honour, vriiich is rather purchased
by adnentures, then by nature inherited : friends are
kind, so maie strangera be frill of oourtesie, and he
that looketh not into the world, wanteth nrach where-
in to i^orifie the Lorde God. My sister's fortune I
had rather teaue to the efieot of your wiiedome, then
my weaknes : and knowing her discretion wil nothing
feare the honor of her affection. My motber'a tender
care of me maie be more kind then coaomodious,
for though I will not line but to bee in all humblenes
her childe, yet must I haue a care for my countrie's
good not to be a babie to my selfe : for to reade of
the noble aduentures of diuerae honourable spirits,
what perilles they passed, what oonquesu they made,
how they inriched their countries, enlarged the king-
domes, aduanoed their foUowers, increased their titles,
and left frune to their houses ; shall I as one dull of
witte not to vnderatande what I reede^ or foarefoll of
spirit to foUowe the patbes of their passages, not like
your Sonne lie still at home, and blowe at a banquet,
dance in a chamber, or tumble in a bed, where either
sleepe maie dull my senoes, musike maie drowne my
apirite, or anrfeiting maie kill my atomacke : farre be it
from your son to ahew ao little of hia fioher'a nature, for
dangers, they are the triala of the valiant, for aduen-
tures they are the honor of the resolute, and for labours,
they are the praises of the patient, and where are these
at home? No, by trauaile is gotten knowledge, and to
anaweare to some points of your propositiotts : Indeede
the same aunne ahineth in one pbioe that ahineth in
another, but not at one and the aame time ; men and
women are of the aame proportion, but not of the aame
diapoaitfon, which is a note of great regard ; the diet,
appareO, demeanour, and inclination of euerie countrie
ia to be obserued, and the obaeniationa well taken maie
fitll out to be commodious, so I hane heard you say, my
adfe hane read, and verdy bdeeue : by trauaile I ahall
learn who are our Iriendea or foea, and ao dther to
esteeme them or beware of them : My fiiendes that you
mai spare will foUowe me in my course, or allowe of my
content, my seruantes will attend the issue of my fortune,
and my countrey I hope shall be benefited by my trauaile.
I intend no long yoiage, nor anie at all without your
liking, but if with your leaue I might hane my desve, I
must oonfesae I would willinglie a little aet foote abroad
into the worid. and for that there are, as I am certainlie
informed, a great nnmber of gaOant young gentlemen,
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THE STRANGE FORTUNES
ahottUe intendiQg to attend the Emperour in his wurcs
against the Tiirke» wherein, who perfonneth the tme
parts of vakmr, shall retime with the badge of dewrued
honour, I humbly beseech yon, with as little charge asit
shall please yon, to ftimish me to this piece of semioe,
from whence I am asnredly perswaded, I shall neuer
retume with discontentment Now hauing reuealed
vnto your maiestie both the natneof my indinatioo, the
grounde from whence it grew, and the reasons that bane
thereto induced me, I leaue to your fatherly looe to con-
sider of my dutie, and your discreete consideration, to
thinke of my stay or trauaile.
The good old Duke, finding that the coke of a courser
would hardly be brought to thehairow, a liqndng would
runne as sooneas it was out of the shell, and a bird of
his own £ether would take alter his owne fll|^t, though
it could not but grieue him, to bane him fax out of his
sight, yet knowing the quairell good that he went to fight
in with the Emperour against the Turk, and that manie
princes had sent their sonnes to gaine honor in that
piece of semioe, after a few words of some vnwiUing-
nesse to want the comfort of his presence, was not only
contented to like well of his desire, but promised, with
his blessing to furnish him for his voiage: And so,
leaning hfan with his fiather the Duke, going into his
pallace to perswade the Dudiesse patience to hb depar-
ture : I will retume to the Duke OrdiUo of the Ilandesof
Cotasi, of whom when I haue tolde you what hiqjpened
of his son Fantiro, I will retume againe vnto the Dulce
Firento, and the young Prince.
But touching the Duke OrdiUo, you shall vnderstand,
that one dale in the heate of sommer intending to take his
pleasure in a f oirest neere vnto the sea side, and hauing
a stately redde so long in chase, as had almost spent all
his whole crie of houndes, wearie with foUowing the crie,
and knowing that the young Prince his sonne was of so
strong a bodie, though but a diilde in years, that he
would bring him the newes of the death of the Deere,
with a soft pace breathing his horse, vrith a prettietraine
of his attendantes, retired himselfe to his pallace in a
parke neere vnto the fonrest, where I will leaue him for
a while expecting the retume of his sonne, and I will
tell you what became of the fruit of his expectatkm.
The young Prince sole hehre male vnto his father, and
so little beknied by his vnde brother to the Duke, and
one of his priuie Counsaile, that to aduance his owne
children, he cared not what became of hts brother's sonne,
was by a villaine that bee had hired for the purpose,
trained aside from the chase, somewhat neere vnto the
sea, where hauing him alone, ianre enough from com-
panie, either to heare what hee said, or to see what bee
did, drewe out his sword, and with a terrible counten-
ance framed for the purpose, after he had made him to
light downe from his horse, vsed this speech vnto bun :
^ Howe now young master? Yon dined wdl, but you had
no good saaoe to your meate, but I must make yon soch
a dish of sauce to your supper, that all the oookes in
your fruher^s Court neuer sawe the like : For to make
short wocke with you I must see what bloud is about
your hart, and I must sende it to your vnde to his
venison i nowe^ if jrou can oome and benre Un oom-
panie, you shall tcU me if it be not worth the tasting.
The young Prince Fantiro, hauing in his heart no little
spark of his father's qtirite, seeming nothhig at iril dis-
maied at his threates, nor as it were, making anie fear-
ful! account of death, throwing off his doake, and
vnbuttoning his doublet, with a steme coonlenanoe, made
him this answere : Thou saude rasoall, what art thou ?
a man? adogge? oradeuill? that darest to thinke so
viUanous a thought, or to vtter so impious a speech, as
to murther the innocent, or to laie a violent hand vpon
the least haire of my head? am not I sonne to thy
master? and master to thy sdfe? did I euer hurt thee?
Naie, haue I not been too bountifull in my good will,
vnto so vngmteluU a villaine? Looke about thee, seest
thou not a God in the heauens? and knowest thou not
there is a deuill in heU? that vpon the instant of thy
villanie, standes not leadie to recdue thee ? Oh worst
of all creatures, how canst thou looke towards the
heauens? and dost not hang downe thy head, to think of
the villany of thy hart ? Looke thou wretched slane, my
brest is open for thee, thinke I feare not death, for I
knowe I shall not liue one minute past the houre that is
appointed me ; and therfore doe thy worst : and for
mine vnde, Qod forgiue him the vnnaturaU villanie that
bee hath shewed in this action.
The intended murthcrer, not a little amased at the
spirit of so young a bodie, vnwilling to retume to the
Court without performance of his promise, as wdl for
the want of his promised rewarde, as for feare of his
displeasure that had set him to worke, and yet loath to
embrae his handes in the bloud of so sweete a creature,
replied vnto him with these wordes : My Lorde, the
Lorde of lordes knoweth how loath I am, to frdl into
the lapse of the diuell by this hellish actioa ; and ther-
fore as wd to saue your life firom the murtheroos malice
of your vnde, who will neuer leaue by all deuises to
seeke your bloud, as to saue mine owne assured to be
lost, if I retume without his contentment : I beseech you
give eare to what I say, and 1 hope it shall be for both
our good. In the next hauen neere adknning, lieth a
shippe readie to put to sea towardes the dtie of Dolno,
fak the Ilandes of Balino, the Merchant that hath fraight
and victualled her is one Mario Duronte, a fnend of mine,
to whom I wiU put you as my sonne, entreating him to
Carrie you thither, and there to leaue you dther with
some Courtier or Merchant that he is acquainted with
for some temte of yeres, for that I would haue you to
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
Ibmba the kngnagei ; Now diare, if jcm fortune be to
doe well, I shall be glad of it, if otherwise, wo bee to me,
thoogh ▼nwiUinglie to be the author of it.
This speech though it were no little giiefe to him to
lease his fiuher's Court, and to abandon his oountrey hi
so poors a sort, and vpon so hard a fortune, yet williqg
of all ils to chuse the least, was contented rather to
aocept this little kindnesse, to be put servant to an mfit
master, then to trust anie longer to the oouitesie of so
wicked a creature ; and theifore with great thankes,
assuring him that God would regarde his pittie, and
that hiroseUe would neuerforget hishonestie, giuinghim
apmneofgokiethathee had about Um, keeping verie
lewe crownes for himsdfe, tooke his wale toward the
hanen, and by the way meeting with none that knewe
him, passed vndescried vnto the shippe, where being
aboord, and entertained into semice with Signor liCario,
they put to sea, the tide seruing fitlie for their purpose,
leaning the villaine to retume to his wicked master with
the newes of his Nephew, whome I wiU leaue at the
Court, telling him in secret a deuised lie of the drownmg
of the young Prince, and I will tell you what became of
him, and his fortune.
The winde seruing weU to their wished shore, it was
not fong till Mario Doronte arriued, at the dttie of
Dolno, where he had not lien many dales, but haning
occasfon to go to the court, tooke with hun his young
seruant Raatifo, for so was the young Prince nowe mis-
called by the viUaine that had hitended his death : Now
being oome to the Court, and there well entertained by
some not of the meanest sort, with whom he had to
deale with in hb businesse, crossing the Court, there
happeaed a Noble man of the Duke's diamber, to cast
his eie vpon this young Prince, the Merchante's imagined
prentise, whome calling to him, after a fewe wordeshad
with him, affecting verie much both his person and
spirit, made such meanes to the Merdiant, that for a
small snmme of crownes, with promise of a greater
fiiendship, he obtained him at his handes, and enter-
taining for his page, and finding in him such fine
qualities, as did much deserue the encreaae of his good
liking of him, he heMe him in such account, as was not
oommonlie|seene nor by him expected, vpon so little
knowledge : But the Merchant after the dispatch of his
businesse returned to his country, and the young Prince
now a page caried his sendee with such care, as was not
a Uttle regarded in the Court, nor vmrewarded of his
master ; who in few yeares, hauing perfected his forward-
nesse in many good qualities, by maintaining his desires
in aU good instructions, with true commendatioas of his
worthinesse, preferred him to the Duke his master, who
in a little time, took so due a regard of his seruice, that
to the viewe of his whole Court, hee made shew of his
Bat I wiUleaaeUmforawfailein
51
the beginning of his fortune, in the Court of his fioher's
eneniie vnknowne to him, and himselfe mknowne to the
Duke what he was, and I will retume to Pinello, the
young Prince, sonne to Feronte.
The Duke of Dolno in the Dandes of Balhio, who
haning obtained leaue of his parents for his voiage into
the Emperor's Court, and so to attende him in warres
against the Turke, had no sooner set foote aboord, but
a sudden storme tooke him scarce out of sight of lande,
and draue him for aauegard of his life, and all that were
with him, to put in at a hauen within the Ilandes of
Cotasi ; where the Duke Ordillo his ftuher's enemie was
dilefe gouemour : who though he were in his debt for a
summe of mony lent vnto his father, and therfore by
lacke of paiment had purchased his displeasure, yet
hauing heard of his Sonne's arriuall, sent to entertaine
him in such good sort, as befitted the honour of his
person, who being met in great solemnitie, by diners of
his Lordes, was after he had beene fieasted by the
Gouemours of his cfaiefe dttie, with a great troupe of
Nobles attended vnto the Court of the Duke, of whome
hee quicklie reodued such an Tnezpected welcome, as hi
the roialty of his spuit ; would haue remitted both all
debt and displeasure : not to standetoo kmg vpon need^
lesse discourses, let it suffice that the Duke's kindnease,
the Nobles' attendance, the Ladies' sweete fauours, and
the wdoome of the whole Court, was such, as made him
manie dales longer then he determined, to make aboade
in that oountrey : but aboue all, the gratlous kind coun-
tenance of the Duke's ondy daughter, not a Uttk affected
by this gallant young Prince, was not the least cause of
his stale, of wliom sfaiceagreatpart of mystoriedepen-
deth, I will tdl you, what I reade fdl out betwixt them.
This young Princesse the onelle daughter of Ordillo,
not a little affecting the outward person, and inward
vertue of this young Prince, who was nothing behinde
with her in great contentment with her much worthines
of his good liking, tooke occaskm one moraiog, sedng
him walking out of his lodging into a garden, right
against her chamber-windowe to take a priuate waie
through a gallerie downe hito the same garden, wherein
a dose walke neere vnto the greene alley where the Prince
was walUng vnseene of him a pretie while, fdl into this
taUce with a gentlewoman an attendant of hers, whom
she hdd In great account, and to whom sherenealed the
secret of all her hart : Oh Ddina quoth she (for so was
her name) little doest thou know the cause of my late
melanchoHe, but I dare trust thee with my life, and for
that I know thou hast past through the Labyrinth, that
I am now in, I will hope the better of thy aduise for my
comfort : Since the ooamiiog of the Mnoe PeniUo, into
my father's Court, thou hast not seene me Inutdy
merrie, for though I conoeale much of my passion, yet
win I somwfaat ease my hart, with tdling thee somewhat
B
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lO
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
of my minde. Some foure or fine daks before tbenewes
came to our oomt of the arriuall of this worthy lYiiioe, I
had a dreame that held me all the time of my sleepe, the
most pan of a whole night : the rrmemhranoe whcieof
in the morning and euer since, hath troubled mee Toie
much : which as neere as I can remember I will teQ
thee:
Me thought I was going thoroogfa a thkk wood, where
wereanomberofnettes and snares, layde in eneriepathe
where I shouldepaaie, yet methonght I passed thoroogh
them so easily, as if they had beene of no strength ; till
at last I came towarde a great water, where neere vnto
the shore laie a great Boate, and from the Boate laie a
long line, made all of goldeand pearle ; within the oom-
passe whereof, treading yer I was aware, mee thought
some thing gane a snatche, wherewith the Une whipte
about my middle, and caried me into the Boate, with the
sodaine fright whereof I awaked. Now what saiest thou
to this dreame? Delina, no lesse witty conceited of her
dreame, thennotingthecariageof her humor, made her
this answere. Madame if a blind body may catch a
Hare, I may happen to come somewhat neere the expo-
sition of this ni^t fimsie. The wood yon went in, is the
court, the nettes, the eies and tongues of your sotors,
that had no power to take sure holde of your allection ;
now the great water male be the Sea, and the golden line,
the young Prince, that may cazy you away from your
lather : for if I be not much deoeiued, he hath you by
the heart, whatsoeuer it was that heldeyouby the middle.
Unhappie wench, quoth the Princesse, thou rouest too
neere, that hittest the marke so right : but yet maiest
thou bee deoeiued in one point, thoughe not In some
other ; I hane past the nettes, thai Is true ; and I am
caught, it is not vntrue, but thai he either wil, or shall
carie me awaie, that I feare will not tall out : But God
knoweth aU, to whose oneBe will I leane it, as ftne may
oome as neere, foes maie be friends, and loue where he
doth light doth more then all the work! besides. His
presence maie please the purest eie, and for his wit, I
heard my fitther woonder at it, for his bountle, our court
speaketh of it, and for his vertue, who doth not see it?
but for his loue, happy is shoe that shall enioie it : for
princelie wisedome, with honourable bountie, shewes a
dinine spirite in an eroellent nature, and of sodi a temper
I hold him, and for such a one I kMie him, and will euer
honour him, though I nener hane him.
The young Prince hearing this pietty parly betwiict
the Ladie of his loue and her handmaid, with a voice
lowde enottghe to be heard of them that were so neere,
feO thus to taUce to the aire : Oh heauens, who can
withstand the force of the fiites? was I gofaig to the
wars to gaine honor In the fidde, and am I driuen to
sedceapeaoe,bybefaignuMiuishedinadiainher? Dkl
I go to light with the great Tttike, and am I now afrakle
of alittleChristiatt? Is this the frnit of a slomw at
Sea? to oome Into this kind of cahne at lande? WeB
what sboolde I talke to the trees that heaie mee not?
or to the birdes that vnderstande me not? or to the aire
thai helpes mee not? Oh Bitauita. blesMd wcite thon
borne, if thy beantie hane beene the beginning of my
happines; and happie. If thy vertue loine Issue with my
affection : for though our parentes be at iane, we may
be at one, and what anger in them cannot yeeld vnto,
loue male cflect in vs, an ende of heartburning In oar
parentes, and a beginning of quiet in our oountiies.
But howe shall I hope of thy knie? my fiMher's diipleai
sure male breede a doubt of my feae ; besides she male
be aiiiBcted otherwise then I know : whereat the youqg
Princesse fai her ctoae walk replied no. What qnothe
the young Prince, is there here such an eocho? The
Ladie againe repUed, oh: the young Prince amaaed at
this eodio, went oo with this speech : Oh that I knew
Bilanta indeede would regard my loue ; she answeared
loue: Loue quoth the Prince, but whome doeth she
K? I would I knewe his name; she answeared
quoth the Prince, but who male it be ?
If itbeoneondie? she answeared onlie: Onelie qnothe
hee, ondlehappie indeede, would so were Pineilo ; she
made answere Pineilo : With that the Prince putting
the wordes of the eodio together, made vp this speech :
Oh kme^ name ondle Pinella And musing a little
vpon his conceit of thii sound, looking askle, espied the
young princesse, with her attendant walking out of the
Arbour into the garden, whome meeting with, at the
ende of a crosse alley, he saluted with this greedng.
Sweete Princesse, when there bee two Suns shining at
one taistant, it cannot be but frure weather : one in the
skie, and an other on the earth, both whfch meete so
sweetdie In this blessed peece of ground, that let him
die hi his bed, that will not waike hi such a momhig.
The Lady not fully perswaded of his aflectid, f or al his
playing with eodio, and yet hoping wel of his words,
tiU his deedes HdQ out otherwise, with a modest snule
made him this answeare. My Lord, If your speeches
were not so hii^ in the doudes, that poors soules on
the earth know not how to gesse of your meaning, I
* shoulde bee the better able to frame an answeare to
your salutation ; but howaoeuer the sun shine In the
heanens, the shadow of your imaginatkm, if it were a
substance of that worth, thai might answeare a £ur lesse
figure, then your frmour, would be loath thai anie fowle
weather shoulde hinder the happines of your frtfre waIke :
but I peroeioe sodi morning Astranoners can pkue
prettOie with their owne humors. Prettie Lady (quoth
the prince) the best plaie thai I know, is at be yon
pleasde, irtiere hee that hghtes vpon a good carde wen
vnwise If he woulde change : the princesse rouing vn*
happitte ai hit oonoeit, replied againe, and yet nqr Lord,
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
II
to be afraid of goodlbrtiiiie, is aomeliiiie Gfeuse of I
locse : yea Madame ansirered the Prince, but fortniie is
so fanlasfican, that there is no tnist to be had in her :
and therfDre I bold my opinion, rather to keepe a good
cboise, then to aduenture a had change. I am no
gamster answered the Prinoesse, and theribre can speake
but idlie of the sport, bat they that are pleasde are
happie, and they will not hold themsdues so, are vn-
wise; The Prince playing vpon this word pleasde, went
iorwarde with this speech : Good Madam, male it then
please yon to be pleasde. with the seniice of my affeo-
tk»? whfefa no further then desart, will seeke the
hooonr of your faoour. The Ladle with a modest
smile somewhat concealing her content, gaue him this
answere : My good Lord, I am glad it pleaseth your
greatnesse to be so merry with your poore friends : but
SDdi seruioe, as your fauour, must be graced with
greater honour then my vnworthmesse can accomplish.
The Prince not a little contented with her speech,
lepUed againe in these words: Madam, to niake a
\aog haruest about a little come, were but a weake
piece of husbandrie ; and therfore not to hold you with
a tedious discourse in plaine tearmes, you are the card
that I meane, my plaie b no iest, your loue is the stake,
that I would be glad if I coukl to win, you are the
cfaoise, that I haue made, and that I would bee loath
to chaoge : and therfore if a souldier's eloquence, male
haue fiuiour in your audience, let my heart and hand in
your honour speake for my desart in your affection.
The Ladie not abbe to couer the fire, that was now past
kindling, brake sodainlie into this answere. My Lorde,
to reape the come ere it be ripe, male prooue more haste
then good speede, and yet to let it grow till it shedde,
were great loose to the larmer ; and therfore the taking
of time is profitable to the prouident, I will not teach
3rour honour what to doe, but if my loue be the prise
of your pleasure, you cannot loose the hope of jrour
patience, assuring my selfe, that the reach of your con-
ceit, erceedeth not the roialtie of your spirit ; which in the
regard of vertue desemeth nothing but honour : and for
that the heart of a souldier, is firee from the tongue of
a dissembler, I will rather beleeue the truth of valour,
then gine eare to the ialshood of a weaker spirit : But
lor that manie crosse fortunes, male hinder the happi-
nesse of the most honorable resolutions, let me intreat
your patience to make triall of my constande, ere yon
make my vnworthinesse, mistresse of my contentment.
The Prince nothing dishking this good motion in her
good minde, kissing her hande, made this kinde con-
dnsion : Faire Prinoesse, the discretion of your good
motion, I eiceedingly like of ; for your credit to my
truth, I cannot but thanke you, for the honour where-
with you entitle me. I retnme it foUy vpon yon, for the
nature of my loue, let your vertue disoeme it, and for
the faith of my aflfooUon, I vow you shall command it :
but as you know I haue resohitely intended to attende
the Emperour in his warres against the Tmke, where if
I gaine honor, the garland shall bee graced in your
wearing ; if I die, let it suffice thy selfe to knowe the
honour of my loue, with whome howsoeuer be my for-
tune, I vow to leaue the faith of my affection : and so.
thinking to proceede in their further conference, spying
certaine Ladies, and Gentlewomen with their firiends
and attendants comming into the garden, they singled
themsdues one from another, hee retiring himsdfe to his
lodging, and she to her close arbour, where I leaue them
for a while to mediute vpon thdr muses, and I will
retume vnto Fantiro late Plage vnto the Duke Feronte.
Fantiro sonne to the Duke OrdiUo, preCened liy
the Merchant before spoken of, vnto one of the Duke
Feronte's Court, and after by his Lord and master vnto
the Duke himsdfe, haning so wdl caried himsdfe in his
seruice, that he was not onHe beloaed of the Duke his
now Lorde and master, but of all his whole Court, and
espedallie of Senilla the ondie daughter of the Prince,
of whom he had often recdued such secret tokens of
honorable fauours, as except he would hide both his
des, he must needes percdue some part of her affec-
tion : But among al. this was not the least, that one
dale among other, in the aftemoone, the Duke bdng
disposed to haue some musicke and dannng in the
presence, fidling out in a daonce, that euery knight was
to take his Ladie, and euerie I.Adie her seroant, on
whom die would bestowe her fruiour ; in the presence
of her fiither the Duke she tooke Fantiro by the hand
and accompanied him hi the measure, till the daundng
was wholie ended. Whidi was noted of manie, especially
of one, who hauing more wealth then honour, thought
to buy loue with drosse ; which ilfiinoured dogge, vn-
worthie to bee called a man, yet attended with fiwrre
better then himsdfe, seeking in what hee might to dis-
grace this vnknowne Prince, came one dale by chance
into a gallerie neere adiohung to the presence, where he
found the young Princesse walking all alone, and vpon
the sodaine standing as it were in a muse, looking vpon
a picture of an Ape playing with an Owle, where smiling
to her sdfe which was the best shaped creature, shee
sawe comming towardes her the ondie hobby horse of
a man, that euer disgraced a coate of vduet : whome,
rather for the &uour that he hdde with her fiither, then
for anie affection, that she had reason to carrie him, she
for ill frishion's sake thus saluted Signer Sperto, for so
was hee called (whether christened or no, I know not) **
God giue you good morrow : The slouch of a slooen
with a slaueiing smile, vpon a slubbered concdt, after
manie good morrowes began to trouble her with this
tattle. Trudy Madame, I am glad it was my-good
hiq>pe, to meete so conoenientlie with your Ladishippe^
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12
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
as wdl for the honour that I wish you, as for the seniioe
I would be glad to doe you : for though a Quinoe bee
a tree of noe straightnesae, yet it beareth a Cure and
wholesome fruit, the fillow ground is rough, yet it
beareth die best come, and the Ore hath but an ill hne,
yet is there pure golde to be had in it ; so male it bee
that in me you male finde some cause of discontentment,
till you haue made triall of more then I will protest :
but emploie me in your seruioe, consider of my desart,
and doe me iustice in your &uour : Let your fieither's
loue be an ingression into my Grace, and the endeuour
of my dutie, the encrease of my good fortune : The
sunne's beautie is commended for shining as well vpon
the valleies as the mountaines, y^ sea is beloued as well
for a Pinnis as a proud ship, and is not the pearle in a
shell, more worth then the oyle of a Whale? then thinke
it not vnpossible, to find that spirit in me that you male
perhaps finde in a fidrer faced creature : a Diamonde
is the brighter for his foile, a fiaire heme, is the more
beautifull, by the deformitie of a fowle iade, and how
can you bee better graced then in fauouring the dis-
gratious ? for my loue, I will compare it with anie lining,
and for my seruice I would it could expresse my louing.
Good Madam pardon my boldnesse in acquainting you
with my suit, which hath no life but in the onely fruit of
your good fiiuour.
The Ladie so little liking the outward dpgge, that
shee had no patience to thinke of the inward Deuill ;
little studying for an answere, brake of a sodaine into
this speech : Sir, for your kindenesse I thanke you, but
for your paines I would be loath to trouble you : for
though your eloquence be great, yet all is but a sound,
and when the stringes are once slipt, the lute is but a
piece of wood : the Diamond is to be knied for his fire,
not his foile, a comelie horse with a iade, will make an
ilfauoured coniunction, and to grace the vngnuious. Is
against the haire of a good wit My father's loue, and
my liking male differ vpon causes, and your seruioe and
my command not meete in anie occasion of empl^ment :
for the sunne shining on the valleies, it is a blessing of
the heauens ; and for the Pinnb sayUng through the
seas, it is by the bearing nature of the water, but for the
pearle fai the shell, indeede I must oonfesse it is forre
better out of it, then in it ; and to conclude, for the
inwarde sharpenesse of your witte, if it were not in so
grosse a person, I could perhaps take patience with my
fauour, to make some emploiment of your seniice : but
for that I would not feede you with vaine hopes, to hang
Tpon the skirtes of my faire speeches, let this suflSoe you
not to abuse you, that I could bee content often to heare
you, but neuer to see you. Whereat the wicked wretch,
like a galde horse kicking at the noiseof a currie-combe,
fretting at his owne defonnitie, where a squinte de, a
halfe nose, and a wrie mouth had no giaoe, in a great
rsge, snuflUng at his cold entertainment ; went awaie
with these wordes : Well, if yon like not that you see,
you maie pull out yon eies, and softlie mutteriqg to
himselfe, I will meete with your ere you be aware, and
croase you in your most comfort, meaning with Pantiro
her loue, now in that Court called Raatifo.
But I will leane the wretch to his wicked inuentions,
going from the Ladie to the Duke her fruher, and I will
tell yon a fewewordesof the Ladie and her loner, whose
good hap it was presentlie after the departure of this
sweete Gentleman, to come into the gallerie where his
Ladie and mistris was verie solemnlie walking, but fear-
ing that he had offended her frmour with pressing into
her presence, beg& to retire himselfe towards the doore,
as not wiUing ftuiher to mooue her patience ; which the
Ladie espyfasg, and willing a little to embolden his dutie
in her friuour, called him vnto her with these wordes :
My good seruant, what meanes this too much good
manner? or shall I call it strangenesse? or found you
them not here that you looked for ? or are you displeased
with them that you see? Truely I will not hurt you, and
to put you in fuirther comfort, if you haue any suit to my
fruher, or affection to any friend of mine, assure your
selfe I win not hinder you, though how much I win
frirther you I wiU not ten you.
The young Gentleman, in this Court vnknowne what
hee was, and therefore carrying no greater title, not a
Uttle glad of this kinde greeting, made her this humble
answere: My gratious Ladie and mistris, I feared
nothing but your displeasure, nor ioie in anie thing
vnder the heauens but your fauour : my suit to your
fritber, is but his imploiment of my senxice, and ibr my
affection to your fiiendes, it shall be whoUe in the honour
of your vertue : Now therefore I humbUe beseech you
pardon but my truth, and regard my triaU, which shall
make me nothing my selfe more then I shall be happie
in your seruice. Oh seruant (qd. the Prinoesse) I see you
study not for nothing, I beleue you read Ouid, you would
seeme to make such a Metamorphosis of your self, of late
a soldier altogither in the field, & now a louer fidlen to
courting in a chamber. Rantifo not vnprouided of an
answere, repUed in this manner : Good Madam, my affec-
tion is no fiction, whatsoeuer it maie please you to thinke
of my studie, but when the honour of a souldier is the
frmour of his mistris, giue me leaue to seme your father
in the field, and honour you in the Court : and though
the meanenesse of my estate make the vnworthinesse of
my fortune, yet thnike, a sUu- in his right place maie hap
to prooue to be a planet
The Princcsse of a sodaine began thus to replie, for
starres and planets, I leaue the proprietie of their places,
to the studie of Astronomers ; but if your minde be
heauenUe, the highest prosper your humor : and, as
she was going onwards with her speech, ypon the sodaine
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
»3
die espied certaine Ladies oomming in to entreat her
compaoie into the garden, wherewith leatdng her praier
to her servant's Amen, with a fauonrable glatinoe she
left him to his muses, and with the Ladies that came to
her, went downe into the garden ; where I win leaiie her
in the pleasant walkes to take the benefit of the sweete
aire, and I will tell you, what did follow of Fantiro, and
his fortune.
Pantiro now called Rantifo, no sooner bad left his
mistris, bat with a concealed ioy gat him presently to
the Duke's chamber, where taking his place of attend-
ance, espied oomming from the Duke, Signer Sperto
the sweete gentleman that I before spake of, who com-
ming by Rantjfo, with a sleering laughter, as one that
had plaied the Jew with him behind his back, gaue him
a wrie-moath good morrow ; which he taking verie
Undlie, not yet knowing his cunning practise, returned
him very humbly : but after his departure finding the
Duke's countenance, as it seemed to him vpon the
sodaine somwhat altered, from hb former kind of Idnd-
nesse, began to suspect, that Jacke an apes was not
without his tridces, and that his being with the Duke had
done him no good ; as bee did sbortlie after peroeiue :
for within few dales after, it was his happe lying wnder a
pale of the parke neere vnto thepaUace, where the Duke
with this wicked horseleadi was walking, to heare the
taUce that passed betwixt him and the Duke, which was
as followeth.
My gratious Lord (quoth this vngratious lubber) the
many fiuiours wherewith your highnes hath bound me
vnto you, in all the seruicethat I can deuise to doo you,
win not suffer mee to conoeale the least cause that I
kttowe male bee an occasion of your discontent, and in
what I can humblie to aduise your Csuour in the preuent-
ing of al that may endanger the iust weight of your dis-
pleasure. The Duke better acquainted with his wit then
his conscience, minding to make vse of the one, what-
soeuer he should finde of the other, replied vnto him
with these words. Good Sperto, thy carefuU regard of
my content, I cannot but kindUe tbinke of ; and thy pro-
nidence in preuenting aU occasion of my dislike, I wiU
not let passe vnrewarded: and therefore I praie thee
playndie deliucr mee thy minde in euerie pomte of thy
Signor Sperto, hauing studied vpon purpose, to plaie
the villaine in his kind ; began thus to vtter his venom.
My gratious Lord, for that you shall see how indiffei^
entlie I wiU deale, in ghiing reason his due, as I would
bee no aduancer of pride, so woulde I not bee anie backe
frieade to the honour of vertue; in the skie you see there
is but one Moone, which hath her light from the Sun :
BOW on this Moone attendee a number of stars, but if
anie one shoulde presume past his place to step within
the drde of the Moone, thinke you not the higher powers
woulde not thrust him quite out of the heauens? I am
no Astronomer (quoth the Duke) but I thinke it were fit
it should be so : but I praie thee trouble me not with
figures, while I would haue thee more plainelie teU thy
minde. Then answeared SIgnor Sperto, male it please
your grace, by the skie, I meane your court, the Moone
your daughter, and the Sunne your selfe, from whome
and the Almigfatie, she taketh aU the vertue of her honor :
Now if any attendant in your oourte shoulde presume
further then your pleasure, to presse into the fauour of
her affection, were he not worthie to be banished your
court ? Yes, and shaU (quothe the Duke) whatsoeuer he
be without exception. Then my gratious Lord, said
Sperto, 3rou know, you haue long Csuoured, and by your
fituour aduanced Rantifo, a stranger in your oountrie,
and such a one as though I must confesse by his much
worthe manie vraies, deserueth no Uttle honour : yet if
for your fauour iustlie extended vnto him, he wm pre-
sume to wrong your kindnes, in ahniog at your Crowne,
or robbing you of your chiefe comfort, I leaue to your
wisedome to fudge of his reward.
The Duke marking weU euerie part of his speedi, and
withaU calling to minde the open shewe of her fauour in
taking out of Rantifo from aU the companie, both of
friendes and strangers, to leade her in the measure of her
dance, thinking weU both vppon the man and the matter,
made him this answeare. Signer Sperto, I see weU thy
watchiun care of my comforte, and do suspect no lesse
then perhaps thou dost better percdue ; but to preuent
an mishappe, and giue no cause of offence, let vs aduise
what is to be done. The man hath serued fiedthfuUie,
and in manie good seruices hath deserued honoureblie,
our friendes in a manner all do loue him ; I heare
almost no man speake in of him ; and if our daughter
affect him, shan we therefore hate him ? God forbidde I
vertue wiU haue honour in despight of fortune, and loue
hath caused princes to fauour verie poore people. I
speake not this either to pardon his presumption, or to
fonour his proceeding, for I wiU deuise in what I can, to
remoue hhn fimre enough from my daughter, howsoever
my selfe shaU regard him. But let me haue thy aduise
how so to woAe it, that he male rather be glad of our
countenance, then mistrust our discontentment.
Signer Sperto, fearing to be thought maUdous, and
yet not able to couer the villanie of his humor, made
this answeare to the Duke. Male it please your high-
nease, to consider of what male fiedl out in the euent of
this fortune, if it were not foreseen. If your daughter
shoulde so disgrace your whole Court, as to cast her
aflbcdon vppon a stranger, and leaning to looke vppon
manie noble personages, shoulde fisU in lUdng with I
knowe not whome, nor of how meane a parentage : it
cannot bee but adisoomfort to your heart, so to see your
ieweU, that you hould of the highest prkse hi your Crowne,
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u
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
to be set in so base golde, as male perhaps prone but
copper : and if it bee as pure as the purest, that he
should proue honourable in Urth, wise in ooncdte,
valiant in annes, vertuous in disposition, and enery way
worthie of as much honour, as the greatest of your
fiiuour ooulde afoorde him ; yet what a heartburning
wouideit breede in youroonntrie, that a stranger shonlde
haue the honour of your court, and eerie awaie the gar-
land of your Duke-dome : yea. and then not only all the
actions of your noblest peeres would lie as dead, or not
spoken of, while the Trumpe of fame would sound onlie
the honour of his fortune ; and so in processe of time, not
onelie your Court and countiie wiinlde bee disgraced
andagrieued, but your higfanesseshoulde see a great £sU
of your owne fiune, when by the fresh memoiie of his
fortune, all former honoures wouMe be fofgotten ; but to
preuent all misfortune —
SUy there a little (quoth the Duke) and let mee tdl
thee a little of my minde : my daughter, is but a part of
my sdfe, that is now from my sdfe ; in aflecting the
▼ertuous, I must commend her disposition, and in
fanouring the honorable, I cannot mislike her discre-
tion : and that he is honoured by me, hee male the better
be graced by her : Now, if a stranger deserue well, it
male giue an example to our Court, and to barre him his
rig^t, is a blot in courtesie : shoe maie like though not
loue, and hee seme though for noe such reward. Moce-
ouer, what he b we know not, and therefore letvathinke
the best, and such maie be his worth, as maie be
worthie our regard. Fame is not partiall in sounding
the honour of deserts ; and therfore who runneth best,
let hhn winne the Bell, and weare the Garland : hee hath
little grace in himselfe, that feareth the fortune of
another, and the fresh memorie of one action briogeth
in the honour of another : and for my sdfe, while I
liue, I will keepe my sword, when I am gone let my
Sonne keepe my scepter. For Rantifo, I finde so much
good in him, that I cannot but loue him ; and yet not
so wdl, but to prefer my daughter to a better fortune,
andto content such of my Court as may be agrieued at
himTlet me hearethyaduisefortheremooueof himboth
from our Court and countrey.
Signor Sperto biting the lippe at these speeches, and
yet glad to heare this conclusion, made the Duke this
answere : Maie it please your Maiesty to think of y*
embassage you meane to send to the Duke of the Hands
of Cotasi, touching the sum of mony that hee hath long
defainftd from you, and the disgradous answere that he
latdie sent you : This Gentleman your Grace knoweth
to be well read in the languages^ of a stout spirit, that
win not feare to deliuer your message, and one that will
be glad to receiue such honour at your handes : Nowe if
it maie please your highnesse, his retume maie be at
your pleasure; which not effiscting your expectation,
maie haue ianonre at your pleasure. TheDukaOidlliOb
you know is a man of a stout oonragei and when two such
spirittesmeete, God knoweth what wiUfrdl out: whidiif
it be otherwise then wdl with him, your Maiestle maie at
your pleasure reuenge : In the meane time, that your
Courtenor countrey male take eroeptions, at your either
disgracing his good desenilag, nor dis&nouiing his
worthie vertues, that your danghtermaie not suspect the
least kxiking into her affoction, nor Rantifo imagine his
aeruice in anie such nature suspected, but In bdag so
graced maie holde himsdfe wd pleased, I thinke your
Highnesse shall not doe amisse in this deuise.
Signor Sperto (quoth the Duke) I will not flatter thy
witte, though I will loue thy coonsaile, and follow thy
aduise, which dwll be knowne odie to our sehies : To
morrow we will grace him in all we can, both in woixle
and countenance, so that hee shall mistrust nothing of
our meaning, and forthwith we will ricUie fiimish him
forth in this embassage ; and so Signer Sperto I will
bidde thee frurewdl ; I will for a idule be priuat heerein
mine Arbour ; I praie thee giue commandement to the
Porter, that no man come to trouble me, till I retume
into my chamber. With which command, Signor Sperto
taking his leane left the Duke alone in a dose walke,
▼sing these few words to himsdfe : Oh the miserie of
time I what doth this wicked worid bring forth? nothing
but sinne and imquitie : vertue more pittied then bdoued,
honour more enuied then accompanied, valour mora
commended then rewarded, and cfaaritie mora hanished
then embrased : Strangers should be reUeoed, vertue
honored, honor encreased, valour aduanced, and charitie
bdoued ; but that good world is done, strangers are
dther feared or hated, vertue aooraed, honor disgraced,
valour vnrewarded. and charitie vnseene. Princes can-
not be themsdues, for the greatest powers haue not the
greatest peace, a Gnat will trouble a Lyon, a Louse an
Eagle, a Mouse an Elefant, a Taintworme a Bull, and a
canker a man : Aesop's frc^ige would be as big as the
Oze although die burst for her labour : Enuie is aworme
of the spirit that spitt all her venome against vertn& Oh
Sperto, though the aduise of thy deuise I will follow for
the quiet of my Court, yet must I needes sale I finde
thy malice against Rantifo. What the reason is I
knowe not but that an Owle hath no grace with an
Eagle. I know my daughter cannot affisct thee, howao-
euer she faaour hnn ; but woukl to God my Sonne were
at home 1 And with that word, vaing no mote speech,
rose vp from the seate, ft retired himselfe into his pal-
lace, where I will leaue him to determine of his embas-
sage, and Rantifo to thinke of the subtHtie of his dose
enemie ; and I will retume againe to Penillo, soone to
the DukeFeronte ; whome I left in the Courte of Ordillo
his fiither's enemie, last by the heart in kMie with his
daughter the young Mmaene Biknta.
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
iS
FeniDo the 70011; Prince eomie to Feronte the Duke
of BeUiio, after a few daies of roiall entertainment in the
Court of Ordillo, with much contentment in the hononr-
able aecret kindnfue of his lone the Princesae MeriUa,
ifwyjiiing a lanour of her which he swaie to weare in his
Bofonet. when he was in the field against the enemie,
leaning with her a heart of golde, set fill! of Diamonrtfs,
tooke his ioamej towards the Emperoor's Comt, and so
with him towardes his wan against the Tttrice ; where
in the fiaoe of the wliole Annie, he wonne such honor by
his vakmr, that the Empenmr to shew his loue vntohim,
cBBhnced him in his annes, calling him son, and wishing
that he were so happie as to hane a daughter worthie
anch a ftinoe. Well to be short, sodi ft so hcmorable
was his carriage with the Emperour, as well in his wane
as his Court, that with his valour he wonne the lone of
the Emperour, and with his kindnrste, the good-will of
all his followers ; in the predicament of which happinesse,
after his roial entertainment as well in the Comt as all
other plaoes of the Emperoor's tenitoties, haning re-
odned from the Emperoor two ridi iewels, the one a
iewell of great Tahie, which the Emperoor himselfe tooke
oat of his owne hatte ; theother a sword, the hiltes of
wliicfa were of golde set with pearie, diamondes, and
rabies, lately taken from the chiefe Bassa in that seniice,
with all homble thankfiilnesse tooke his leaue, making
homewards with all the speed he ooold, and yet not so
much, hot that be wookl take the Court of Ordilloinhis
waie ; where vnto his mistris he would first recount the
hononble issue of his fortune : who sweete soule as
one langnisoing for the lacke of her new loue did hi his
absence q)ende the most part of her time in pnier for
his prosperitie. But I will leaue further to tdl of their
fortones for a while, and I will retome to Fantiro, now
called Rantifo, in the Court of Feronte the Duke of the
Dandes of BaHno.
The Duke hauing set downe his determination for the
sending awaie of Rantifo hi his embassage, according
vnto the aduise of Signer %>eito ; walking one daie into
his fuden, oertauie of his Counsaile sitting with him,
among whomeSignorSperto could not be spared, caused
Rantifo bee caUed before him ; to whom with a pleased*
seeming countenance, he Yttered this speech : Rantifo,
the looe that I hane long borne thee, the faith that I
liml in thy sernioe; and the much good, that I manic
wafes note in thee, hane made me desirous to aduance
thee to that honoor, that I know thou wiU deseroe :
I am determined to send to my mUnde nei^ibour
OrdiOOk the Duke of .the Ihmdes of Cotasi ; he hath
beene long in my debt, and I thinke meaaes to laugh me
out with my money : a million of crowns will maintaine
aprettie Annie,forasodainepleoeofseruice; and since
he pleades not pouertie, but maketh defades the eaccuse
ofhisHldeaUng, Iwillsende thee to him, with this re-
solution, either to reoehie my money, or to let him know
my mind, which in briefe shall be this, that I will fetch
it perfcMToe, or set fire to his pallaoe : aowe though thou
art a stranger m our Court, yet being bdoued of oor
sehies, if thou wilt take it vpon thee, let vs see who dare
frowne at our fauour.
Rantifo haning heard lying vuder a pale, the deuise of
this plot in the parke, betwixt the Duke and Signor
Sperto, seeming not to know any thing thereof, and
fearing the Duke's displeasure, if he should refuse it,
made him this humble answere : My Gradous Lorde,
though outof your owne honour proceede so much good*
nesse, as to extende so farre your fanour vpon so smal
desert, as I cannot but blush to confesse ; yet let not the
honoor of your fruiour towardes me, be a cause of your
Noble's heart^mrning against me ; for though my studie
hath beene somewhat in the languages, yet hath my
trauaile beene so little in these courses, as I rather feare
to decdue your expectation, then to dischaige the desire
of my dutie : yet if it please you to impose this charge
vpon me, though it were with the losse of my life, I
would thinke it well laied downe in your sendee.
Well (quoth the Duke) let it suffice thee, that my krae
vnto thee shall put off all causes of discontentment that
maie be in this sendee ; if I fauour thee, which of my
Court, that will not befriend thee? and thereforeprepare
thy sdfe for this ioumey, for I will make choise of no
other : and thus ending his speech rose vp fiom his
seate, and walking into the garden met with his daughter
the Princesse Merilla, accompanied with diners Ladies
and Gentlemen of the Court, whom saluting very
gratiouslie he passed by them, and taking his daughter
by the hand walking aside with her mto an open grecne
walke, fell into this taike with her.
Merilla, my kme to thee I knowe thou doubtest not,
and my care of thy well-doing, is not the least chaige
of my kNie, and the effect thereof not the least happi-
nesse of my life: thy brother thou knowest is trenalled,
God knoweth whither, nor when toretunie, if God blesse
him not the better : now if he perish either in the seas,
or the warres, what comfort bane I on the earth but in
thee, and in thy well doing? Thou art nowof yearasto
make choise of thy happinesse hi phicfaig thy affectfon,
and is there none hi our Court that can please thee in
that point? make thy choise where thou wilt, I will
leane thee to thy sdfe, and wiU not crosse thee in thy
comfort: ondy be not base hi thy affection, and thon
Shalt be gmtious in thy kJndnesse.
The Ladie (as it shouM seeme) haufaig had some
priuat conference with her seruant Rantifo, of whome
she had some notice of her father^s talke with Signer
Speito, about the dispatch of him firom the Court, made
him this humble answere: My Giatious fiuher, your
carefiill kme of mee doth so faire binde me to you,
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i6
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
besides the dttetie of nature, that if I should not be
obedient to your will, I should thinke ill of mine owne ;
and to bee a discomfort to your kindnesse, I wish I had
rather neuer beene borne ; for my brother, so long as
you beare no ill newes, hope of the best of him : and for
the placing of my affection, it shall be onelie gouemed
by your fauour. But I am glad to heare yon giue mee
warning to beware of basenesse ; for ^gnor Sperto
would haue perswaded me not long since, that I could
not bee better graced then in gracing y« vngradous, w* a
world of idle wordes spent to verie little purpose : for
indeede father, his wit male be full of cunning, but I
feare he is like a false apple, rotten at the heart : for
assure your selfe he is not sound to you in loue, that
seekes to robbe you of my seniioe : but wheresoeuer it
shall please your Maiestie to command my content, in
the heauens and your honour shall be the direction of
my affection : thus hauing a little quitted Signor
Spertoe's kindnesse, she ended her speech.
When the Duke in some kinde of discontentment, to
thinke of Jack-an-Apes his moris-danoe, thus replied to
his faire daughter : Well MeriUa, regard euerie man in
his kinde, and for that I finde him fit for some seniioes,
I will not suddenlie put him out of fauour, though I will
thinke of him as I haue cause, and finde a time to vse
him accordinglie : in the meane time laugh at his follie,
& keepe thy affection for a better friend ; I will a while
leaue thee here among thy kinde friendes, to soUace thy
selfe in this garden : and I will walke a little about my
parke, with some of my counsaile. So will I leaue him
a while gone into the parke, till his retume againe into
the pallace, and I will tell you what fell out with the
Ladies in the garden.
There were three young gallantes of the Court that
had determined to trie their vrits to laie this ladie
aboorde for her loue ; ' vpon this agreement betwixt them
that he that woon her fauour shoulde oommande the
other as his seruantes, and so euer after should call
them. Whereupon finding now a conuenient time to
trie the fortune of their aduentures, singling themselues
one from the other, one of them thinking himself not the
worst witted, began thus to salute her. Faire Prinoesse
how well to entitle your worthines I know not, but if my
vnworthines may haue fauour in your patience, my
seruice should bee made happie in your emploiment
The LAdie not making anie shewe of disdaine, with a
modest smile made him this answere. Truth needeth
no eloquence ; for your kinde offer of your seruice, I
wish you a better preferment, but if I should be so vaine
as to trust you, wherein would you giue mee leaue to
commande you ? The gentleman with this sweet seem-
ing speech halfe perswaded of nothing lesse then her
fauour, with all humblenes fell into protestations so fai
of his affection, that if he disobeied her command, or
not fulfilled her request, let hfan die with bis ill fDCtnne,
or bee disgraced in her fimour : whereupon with great
thankes she made him this answtare. Syr, for that
finding the greatnes of your good wil, I would not bee
thought vnkinde in my requitaU, marke well what I nie
vnto you. You shall neither drawe your purse for a
penny, your sword against an enimy, nor your foote
from this place, so that you shall be neither at cost, in
feare, nor danger for me, and yet performe my request,
and you shall bee assured of my fauour.
The gentleman fearing that die had mocked turn with
some matter of small importance, made her this answere.
Madame though by the slightnes of this seruice, I fears
the weaknes of my fortune, yet ezpresse your com-
mandement, and consider of my desert : for be it hard
or easie, I will either die or do it Then (quoth the
Prinoesse) without further talke, you see yonder is a
diall vpon the wall of my father's window : you see the
shadow vpon the dian, stand here till you see the shadow
mone, and then call me to the sight of it, I desire no
more for your seruioe.
The poore gentleman there bound by his oth to
performe his protestation, fell to stare out his eies, and
nere the better for his looking : whome she had no
sooner left in that poore taking, but she was set vpon by
the second ; whome after a great deale of idle talke to
little purpose, shee tooke vp in this manner. If I should
thinke that you could not dissemble, I should thinke you
lacked wit, and if I shoulde trust you without triaU, you
might condemne me of follie, but if in regard of your
protestations I should make proofe of your aflectkm,
might I presume of your performanoe, in making proole
of your sufiidencie.
The poore man as prbude of his hope, as his vnhappy
friend, would refuse nothing, make no exceptions, but
command and it was doone, or let it cost him his life :
whereupon to abridge the tediousnes of their discourse,
she put him to this peece of seruice. Sir (quoth shee)
you see this Apple-tree before you, I praie you watch
the ripening of them, the heate of the Suik I heare wiU
change their colour, and fill them fiill of redde streakes,
I praie you when you see them begin to diaogeeolouie,
call me, that I male see it, and I will require no more
seruioe for the assurance of my fauour.
The poore gentleman swome to his taske. tooke him
to his worke ; where losse of his labour oonld get hfan
nothing but repentance : but in that gasuig mase he
had not stood long, but the thirde followed his feDowes ;
whome after much needles talke, shee put likewise to
this seruioe. Sir (quoth shee) I am eaailie perswaded
that vpon easie pdntes you woulde performe an easie
peece of seruioe, but had I neede of your hdpe in any
matter of difficultie, I male periiaps fiule of your pa>-
formauttoe. Hee poore man as wcO -deeehied ■» th«
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
n
cett. In the pridt of his opinion, making the worlde bat
a wiilke, the Miesbal fi brooke, md wonders but trifles,
in req>ect of that which he would do lor her, reodoed
this oonunandement for his emploiment. Sir (quoth
shoe) you see hare this tnfte of gnsse, watch the shoothig
of anj one of them, and call me that I male see the
growing of them; and it is all the semioe* that I meane
to pot you to for all the fituour that I can afforde you.
The gentleman forced either to folsifie his fiiyth, or to
prone the third foole, tooke him to the ground, ^diere
he sate downe in vaine, to see that was not possible.
3ut while they were thus standing either in muses or
maces, retnmed the Puke into the garden; where
marueyUng to beholde those gallantes in those tnnes,
haning heard y« caasc, tokl his daughter it would be
some disgnoe to her greatnes to offer such discourtesies,
as to charge her seruantes with impossibilities : yet
smiling at their follies, desiring her to release them,
whidi she soone granted : he celled Randfo vnto him
not far off walking with a gentleman of his chamber ; to
wbome being come before him, being diq)osed to be
merrie with him, tolde him of his daughter's handling of
her sutors : bm (quoth he) let me intreate thee not to
make report of this qualitie in her, least It bee a hurt to
her great bappinessr, when such as male be wortbie ber
faoour, male take dislike at ber vnkindnesse.
Santifo not a little pleased to see her so put off her
gallant suitors, and yet much discomforted in opnoeit of
bis departure, told the Duke, that such trials of her wit,
would encrsase the titlesof ber honour, and for bhnseUe,
be would not wish to liue» but to honour the roialtie of
bis boose : which the Duke seeming to take verie well at
\Aa faaaddes, after a fewe ordinarie Courte words, leau*-
tng his daughter with her friends and attendants in the
garden, retired himselle into his chamber and so into
his ck)set : where I will leaue hhn for a whiles at his
etndy. and bis daughter in the garden fahie hito some
talke with her seruant, whcrof I wiU speake heieaftsr,
■Ml I wia retnnie to tell you what followed of Pcnillp
and his fortune;
In this time of Penfflo his being vpon the tea, oom^
ming from Uie Empeiour's Court, he met with a shippe
09ingfor BaUno the chiefe dttie of his oountrey, and in
the shippe found one Mario Doronte, the Merchant that
iot bmibt ouer RantSfo, the Duke Ordilloe's sonne,
into that oountrey, of whom, making the shsppe a while
lo attend hiai, after that bee had enqufa^ of Mm of the
heakfi of Ibe Duke OrdiUo and his faire daughter the
Wnoesse bis ntatris, writing a few bumble lines to his
fother, with a token of kindnesse to his sister, giuing
toinewhai to the eaflsm, ft likewise to Mario Dorcmt«,
saaking hliwsclffi lowardes the Islaades of Cotael, left
Ibem to the beanens* blessings. This Mario Dorooie
Mug by misfofinnei at eea deoayid* and inning jmm
51
iummes of money due vnto him, in the Islandes of
Balino, with his irifo and two children, determining to
leaue his owne countrey. and so take bis habitation in
some of the cities of Balino, put to sea in the shippe
then going for the chiefe dtie in the llandes. Not IQ
stand long vpon needlesse pointes, the winde and tide
seruing well, within a few dales thi^ arriued at the
Hand, in a hauen neere mtQ the cittie Dohio, neere vnto
the Court of the Duke Feronte, Where they had not
lodged manie dales, but the deoaied Merdvmt haning
occaskm to make petition iq the Duke, for mcanes to
. oome by his mony of his Creditonrs, taking his wife and
children with him, as well for comfort of their oompaniei.
as to moouepitty in the Duke the more for their sakes ;
met at the Court-gate with Rantifo going abroad into
the parke with his mistris the young Princesse ; who
looking well vpon the olde man, and his little iismilte.
after a fewe questions of bis fortune^ and the cause of
his comming thither, tooke his petition, with promise
not onely to deliuer it to her fiuher, but in what her
power coulde doe with him. to effect the speede of his
pilte ; and in the meane time for his reliefe gaue him a
purse with two bundceth crownes. Rantifo not a little
oommeoding this gratious bounty in the young Princesse,
calling to minde the crueltie of his owne fortune, and
noting the miserie of bis ; not willing to make hims^e
knowne vnto him, gaue him yet these wordes to comfort
him ; father, if I were not suddainly to depart hence into
the Hand from|whenoe you oame, I would assure tboe
much of my firiendship, but I will entreat this Ladle in
mine absenoe to foUowe and efiact your comfort : wbieh
she wiUinglie promised, and after happilie effected. Bui
ere I go anie forther with the discourse of their fortunes.
I will leaue them for a while, and rstunie to PeniUo. the
Duke Feronte his sonne.
This gaUant young Prinoe was no sooner landed at
the ooast of the llandes, but with great roialtie bee waa
attended, and with great ioie weloomed to the Court,
where, how his mistris refoioed let the hearts nf true
loucrs ooneeiue, for I can not ezpresse ; but let it sulfifie
that, though both their contents met in oneconiunction,
yet fortune the swome snemie to aU fettcitie. fell now to
deuise crosses to their comforts : for not long had he
beene there makiag merle with his fatre mistris, but tbo
Duke his father haning by the deoaied Merchant
recahied a letter of bis Sonne's makleg toward those
Ua^ds, whither he was forthwith to send Rantifo vpon a
disoontentlne messege, wrote % letter In all post to Me
sonne for his speedie mtume Into bis aooBliry ; vpe«
the sight whereof, not a tittle agrieued 10 leant Iba
Court, where be was to kimllio entertnbied, uA
especially bis fairs mfairit the young Maoosse of whom
be was so dotrely behmed, aad yet priteriagfais Istber'a
fauoor bcfort his owne pltamm, 1
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i8
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
of discontent, with thankes to the Duke for all his Roiall
kindnesse, and secretlie assuring the joiing Prinoesse of
his kinde and constant affection towatdes her, tooke his
leaue of the whole Court, and returned home to hu
countrey. But I will leaue him vpon his ioumy homo-
wards for a while, and retume againe to Rantifo, who
was sent embossadour to his owne father.
Rantifo takfaig leaue of the Duke his master, and the
fiure Prinoesse his mistrls, was now put to sea, for the
Ilandes of Cotasi, leauing the decaied Merchant's suit to
the fauour of his aforesaid mistris : but ere I tell you
anie further of the Merchant and his suit, I wiU tell you
what became of Rantifo and his fortune.
Rantifo being now come to the Ilandes, and so to the
Court of Ordillo, at his first comming was honourably
entertained, but after the delinerie of his message, not
so kindlie welcome ; yet whether for feare of a further
mischiefe, or hope of vnlooked for kindnes, all discon-
tentment was concealed, and he brought vnto the Duke,
who setting his eie well vpon him, began in himsdfe to
finde somewhat in his aspect that did so much content
him, that his embassage did not so dislike hhn, but his
presence did much more please him : wherupon he gaue
oommandement to haue him well lodged and to his
place in all duties entertained. But Rantifo after that
be had deliuered his embassage, being answered that the
Duke desired time to determine of his answere, writ
home to his master of the Duke's answere to his
demand, and vpon answere that he should stay the limits
of his delaie, he tooke his lodging as neere as he could
to the Court, where he might see out of his window the
Ladie Bilanta his sister the young Princesse, walking in
the garden of a Ladie that had a house neere adioyning
to the Court ; whose doore opening into the garden of
the house where he was lodged, he tooke occasion one
faire evening to stand in the doore where she passed by,
and noting a kinde of gratious glaunce toward him, he
aduentured to salute her vrith this kind of greeting :
Sweete aire, sweete flowers, and so sweete a creature, is
not this a Paradise if there be anie on this earth?
Indeede my Lord, answered the Princesse, a sweete
^irit in a sweet nature, can finde s¥^eete humour, but I
praie yon what hath mooued you to this sweete kinde of
salntadon ? Her vnknowne brother, not minding yet to
be knowne, replied againe : Madame, your selfe is the
grace of all the good that I speake of: and if yon would
let me flatter yon with particulars I would tell you as
orach as you alreadie knowe ; but if the worde of a
stranger male go currant in your Court, will you voudi-
safe my seruioe the fauour of your entertainment ? The
Ladie smiling at his plaine kinde of lone-making, and
yet loath to put him to sDenoe with a sullein kinde of
answere, toldehim, that men of his place had their wits
otherwise emploied, then in trying the weak humours of
yet quoth she, my Lorde, if I were worthie
such a seroant, I would not doe dishonour to a stranger;
but is it possible that your Lordship can spende thus
much breath, but to passe awaie kUe time? Trudy
Madam, answered the embasaadour, though I desire not
to bee thought a wanton, yet I assure you for my
vnfiEdned affisction to your worthinesse, since the first
houre that I saw yon I hane not left to thinke of yon,
and am so glad here to see yon, that wherein myseruice
male purdiase your content, it shall not be slacke in
your oommandement My Lorde answered the Prin-
cesse, Cupid hath but a blinde sight, and hot affections
are soone quenched, but if your word and thought agree,
you male in time be quited in your kindnes. Whenas
the Lord embassadour was about to replie vnto her
speech, a messenger came suddenlie vnto her from the
Duke her fiEither, presenUie to come to him ; whereupon
iHth humble thankes for her kinde fauour, they bmke
off their talke for that time, she going to the Duke, and
he backe againe into his lodging ; where I will leaue
them for a while, and retume againe to tell you what fell
out in the Court of Feronte the Duke of the Hands of
Balino.
The young Princesse gladde that this decaied Merchant
had such a suite to her father, tolde him that if vpon the
dispatch of his petition and receipt of his money, bee
would retume into his country, and conuaie her oner with
him as a seruantto his wife, she would effect such expedi-
tion as should be fiillie to his content : The poore man
hauing receiued such bountifull reliefe at her handes, as
bound him mudi to her seruioe, putting all feare aside
of what hurt might be&ll him, if it were descried, pro-
mised her to doe his best in all the seraioe hee could
deuise her : whereupon to be briefe, she became a suter
to her father for the Merchant, and by her hnmble
importuning his comfort, gat his grant dispatched;
which no sooner was effected, but with aD the speede
that might be, carrying crownes enough to defray all
charges ; in the apparell of a prentise, that the Merchant
had got for the purpose, finding a shippe ready to put to
sea for that countrey. stole awaie in a night-tide, and
with a merrie Gale soone gat to the shore that they
made for. But nowe will I leaue to talke further of
them, for a while, and I will tell you a fewe wordes of
the occuirents in the Court of Feronte the Duke of the
Hands of Balino.
The young Prince bebg now returned home, and with
great k>ie recdned of the whole Court, the Duke in no
little maraell that his daughter was so k>ng absent, sent
vnto her lodging to knowe the cause of her staie, but the
messenger returning with no bodie there, and now fiearing
that his strange embassadour had stolne awaie his fidre
daughter, caused present search to be made for her in
all his prouinoe ; but hearing of no word of her, grew
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
19
into such a rage, as not able to bane patience to heare
bis Sonne touching the Roialtie of his entertainment,
sware presentlie to leuie an Annie, and in r^[ard of his
indignitie to bee reuenged of the whole countrey : and
with this resolution went forward. But I will leaue him
in his choler nowe bent to nothing but reuenge, and I
will tell you a few wordes of the merchant and his oom-
The decaied Merchant nowe by the meanes of the
3fOUQg Prinoesse hauing made a hapi^e voiage, comming
on shore with his familie, and this new page or rather
prentise, mette by great happe with the Lord-embassa^
dour that was sent from the Duke Feronte, in a disc&>
tentiue message, walking with the Ladie-Princesse his
sister, and an attendant or two of hers onelie, going
forth of a Castle of the Duke her &ther's neere that
place, onelie to take a little pleasure in seeing the com-
ming in of the shippes : and doing reuerence to the
whole troupe the young Prinoesse called the Merchant
vnto her with these wordes.
Alas good Mario, how doest thou? how hast thou sped
with thy businesse? whati didst thou carrie thy wife and
children with thee ? how daredst thou to aduenture them ?
Trudy I am glad thou art come home safe againe with
them ; I knowe thou arte poore, and for my sdfe thou
knowest I am yet not my selfe, but if I liue I will doe
thee and thy kinde wife some good ; for I haue knowne
yee both of a childe, and haue had manfe a prettie iewd
of yee, for which, I hope one dale to requite thee : Thine
honesty wOl be pittied, and shall not bee forgotten ; my
remembrance male do thee good ; and for that I know
not how thou art furnished for money, holde thee, take
this purse at my handes, a hundreth crownes will doe
thee no hurt, though not the good I wish thee. But
what prettie boy is that thou hast with thee? Themer*
chant with teares of thankluU kindnesse reoduing her
bounty, tolde her that it was a prettie youth of the
Hands of Bcdino, that hauing a desire to see that
country, came with him in the shippe, desiring him to
put him to some good master ; at which words, the
embassador looking stedfestly vpon him, and ranembring
bis mistris, asked of the Merchant if he would bestow
him vpon him. The Merchant knowing the Page's
minde, was verie well content with his demande, and
asking the Page if hee wonlde make choise of him for his
master, seemed verie willing to agree thereto, when the
Ladie no lesse fixing her de vpon the Page then the
embassadour, and no lesse a£fecdng him then hee did,
with a modest countenance made this speech vnto him.
My Lord, you know your aboade in this countrie is
not oertaine, and this prettie wagge comming hither,
dther to see the countrie, or to leame the languages, if
he should retnme with you, he might be little benefitted
byhistiauaile ; but if it maie please you to bestoweyour
good will on me for him, I will take that rcgarde of
him, that he shall not repent him of his seruioe. Madame
(quoth the embassadour) if I should deny you so smal
a request, hauing so great an interest in my seruice,
you might well mistrust me in a matter of more import-
ance, if I shoulde feUe you in this. The page vnknowne
to anie but the merdiant and his femilie, who had swome
secrecy in her behalfe, hauing no time to meditate what
to doo, and seeing her seniaunt the embassadour, now
as it were in k>ue with an other Ladie, was content to
accept the Ladle's kind offer ; and so leauing the mer-
dumt well recompensed for all his kindnesse, attended
them to the Duke's Castle : where I will leaue the em-
bassadoure after leaue taken of his mistris the young
Princesse his sister, yet vnknowne, going to his lodging,
and I will tell you a little of the Ladie and her new page,
as great a person as her selfe.
The Princesse looking oftentimes vppon her page, and
finding in his feature a great resemblance of her loue her
brother, willed a taller to be sent for, whome shee com-
manded against the next morning, to bring her a peeoe
of white satten, of which should be made a sute of
apparrell for the page ; and so commanding the boie to
attende her vnto her chamber, shee called for a lute,
which, hearing of him vpon demand of his qualities,
that hee had some little skill in, willed him to make her
a little musick, which both in his touch and voice, she
liked so wdl, that she began exceedinglie to feuour him :
but after musick donne she willed the boie to walke into
the garden, and there gather such flowers, or such
firuites, as best might like him, and in the morning she
would put him out of his prendce suite ; which hee
willinglie did, and hauing gathered a handftill of roses,
& plucking off an apple called a Pome-roie; hee
returned in to his mistris the Princesse lodging, who at a
windo¥W noting his solemne kind of walking, and the
fruit that he gathered, after his comming vp called him
into her chamber. But first let me tell you a little of the
page's speech that he had to himselfe in the garden, yer
he went vp^
Oh poore Merilla, what a misery art thou falne into ?
left thy countrie, thy father, thy firiendes, and all thy
home>fortune, to followe a stranger, who hath betraied
thy affection, and abused thy fauour. Women are said
to haue their wiUes wauer as the wind ; but oh felse
Rantifo, no sooner come to the Sea, but thy loue is gone
into an other worlde 1 Rantifo, no, thou art Fantiro, the
Duke's Sonne, whatsoeuer be thy concdt to conceale it
from thy father, and Bilanu is thy sister, howsoeuer
thou hast made her thy mistris. But alas, what will
become of thee ? when thy mistris shall know thee to be
thy sdfe, how will shee vse thee ? if I reueale what I am,
can she other then disdaine thee? our parents bdng
scarce firiends, if thou renealest the cause of thy com-
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10
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
nfting^, will shee not Uuigh at thy foUie, and ttiake H
knowne to the wortde? If she do not, it is more of the
heftuens' blessing then thy merite, and of her good
nature then thy wit Sale that now sfaee dothsomewhat
like of thee, shee maie befe then out of kme with thee,
and yet it maie be that for her lone to her brother she
male be kind to me, and at my hnmble entreatie, oon>
eeale my follie from the wotlde. Well. I will hope the
best, till I see the worst. And so determining to make
her sdfis knowne to her mistris, she went vp into her
lodging, where being come to the princesse she fell
agahie to her musike, wherein ^e did so please the Prin^
eesse, that she thought euerie hour a yeere tOl she had
some priuate conferance with hbn ; for which she staled
not long : for after that she had commanded all her
attendants out of the chamber but the page, willing him
to laie downe his hite, shee fell aboorde with him in this
maner. My prettie wftig. if thy mistris should haue
oocaston to employ thee in a secret peece of seruice,
Wouldest thou so laie it vp in thy bosoine, that no man
ahonlde peroehie it ? Madame (quoth the page) for my
secrede, 1 holde it not the least pan of mine honesty,
and therefore make you no doubt of it, but if my suffi-
dencie answeare not your expectation, I beseech you let
mee entieate your pardon, assuring your honour that I
shall hate my selfe in sladdng my dude in your seruice :
but good Madame be not angrie if my good-will bee not
fortunate ; for my heart I protest, you haue bound it to
you, in the fieuth of much affecdon«
The Ladle not a little pleased with this speech, gane
him this kind answeare. Ihy aifiection is the best part
of the seruice that I wHl desire at thy handes. for to tdl
thee trueth, I neuer sawe the &ce but one, that I hked
so well, or could thinke to loue but thine, and for him,
hee was a noble personage, son and heire to the Duke
Feronte of the Ilandes of Balino, who is lateHe gone
home, and I feare wiU neuer come againe ; such heart-
tniming is growne betwixt our parentes, vppon the
paiment of a little monie : vngodUe kinde of drosse, the
cause of much mischiefe in the world ; therefore t must
haue patience with my passion, for euer hoping of com-
fort at his hands : but for his sake whose foatoie me
thinkes I beholde in thy fiftce, I did first afiect thee, and
do nowe for his and thine owne sake I must oonfesse
entirelie loue thee \ be wise therefore t diarge thee, for
in reuealing my loue it male endanger thy life, and in
concealing thy comfort, thou Shalt ^de the honour of
thy fortune.
The Page with a great sigh at hb brother's absence,
tiut more agrieued at the discord of the two Dukes, with
her des readie to shedde teares, made her this humble
answere: Good Madam, shall I humblie begge this
lauour at your hands, that you will vouchsafe to keepe
secret, what I will commit vnto the oneUe care of your
honooraUe fcindnes, wherein you male either sane my
life, or procure my death? Sweete bole, quoth the
Princesse, let me not ttue, bat I will doe more for thy
lone then I will speake of : and for my secresie, suspect
nothing that maie hurt thee, and spodte fredie wbetin
I maie do thee good ; thinke I cannot vse thee nUdndUe.
Then good Madam, answered the Princesse. I will tdl
you a strange yet true tale: The embassadonr thai
seemeth to bee your louer, is your brother, tonne to the
Duke your fitther ; his name is Fantiro, sought to be
slaine by a murtherer hired thereto by your vnde latdy
dead, but to saue his life sought by the malice of your
vngodly vnde, was deliuered vnto the decaied Merchant
Mario, who brought him as a Page to our Court, I meane
the Court of Feronte, the Duke of Balino my fiither ;
iR^Mse daughter I am, brouglit ouer in this habit that
you see, oneUe to come to the sight of your brother my
onlie bdoued Lord on this earth. Your brother for my
loue, was tyy a wretch hi our Court wrought hhher to this
embassage, but such waa his caiiage in our Court, as
from his first setting foote into fenour, he dailieenoeased
it, by his mudi wen-deseruing ; »o that there was no man
of good spirit but looed Mm, and were sorie to pan with
him, and for my alfection to him, let my trauaile wltnesse
my truth : Nowe for the loue that hi nature you beare
your brother, for theldndnes that you male finde requited
In my brother, for the honor that you beare vnto lone,
and for the kme that yon beare vnto honour, let me
humblie l)eseedk you to conceale my foOie, and in what
you may to be a friend in my affection.
The Mncesse with a modest UuSh smlUng at her dis-
course, made her this Mnde and gratious answere : Sister,
for so win I k)ue thee and esteeme thee, as I cannot be
happy in any thing vnder heanen, but hi thy brother's
kme, which I holde as deere as my life, so if my brother
doe not hi an honourable sendoe dther requite or deseme
this thy khidnesse. t protest to renounce him fbr my
brother, and detest hfan as mine enemSe : be therefore of
good cheere, and feare no euill : thy fortune shaU be
mfaie, my bedde, my table, my purse, yea and my been
dianbeaDatthydisposingtodoetheegood. And thus
will I leaue them togither in their kinde taUee, and I wffl
tdl you a little of the Duke Feronte, and his sonne.
The Duke Feronte, in no little rage to thinke of the
fosse of his daughter, notwithstanding that he had heard
bis Sonne's repoR of his Roian entertainment, foHowed
on his determination for his intended waire against the
Duke OrdiHo, where his embassadour was too wdl to
retume, and hb feire daughter was taken lane's prisoner ;
and therefore calling his sonne before him vsed these
WQides vnto hfan : IVnlUo, I bane made thee acquainted
with my resolution for my reuenge of y« wrong, that I
haue recdued of Ordfflo ; om of whose countrey, I wffl
fetdi my fond daughter thy vnhappfe sister, dther dead
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
21
or aHae, and therefore prepay thy aelfe to pat off all
oonoeh of his kiadneSi and gaine the encrease of my
lone, by the honotxr that thoa shalt get vpon mine
The yomig Prince, sorie to haue sndi canae to carrie
annes against the fiuher of his fidre mistris, and yet
vmriDing to be disobedient to his father though it were
ifae aduentme of his death, did humblie iSrame him this
answere : My Qratioiis fiuher, I would be loath to dis-
twade yoa firam yonr setled resolution, but yet let me
tell you, that ahhough lone hath in my sister wrought a
foBie, ^han tlie malloe of a wicked spirit so poison your
eare, that such a foriepossesse your heart that no sparke
of patience can haue place In your conceit? It win bee
thought to the greatest part of your Court, yea and
almost to your whole countrey, that Slgnor Sperto hath
beene the Idndler of aU this fire, and the breeder of all
these warres : I wonder not a little that your Qraoe
oonlde endure to heare of his presumption, in maldng
lone to my sister ; who I thinke bee rather runne into
another countrey to tile the forttme of her affection, then
to ttoe at home to abide the vnfitting suite of so iUkuoured
a aealuie : whom, but that he hath the name of a man,
If I did not the better know him, I should surelie take for
a monster. But if I male b^ge so much fiEiuonr of your
Qraoe, as to grant me my humble suite, I beseech you
beginne lustice at home, and I hope we shall prosper the
better abroad. Let Sperto in regard of his malicious
practise agahist a strenger, and presumpdon in troubling
the paticace of your daughter, be openlie called before
you, reprehended fbr his follie, and banished your Court
Ibr his offence ; and I doubt not but your maiestle shall
see the venome of his vile nature droppe out hi his right
Unde, my sister hononblie returned to your good fauour,
and your warres tume to such a peace, as all that loue
yon shall be glad of. I speake not this like y« Prince of
Ptgmdes that should be affiraid of Cranes ; but that I
will attend yon in your wanes, where I hope an honour-
able triumph wHl be better then a bloudie conquest : but
fidl what will, I win not line but to bee obedient to your
kne ; and therefore wOl be readie, when it shall please
you to attende you.
The Duke not a little noting the good counsalleof his
discreet Sonne, wilUng his son to be in readines agahist
a daie shortUe after appointed hfan, caused Sig. Sperto
forthwith to be brought before him, to whome with a
Sterne countenance he Tsed this speech : Sperto» I Wue
king giuen eare to thine unsuspected subtiltie, but of late
hadng sounded the reacSi of thy ooncdt, I will hde open
thy cunning: In the time of Rantifoe's being in our
Coorte, thou couldest nener cease to ring in mine eares
some cause of dislike in him, which I tooke well at thy
faandes In rq^arde of thy Imagined care of my good; but
nowe I flnde the ground of thy vngtatlous woildng
grewe from the malicious feare in thee of his fiuxour from
my fiaire daughter, whom thy vnworthie selfe wouldst
hMie bewitched w* wicked eloquence : let me tell thee,
for that I haue in some occasions of hnportftce made
good vse of thy seruice, thou shalt not be vm^garded,
for I will make thee recduer of my customes : but for
thy saucines with my sweete daughter, driuen out of our
countrey by thy Aogged. meanes, I win out of hande haue
thee made an Eunuch ; and so commanding one of his
Surgeons, to take him to his charge, to dismember him
of his implements, fell in hande presentlie with his COun-
saile, to go forwardes with his resolution for his warres :
while Sperto with the conceit of his miserie, craning
leaue of the Surgeon to spare him till the next mommg,
when his griefe being .put a little oner, he should with
the more strength endure his torment, rather desirous to
go to hdl quicklie then to hope for heauen with repent-
ance, with a paire of his owne garters hangde himselfe
in his owne chamber. But leaning thus the wicked
wretch to his wofull end, and the furious Duke in his
inexorable anger, proceeding onwards with his warres ;
I will ten you a fewe wordes of the two Ladies Merilla
and BOanta. the imagined page that I left togither in
their chamber within a Castle of the Duke OrdOk).
The Ladie BUanta, after she had secretlie conferred
with the Ladie MeriUa, touching both thefr loues. mind-
ing to make her selfe merrie with a prettie conceit,
after that they had past a night or two in priuat talke
togither how to bring all matters about to their best
contentment* seat for the embassadour her brother in
all kindnesse speedelie to come to her ; who no sooner
recdued the message, but laying aU businesse apart,
came to his sister, whom he then called mistris, little
thinking indeed to haue found his true beloued and
lotting mistris so neere. But being come into her lodging
and wdl-entred into her chamber, commanding apart
all her attendantes, sfaee thus fell faito talke with him.
Senumt, though perhaps it maie seeme isamodestie hi
a Vhgin of my sort to glue sodi entertainment to a
stranger of ^lat sort soeuer he maie be, as I am pei^
swaded your honourable kindnesse wiU deserue ; yet
let me entreat you one feuour to tdl me without dis-
sembling, if I am the first obiect of your deerest affection,
or whether you nener^ue had anie mistris that you haue
helde anie espedaU account of, and hath worthiHe had
the promise of your lone? Thidy Madame answered
her brother, as bee thought mkaowae to her, I must
confesse I had a mistris sibiom I so decfdy k>ued and so
duelie senied. that had I anie possible hope to entoie the
finiit of her fiiuour, I shoulde hate my sdfe in the loue of
anie other, but shee bdng so ferre from the comfort of
all sudi concdt, I thinke it no dishonour to my lone, to
doe seruice to the vertue that I finde in yon ; for if I
could be so vile as to thinke you a base thought, death
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22
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
bee the rewarde of my desire, and to presome lurtber in
the best nature of honour then maie stande with your
good £Eiuour, might condemne mee of follie, and pertiaps
ouerthrowe my fortune, but in such good termes to doe
you seruioe as maie please you to accept, I thinke it a
duetie to Chiualrie : but for mymistris I protest had yon
euer seene and knowne her, you would haue thought as
much good of her as I do, and wish her as much happl-
nesseasl want
The Ladie smiling at this answere, would needes
know her name, and whence she was : who tolde her that
she was the onlie daughter of his master the Duke
Feronte, her name was Merilla, and she was the Ukest
ynto the Page that she lately had from the Merchant,
that euers he sawe : Well (quoth the Lady) no longer my
Lord embassadour, but deere brother, I am glad to see
thee heere, for thou art my brother, and that shall my
£BUher knowe ere long : thy mistrls is more worthie of
honour then our whole oountrey and thy life can giue
her : and with that worde. Page quoth she to the Ladie
Merilla, I praie thee take thy lute and play and sing thy
wish: which she being in the chamber vnseene by
meanes of a curtein of Crimsin damaskft drawn betwixt
them, tooke her lute and plaied a note to a dittie, which
she sung as foUoweth.
The Song.
I Would thou wert not frUre, or I were wise :
I would thou hadst no £ue, or I no eies :
I would thou wert not wise, or I not fond.
Or thou not free, or I not so in bond.
But thou art &ire, and I cannot be wise :
Thy sunlike face, hath blinded both mine eies :
Thou canst not be but wise, nor I but fond.
Nor thou but free, nor I but still in bond.
Yet am I wise to thinke that thou art &ira,
Mhie des, their purenease in thy &oe repaire :
Nor am I fond, that doe thy wisedome see :
■ Nor yet m bond, because that thou art free.
Then in thy beantie ondy make me wise.
And in thy face, the Graces guide mine eies :
And in thy wisedome ondy see me fond :
And in thy freedome keepe me still in bond.
So Shalt thou still be frure, and I be wise :
Thy foce shine still vpon my deerM des :
Thy wisedome ondy see how I am fond :
Thy fieedome ondy keepe me still in bond.
So would I thou wert fidre, and I were wise :
So would thou hadst thy free, and I mine des :
So would I thou wert wise, and I were fond :
And thott wert free, and I were still in bond.
The song was no sooner ended but Fantiro (for so wil
I henceforth giue him his right name) oftentimes chang-
ing coloure, as one in many passions at the hearing
both of her voioe, which was so like his mistris the Ladie
Princesse MeriUa. as might be ; and remembring the
dittie to be of his owne compiling, and that hi secret he
had giuen it vnto her when hee first perodued her fauour.
after he had commended her voice, as he was about to
speake somewhat of his passion, his sister vppon the
soddne caused the curtein to bee drawne, when hee might
see in a ridie suite of her apparrdl, the imagined page ;
but in deede his mistris standing by a windowe, with her
fruse towards him : when his sister sedng hun stande as
one amased, vsed this speech vnto him. Why, hownow
brother, doth thy heart frule thee? how dost thou like
this aght? thou hast I knowe often heard that a girle
will tume to a man, and is it then vnpossible, that aboie
maie as well tume to a woman? What ailest thou? dost
thou feare thou seest ashadowe and not the true body of
thy mistris? or hast thou beene fidse vnto her in thy
faith? and therefore art feardul of the heauens' dis-
pleasure to plague thee, with some worse spirit, then
thine own ? for shame go to her, bid her welcome ; it is
thy mistiis ; I do not dissemble ; be thankfrill for her
kindnfisse and deserue her loue.
The young Prince ashamed anie longer to stande hi
his mase, sedng his mistris in little better tune, to behold
her seruant and assured louer so strange vnto her, as if
he dther had not or would not haue known her, went
vnto her with these words. Madame, thinke it not
strange to see me in this perplexitie of minde that I am
in, so much is my vnworthines of this and manie your
honourable fauoures, but espedalUe this triall of your
affection hath so bounde mee to jroiir seruice, as if the
aduenture of my life maie make proofe of my loue, let
me die like a viUaine if I do not honour your vertue.
The sweet Lady with modest Idndnes as much as she
could concealing the greatnes of her ioie. as wdl in
beholding her loue as hearing his vndoubted true pro-
testations, made hun this sweete replie. My deare loue,
for so dare I heere tearme you, when I had no know-
ledge of that title of honour, that now I heare and am
glad to vnderstand dulie bdongeth to you, my loue was
in the same nature that now it is : your vertue wonne my
affection and your kindnesse continued my content ; your
noble cariage assured me of your constande & al togitber
haue brought mee hither to recdue my comforte, not
caring to loose the loue of fiither. brother, & friend,
honour, wealth, ease, & all other worlde's happmes that
Balino could haue procured me, to aduenture the Seaes,
In the poore habite of a Prentise, in the seruioe of a poore
decayed Merchant, to come into a strange oountrie, to
abide what fortune soeuer might befiUl me, onelie to
acquafait your Undnes with my loua Nowe if your
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
n
greatnesse haue not altered your goodnesae, nor my
immodesty hane withdrawne your affection, thanke your
honourable sister for her kindenes towardes mee, and
bee your selfe your selfe vnto me.
The young Prince with as much adoo as could be to
abstaine from teares of Undnes. to thinke of this sddome
seene fojrthfun aflfection in so faire a creature, made her
this comfortable replie. Sweet Princesse, in whome
nature Tnder the heauens hath shewed the pride of her
perfections : how shouMe I hue to oounteruaile the least
part of this your exceeding honorable fiuiour? Had I
ten such Dukedomes, I would lay them al at your feete,
and were I the greatest Prince on the earth, I would
bee gladde to bee your seruant : but as in regarde of
your first affection, I am bounde to honour you with my
seruice ; so for this your last honour, myloue IvowshaU
euer seme you : and now laieby all thought of strangers :
this land is youres, my Ceither I know will rdoyce in you,
my selfe vnder heauen, will haue no k>ie but you : for I
protest without dissembling my worldes i<^e is wholie in
you. And thus will I leaue these loners with the other
Ladie in this their secret kinde conference, and I win
ten yon, what followed of Mario the decayed Merchant
This Mario the Merchant, hearing newes in the Citty,
that the Duke Feronte was comming firom Balino, with
a great Armie against the Duke Ordillo and his country,
thought good no longer to oonoeale the Embassadoure
his Sonne from him, and therefore comming to the Court,
and hauing obtained meanes to hane some priuate con-
ference with the Duke, in fewe wordes deUuered the dis-
course of aU that I before haue recited, both of his
escape from the intended murther of his maUdous Unde,
of his carrying him ouer, of his preferment in Court by
him, and of the cause of his comming thither in Ambas-
sage : aU which recounted truly as it was, with the com-
ming ouerof the Ladie Merillain the attire of a Prentise,
for the loue of his son Pantiro, so pleased the Duke,
that he not oneHe kindly gaue him thankes, but ridily
rewarded him for his good newes, and loiallie considered
an his honest, and kinde deaUng : and presentlie caused
his Sonne the Ambassadour to be sent for, whom he
welcomed with such a ioie as such a iather might such a
son. Who hauing recounted aU his fortune, his fruher
the Duke cansed his sister the young Princesse to be
sent for ; to whom he not onlie gaue thankes for her
carefuU and kinde vsage of the young Mncesse Merilla,
but charged her vpon his blessing to continue aU Und-
nesse, that might ghie her knowledge of the iolftdl loue
that shee should finde both in himselfe, his Court, and
his whole countrey: and that for a fewe dales shee
should seeme to conoeale it from her, that he knewe of
her being in his Court, tin he had made preparadon
euerie wale fit for the entertainment of her presence.
And thus wiU I leaue the Ladies passing thdr Ume to- I
gether in priuate conference of thehr dlilefest comfortes,
and I wOl retume to the Duke Feronte nowe hauing
gotten his forces togither, marching with his whole
Armie towardes the sea, minding to make for Cotasi,
where nothing should content him but a conquest.
The Duke resolued vpon his determination, dther to
leaue his bloud, or take his reuenge, dispatching awaie
a post with letters to his embassadour for the defiance
of his termed enemie the Duke, and proclamation of
wane with him and his whole countrey, caUing his sonne
▼nto him, vpon a rocke on the seanside in the middest of
his Armie made this speech vnto his people. The long
iniurie that I haue borne at the handes of my vnfriendlie
neij^bour Ordillo, besides the debt that hee oweth me
and neuer intendeth to pale me, togither with my
extreme griefe for the losse of my ondy daughter, that
ondie through a fonde a£fection carried I know not how ;
to a stranger I know not whom, conuded away by a
bankrout, or decaied merchant, if I male better terme
him, into that vngratious piece of ground where OrdiUo
hath his gouemment : these I sale with manie other iust
causes of discontentment conceiued against y* proude
Prince and his stubbome people, haue caused me to put
on the resolution dther of death or reuenge, which shan ^
no waie ende but in conquest or submission ; as manie
therefore as either regarde our loue, or haue anie hope
of our fiuiour, let them with willing heartes foUovre the
honour of my resolution, protesting that whatsoeuer he
bee, that shan in the least sheweof fearetume hisbacke
▼nto the enemie, if hee were as deere to me as mine
owne Sonne, he shan die in the place where I finde him :
but hee that shaU with the fortune of his forwardnesse,
bring me the Duke or his sonne, dther dead or aliue, I
win so regard and reward him, that he shan leaue honour
to his posteritie : the vrinde serueth wen for our passage,
and we shan finde them perhaps vnprouided for our
comming, so the easier win be our victorie and the
shorter our warres; if not the sharper our fight the
greater wfll be our honor, and since feare is the badge of
villanie, let y% auoide the shame of such condition : and
as manie as loue dther our crowne or countrey, holde vp
thdr handes with me : who then in the whole campe,
that had a hand, but he would holde it vp? Wen to
grow towardes an ende, as the Prince said, so said the
people : the Duke set foote aboord, and an the Armie
followed him : the winde serued, the saUes were hoised,
and the anchors wded, and awaie they went : where I
win leaue them for a while, and retume againe to OrdiUo
the Duke of Cotasi and his sonne, Feronte his embas-
sadour.
The post hauing been with the embassadour as he
thought, but now rather an enemie then a friend, if this
quandl should go forwarde, peroduing the intent of the
Duke his late master, rather chusing to be an vnkinde
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24
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
seruant then an viiDatiinU sonne, wrote vnto him, that
the case was altered, hee had nowe chosen an other
master, whose loue hee knewe was such vnto him, that
seniing him fidthfullie, woulde not vse htm vnkindlie :
his embassage was ddiuered, and nowe this must bee
his answere, as in Idndnesse hee might oommand much,
so by the contrarie as little : his comming was more
expected then feared, and his wdoome should be as he
desenied : and for himselfe, if his fortune were to his
hope, he should find a kinder seruant then he had done
a master : with these and such like conclusions, dis-
patched awaie.
The young Prince, presentlie vent to his lather the
Duke Ordillo, with whom and his Couasaile ooniiBrring
vpott the seruioe speedelie to bee had care of; taking
order by Yertue of his Commission, to leuie a great
Annie, as well to encounter the enemie as in diuerse
places of strength to stand for defence, if anie occasion
should be oflfered, being secure for anie fieare, or doubt
to be oueruken, hearing by a Finnish that being at sea
descried the fleete so Cure, as by meanes of crosse
windes and ill weather, they could not in fiue dales come
neere the shore of their countrey; after he had a little
reposed himselfe after his tnuiaile, considering the great
discomfort that his mistris the young Prineesse migbt
take vpon the rumour of these warres, making all the
meanes hee could to haue it kept ftom her hearing, tooke
a coouenient time to go to his sister, with wbome bis
mistris as yet remained. But as such kinde of persons
most inquisitiue of newes are not without their intelli-
gencers, so fell it out, that the post was scarce at the
Court, but his message was knowns to the young
Ladies, whose priuate conference vpon the same, before
Fantiroe's comming to than* was as foUoweth.
Merilla considering the manie sorrowes that were
now like to fisdl vpon her. the aswranre of her Other's
displeasure, the doubt of her brother's loue, and the
feare of the young Prince her seraante's death in the
seruioe, was euen so appauled, that (foUowii^ the
humours of women) first to sigh for a little giiefe of dis-
obedience in nature, then enfolding her annes, as lament-
ing the doubted losse of her brother's loue^ and last of
all, weeping with feare to loose the comfijrt of all her
worlde's hope in her deere beloued and kinde louing
Lorde, in the misfortune of the warres, was by the
young Prineesse her seruant's sister ccmiforted with
these wordes.
Sister, so will I nowe terme thee, for so doe I holde
thee, and so doe I hope to haue thee, and so will I euer
loue thee ; take not too much griefe at anything that
either feare or doubt may put into thy head ; let this
comfort thee that thou art not alone in thy miserie : if
thou hast left a father, thou hast found a friend, and if
thou hast lost a brother, thou hast found a sister: choler
and mriancbolie gouemes the spirits of the aged but
kindnesne and mirth should be the humours of onr
yeares : nature biddes youloue your father, so yon maie,
though you do not iiue with him ; but loue biddes yoa
line with your fiieade, which you can not if yon befrom
him ; and let me tell you, that as wdl as I seeme to
beare it out, I am stoong at the heart as well as you : I
loue your brother as deerdy as I can deuise, bat for bis
affection, I had little time to hope of and too little time
to enioie. Nowe my fiitber I loue* as you doe yourSt
but your brother I cannot lone as you doe mine, for I
cannot enioie his presence, as yon doe my brother's: yoa
fieare the fortune of the wanes, and I both fDrtune and
the wars. I woold my case were yours or as yours, that
fortune would do her worst, so I had but my kwe to
looke on : be therefore content, put off this mourning,
this warre may breede a blessed peace, fior when the
Princes are both in the field, my wits shal faile m« bol
I wil plot such a piece of serok^e, as bath neuer been
heard of before, and I beleeoe onoe executed, will not
be forgotten in hast The other young Prineesse mncb
oomfiprted to bane soch a companion in her crosses, and
that the heanens didfiuionr b» afiectkm, or else fortune
would not haue bin so kind to her In her aduentuies,
taldng a little hart of grace, loath to die with oonoeit,
wVmt greater cause then she yet had, lor though her
head was much troubled with imaginations, yet nothing
came so neere her heart bat a k)oke of her loue would pat
it quite out of place, yet vdth a little kinde of heaoinesse
made her this answere: Good Madamr , if the miseries
were far greater than I endure then I bqpe they euer will
be, yet of such force are the perswasions that you bane
vsed vnto me, that I should beare them with sueh
patience, that I should forget nmcfa of the paioe : bnt
yet so manie are the thougfates of griefe in my headt
that but for the oomibrt of yoor honourable kindnesse,
would doe me but a little good in my heart : I mustcon«
fesse kme isthe lifie of the heart, bat what is the dale
that oomes but like lightening? little better then darke
night Yoa cannot moume so much for the lacke of
your hope, as I for the losse of my happinesse ; yonr
loue maie bee forcible for the time, but it Is not of so
long continuance as mine, and for that the eie sees not,
the heart gzieaes not : you feare the fortune of the
warres, and I wishe fior nothing bat peace. But sister,
since you will haoe it so, and I would it were so eoerje
way that yoa wishe, till the warres bee determinedl can
be at no quiet, fior If my brother die, you loose yoor
loue, if your brother perish, what ioie haue I in the
world ? if fortune f auour my fiuher, my comfort will be
Utile with my affection, and if yoor fistber haue thefielde»
downe goes the honour of my house : so that I can po
waie see how it can go so weU, but wofull wOl bee the issne
ofwhatfiortniiesoeaerbefiRll; but good Madi^, if tbers
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
25
b^ ante humour in your heade, that maie giue comfort
to my heart, I beseech you acquaint me with some little
sparice of your conceit
I will quoth MeriUa her swome sister : and as she was
beginning to vtter some part of her minde, her brother
Fantiro the young Prince came in, who with a kinde
CoQgee, lacking no grace to entertaine time with such
Gratioos creatures, finding them in alike tunes for their
humours, somewhat too neere maidens* melancholic,
hoping to remooue it with a Corpus habeas, fell aboord
with them in this manner : Ladies, all faire fortunes
befiidl you I what fowle weather doe you dreame of that
makes yon'droope so in your countenance ? I hope sister,
you are not affiraid of sparrow-blasting, and for my
Bweete mistris, I would I knew the cause of her disoon*
tent, I wouM soone procure her comfort
The Ladte with a merrie goe sorrie, not yet hawng
fttllie acquainted him with her lone to Penillo, the Duke
Feronte his sonne, now oomming in Armes against her
father, made him this answere : Brother, my sister and I
are both sicke of one disease, I would we might both
alike bane remedies : but these wicked wanes haue put
▼s both in such a plight, that till they be at a point, we
are not like to be at rest : her brother as deere to me as
she to jTOU, I bane no cause to hope euer to eniote, so
manie are my perswasions thereto ; yon are not yet pos-
sessed though bdoued, and maie bee lost though neoer
enioied, so our crosse carding gets nothing but sorrower
our beads are so lull of doubts, and ourheartes so full of
feares,Ispeakeformy8istcrasmyselle. WeUanswered
Fantiro, for my mistris let her be comforted with this,
that my life I maie leese, bat shee my loue neuer ; and
for your feares and doubtcs, they are incident to your
natures, and therefore you maie the better awaie with
them. But deere mistris, quoth he^ turning to Merilla,
bee not dismaied at anie thing, feare nothing, the praiers
of a Viigine are ezoeedinglie e£Eectiue, I am perswaded, if
anie liue in the fielde, the lot would &11 to me and your
brother : for our loues and your praiers cannot but
prosper togither. And for my loue, thus much will I
aaie to satisfie all conceit of your imagination, that so
honourable is the nature of my affection, and so gratioua
the honor of your vertue, that I should hate my sdfe if
I should offend you ; but in doing you seruioe, shall bee
my resolued bappines. Time giues me not leane to
solemnise the rights of our desires, and therefore will I
attend the issue of my fortune, to performe the care of
my duetie, ere with the hasdng of my bappines, I maie
displease the honour oi your patience : fai the meane
time, assuring my selfe that my sister will be to you as
a second selfe, I wHlleaue yon to her kinde companie till
you mate heare further of my wished comfort.
His mistris the young PHncesse not a little pleased
whh thte speech of his, wherein taking her cUefe notes
51
in the assurance of his neuer dying kme, the prosperitie
of the Viigine's praiers, ft the patience of his affection
to attend the issue of his fortune, with a heart as full of
greefe, as her des weeping ripe Could conceale, made
him this short answeare. My deere loue, in the midst
of extremities hope is the comfort of the miserable, and
though I see no perswasion of comfort in the issue of
these warns ; yet will I not despaire of the blessing of a
peace : let my life march with thy loue, and my praiers
with thy actions, and if the fieues be not too frowarde, I
will hope ttie best of thy fortune : and for your patience,
it is a proofe of your oonstande ; and for your care in
committing me to your sister, it is the true witnesse of
kindnesse in your selfe. What shall I sale? if wee
were not women, we shoulde haue hearts like men ; but
as we are, giue vs leaue to shew our weakenes, till we
be comforted with your bappines : and for that I know,
your carefiill experience is not a little oomforte to your
ftuher, in this action, I will entreat you if it maie be,
not t<o thinke of me, till I mate come to you, which in
the warres is vnfit, and in peace is yet vnlikely.
His Sister withall came in with her fine penni&morioe
in this manner. Brother, though yon cannot bee out
of loue, yet now you are in hand with other matters,
troubte not your sdfe with thinking of vs, till neede
be : foiget not your selle, and we will not forgette
you; foUowe your businesse, let vs alone with your
humoures : the powers of heanens bring all to a good
ende.
The young Prince with a thankfuU An^en to their
prayer, tooke his leane of them both and returned to
the Court, where I will leane him with his Cather, pre-
paring for his Annie, and the two Ladies in thdr
chamber, parting stakes in oonceites ; and I will retume
to Feronte the Duke of Balino and his son Penillo,
who with a great Annie vrere in sight of lande, but for
some politique occasions to take the benefite of time,
did anker all nighte in the Road before the Harbour ;
at which time the jroung Prince desirous, by some
resolute aduenture, to gayne some espedall honour,
humbly besought the Duke his fisuher, that hee would
Toudiaslie him leaue, to haue the leading of the Van-
guarde, the first dale of seruice, and the first night to
haue the setting of the watch : both which in regarde.
as wdl of his earnest suit, as for the skill that he sawe
in him, and the honour that he had gotten in the
Emperour's wars against the Turkey was granted him.
But after a oounsayte helde by the Duke himselfe, his
Sonne, and all his honourable followers, for the pitching
of his Campe, and determination of his seruice. taking
some littte repose, till the first breaking of the morning ;
as soone as they had light to serue thdr turns for land-
ing, they made all the hast they coukte a shore : where
I will leane them for a white pitching thdr Tents, and
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26
THE STRANGE FORTUNES
prouiding for their wars, and I will tdl yoa a worde or
two of the two Ladies, that I left in their chamber.
Bilanta hauing receaued newes that the enimie was
landed, and that the Dnkes [being] both hi their Tentes,
there was like to be a battdl out of hand ; began thus to
talk to her sister Prinoesse. Sister did not I tdl thee that
I would plaie a mad part? wilt thou do as I do? venture
our lines for our loues ? if we shal be sisters let vs ioine
handes and heartes to take part alike in our fortunes : I
will not stirre a foote from thee : what sajest thou?
The Ladie amased at her manner of speech, and yet
knowing the nature of her loue, made her this answeare:
Sale and it is done ; for I am no more then you will
haue mee, if I fayle in my loue, let me &1] with my life :
I will make no exception knowing the honour of your
discretion, but stand vpon this resolution.
Our fiuuies of one feather.
Let our loaes flie tofcidier :
what yondolwilldo, ifldleforiti care not Then
quoth Bilanta, ten to one, but Penillo will be the fonnoct
man in the field, and perhaps to striue for honomr, male
step ypon a stone of danger, where if his foote slippe,
hee maie happen bee taken ip yer he rise. My lather
and my brother are I am sore in their Tent, before whom
eoflrie man must come that will seeke preferment in this
peeoe of seruioe. Now let ts plaie the gaUantes, gette
Armour, and fomishe our sehies with Armour, sworde
and Pike, and let vs with our bmgonettes cfose oouering
our feces, as strangers vnknowne^ make suit to the Duke
my fether and my brother, to hane leaue before the
battel, to do some peece of seniice in his honour : and
saie that vre are young Knightes that will not be knowne
till our actions be performed, but that we come from
two Ladies (I mesne our sehies) who were sent by them,
with this chaine of PMrle to gratifie the Duke and this
JeweU my brother, the better to obtaine kane for the exe-
cution of our attempte. Nowe if we get lease as I doubt
not it maie be, we shall be h^pler then we looke for.
Good sister (quoth Merilla) agreed, I am for you : if
I durst aduenture the danger of the Seaes, to follow my
6iend, shall I feare anie course in the companie of my
kinde sister? No I betide me life, or death, I will take
part with you in your fortune. Then sister (quoth
Meiilla) wee two will arme oursdues like to gallant
youQg souldiers, and being vnknowne when our Van*
guards are put down, we will go to the Duke my
father's tent, where ten to one, wee shall finde my
brother with him ; to them will wee present our sehies,
by a friend that I haue made for the purpose^ who shall
not anie wale reueale vs, but make report, that wee are
two strange kn^tes, that for our honoures haue anowed
to fieare no dangers, nor slippe any occasion of aduen*
ture : and hearing of late, of this Umam of the arriuall
of the Duke Feronte and his Armie, will vpoo him or
some of his chiefe Generals performe some such lesohite
piece of seruice, as maie well approue more loue then
we will protest, both to his Maiestie and his oountrey,
wliidi peiformed, wee will then reueale oor sehies, our
names and conditions, ondy we will entreat bat this
fauour, that we maie alone without further companie
hane leaue to march this night towardes the enemie,
vpon whome we hope to gaine such honour, as maie be
to the' Duke's content and the benefite to his wliole
eountrey ; and the better to procure this feoour, I wID
canie this chaine of pearle, that with a letter to the
effect of this suite I will canie, as written from me to
my brother, which with this chaine of pearle diall be
gluen him as from mee : nowe if we obtaine our suite
wee will to the fidde, and through the daike trie our
fortune. It glues me in my mfaid, the young Mnce
your brother will be somewhat gallant vpoo the spleene,
and steppe further then he is aware of: which if he doe,
and we light vpoo hfan, it maie bee it wOl make a short
warre : howsoeuer it bee I am resolued if we be taken
prisoners, wee shall reoerae no great hurt, and if we die^
our sorrowes are at an ende.
The Princesse Merilla smiling at her innentkm, and
haning past her premise tofoUowe her in her enterprise^
was as good as her worde, went with her faito a priuate
chambfr with her sister Bilanta, where they fdl to coo-
ferre with a secret friend^ for the better effecting of
thdr intent, where I will leaue them like Amasones
fitting thdr armomi, to plaie the partes of madde
people, and I will tdl you a word or two of the Duke
OnUno, and his sonne Fantiro.
The Duke making preparation for the next dale to
answere the enemie both horse and foote, and after
good order taken for eueiie thing according to his
desire, calling his sonne vnto him, with oertaine of his
Lordes and prindpall men of Armes, vsed this roiall
speech vnto him : My good friendes and followers, the
matter that we hane now in hande, is of no little
moment, when the lines of our sehies, wiues and
children, our libertle, our landes and goods, and our
honour and reputation for euer in this worlde, standeth
vpon the issue of one dale's seruice, wfaerdn the tiinm-
piiant shall bee blessed and the vanquished hi a manner
vtterUe confounded : our enemie is angrie and fierce ;
now it beoommeth vs to be patient and valiant : for
nothing more dannteth fiirie then the banishment of
feare, which in a fidde is commonlie the cause of the
ouerthrow : Radines maie be hurtlull, but oowardise is
tlie shame of reason. Let vs therefore put on resohi-
tion, to be readie vpon the first summon, to answere
the enemie : ours is the better quaxrdl, hee would hane
that he hath no neede of, and we cannot spare that he
will oommande ; now our pouertie hath made his pride
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OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
V
to swdl to such a hdght, m I hope will come down: for
if eaerie one be of my minde, be shall bane a sharper
fafeakfittt then he bad a sapper : which if bee digest not
the better, male happe stidce in bis stomacke till his
heart ake : our stiengthes are well fortified, bat shall we
looke on him a fine off? and be afraid to take him by
the hand? no, I am olde, and first to thee mj sonne I
speake, ft so to all mj friends, I will neoer retome to
my Coort witfaoat great contentment to ray oonntrey :
and be that kMetb meor himsel£B let him laiedowne bis
life with me in this seruioe : I 'fffi leade yon, foUow me
that will ; and let him die qnoth bis sonne, that will
not : to which praier was sooh a genenH Amen, that
with the cheerefahiesse of eaerie one, it seemed they
rather thought of a banquet then a battaile. But not
hwg they were in this resolute consultation, but the two
Ladies, before spoken of nowe armed at all pointes like
sooktten^ were brought before the Duke and his Sonne ;
who after the reading of the letter, and deUoerie of the
cfaaine of peeile, with much adoe obtained their suites
without the companie of anie more then tbemsehies, to
trie their fortune in gaining honour vpon the enemie ;
who leaning the Duke with his sonne in their tentes, in
die dim night marched towardes the enemie, and vpon
the sodaine fearing to be descried by some scoute, am-
buscaded themsdoes in soch sort, that they would be
sore of their puipose, ere they would put their honours
fai adoenture ; where they bad not long rested, till they
metto with the happfaiesse of their whole hope : but I
win kaue them there ck)se waiting for their fortane, and
tell you a fiew wordes of Penillo the young Prince, sonne
to the Duke Feronte.
This roiall-spirited youth, euer spurring for the best
fortune, and haning that night (>btained of the Duke bis
fitther, the charge of the watch for that night, and the
leading of the ▼anguarde the next morning : lookinge
vonnde about him, and seeing no cause of feare or doubt
of enemie, the moone though dimlle shining, yet gluing
so much light, as might descrie a lesse shadow then a
souldier^s, with his tnmcben in his hand and his rapier
at his side, waJUng as it were carelesse of all fortune,
tbinUng none within the hearing, fell thus to talke to
himsdfe : Oh poore Penillo, the most vnfortunate man
lining, to come with honour from the seruice vpon the
Turke, and nowe to makeaquarrell, with alas too weake
a Christian, what shall I doe ? Imustfollowemyfiuher,
to fiOl out with my friende : OrdiUo Tsed me like bim-
sdfo, and shall I be vngrsteftiU, in the greatest vnkind^
nesse? but Bilanta my loue, what will she thinke of my
fidth, to shewe such finites of my affecdon? Oh I am
not my selfe, that cannot be hers, and yet in my heart I
am hers, bowe harde soeuer be my happe : but I must
not be nmaturall, and I would not be vnkinde : what is
to be done? O beauens doe thatwhlch I cannot deuise.
kMie is dfadne. and as the nature is of my afiectkm, so let
me prosper in my fortune. Which word was scarodie
out, when the two Tnknowne soldiers laied bold of him,
and carried him prisoner to the Duke OrdiUo : before
whom when they bad brought him, the Duke bad them
for rewarde of their seruioe, aske anie thing whatsoeuer
his court or oonntrey could affoorde them, with protesto-
don vpon the sword of honour, not to denie, nor to
delaie them : but before the demand of the souldicrs for
their promised rewarde, passed these fewe words betwixt
the two Princes.
Fantfao the yoong Prince seeing the sonne of hb
enfanie prisoner, the more to abate as he thought, the
pride of his spirit, entertained him with this welcome.
Your fortune is like your quarreH, no better then I wish,
and as it begfameth, so I hope will bee the ende : disgrace
at the first, thinke what wm bee the test. WeU (quoth
PMiillo) I am nowe not my sdfe ; had not fortune thus
throwne me into thy bandes, thou wouldest neuer bane
dared to hane vttered one of these wordes ; and bad I
my libertie, I would make thee shake for this presump-
tion. Who, mee (quoth the Prince Fantiro) Thou art
deoeyued, thou shalt see bowe little account I make of
thy too great minde ; go take thy libertie, see what thy
second fortune can do vpponmee ; but hadst thou me at
thisaduantage, what wouldest thou do to me? Vse
thee (quoth the Prince) nowe prisoner, as thou dost mee ;
glue thee thy liberde for charitie. At which wordes the
young Prince Fantiro smiling at the greatnesse of so
roiall a spirite, with better wordes perswaded bhn to
When the two Ladies takhig off their Bmgonets,
descrying themsdues to the great admiration of the
Doke, the young Prince, and the prisoner, and all the
beholders neere them, demannded their rewardes in this
manner. Merilla by her trauaOe through the Seaes,
losse of ber fiuher^s loue, her brother, friendes, and
countrie, desired to bane Ibr her rewarde the young
Prince Fantiro, whome the Duke with no little gladnes
was content to yeeld vnta Bilanta in the aduenture of
ber life, in y« atchieulng of this honor, pleaded a blessing
of the beauens for the enioying of her loue, which was
the prisoner. The other young Prince, who seeing bis
fortune no worse then to fidl into sudi foire hands, was
nothing mwilUng to hane the Duke's worde performed.
But I will leane them awhile determining of the enent
of these fortunes, and I will speake a little of the duke
Feronte and his passions.
Nowe the morning following the duke expecting his
son's comming to his Tent, to take the charge of the
vanguarde for that daye in the sendee intended, but
neyther seetaig nor bearing of bhn soo long that be
grewe into some feare least some mishap or other was
come vnto him, fdl at last into this speech with himself.
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38
THE STRANGE FORTUNES OF TWO EXCELLENT PRINCES.
Oh Feronte, TDder what planet wert thoa born? or what
offence hast thoa committed against the heauena, to haue
these heauie fortunes befiJl thee in thjaged yeeres 1 thy
ondie daughter as fiill of vertue as honour ooold wish, to
bee stofaiefrom thy Court by a stranger, and perhaps thy
eninue : thy sonne more deare to thee then thy selfe,
haning wonne honour in the seruioe of the Emperoor, to
loose it in the goaemment of a meane Prince : naie
more dost thou not rather doubt of his deathe, then hope
of his life, hauing no notice what maye become of him.
Oh too much valour I ieare hath made thee too for-
warde : Is it possible that thou liuest, if thoa hast
lighted faito the hands of thhie enimies? No, thy spfaite
is so great, that it will not let thee yeelde but to death ;
and if thou dost line howe canst thou hope of anie thing
bat crueltie, knowing the condition of my comming?
Wen, all thhiges are at the heauens' disposing, to whome
I will referre the hope of my comfort : If thoa liuest
Sonne, I wiU redeeme thee ; and if thou diest, I will
foOowe thee. And thus in extreame passion, determyn-
ing the aduenture of his owne life, to take reuenge of
his son's fortune, vpon the sodaine came a Heranld of
Armesfrom Ordillo the Duke, with this Ambassage vnto
him, that if it woulde please him to remit all inhnries,
and to accept the submission of modi kme ; the in-
tended warre should tume to a eontinuall peace : he
ihoalde haue the dcmaade of his desire, and more ooo-
tentment then he coold eapecti
This message in the midst of his manle griefes, so
pacified his wrath, that he bad y« Herauld teU his master,
that his words were currant weight with him, and that
if he would in person meete him betweene both the
campes, he shoidd see what comfortable effect his Und-
nes had wrought with him : with which wotdes, and a
bountifiillrewarde for his good message, beeretuniedto
the Duke hii master ; who vpoo the reodt of the message,
came presentlie out of his tent, and met with y Duke
Feronte, according to appointment, to whome after a
kind of humble greeting, hereooonted all that happened
of both their children, and that in regard of the debt
that he confessed due vnto him, he would if with his
fimour bee might endowe his daughter with his whole
Dukedome ; whidi discourse and profer so pleased his
much-appawled mfaid, that causing al the children to be
brought togither on either side, in steede of sfaarpe
intended war, made so blessed a peace, that the booses
▼nited in mariage, lined euer after in much tome,
and the sooldiers al oommanded to laie by
their Armes, after much feasting, and
manle triumphes returned home
withnolitle
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
SnsTLS-DBDiCATOtv to loHM LiNSwaAY, .Esqoire,-
notes to 'A Dislogo* full of pitha aod pletuore' (i6o3)i, and
' An oMe Man's LeMon ' (i6o5)~-bodi dedicated to Linewmy :
L t, 'vM*MM«#v'sdiahoiieity ia its tmnfldon fom: L $,
'ifwcts*—*tt Gloaiarial Indeii, #.9.
To THX Readbk, L 7, ' rew0rdim£' = aTi
Page 5. coL i, I. 7, 'cmet^tuJ and U. S^ '^MfrfMr'— inthe
original tneae words by oventgnt change places : 1. 31, ' M«f U
lMrMr* = not unready when so required: L 41. 'MitctaeU*—
auaprinied * spectable'— these and oChevi sbnilar have been
comded : col. a, L x\ 'm«nm/' s treat elongated and it is
well to record aU suchdongations, especially in prose, asjgiving
light on a Shakespearian critical matter : L 17, *cmAmmf* s
on the confines of or neighbouring: Lej, 'ntrenumf's ceased,
at before--and see on L f6^ mpra,
P. 6^ ooL I, tt. 67, */A# C^mrtUv't L00kim£ Glat*e*^-on
teariniscences here of Shakespeare or ihint panllels, nee our
Ifenorial-Ianoduction : ool. a, U. 30-33— on these and other
proveriM preserved by Breton aho see our Memorial-Introd.
P. 7, ooL I, I. II, '/imnw'srkrious: 1, 43. 'OeMmmm'^
the open sea : L 5a, y0i#tf#<M4^— see Gkasanal ladez, «.o. :
ooL 8,L 30. 'Mm' s boast t
P. 8, ool. I. L 38, *»WM^'= red-deer see L 4*: L 53.
•trutiud'^f Glossarlal Index, «.v.: coL a, L eg^ *M«r'--
a
for ' now,' ' uiadTsriently left : L 43,
for Shakespearean critadam as applied to
P. 9^coL i.L36.'4|^/^'sliking:ooL a, a3oand35,
*«^Ud' and ^tyJMiMf'—ntt last note.
P. 10.C0L I. 1. 30b *n««»*'sashooteal: L 47. '/••^•-■•t
ooL a, L 3 (from boCtom),^rMWV**
Olossanal Index, «.v.
shooting.
P. IV, ooL a, 1. 19, ' I
4rtmiu»* as before the king and court :
1L4-3(<>« • ' '•"• •
. lLe748,«^#Atf
L 35, 'tirwcr' s gold :
L 4-3 (from bottom),— note 'Alliterations artful aid.'
P. 13, coL 1. 1. as, '/«^* = paling: L 8 (from bottom), «*•-
j^^&y^/^'simpaitiaUy: L ^Cfrom bottom), ' hmekt^Jrimit*
d^fftrtmilf
s secret en
P. 14, ooL I, L 37, ' TaiMtnt9rm€
«.ir. : I. 38, *cmMktP^iHd,
P. IS. coL 1, 1. 6^ * Burg9mei'-4Hd,
P. 16; coL I, L 36k 'tiboofdt'^ihid,
P. 17, col. I, L 10 'fMAr' — * '
Glosaarial Index,
rBi|uited • L 3S> mttcnttL s
liking: cd. e.
P. i&,coLa,Li4,'^iinf'
discovered.
P. 19, coL I. L 7 (from bottomX 'i|^/A|r' =
L 34» *P0tm-r9i* s royal apple.
P. aoL ool. I. L 17, 'oApwfirir'— see Glossarial Index, j;o.:
last Une, 'fntd' s fodish.
P. aa, ooL a, L 6, 'ttm^USn^ »compoahig— a weed to be
spedaUy noted, here and ebewMMf in rslation to semi Miony»
moos works of Breton. See Memonal-Intraductkm.
P. as, coL a, L aa, 'pitmU asgrfcy'— eee Gkiaaarial Index,
«.». o.
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>?H.XSXXS^^^>-$-«>?^>^>?xx^
CROSSING OF PROVERBS.
1616.
T TTTi'Tr^rifTf f't'Srsrrr
52
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NOTE.
* Crossing of Proverbs ' like ' The Figure of Foure' was probably published much earlier than
any exemplar now known. The earliest recorded is the edition of 1616. A copy of this is in the
British Museum, but unfortunately lacks the title-page to the first Part, and perhaps Epistle, etc.
Mr. W. C. Hazlitt (Hand-Book s.n,) records the title-page from evidently some Sale-Catalogue or
MS. authority. It is given opposite this from the ' Hand-Book.' Along with this is the B. M. copy
of the ' Second Part' Its title-page is given at page 7 of our reprint The binder of the British
Museum little volume has stupidly placed the ' second Part ' at the commencement instead of the
middle. The catch-word before the second title-page is — CROS — and so reveals the mistake.
We have of course corrected this. The B. M. copy ends abruptly with the catch-words ' A. Cardes,'
and so is imperfect But from a later edition from which the date has been cut off, we have been
enabled to complete the second Part The following is the title-page of this later exemplar :—
CROSSING
OF
PROVERBS:
A Merry Book;
Divided into two Parts ;
The First part containing many
pleasant Jests, and Proverbs of several
sorts. The second part contains
many excellent Questions
tjidAnswfrs,
Which win yield comfort to the
Hearer : Merriment to the Reader,
pleasure to the Buyer, and pro-
fit to the Seller.
Newly Corrected with Additions.
The last part, by a R. Gent.
London
Printed for William Wkiiwood, at the
sign of the Bell in Dnck Lane near
Smithfield. ... [8 leanes la^.]
It will be noticed that this bears to be ' Newly Corrected with Additions.' A critical examination
shows that this was a mere Booksellei's trick. So far from being ' Corrected' it has a number of
Utmders, e,£.y * Most' and ' worst' for ' More' and 'worse ' in the well-known proverb ' More haste,
worse speed/ and ' Give give ' for ' Give gaue ' (» gaff), and one proverb and cross and words, care-
lessly dropped. * Vertuous ' is substituted for * honest,' • sweetest ' for * sweet,' and * a ' for * the,' and
the like. As the 'second Part' expressly bears to be by *N. B. Gent '—exactly as the 'first'— the
'Additions' must have been contained in 'the last part' No copy of it has been preserved Of
course as being by some ' B. R.' not Breton, this is of no consequence to us. Evidently these
booklets and others of the same kind had unbounded popularity. See our Introduction for more on
them, and on some of the Proverbs, etc. — G.
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CROSSING
OF
PROVERBS:
Crojfe-Anfweres
And
Crojfe- Humours,
By N. B. Gent.
At London:
Printed for lohtt Wright, and are to be
solde at his Shop without New-
gate, at the signe of the
Bible. 1616.
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Crofling of Prouerbs.
^' T^Qrtnne fimonra footes.
r^ C Not so, there are fooles enow, batthere
is no fortune.
P, Woemen are like Waspes in their anger*
C Not so, for Waspes leaue their stings, but Women
neoer leaue their tonges behind them.
P, Virgins are Angel-like Creatnres.
C. Not so, for then thejr would not bee so proud of
their beauty.
P, Musicke is comfortable to the eare.
C, Not when the braine is foil of bttsinesae.
P, A good Huswife is a lewdL
C. Not if she be a scold.
P, Good wine makes a merry heart
C. Not when the Conscience is wounded.
P, The neerer the Church, the further from God.
C. Not with the Religious.
P. Good wine needs no bush.
C. Yes, for trauellers that know not the house.
P. Drunkemiesse is counted good fellowship.
C, Not, but among bad fellowes.
P, The sunne shines through all the world.
C. No, not in a cfose chesL
P, Euery Bird is knowne by his feather.
C, No, Good-man ^>W hath no feathers.
P. Painted creatures are dead speakers.
C. Not so, for then many women would be sQent
P, Wise men are at peace with aU the world.
C, Not with some women* for they will neuer be
quiet
P. A Bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
C. Not if they be fast limed.
P. Money is a great master in a Market.
C Not so, hee is a slaue to a Begger.
P, Money is a continuall Traueller in the world.
C. Not so, for with some hee is dose prisoner.
P, Euery child knowes his owne fether.
Cross, Not, but as his mother tds him.
P. There is no paine like the Gowt
C. Yes, the Tooth-ach.
52
A Euery man knowes what is best for himselfe.
C. No not Mad-men.
P, Vsurers are alwaies good Husbands.
C, Not so, they may be badde to their wiues.
P, Good ware makes quick markets.
C, Not so, 'tis the money makes the speed.
P, Of idlenesse comes naught but ignorance.
C. Yes. Beggery.
P. Oppression makes the wise man mad.
C. No wise men will beare oppressions.
P. There is nothing stoln without hands.
C, Yes, a good name with an ill tongue.
P, Rich men are Stewards for the poore.
C. Not so, when the poore men's pence fill their
purses.
P, Abuses shew the comipdon of time.
C, No, it is the Timers.
P, A Louse is a Begger's companion.
C. Not when hee is in the head of a Lord.
P, Beauty is a naturall blessing.
C, Not in a painted woman.
P, Early vp and ne're the neere.
C Yes, he may haue a better stomacke to his dinner.
P, He that is wam'd is halfe arm'd.
C Not so, for words make no Armour.
P, A shrew profitable, is good for a man reasonable.
C Not so, the profit may bee good, but the Shrew is
nough
P, Two may keepe oounsaile, if the third be away.
C Not if a Woman be one.
P, Hee that is wise in his owne concdte is a foole.
C Not so, for hee that is wise is no foole.
Pro, The Euening praiseth the day.
Cros* Not so, 'tis he that notes it
P, Fkire words padfie wrath.
C Not in dogged spirits.
P, Ambidon endangers life.
C. Not so, 'tis the action that foUowes it
P. A winde Instrument giues a sweete sound.
C. Not in the ease of the CholUck downwards.
B
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CROSSING OF PROVERBS.
P. The sweUing of the belly signifies the dropsie.
C, Not in women with chad.
P. A Bagpipe makes more noyse then Musicke.
C, Not so, for 'tis aU mu<ricke though not of the best
P. There is no foole to the old foole.
C. Yes, the young foole is a foole too as weU as he.
P, Euery Bird hatcheth her owne egges.
C. Not so : the Sparrow hatcheth the Cuckoe's.
P. All Creatnzes are drowsie after Veneiie.
C. Not so, the Cocke crowes when hee bath tzod his
hen.
P. Nothing is swifter then the winde.
C. Yes thought, that is at heauen in an faistant
/> NotUng is more sobtill then the Aire.
C. Yes, the Diuell.
P, He that handleth thornes will pricke his fingers.
C Not if his CHoues be good.
P, There is nothing brighter then the Diamond.
C. Yes, the Snmie.
P. Pouerty pens good company^
C Not when Rich men part with eniiy.
P. Sicklies- soakes the purse.
C No, 'tis the patient that is soak't, not the parse.
P. Hee that is borne to be drownd, shall neuer be
hang'd.
C. Yes, PSratt drowne hanging at Wapping.
P, Sicknes is the cause of death.
C. Not so, for many dye that are not sicke.
P. A oonetons man is neuer liberaU.
C Yes, when he giues all away at his death.
P, 'TIS merry when Qottips meet
C Not if they £a11 out vpon the reckoning.
P, There is no fire without smoake.
C Yes ma flint
P. Pearles are restoiatiue.
C No, not the Pearle in the eye.
P. Religion is the rule of life.
C. Not to an Athiest
P, The law is costly.
C No, 'tis the Lawyer.
P. A short borse b soon curried.
C* Not if he be very foule.
P. A good horae that neuer stumbled.
C No. there is no such Horse.
P. Hard fare makes hungry stomackea.
C. Not among sicke folkes.
P. Many handes make quicke worke.
C Not among the Lasy.
P. A young Courtier an old begger.
C. Not if he be thrifty.
P, A good horse riddes ground apaoe.
C. Not if the way be full of holes.
P, A staffe is soone found to beat a dogge withalL
C. Not in a Plaine where there is no wood.
P. No extreame will hold long.
C, Yes, weakenesse in a Consumption.
P, Euery thing is as it is taken.
C Not so, many things may bee taken amisse;
P, A foole is euer laughing.
C. Not when hee is beaten, for then hee oyes.
P, Scolds and infants neuer litt baiHing.
C. Yes when they are asleepe.
Pro, Bounce quoth the gun.
Cros, Not so, Gnnnes cannot speake.
Pro. Bate me an ase quoth BoWm.
Cras. No I wil not bate him an ase: whofore
should 1 7
P, Content is a kingdome in this world
C. Not so for the world giues it not
P, Mony makes ftiendes enemies.
Cros. Not so, it is the euiU Tse of it
P, Neerer is my skin then my shirt.
C, Not where the flesh is imwe.
P. Nothing breakes the heart more then thought
C, Yes a bullet
P, Loue will goe through stone walls.
C. Not til there be holes in them.
P, One rotten sheepe will marre -a whole flodce.
C, NotiftheShepheardlookewelltothem.
Pro, Ouer shooes. ouer bootes.
C. Not except wil ouer runne wit
P, Lawyers are temponUlPbysiciattS, in helping weake
Clyents.
C, Not if their Apothecaries' bib bring their purses
into a consumption.
FINIS.
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CROSSING
OF
PROVERBS.
THE SECOND
PART.
WITH,
Certaine briefe ^eftions
and Answeres.
By B. N. Gent.
At London,
Printed for lohn Wright, and are to be
solde at his Shop without New-
gate, at the signe of the
Bible. 1616.
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iiei»r<3^r(3^ftabft<3^.^^^
/®6W«£W€6WCeV€^^^C&VC6V^^
The Second PART,
OF
Cr of sing of Prouerbs.
Proutrbs,
Every Trades-man knowes his owne ware.
Cros.
Not if his Female deoeiue him.
P. More hast the worse speed.
C. Not in the hast, but ladce of heede.
P. Hee that hath his eyes in liisbeadwllloolce about
C Not so, he may be blindfolded and then he can-
not
P. Wanton kisses are the keyes of stnne.
C. Not except the diuell keep the lockes.
P, Wane is the greatest dispoyling of a Kingdome.
C. Not so, a Plague if it continue, may be greater.
P. Giue, gaue, is a good fellow.
C. Not so, hee is a Churle that hath not charity.
P. Loue is the peace of the Senses.
C. Not where it is ioined with Idousie.
P. Witty women are sweet Companions.
Cros, Not, but when they are pleased, or dse they
are froward.
Prou, Crabbed minds are pleased with nothing.
C Not so, for nothing can giue no pleasure.
Pro, Kind heans are soonest wTong'd.
C. Not if they be carefuU.
P. There is no tree but beareth fruit.
Cros, Yes, the Sicamour.
Pro, High waies are lawful! for Trauayleis.
C. Not if they meet with theeues.
P, The greatest sort of fish keep the bottome.
C. Not so, for small Eeles keepe in the mudde.
P, Too much of any thing is good for nothing.
C Not so, what is good, is good for somthing.
P, Wishers and woulders, are neuer good house-
holders.
C, Not so. a man may both wish wd and doe well.
P. Taking of bribes is priuate theeuery.
C, Not so, for then there would be many hangd.
P, The teares of age are lamentable.
C, Not if they drop from sore eyes.
P, A merry Companion is a Wagon in the way.
C, Not so, for if your ioumey be long you may be
weary for want of carriage.
P, Hee is a fond fisher that angles for a frogge.
Cros, Not so, for hee may be a baite for a better fish.
P, When theeues fall out, true men come by their
goods.
C, Not so, Theeues may be hang'd, and true men
ne're the l)etter.
P, AH offices are places of esteeme.
C. Not so, not the Hang-man's.
P, There is nothing so sure as death.
C, Yes, life to the FaithfulL
P, Newes are like fish.
C. Not so, for then they would stinke when they are
stale.
P, The Mistris Eye makes the Capon fatt
C Not so, it is the good cramming of them.
P, Marriage is honourable.
C, Not when it is dishonoured.
Pro, Children are the comfort of their Parents.
C Not if they proue vngratiouB.
P, No trust to a drie sticke.
C Yes. that it will bume well
P, A light supper makes deane sheets.
C. Not so, he that is loose hi the hiltes, may make
workie for the Launderesse.
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CROSSING OF PROVERBS.
P, Hasty spirits neoer want woe«
P, He is a fond Chap-man that comes after the fisyre.
C. Yes. when they are pleased.
C. Not so, he may hap to buy better cheap in the
/>. As the Ufe is. so is the death.
market
C. Not so, for she that lined a Whore, may dye a
P, There is a time allowed for all things.
Bawde.
C No, not to doe euilL
P, Honour is the reward of yertue.
C. Not so, a neate man graceth his appardl.
C. No, but where it is rightly giuen.
P, Kindnesse desemes lone.
C. Not if it be common.
C. Not so, a good stomake needs it not
P. Poore vertue lines as dead.
P, When Sunday comes, it will be holy-day.
C. Not in the eye of honour.
C. Not with Carriers, for they trauell all the weeke.
P. Couetuousnes oorrupteth wealth.
/*. A Coward is feareiull, without hyre.
C. No. a noble minde is euer it selfe.
C. Not so. for feare it selfe is full of hurt.
P. A fiurc woman is the trouble of wisdome.
/^ Pouerty is the purgatory of reason.
C. Not so, shee is the treasure of a true wit
C. Not so, it is the tryall of patience.
P. Hasty climbers haue sodaine CeUIs.
/>. He is wise that U rich.
C. Not if they sit fiEist
C No. he U rich that is wise.
P, When the belly is full, the bones would be at rest
P, No misery to imprisonment
Cr9s, No, it is the spirit, not the bones : for they
C, Yes, an vnquiet wife.
haue no power of desire.
P. No comfort to liberty.
P, Try, and then trust
Cros. Yes, a louing wife.
C, Not so, for he that is kind to day, may be crosse
P, The night is the time of rest for all creatures.
to morrow.
C. Not for. Gamesters, that play night and day.
P, Wbensoeuer you see your friend, trust to your
P, Learning is the labour of the braine.
selfe.
C. Not so, it is rather of the Spirit
C. Not so, when you cannot hdpe your selfe without
P, Nothing so necessary for Trauallers as Languages.
your friend.
C. Yes, Money.
/>. There is none so faithlesse as an Hereticke.
C. Yes, an Hypocrite.
FINIS.
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Certaine briefe Questi-
ons and Anfweres.
WHat U the best Idnde of goaeununent ?
Arumen.
Peace.
Q, What is most dangerous in a kingdome?
A, CiuiUWaire.
Q. What is most troublesome hi a Common-wealth ?
A, Sectes.
Q. What quarrell breeds the best war?
A. Religion.
Q, What most displeaseth God ?
A, Idolatry.
Q. Which is the best traueU, that euer was?
A. Towards heauen.
Q, Who was the best king that euer was?
A, Danid, for he was chosen to God's owne heart.
Q. Who was the greatest Conqueror that euer was?
A, Christ lesus, for he conquered sinne, death and helL
Q, Who was the greatest foole that euer was ?
A. Adam when he had lost Paradise for an Apple.
Q, Who had the greatest foil that euer was?
A, Lucifer, when he fell from heauen to hell.
Q, Who was the best wrestler that euer was?
A. lacoi, when he wrestled with the AngelL
Q. Who was the wisest Queene that euer was?
A. The Queene of Shdsa, that came to Sahmm for
wlsdome.
Q, Who was the foolishest King that euer was ?
A. Pharaoh, when he opposed himselfe against God.
Q, Who was the arrantestTraytor that euer was?
A» iudas, when hee betrayd his Master Christ lesus.
Q, What is the best learning in the world?
A. Truth.
Q, What is the greatest wealth hi the wotld?
A» Content.
Q, What is the greatest ioy hi the worid?
A, A deere Conscience.
Q. What is the greatest Vertue in the world ?
A, Patience.
Q, What is the greatest bleasfaig to Nature?
A. Health.
Q, What is the most griefe in the worid?
A, Want.
Q, Which was the stoutest woman that euer was?
A. ludiih, when shee cut off Holofemu head.
Q, Which was the first mad-man that we reade
of?
A. Saul, when he killed himselfe.
Q. Who was the most vnnaturall that euer was?
A, Caiui, when he slew his brother AM,
Q, When was Noah layd naked?
A. When he was drunke.
Q, When did Lot commit incest?
A, When he was drunke.
Q. When was Sampson ouerthrowne?
A. When he was a sleepe.
Q, When was 5aikM(u»if led to Idolatry?
A, When he followed strange women.
Q. When began the curse on the lewes?
A, When they fell to Idolatry.
Q, What state is the most quiet?
A, Themeane.
Q. What actions are most bonond)fe?
A, That are honest
Q, What study is most profitable?
A. The Law.
Q, What Musk]ue is sweet ?
A. The Toyoe.
Q. Where is the best beeing in the world?
A. Where a man likes best.
Q. What is the hindenmoe of content?
A. Variety.
Q. What is the substance of all earthly creatures?
A, Vanity.
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QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.
II
Q. What is the comfort of a blind man?
A, That he shall see no vanities.
Q. What oomfoiteth a deafe man ?
A. That he shall heare no viUanies.
Q, Andwhatoomfortethalameman?
A. That he shall not be sent of hastye anmds.
Q, Andwhatofadumbeman?
A, That he shall not be called to Question for his
tongue.
Q. What is the comfort of Age?
A, That hee hath past the perils of his youth.
Q. What should be the care of youth?
A, To giue honour to his age.
Q. Why doe women weepe more then men?
A, Because they cannot haue their wils to goueme.
Q, What is the easiest life in the world?
A, A Parasite's, to feede vpon eueiy man's trencher.
Q, What life is the most Uboursome?
A, Study, for it spends the spirit, and weakens the
body.
Q, Who is the best companion hi the vrorld?
A, A Library, where a man talkes without ofieno&
Q. And where is the worst company?
A, In a Gaole, where there are few giadous.
Q. What is the best Art hi the World?
A. To gather wealth without wickednesae.
Q, And which is the worst Art that euer was?
A. The Uacke Art, for it brings the Student to HelL
Q, How doth ease breed the Gout ?
A, By lack of motion of the members.
Q. What is the best meat in the world?
A. That which agreeth best with the stomack.
Q, And what the best drinke ?
A, That that breedes the best Uood.
Q. And what is the best eioefdse?
A, The moderate.
Q» What ware is cheapest?
A, That which is had for thankes.
Q, What country is most fruitAill ?
A, Where there is best ground.
Q. When is it best to take Phisicke?
A, In time of sicknes.
Q, When is it best to make meales?
A. When the stomacke is empty.
Q. What sauce is the best?
A, Hunger.
Q. What flesh is best?
A. That which is sweet.
Q, What fish is the best?
A. That which is new taken.
Q, Which is the best lesson to thiiue?
A. To haue much, to spend little, and to giue nothing.
Q, What isa PlaUter for aU pames?
A, Plitience.
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A,
And what is a remedy for all diseases?
Death.
What is a miser's Musicke ?
Chinking of money.
What is the honour of a man ?
To be his words' maister.
What is the true signe of a foole?
To be euer laughing.
What is good for the tooth-fiu:he?
Pull it out.
What is good for the heart-ache?
Patience.
What is good for the itch?
Scratching.
Which is the worst worme in the world?
The worme of conscience.
What is most necessary in a oommon wealth?
Money.
What most ▼nneoessary?
Caides and Dice.
What trade is the best in a City?
That which is most gainiiiL
What is most to be feared?
That which is most hurtful.
When is the best letting bkxkL?
In a Pleurisie.
What is the dearest herb hi the world ?
Tobacco.
What is the best wood in the world?
Ugmmm vUtB,
What is the worst wood in the world?
The Gallows.
What is good for the head-ach?
When is the best travelling?
In fiur weather.
What is the fruit of mehmcholy?
What is the firuit of envy ?
Murder.
What is the fruit of Murder ?
HeU.
Whom do young men love most ?
Fair wenches.
What is the delight of old men ?
Fair buiMmgs.
What is good for a baM head ?
A periwig.
What is good for a weak sight?
Spectacles.
Where is the best Uving hi the worid ?
Amongst quiet people.
Where is most daqgerous travdliog ?
At Sea.
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QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.
Q. When is it worst traveUing?
A, When a man is without money.
Q, What is the best fruit in the world ?
A. The fruit of faith.
Q. What is that which is good for any thing ?
A. Nothing.
Q, Whose is the longest nose in the world ?
A, His that hangeth over every man's land.
Q. What is the most beloved in the world ?
A, Money.
Q. What is the hardest to be found in the world ?
A, Truth.
Q. What lie is most unsavouiy in the world ?
A, Chamber-lye.
Q, What is most distastful in the world?
A. Lying.
Q, What sound is pleasant to all?
A. A knell.
Q. What is most hurtful to the eye-sight ?
A. Smoak.
Q, What most grieveth an old man ?
A. A wicked child.
Q, What most tormenteth a jroung man ?
A. An unquiet wife.
Q. What most troubles a rich man ?
A. Borrowers.
Q, What most vezeth a wise man ?
A. To be troubled with a fooL
Q, What most troubles a begger?
A. A Louse.
Q, What is iU to meet in a morning?
^. An ill favoured man.
Q. What is most irksome to a neat woman ?
A, To be married to a beastly fellow.
Q. What is most unwbolsome in a morning?
A, Stinking breath.
Q, What is most hurtfrdl to bed-ward?
A. A filthy bedfellow.
Q, What maketh Monsters of men and women ?
A, Pride in appard.
Q, What is the world?
A, A Map of objects.
Q. What is life?
A, Blast of breath.
Q, Who are as gray-headed as old men ?
A, Young men when they powder their hair.
Q, What women so fair of colour as Ladies ?
A, Whores that paint their faces,
FINIS.
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The Figure of Foure.
1 597- 1 654.
c^A^.c^:<:v;>Av.c:?c
55
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NOTE.
'The Figure of Foure' was licensed to Nicholas Ling in 1597, *Xo die Octobris [or rather
Nevembris 1597] Nicholas Lvng Entred for his Copie vnder master Warden mans hande a booke
called the figure of ffoure yjo-' (Arber's Transcript, iii. 96). Nicholas Lin^ was one of Breton's
Publishers. Prefixed to our reproduction of his ' Wifs Trenchmour' (1597; will be found Ling's
quaint device in the facsimile of title-paf^e. But the original and other early impressions have utterly
perished ; nor do any of the bibliographical authorities appear to have met witn an exemplar earlier
than that of 163 1 (Ames). Even of this edition—as 01 all others— only the 'second part 'has
survived. Mr. W. C. Hazlitt indeed registers the first part (of 16^1 and 1636) as in the Bodleian
among Burton's books ; but this is incorrect They are not now and never have been in the Bodleian.
We are thus limited to the ' second part' (1636). For this I am indebted again to the Bodleian. In
the British Museum there is the following : —
THE
FIGURE
OF
FOURE:
Being a New Hookey Containing
many merry G)nceit8, which
will yield both Pleasure
and Profit to all that
reads or beare it.
THE LAST PART.
London, Printed for W. Gilbertion, at
th« signe of the Bible in Guilt-spur
Stieet without New-gate, 1654. (xao- xi leaves.)
This is a somewhat impudent title-page, as it is merely a reprint, and not a very accorate one, of
the ' second part ' of the UtUe book, with these additions and onussions. (a) Prefixed is the following
poem:—
'THE PROLOGUE.
K^
And pttsst awa^
tlu vnaty vnnUr mights:
When PoUu sits by thijltt,
themselves to warme.
The reading of this Booke
will doe no harme,
Warme Clothes^ brave JlrtSt
soft Ale will nourish blood.
And this same new Conceit
will doe yon good.
ByL.P.'
I ^^ please me as well,
draw forth your money.
All that her^s read
wil cost you but a fenny.
" Ind Friends and Neighbours
k. which are come to see.
Or heare strange Newes
give eare a while tome:
Here *s that which cannot chuse
but maheyou smile.
If you be pleased
to listen to 7 awhile.
*Twas Written and PHnUd
for to move Delights
Affixed are these lines : —
Now courteous Friends,
I hope I have pleased you well,
In thts rare newes —
whUhldidyoutell;
{i) Nos.
been deemed
too often troubleil 1 ^ ^ ,
healthL wit and patience.' In No. 67 for * abstinence ' is substituted ' moderation.' The orthography
is moaemised and a number of mistakes made, e.g, ' great ' for ' greater ' in the Ejpistle to the Reader,
and in No. 22 'in the winter season' stupidly mis-read for 'in the world.' Others need not be
specified. Mr. Hazlitt (Handbook, s.n.) says, ' This, it is to be suspected, was not by Breton, but by
Martin Parker'— unaware that it is identical with 'the second part' (as supra) and with the Epistle
signed * N. B.' as common with Breton, and unmistakeably Bretonese. ' L. P.' who edited the 1653-4
e£tion was certainly not Martin Parker. We carefully adhere to the Bodleian text of 1656. It is to be
regretted that the 'first part' has disappeared and also that no exemplar of 'The Figure of Three, or
a Patteme of Good Counsell ' (1636) has been preserved in any public or known private library. This
is the more tantalising that in Ames, 1760, lot 39, the latter appears with apparently kindred booklets
on the * Figures of Five, Six, Seven,' etc (Haiditt, j.m., ' Collections and Notes.' )--G.
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THE
F I G V R E OF
FOFRE:
Wherein are sweet flo-
wers, gathered out of that
fruitful! ground, that I hope
will yeeld pleasure and
profit to all sorts of
people.
The second Part
LONDON,
Printed for lohn Wright, and are to bee
sold at his shop without Newgate,
at the signe of the Bible.
1636.
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^ Co tl^t IBeaoet.
i n^His little fruit of no little labour, gathered together, and bound vp in this little
paper, for the better vse of them, that can and will consider of the nature of
euery one of his right kind, I kindly commit to your acceptations, assuring my selfe
I that being free from taxing of any, and far from abuse, but of abusers : hoping that
some will receiue good in the memory of what they reade, and no Horse will kicke
except his backe bee galled ; I leaue it to the wide world to take such fortune as will
fall out. And so, loth to make a long Supper of a little meat, wishing you to take the
best and leave the worst, and breake none of the pale, I rest,
^ Your well-wilier
in a greater matter,
N. B.
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THE SECOND PART OF THE FIGURE OF FOURE.
I. '^T^t
^Here are foore things greatly to bee taken
heed of : a Flye in the eye, a bone in the
throat, a dog at the heele, and a theefe in
the house.
3. There are foore bitter things that are used but for
necessity : Rubard, Gall, worme wood, and a dogged
wife.
3. There are foure grievous lacks to a great many in
the worid : lacke of health, lacke of wealth, lacke of
wit, ft lacke of honesty.
4. There bee foure espedaU poore SchoUcfs in the
world : Petty-foggers, Quacksalvers, BaUad-makers, and
A. B. C. Schoole-masters.
5. There are foure things iD to bee proud of : apainted
fiEux, a patcht body, a pide coat, and a paltry wit
6. There are foure things fiure at the first sight : new
books, fax horses, fresh colours, and flickt £Bice&
7. There are foure strange men in the world : they
that make a god of their gokl, an angell of the devill, a
paradise of their pleasure, and gknry of their pride.
8. There are foure notes of an excellent wit : to leame
that which is good, to labour for that which is necessary,
to foresee a mischiefe, and to forget that which cannot
be recovered.
9. There be foure jests of wit: to hope for dead men's
goods, to trust to the word of a bankrupt, to be in loue
with a lewde Queane, and to tel newes after a Carrier.
la There be foure things very uncomfortable : to lye
in bed and cannot sleepe, to sit at meat and have no
stomacke, to see musicke and cannot heare it, and to
want mony and cannot come to it.
zi. There are foure persons not to be beleeved : a
horse-courser when he sweares, a whore when shee
weepes, a lawyer when he pleads fiJse, and a traveller,
when he tels wonders.
19. There are foure persons not to be trusted : a foole,
a flatterer, an Atheist, and an enemy.
13. There are foore ill houses to goe into : a smolde
hou^, a rotten house, a towsie house, and a bawdy
14. There are foure things very hortfull for the sto-
macke : raw flesh, stale fish, musty bread, and sowre
drinke.
15. There are foure silly fooles in the world: heethat
foUowes a shaddow. starts a flea, drowns an Eele, and
makes love to a picture.
16. There are foure great trials of wit : to chuse a
firiend and keepe him, to conoeale adversity with patience,
to bee thrifty without oouetousnesse, and to live out of
the feare of the Law.
17. There are foure suspitions of a perfect wit : to
trust unfaithfullnesse, to shew unthankfiilnesse, to
advance unworthinesse, and to nourish wickednesse.
18. There are foure great Cyphers in the world : hee
that is lame among dancers, dumbe among Lawyers,
dull among Schollers, and rude amongst Courtiers.
29. Foure kinds of men may be well spared : a
swaggerer among dvill people, a theefe among true
men, an Atheist among the religious, and a Jew among
Christians.
9(x Foure sorts of people are very troublesome : fooles
among wisemen, borrowers among rich men, cowards
among souldiers, and beggars amongst Courtiers.
az. There are foure wicked kinds of scoffers : they that
sooffis at the honest, at the wise, at the learned, or at the
poore.
33. There be foure knaves much dealt withall in the
worid : the Knave of Qubs, the Knave of Harts, the
Knave of Spades, and the Knave of Diamonds.
33. There are foure base professtons : a Wittall, a
Cuckold, a Bawd, and a Bagger.
24. There are foure dose-catchers in the world : a
Rat-catcher, a Moule-catcher, a Foole-catcher, and a
Cony-catcher.
35. There are foure chiefe lights : the light of Sense,
the light of Reason, the light of Grace, and the light of
Gk}ry.
36. There are foure sundry kindes of Loues : the love
of God, the love of men, the love of women, and the love
of chUdreii,
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THE FIGURE OF FOURE.
27. Foure kinds of men hatefoll in a Common-wealth :
a Parasite, an Hypocrite, a Mutiner, and a Mur-
therer.
a8. Foure idle Idndes of ezerdse: riming, riding,
raging, and running on errands.
99. There are foure great sokers of a man's estate :
long sicknesse, a costly wife, a sleepie eye, and a proud
prodigall si^t
3a There are foure ill wayes for a theefe : the way to
the prison, the way to the ludge, the way to the Gal-
lowes and the way to helL
31. There are foure things foolishly proud: a Peaoocke
that is proud of his taile, for he must molt it once every
yeare ; an Hart that is proud of his homes, for he must
mew them once a yeare, a Cuckoe that is proud of her
note, for she siqgs but once a yeare ; and an Oake that
is proud of his leafe, for it fids once a yeare.
32. There are foure terrible sounds in the worid : the
report of a Cannon, a dap of thunder, the doome of a
ludge, and the scolding of a shrewd woman.
33. There are foure natural! skippers : a Flea, a FVog,
a Grashopper, and a Cat
34. Thoe are foure chiefe smellers : Deere, Dqgs,
Ravens, and Smell-feasts.
35. There are foure things sddome seene: a beggar
to grow rich, an Usurer to grow bountifull, a foole to
grow wise, and a baggage to become honest
36. There are foure creatures of more charge than
profit: Panats, Monldes, lysting dpgs and fidling
wenches.
37. Foure pitiiuU objects to a good eye : a wise man
disttacted, a City mined, a ship on fire, and an Annie
defeated.
38. Foure kindes of fine fooles : hee that thJnkes him-
selfe wise and is not, he that spends all to be thought
bountifttll, he that pines himsdfe to leave to another,
and he that bdeeves a Quean's tove.
39. There bee foure things of much strength in the
world : love with the religions, for it upholds the soule :
health with the laborious, for it upholds the body ; learn-
ing with the studious, for it upholds the wit; and
patience with the gradous, for it upholds the spirit
40. Foure excellent vertues in a A^rgin: Silence,
Humility, Constande, and Devotion.
41. Foure great blessings to a wife : a modest eyep a
kind spirit, a painefull hand, and a true heart
4a. Foure notes of a divfaie nature : to regard him
whome the world soometh, to love him whom the world
hateth, to hdp him whom the world hurteth, and to
advance him whom the worid overthroweth.
43. There are foure chiefe notes of a good huswife :
early rising, dose gathering, safe keeping, and wdl
bestowing.
44. There are foure things goe commonly together :
a fleering (ace, a leering eye, a flatering tongue, and a
false heart
45. There are foure fearefull Judgements : sudden
madnesse, sudden wazre, sudden mine, and sudden
death.
46. Foure kindes of Vermine doe very much hurt
where they come : Mice among cheese, Weezds among
Conies, Monies among Gardens, and Whoores among
Gallants.
47. Foure things are tedious to many good mindes :
a long tale, a long winter, a long fasting, and a long
vo]rage.
48. Foure things weary out a good minde : imploy-
ment without reward, oppressions without rdeefe, craell
creditors, and importunate beggers.
49. Foure things to be taken heed of : an intrading
fiiend, a flattering servant, a wanton wife, and a wicked
ndghbour.
SOb There be foure diiefe horses for service : the
courser fn* the souldier, the Hadmey for the post, the
Cart-horse for the Farmer, and the Hobbi-horse for the
Morris-dance.
51. Foure men to be banished all good company : a
Iyer, a swearer, a quareller, and a tale-teller.
5a. Foure kindes of women much set a worke : a mid-
wife, a milke-maid, a market-woman, and a meale-
woman.
53. Foure kinds of deanly wenches : a dairy wench, a
shop wench, a needle wench, and a starch wench.
54. Foure kinds of black men : a Moore, a Collier, a
Smith, and a Scullion.
55. Foure white women : the Lady White, Mistiis
White, Good-wife White, and Widdow White.
56. Foure high things to looke upon : a high man, a
Ugh Constable, a high Steeple, and a high Marpole.
57. Foure needfiill eyes in a Tavene : an eye to the
guest, an eye to the plate, an eye to the score, and an
eye to the doore.
58. Foore things goe through many things : wit, art.
experience, and mony.
59. Foure dayes wdcome to Schollers: Christmas
day, Shrove-tuesday, Easter^lay, and Whitsunday.
6a Foure kindes of men not to bee stood against :
Princes and Potentotes» Judges and Generals.
61. Foure things grievously empty : a bead without
braines, a wit without Judgement, a heart without
honesty, and a purse without money.
62. Foure diseases hardly to be cured : the gout in an
old man, the green-sicknesse in a woman, the ferde in
an old horse, and the rot in a sheep.
63. Foure chiefe comforts to the sense of nature:
health, liberty, mirth, and money.
64. Fourechiefe nuts in the workl : the Chest^out, the
Wall'^iut, the Small-nut, and the soft nut
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THE FIGURE OF FOURE.
65. Foure chiefe mosicall birds : the Nighthingale,
tlie Larke, the Liniiet, and the Robbin-red-bresL
66. Foare fine little labourers : the Bee, the Ant, the
SiQce-worme, and Spider.
67. Foure Idndes of beastly men in the world: a
glutton, a drunkard, a lecher, and a bawd.
68. Foure kindes of theeves worthy to be hanged :
borse stealers, cut-purses, house-breakers, and pick-
pockets.
69. Foure things good in a goose : her quils for pens,
ber feathers for pillowes, her flesh for the dish, and her
ipnease for the ache.
70. Foure excellent medicines for many diseases :
abstinence, ezerdse, mirth and patience.
71. Foure things ill for a Carrier : leane horse, hard
fare, foule weather, and foggy women.
73. Foure great in-liers : a woman that lies in child-
bed, a knave that lies in wait, a whore that lies in a sweat,
and a mad-man that lies in Bedlam.
73. Foure present eases for foure great pahies : to
scratch for the itdi, to breake wind for the collick, to
pisse for the stone, and to sweat for the cold.
74. There are foure kindes of ugly objects : a scabbie
lade, a mangy dog, a lowsie knave, and a pockie
whore.
75. Foure chiefe Doves in the world : the Turtle-dove,
the Wood-dove, the Ring-dove, and the House-dove.
76. Foure perilous snares to foil into : the snare of an
Usurer, the snare of a lewd woman, the snare of a flat-
terer, and the snare of the DevilL
77. Foure strange sports : to see a Beare hunt a wild
dndce, an Ape kisse an Owle, a Goose bite a Fox, and a
Squirrell hunt a Coney.
78. Foure sweet Trades in a Citie : Sugar-men, Com-
fit-makers, Perfumers and Nose-gay-makers.
79. Foure speedie passengers in the world : a bird
tborow the aire, a ship thorow the sea, a word from the
month and a thought from the minde.
8a Foure round walkers in the world : a wheele, a
spindle, a bowle, and a milstone.
8x. Foure tokens of foule weather : aches in the limbs,
sleepinesse in the head, sweating of stones, and darkenes
of weather.
83. Foure tokens of foire weather : when the Robin-
red-brest sings early, when the Bee workes earnestly,
when the Spider keepes home, and the Swallow flies
merrily.
83. Foure creatures are great spoylers where they
come : Hogs among pease, Deere among come, Cats
among milk-pans, and Whales among Herrings.
84. Foure Kings without Kingdomes : the Khig of
Man. the King of Portugall, a King in a play, and a
painted King.
85. Foure stimnge things to be dedphered \ a man
and no man, threw a stone and no stone, at a bird and
no bird, in a tree and no tree.
86. Foure interpretations of these foure things : a
man and no man was an Eunuch, and therefore no
man : the stde was a pumice, the bird was a Bat, and
the tree was an Elder tree.
87. Foure hard dayes in the yeare : Good-firiday for
SchoUers, for then they fiist : Ash-wednesday for Papists,
for then they must be whipt ; rent-day for poore folks,
for then they must pay their LAndlords ; and the
Execution-day for Theeves, for then they must be
hanged.
88. Foure things much talkt of, and little focmd :
Wisedome, Vertue, Honesty, and Conscience.
89. Foure creatures goe willingly to their businesse :
a Bride to Churdi, a boy to bred^eist, an hdre to his
land, and a sweet-heart to his looe.
90. Foure things are soone out : a candle out of his
light, a foole out of his tale, an eye out of his sight, and
a prodigall out of his patrimony.
91. Foure things ill for the earth : a winter's thunder,
a summer's firost, a long drought, and a sudden floud.
93. Foure things pretily described : a whore by her
leering, a setter by his peering, a parasite by his fleering,
and an epicure by his cheering.
93. Foure vile things in nature : to be unkinde to a
wife, unnaturall to a diild, untrue to a Master, unthank-
luU unto a friend.
94. Foure offenders not to be pardoned : he that will
not be admonished, he that will outface a lye, he that
will not amend, and he that delights in his wicked-
nesse.
95. Foure oostiy spots in the world : the spots on the
cards, the spots on the dice, the spots on embroyderies.
and the spots on ill tongues.
96. Foure men needfull in an armie : a good Com-
mander, a good Scout, a good Sentinell, and a good
Gunner.
97. Foure things chiefly necessary in peace : a good
King, a good Counsell, a good soile, and good Sub-
jects.
98. Foure ill things in Musicke : to play out of time,
or out of tune, fidse strings, and bad instruments.
99. Foure things good aboue all : God, his Word, his
grace, and Glory.
loa Foure excellent properties belonging to honest
men : to be fiaithfull in promise, to be true in perform-
ance, to be Resonable in their actions, and to be charit-
able to the ppore.
lOT. There are foure sharp vreapons that wound
deeply when they come : the eye of a Cockatrice, the
sting of a Viper, the point of a Rapier, and the tongue
of a scoulding quean.
100. There are foure things odious to behold : to see
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THE FIGURE OF FOURE.
a servant Ride and his Master go on foote, to see a
Kitchen-maid goe finer then her Mistris, to see a Knave
take the wal of aGentleman, and to see a Begger-wench
in a black bagge.
103. Foure things good in winter : good fire, good
company, good liquor, and money to pay fort.
Z04. Foure sums are very good for a Bookesdier :
some wares, some customers, some money, some drink.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page 4, To the Reader, L 4, * taxing* ^uoeosding ; 1. 8,
' ^fvo^ iMM ^Mtf/tfilr'sbieak not bounds
—see Glossarial Index, s,v,
M 5. No. 5, '/f^'spied; No. 6, '^t^^/'a flicker-
ing, t.<. amorous? but see (Hossarial Index,
s,v, ; Na 9, * Qtuam 'abad woman— see
No. 98; No. 93, ' ITtMi/'switoid.
cuckold, silly fdlow.
6, Na 97, 'Af«/»'jMr'=mntiiieer, rebel; No. 32,
' lAr Am/ ' s shrewish ; No. 34, * Snull-
/ui^'s parasites; No. 36. '^sHng'^vn-
savoury smelling— see Sherwood's English
Dictionary appended to Cotgiave: also
Nares, s.v.
Page 7, No. 71. '/sQor'=bk)ated, lieit; No. 84, ' iTimg
of Portugal* ^tat Gk»sarial Index, ^.jt. ;
No. 86, 'i?iU!erl!rM'smoreabush than a
tree, albeit large as a tree sometimes.— G.
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WLonhtvf^ WLovt^ t^t Upeartng.
1602.
z^mM^M^zm^z^mm^z^mm&m
23
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NOTE.
The only known copy of ' Wonders worth the hearing ' was purchased
at Jolle/s Sale for ^£28, los. for the British Museum. It is a thin small ^
quarto of 32 pp.— G.
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WONDERS
WORTH THE
HEARING
Which being read or heard in a
Winters euehing by a good fire, or a Sum-
mers morning, in the greene fields : may serae both to
purge melancholy -from the minde, & grosse
humours from the body.
Pleasant for youth, recreatiue for age^ profi-
table for all, and not hurtfuU to any.
LONDON
Printed for Iohn Tappe, and are to be solde
at his shop on Tower hill neere the Bulwarke
gate. 1602.
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fc:iw.
To my honest and kinde louing friend, Ma Iohn Cradocke
Cutler, at his house without Temple Barre : health, hearts-
ease J and et email happines.
^nWiOur affection to all good spirits, and mine the worst of many, bath made me preferre your knowne kindnes,
^B^H before the shadow of idle showes : a Scfaoller I holde yon none, but I know you nnderstand English, and
mjQ can conodpt an honest meaning, better then a braiae full of more busines : and therefore in my loue, haue
giuen you this fruite of my thoughts labours : In which, since Diuinitie is too deepe» Vertue will not sdl. Law is
costlie, and Poetrie is too common ; Histories are tedious, Stote matters are too high, and loue is growne a laughing
iest : I haue thought good (leaning all idle humours) to fiill onely vpon a few wonders : In the discourse whereof
(I doubt not) but you shall finde a little glimmering of the light of my better kiue : To the assurance whereof, without
fraude or further delay, I haue heereunto set downe my name, this aa of December. 1608.
Your affectionate poore friend,
Nich. Breton.
Co tl^e Seatiev.
I Wonder with what tytle to fit you, gentle, wise, or
fonde and scoffing Reader, but hi the hope of the
best, I will begin, with : Gentle Reader, let me intreate
you not to wonder at me for writing of Wonders, for
there is nothing common, that is currant, but money,
and that is growne so scant with a number, that many a
one wonder, what kinde of thing it is : but, because I
haue little to doe with it, I will speake little of it, and
onely td you that it was my hap to light on a few odde
Wonders, that being vnhappily set downe, might passe
away a little idle time to looke on. Now, hoping that
some mad-head in the world, might haue as much
leysure to read as I haue had [to] write : I haue thought
good, to those good people, to commit the perusing
of this little wonderfull piece of worke : wherein, if they
finde nothing that may please them, I shall wonder at
my wit : if any doth like them, I shall wonder what it
is, and thinke the better of it when I know it In the
meane time, least you wonder too much at me, to make
sudi a doe about nothing : I will leaue my wonders to
your coniectures, and my tone to your kinde fimours :
and so rest as I haue reason.
Your friend,
N. a
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Merry fVonder s.
iReene rushes M. Francisco it is a wonder to
see you heere in this Country : why, I was
afraide you had been so out of charity with
your enemyes, that you bad been ahnost
out of loue vdth your frends : but I am glad, that hauing
wished for you so long, I shall yet enioy you at last.
Fhm. Master LoriUo^ I doe wonder at your won-
diing, for though I am contented to be helde a man, yet
I would be loath to be worse natured then a dogge : for
I am in diarity with al the world, though I am not in
loue with mine owne shadowe : but to your purpose,
ean you eyther tell me what loue or a friends is?
Lor. Indeed they are two Wonders in this world,
for men are so full of malice, and women haue so little
foith, that a friend is like a Phemix^ and a fidthfiill
woman like a Uacke Swanne.
FVan. Now fie man, you are too much to blame, to
make a wonder of nothing, for friendship is the grace of
Reason, and loue is the ioy of life : and therefore rather
wonder at reasons disgrace, in the breach of friendship,
and at the nature of life without loue, then to see a true
iHend or a fidthfuli louer.
Lor. But, is it not then a wonder to thinke what
should be, and see what is, for loue is become a riddle,
and friendship a dreame, where hee may wonder at his
Ibrtune, who findes that he lookes for.
Fhm. Wdl, I peroeiue it were a wonder to remooue
you from jfour wondering at these wonders \ but is
there nothing to be wondered at, but kme and friend-
ship?
Lor. Nay, would yon not rather say, that I wonder
to bean of so much, and finde so little? But leaning
to trouble our sdnes longer with these toyes which are
baoonie such wonders, as are too sildome to be seene :
let me Intreate you a little to discourse of such wonders
aayott hane met wHhaU, in your last traoaile abroad :
end what I haue seene at home (that may be worth the
bearing) I will tell you.
nan. Content is pleated and therefore not to bume
daylight, you shal heare : at my first arriuall in a oer-
tafaie eonntry (which for some causes, I will omit to
33
name) it was my hap to come into a very frUre towne,
or rather Citty, where I saw the houses strong and
beautifull, the shops richly furnished, handsome men,
and frdre women, wdl apparelled and well oounten-
aunoed, so that there was almost nothing wanting that
' might seeme to make a happy state : but it is wonderfuU
to thinke, what a world of vnhappines lined within the
walles of this Citty : for wealth which should haue made
men bountifbll and charitable, made them so proude and
miserable, that the poore wretches were merrier with a
crust, then the rich with a world of treasure : the frdre,
which promised much grace, were so enuious, so proude,
and so vltious, that I wonder how so great a beauty to
the body, should breed so foule a blot to the soule?
Lor. Alas, nature is subiect to weaknesse, and there-
frwe beare with a little imperfiection : age will teach re-
pentance, and sorrow is a salue for sinne : and therefore
pray rather for the correction of reason, then wonder at
the corruption of nature : but onwards with the rest of
your wonders.
Ftan. Oh Sfr, excuse is no satisfiiction, though con-
trition be gratious, the sinne of youth makes the shame
of age, and he that to bountlfull at his death, to better in
the graue then in the world : but I will leaue to aigue
further vpon the case, and goe onward with my course.
When I had wondered a while at particular points, in
particular persons, I began to wonder at the state of the
gouemment, for so farre as I oould leuiU at it with the
eye of my simple iudgement, the chSefest matters were
wonderfully well ruled, lawes were executed according
to the estate of the offenders : If he were poore, hee
was made an example : if rich, hee was made a profit,
a profit to the common wealth, to take away the riches
of one that might haue been hurt to many : and the
poore, an example to the poore. to take warning rather
to wofke then to want, for feare by such oflfence to
leceiue the like punishment of like presumption : But
when I considered of the oonsdenoe that was charged
with the burthen of bloud, I wondred how the hang
man oould sleep for feare of the denfllatUs dbow :
And againe, I wonder not a ttttte at the frtUyof the
A2
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MERRY WONDERS.
wflfiil, to bring their wittes to such confusion, that
neither reason nor obseruation could take more place in
their apprefaention ?
Lor. Oh Master Fraunets the misery of this time is
great, and (he lawes had need of execution, for else the
begger with his creeping, and the churle with his brib-
ing, would so cousen pitty with cunning, that lustioe
should become a lest, and oonmion wealths would be
ouerthrowne : and since penuzy to the rich. Is as great a
plague, as death is to the poore, let the churle whine
and the begger hang, or both leame to be honest men :
but to the purpose, if you haue not borne OflHoe your
sdfe, speake not of a Magistrate, least your wonder
prooue a trifle, when the secret is well considered.
Fran. True but who would not wonder to see wise
men so foolish, the wealthy so mad, and the poore so
desperate, that the fiOse God of gold should so bewitch
the hart of man, as to make the sentence of law to cut
o£f the lyne of life : But to oonfesse a troth, I thinke
God hath his working in all things, and therefore it is
but a foUy to wonder at any thhig : and therefore leaoe all
thinges to his will, who doth all things to hi8£k)ry. and
to goe on with my wonders, I will tell you : It was my
happe to trauaile into a country towne or pretty village,
where I lodged in an Inne, at the signe of the wikle
goose : where, walUng in the backe side, I saw a dosen
of pretty fine chiddns, when looking well upon them,
an vnhappy boy, (meaning to play the knane kindely
with me) tolde mee, that in the morning all those chickens
would be Lambes : Goe to boy quoth I, doe not lye I
pray thee : In truth Sir (quoth he) it is true : at the
first (a little concealing my displeasure concdued against
the boy) I wondred at his speech, but in the morning I
found it true : and was not this a wonder?
Lor. No mary Sir, it is no wonder that the goodman
of the house being called tamt^t but the chickens
should be all Lambes : but since you are entred in
merry wonders to beguile your friends with a iest, let
mee tell you a little of some of my home wonders.
FVan. With all my heart : the more the better, one
for an other.
Lor. In the towne where I dwell, we haue a pretty
Corporation, where among many poore Officers, M.
Constable is no meane man, especially vpon a Festiual
day, when he hath his Tipstaff in his hftd, and the Stockes
at his doore : now it fell out one day that the chiefe of
the Parish hauing a meeting at the Church, this honest
man (at least, so reputed of the simple sort) putting on
his best countenance, and taking his place amongst the
best of his neighbours : it fell out, that in the hearing of
a controuersie betweene two sonye fellowes, about the
pounding of a white Mare, whither by law it might be
done or not, one giuing his opinion on the one side and
the other vpon the other : at last the Constable giuiog a
sore speech against the poore men, th^ the one for his
cruelty, in that he had almost stavered the Mare in the
pound, and the other for his folly, to let her stray into
his neighbors ground, should be set in the stockes, and
there to stay till they were made friendes, without fitfther
trying of the law : had no sooner ended his speedi, and
from a man became a Hog: and was not this a wonder?
FhuL A great one, but that Lawrence Hogge, if it
be he that I take it you speake of, who was the last yeere
Constable of your Hundreth, was euer a good ryder, and
therefore had euer more pitty on one good paced Mare,
then two roaaed cnrtalles : but if your T^rencfamore bee
done, let me heare if you haue such another daunce ?
Lor. Nay by your leane sir, I will first heare yon as
good as your word, one for an other till the Sunne goe
downe, and then put vp.
Fkan. Content, wd remembred, then let me tell
you : in a certain Post towne, where it was my hap to
lodge for some fewe dayes, it was my chaunce dioers
times to meete with a straoge creature, in the shape of a
man, of whome one day standing at a doore all akme,
I ttxike good notice : of stature, hee was neyther aboue
the Moone, nor beneath the Earth, but in the middle
region of the proportion of man, mary for his fiioe it was
made like one of the foure windes in a Mappe that
should blowe ouer the stoutest May-pole in a Coun-
try : a payre of staring eyes, that would looke three
myle beyond Mount Noddy, and a mouth hell wide,
that would sweare like a deuill : but for that he would
not be troubled with too much hajrre, hee had forswome
a beard : of complexion, like rusty Bacon, and nosed
like the snoute of an olde Beare : necked like i^ Bull,
shouldzed like a Miller, and legged like the Mill-poest :
and for an arme^ had it not beene iniured with a rewme
(that he tooke with a hot seruioe in a moorish Country)
hee had beene able with a little hdpe, to haue throwne
a lowse ouer his shoulder : apparelled he was like a
decayed SouUUer, and yet kept a inarch in the streete,
as though hee had ledde more then ment to follow him :
Now this lusty gallant, that gaue the wall to no man,
but vpon condition of a quarrell nOr put off his cap to
any man, but of whome hee ment to borrow money :
hauing passed a liewe dayes in such a pride, as fiswe of
good fiuhion could away withaU, wanting meanes to
supply his wantes, fell in hand (after many shifles) to try
the trade of the higfa way: where hauing made so many
happy purchases, as would haue p^de for a good Coppy-
bdde, would not giue ooer his chase till hee was taken
napping in his hunting : it fell out, that being ouer
taken In his match, or ouer-matched in his taking, hee
was taken holde of by the Officer and brought befbre a
lustioe for a FeUon, from whome to the prison, and so
fay degrees to the gallowes : now, where before that time
bee was hdde for a gallant fdlow, and a proper man.
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MERRY WONDERS.
bee BO soooer came to execution, but hee became pra-
aentty a Wplfe : and waa not this a great wonder ?
Lor. 'nne, if it had not beene Haukin Wol/t, the
swaggering rascallof bempe Alley, but I wonder bee
lived flO kmg unhanged, who had deaemed it so often :
bat tia DO matter, let him goe. I am sure you are lyke
to beare as good a Morris daunce from my I^pe, and
tbeiefore haae at you : In the Qtty where I vse to
maloe my bousholde prouiaion lor the yeare, it was my
happe in the Inae wliere I lay, to bee lodged next wall
to a minikin girle, broder betwixt the eyes then the
hedes: This dainty come-to4t. thinking her brasse
good sOner, in an humour (twenty yeeres siiort of her age)
woukl forsooth (to continue or encrease her beantye) vse
aU tiie arte, that eyther the Phisition or the Puynter
oookl hdpe her for her auayle : and to note the vaxiety
of the oountenannoes, ahee would in a glaase, teach her
in fiMMwred iwe to pot on : (it was a wonder to thinke
vpon) one while she would looke as demurely, as a
Rabbet that had neiHy washed her fisce in a deawy
morning : by and by'shee would drawe the great lippes
of a wyde mouth so neere together, that it was very
much like the nedoe of an Qaes bladder, and yet with that
ftjot would shee so sfanper it as though shee would put
the MOlerB Mare quite out of comitenanoe : by and by,
she wold leere a side like a Beare whelp, and with a
Uioe she would frowne, as though she were sicke of the
frets : tume her head, and she would laugh, as if she
had been tickled in the lower ribbes : but after many of
these fiwes, she would at last stand a tip-toe, and vaunt
H Uke the Queene of Spades : but if she tried to mak a
curtsie, why maide Marian in a Maurice dannce, would
put her downe for a fiddle fiuldle: This Mistris
Ntedms (as I said befofe) nothing frdre, but fiued ven^
ill firaouredly, wickedly witty, but nothing wise, saw at
her window a Gentlewoman sitting at her doore, with a
white Sparrow pearching on her finger, whidi birde
ridpped from thence upon the ruffe of a fine yong
Gentleman that sate by her, and there tooke bread out
of his mouth : Now what humour this wicked creature
had, heerupon to be transformed, I know not. but
wishing that she might be in this Sparrows place, shee
no sooner came out of her house, but she became a
Sparrow indeed : and was not this a wonder?
Fkan. Yes, and that no small one, but I thinke M^
Sparrofwd Kent-etreete, was the gentle mistris that you
made your wonder of : but to quit you with the like
strange matter, you shall beare : in a oertayne thorough
frdre towne, where it was my hap to lodge for a night or
twOb at a strange eigne, mine Hoast of the house being
a Baflifie <^ the hundreth.
Lor. Oh then he was like to be an honest man.
Fran. Yea, and so he was I may ten you, for he
played the honest man many a time, to hdpe many an
honest man to his money, that many a knaue would
haue run away with, if he had not been, and helpt many
a wench to a £ather for her childe, that could not else
hauetoldehowtohauedoneforthekeepfaigof it: But
to goe on with my tale, this gallant Sir, being for his
capacity able to iudge betwixt blacke and white, horse
or cowei whoaoeuer the owner : and for his person, as
good a Picture as might haueserued for a need, to haue
hanged at his signe poast, standing commonly in his
doore like a Bearard, that was acquainted with all the
dogs of the parish, standing as I say with a Saranns
iiioe, his nose too fong for his lips, his dieekes like the
iawes of a horse, his eyes like a Smithes forge, and his
haireall besprindded with a whore frx>st, this5. Chris-
iopker shouldred swad, that fed on nothing twt browes,
and nappy Ale, haning more cappes of poore men, then
eyther crownes or pence to relieue them, fell (sauing
your reuerence) in loue, with sudi a peece of horse-flesh
as you qnke of and notwithstanding that he had a pretty
pbidse to his own wedded wife, that could answere her
guests at all weapons, and at all honres, yet hee as a
wicked Ramme that would follow a scabbed sheep, fell
in hand with this rotten Ewe, whome (his wife being at
the mariECt) he got into his garden, ^ere neere vnder
my window I might see him floute her in such sort, and
wiping his driuded beard, dapt her on y« lips so stoutely,
as if the deuiU and his damme had met vpon a dose
helliflfa baigaine : Now. after a hobby-horse tume or
two, in they came into the house, where he oonuayed his
wdfiuioured mistris into a place of priuate conference,
wher long he had not tarryed, but in oommeth my
Hostesse, vAio knowing by her Ou6 where cakes had
been a baking, meeting her gooseman with this his pretty
ducke in his hand, began with a note aboue Ela. to sing
them such a sotfa^ that what with knaue and whore, and
agieat deal more, had not I and some other of her kind
guests perswaded her to patience : lealousie wold haue
made her nailes to haue bin indited of bloodshed, but
as it fdl out when she had chid herselfe blacke in the
moutii, and at last with a Uttie littie patience sat her
downe, ¥rith. out of my house whoore and by oockes stones
bones I would haue said. I will not beare it : after she
had cryed a litle for curst heart, and wipte her nose of
a little rewme, with these woordes shee made an ende :
oh thou olde mangy, fiery fruxd, bottle nose, horse
lipped. Ox lawed rascall, thou towne Bull, and com-
mon Bore, that seruest for all the Swine in the Parish,
a pox take thee, doost thou thinke to make me take
the leauinges of thy Thilles ? thou shalt bee hanged first,
goe hang thy selfe, get thee to them where thou wilt, for
thou shalt not make my house a Stewes, nor me a bawde
any longer I warrant thee. I haue heard that in olde
time men haue beene turned into Beastes. I would thou
wert so too : and trudy it Is a sore matter that may out
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MERRY WONDERS.
vpon an euiU tongue, espedaUy an euiU womans, for you
sfaaU see what fell oat ▼ppon this wicked creatures cune :
the man amased at her madnesse, and not i^le (for all
his OflHoe) to take order with her tongue, glad (after he
had shipped away his ware) to bee got himsdfe out of
her sight : no sooner turned his badoe to goe out of
doore, but hee became presently a great Bull : and was
not this a strange wonder?
Lor. Not a whit so long as f know Tkaimas BuU of
the Rammes home at the nether end of the market place,
as you ride through Cuckoldes Ende, a myle from
Twattorbury : but if you will giue me leaue a little, I
will quit you with as good a tale. It was my happe in
an odde village, where for a few dales I ment to recreate
my self with my good firiends, to oome forsooth to a
Country wedding : which being upon a poore Saints day,
for eyther It was a poore Saint, that they meant so poore
an honour to, or the parish was very poore, that the
people had no better doatfaes to put on : for saning that
it was whole and deane that little that they had, there
was neyther waste of stuffe, nor finenesse to be found
fault withall : yet as it was, let metdl you : the manner
was worth the marking : For first and formost went
the Bride, for fieshe and bloud as fowle a creature as
might fit the Inuention of an Inuectiue against Beauty :
who though she were squinte eyed. Swine snouted, wry
bodyed, and splay footed, yet had shee such a garlicke
breath, that they had neede enough of Rose mary that
ledde such a weede by the wrist : but let her passe, she
with her bayre about her shoulders, drawne out like a
horse tayle with a Mane-combe, in a home-spun russet
Petticoate, that should serue her many a £syre day,
with a payre of strong Calue«kinne gloues, that her
good man had drest for the purpose, holding out her
chinne and drawing in her mouth (lyke MaUdns olde
Mare) went simpring betwixt two olde Constables : and
after the rowte of sudi a sight of Rascals, as one would
take hell for audi a rabblement, foUowes the Groome
my young Colt of a Cart breed, led betwixt twoo girles
for Uie purpose, the one as like an Owle. the other as
like an Urchin, as if they had beene spitte out of the
mouthes of them : Nowe thys sweete youth, sauing
that hee had the shape of a man, there could bee little
sayd in his commendation : for he was headed like a
Giant, so was he faced like an olde Ape, stumpe footed,
and wiy Iq^ged, and withall his lower limbes of such
smalnesse, that he went in great daunger of the winde ;
maiy for his breath, his Bride and hee were both Rab-
bets oi one Laier : yet being in this disgrace of nature,
these well matched Hog minions, it was a sport to see
the weake iudgement of their poore wits, who were con^
tent to perswade themsdues there was matter in them
of suffidency : for she, if one saluted her with fiure
Maide, shee would looke downe vpon her new shboes.
with such a smile as would mak a horse laugh to see
her countenance : and if hee were but called lusty Lob*
kin hee would fetdi you sudi a friakall, that a dog
would not lye downe to looke vpon him : Now as I
tdl you, to a blind Chappdl insteede of a Churdi, went
these Couple to their merry meeting : iHiere, how they
agreed vpon the match I know not, but they no sooner
came out of the Church hand in hand, but of a hand-
some youth and a pretty damsell, they became both
Buszards : and was not this a pittifiill wonder?
Fran. Not at all, for Hodgi Btuautrd and his best be-
loued, at the blew Qowe and the red Dwle can td you
the meaning of this riddle : but now to quit you againe,
haue with you.
It was my hap in a market towne neere vnto the
crosse, to meete with a coarse, carried vpon mens shoul-
ders in a coffin, no great solemnity there was to be
noted, for there was not a Herald of Armes, nor any
mention made of him more then that be was dead ; and
was carried to bee buried : for mc»e then that men wore
Uacke in good Cloakes for him, I saw no signe of sor-
row to be thought on : yet for that there were many
that accompanied the coarse, I demannded of some that
I durst be bolde with, what hee was, his name, his sute,
his condition, and his death? Now of all that I asked,
or of all that I spake to, I could not heere so much as a
good word spdten of him, his name was DiMU, hee was
a rich man, his condition widced and malidous, his
quaUity ledgerdemaine, with which hee would ooosen a
whole country : his state migfatie by his purse, his life
like a Hog, and his death like a Dog, but that hee
scaped hanging, which hee deserued too often : hee was
bdoued of fewe, and hated by many : vndid a number
in his life, and now onely bestowed a little Charitably
at his death : many did curse him, and liewe that pmyed
for him, more then that they might heere no more of
him, and all that I could heere or see written of hfan, was
an Epitoph that some concdted friend did bestow vpon
him : the wordes whereof were these : Heere lies one
that was borne and cried : hee lined threescore yeares,
and then fdl sidce and died. Now seehig no more
matter to be considered, but down right Dog, with his
head in the pot, and yet such a deale of a doo in earr-
ing him to church, I thought I woukl see him tfarowne
into the earth, but when the carkasse came to bee laide
in the graue, hee that hi his life was said to be a Jolly
square feUow and indifferent handsome man, became a
most vgly Beare, and was this a wonder?
Flran. No, not any wonder at all, wiien Baruaiyt
Start of Bui Ende by hogge downe was the most
rauening Wo^k^ and deuouring wretch of his neigh-
bours goods that lined in a whole countrie : but if hee
be gon, no doubt hee hath left hdres, and so let him
goe : and now let me tdl you another, wonder : In a
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MERRY WONDERS.
oortfline Citde where it was my cfaannoe to make aboade
for some few monthes, I espied one day among a com-
pany of Cittisens» a Uttle remote from the company, a
Qoaple that for serious caose of conference had singled
themsdoes together, where walking neer vnto a bench
where I sat, I might heare a little of their discourses :
of whkdi, before I speake any thing, let me a little de-
scribe you the persons : First, the young man being
about the age of some two and twenty, a handsome
man of resonable good shapei smooth &ced, and
demure countenanced, his appareU most Silke and
Uehiet, his doake and his hat wdl bmshed, his ruffes
well set, his sto^ngs wdl gartered, and his shoes wel
blacked, a sprinke youth, that as ferre as his money
would seme him did pridEe toward the Blaxdiant : the
other some what more stept in years, and feced some*
what like a Bull, saufaig that hee would leere like a
Lyme-hound, his apparell nothing ooetlye, nor very
comely, doaih and fustian, and that of his whies sphi-
ning, his daughters carding, and his coosens Weauing,
his hat wd wome and vnlyned, his ruffe but a length of
home Unnen, his sbooes the best of the hyde, as wdl for
warmth as wearing, his girdle of Buffe leather, a dagger
with a dudgkm hafte, agreasie poudi with a rusty ring,
his stockings of eioeeding course wooll, and his shooes
soundly oobUed : this was all that I could note in his
outside : now for his Inside let me tell you, there was
shrewde matter to nrase Ypon as you diall heare : for
these two (age and youth) thus pacing the streete with
a dose measure, I ibUowed till they came to a Taneme
doore, where going into a private roome, with thedoore
shut to them, I dapt mee into an odde seate aeare vnto
them, where calling for a pinte of Wine, leaning an idle
errand at the Bane, that if John a Sules came to aske
for Tom a Ht4g», hee should bee presently brought to
me, sitting munching vpon a crust, and sipping now
and then of a cup of Wine, I heard all their conference
which was as foUoweth* The oMe man (as it seemed)
thicke of hearing, because he would be lowddy spoken
to, spake very lowde vnto this youth : when the first
that I could heare was this : wdl sonne, you would
haue money, and I could well part with it, if I sawe
reason to perswade mee, howeyther to benefit my sdfe,
or you by it : for it is a Birde that flyeth fest forward,
but it sildome comes so fest home againe : and if you
cfaaunge hhn into an other shape then his owne, hee
doth oiten loose much of his vertue: if you put him into
anythhBg hee may happen to tume to nothing. For
(let mee see) you would haue four hundreth poundes :
let mee heare to what profitable vse you would imploy
them ? The young man (with a soft voyoe as could
seruo bis thicke eares) made him this answere.
: S|r, I would put one hundreth pound in doath, which
I will aduenture beyond the Seas, or sell at home, to
my great aduantage. Stay quoth the olde man, doth
is good ware, so it be wel made and wd bought, tmt if
you haue no skill in wooll. you may be cousoned in
your doth : beside, if it be good, and you aduenture it
(marie me wd) the sea is no brooke and windes are
wauering, stormes are perilous, rockes and sandes are
miscfaieuous, Pirats are villanous, and what ship but
may catch a Leake? but say that winde, weather, ship
and saile, were as prosperous as heart oould wish, to
make a happy voiage, yet the goods on shore, the
diaige of custome, the time of vent, the ezpence of
carriage, may make the commodity so little, as without
the better stodce, may quickly kill a yong Mardiant :
And againe, if y« Creditor prooue banckrout, or the
Factor a spendthrift then Summa totalis makes but a
sorrowfol reckoning: Now at home, if they be
stretdied vpon y« tentor hookes, burnt in y« dying,
spoU'd in y* dreeing, or any other felse matter fell vpon
the, and yousdl the for good, y* buyer is cousoned, and
your conscience is touched, and God will one day hane
it answered, and therefore I doubt you wHl doe Uttie
good with it in doath : With that the young man
replyed : oh sir, nothing venter nothing hane, there is
no fishing to the Sea, the gaine of one voyage wU beare
the losse of many, and a Factor, of credit will neuer
trust but vpon assunuuce : and therefore the vndoing of
one man must not be the hindrance of a hundreth : if I
Hue among men I must doe as men doe : and for home
sale, if all things be not as they should be, they must
bee as they may be : euery one must line by his trade,
for in these dales he that stands vpO oonsdenoe may
lodce after commodity, and come not neere it by an
armes length : w^y quoth the old man, do you get so
much by meating the you do not meane to go to
heanen for your measure : Alas Sir quoth the youth, in
the Churdi perhaps wee heare of heauen, but in our
shops wee haue so much of the world to looke to, that
wee haue almost no leasure to thinke of heauen nor
bdl : but yet I hope so long as wee pitch and pay,
and follow the trade or occupatton we were brought vp
in, wee shall not goe to hdl for a small matter. No
quoth the olde man, but for a great matter you may,
and you that should loue your neighbour, to betray him
as a Jtidas, how eoer you thinke of it, I feare it will fell
foule wiih you one day : but shice I see you are gluea
to thiiue, though I would be kath to take part with yoa
in your course, I care not if I deale with you for one
hundreth poundes, to be imployed in doath : but what
say you to the second? to what vse wil yon put the
other hundreth ? The other hundreth quoth the young
man, I would put in wines, an ezoeUent commodity,
and ready money, and qukk retume. Alas quoth the
olde man, it is pitty the retume is so quicke, for I thinke
there is more money wasted in drinking to healthes,
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MERRY WONDERS.
till all beakh be tuned to sicknes, then is employed ui
imny necessary good occasions : but let euery man
answers for his owne sinne, my sonow can helpe Uttle :
and therefore if you be sure of good wines, speedy Tent
and good chapmen, I thinke it be not the worst ware
that you con deale wtthall : but if your wines be small
hedge wines, or haue taken sah water, and you either
by brewing them with milke water, or other trumperies,
or by twingitTi|jr one with another, and so marre both to
help one, and yet get money mto your hands, giue day,
and protest friendship, and afl to cheate a simple man,
whooe taste and his wit, are both a like for his baigahie :
oh how can you drinke wine, but you must thinke of
your wickednes? and then how it goes downe God
knowes, and I feare some of yee feele too well. Well
Sir quoth the young man, I tell you as I tolde you be-
foie,-euery man must looke to himself, and therefore if
you will deale with ondy men d oonsdenoe, you may
keep your money long enough ere it will doe you any
good : and therefore since it is an ill winde that bloweth
no man to good, let the drunkard make himseWe poore,
and the Uintner rich, and the Marehant vent Us com-
modity, as hee may continue his Ttaffique : I cannot
stand vpon termes. for your money you shaB haue
security, which if you like not, let me be widiout. Nay
soft quoth the olde man, for kindreds sake oousen, I
would not sticke with you vpon your owne bond, but
that we are all mortall, and if you dye, your suerty may
be the more oarefiiU of your discharge and his owne to :
and therefore Cousen, I pray yon in kindenesse tell me
for your third hundreth, howe you will impk>y it? Sir
quoth he, at your request I am content to tdl you, in
an Office : An Office quoth the old mft, in the name of
Ood m&IVhat may it be? why sir quoth he, the keepfaig
of a layle or prison, for if I hue but a fewe yeans, I
will make mhie Irons, and my Tap-house, quickly put
my money in my purse, with aduantage : and besides
my ordinary gaines of my dyet, my fees allowed, be-
sides priny commodities, will soone multiply my hun-
dreth to a greater summe then I will spnke of: Oh
but Cousen quoth the olde man, when you see the
misery of the poore, and thinke on the sonows of the
distressed, how can you sleepe in your lied, to thmke of
the day that is to bee looked for? Oh Cousen, be sure
this world Is but a picture, where pleasure or peine, is
bat as a shadow of that which is to come : remember
ray good cousen what will be spoken at the latter day,
when you may well say you haue visited the sidw, for
you see your prisoners for your owne safety : but how
you haue fed the hungry, or doathed the naked, I pray
God yiour consdenoe doe not come against you : In
briefe, cousen I had rather ghie thee an hundreth pounds
to leaue it. then lend thee a penny to take it : Sir quoth
the young man, I thanke you, but patience rather then
pitty, hath beene euer the way to profit : the small
grasse of the field fils the bame luU of hay, and the
poore mens money fils the rich mans purse : he that will
not kill a sheep because hee will not see his bkiad, may
hap to be without meate for his dinner, and why should
I pitty him that hath no pitty of himsdfe ? yet perhaps
I may make the gaine of the wilfull, that neede not
come neere me y^'may make mee comfort them that
c¬ goe fitxm me : corruption you know hath a part
in our nature, whose infectfon breedeth diucrs effectes
of euill, and vHk> lineth widiout sfai? and therefore If
rich men will be beggers, and baggers make rich men,
giue me leane to take my course, I will leane you to
your good consdenoe. Oh oousen bee not a blond
sudnr, there is other meate then Mutton, and therefore
pray not vpon Lambes, and if you can, endure the cry
of the miserable, yet in what you can be comfortable,
and if the wflfull be wofrill, yet lie not you toyfhill, but
to all distressed be pittifiill, and put away that oorrnp-
tion, that may breed an etemaU oonfuskm : put not the
poore to his Irons, least they eatfe with sorrOfw into his
souk, nor detaine the wofull in misery, least you be
shntte out of the gates of mercy : faowsoeuer lustioe
conwiaund execution, vse you commiseration : and so
sfaice I see your intent, I will not put you from your
purpose : but to the last hundreth deale (as plaindy)
what will you doe with it? In briefe Sir quoth the
young man, I will put it out vpon interest, where (by
such plou as I can worke) I will get foure soorein the
hundreth, and perhaps my hund|etfa againe : that were
a wonder quoth the olde man, but is not this interest
you speake of pkune vsury? No sir quoth the youth,
not plaine, but hi plaine truth, where there is no truth,
itisprtuy Usuxy: Ashowquoththeoldeman? Why
sir quoth the youth, when my petty Brokers, seekers for
young spend-thriftes, heare of a youth new come to his
huid, that is ready to sdl it ere hee know the rent of it,
vpon him goe they : to me they come for some com-
modity, eyther an Artifidall stone, that must passe for
anOrientall lewdl : a rare peece of Sflke that will scarse
h^de the cutting out : a lame horse though [it] stand right
foralittleway: and these with many other such tridces
must be foysted hito a fittle money, to make vp a hun-
dreth pounds, for Whidi heahall be surdylapc in boodea
suffident to hold him fiast : then ere hee come to haae
his money, my Broker must haue his share, his Seller
must haue his share, and the Scriueilor must bane more
then, for his writings, for his share, outofal which shares
I must haue a share, besides the cGmodlty of my money,
and bad ware, yet I must seeme ah honest man, and of
good cOsdenoe that wil not take aboue y Statute for
any thing : but thus wee share the Spend-thriftes money
ainfig vs, and if he breake his day, as it is oddes he
wil, then new double bOdes, and new shares for the for-
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MERRY WONDERS.
II
bearannoe: till Urns whb our ahaxing* we Icaue bim but
a little to share firom vs : Alas quoth the old man why
yott were as good take his purse by the high way : oh
no sir quoth the youth, it is fiure better and easier thus
to meete with his money, by a by way : wee that thus
feede vpon the folly of youth, are but ordained to be
the scourges of Prodigality : and when auerice hath
oooe bewitched the minde with wealth, it is but labour
lost to perswade reason to Icaue it: and therefore
Consen, though by your countenance it agree not with
your conscience, beare with me to td you truely my
intent. Oh oousen quoth the olde man, truely this last
part is the worst of all the play, and therefore since I see
your intent In eueiy one of these courses, rather to
deodue the simple, then to make an honest gaine. I
had as lieue kec^ my money in my purse, as imploy it
to such kinde of profit : if I may see a good baigaine
wherein you may honestly benefit your sdfe, without
tibcating or wicked cunning, vpon your owne tiond
without silerty, I am for you Ux a hundreth poundes.
Sir quoth he, I thanke you, but if yon be so scrupelous,
I meane not to trouble you: that is as you please
oousen quoth the olde man : so calling for a reckoniog
of a Pint of Muskadine, or such a matter, out they goe
together : who no sooner were out qf doores, bat they
became both Gumerds : and was not this a wonder?
FYan. Yes if they had been sowst, but as they were,
it was no wonder to see olde WUKam Gmrmerd of Fth^
BoroUgfa, and his cousen IMuy Gurmrd of Ami with
him, the one as honest and kinde an olde Farmer, and
the other as fine and wise a youth ibr his time, as one
should meete with ainong a thousand : but sfaice the
Sunne growiss low, I will quit you with one ivonder of
mine, and s6 giue oner till we meete againe.
Lor. Content, vse your cfiscretion, as time and
memocy seruetfa, I will dther gfaie ouer or requite you.
Fkan. Well then you shall vnderstand, that it was
my hap in A kinde of houie, bet#ixt a Taueme and an
Alehouse, m^iere all tertes of people might haue ware
for their money*
Lor. Oh by your leade a little, was it not a kinde of
Burden, a brothdl, or a bandy house ?
Fkan. Fie man you speake too broad, for where a
man may be merry for his money, is there no meate
tbinke you but laced Muttdn? and iff a Idnde wench
play the good lellow, must Bfaster Constable needes be
angiy? it is a heauie hearing.
Lor. Yea when the bdly growes so bigge, that the
burthen must lye vpo>^ ^« fiuish.
FhUL Away man, that is the worst, but if mett were
not hard hearted, women mig^t be better dealt withaL
Lor. Come, yOu will one day be canght nappbg for
your fine humoor : but I pray you on w^your wonder.
Ttul Why I will ten you : sitting in this foresaid
tipling tapling house, gnawing vpon a crust, longer then
I had need, and making many sips at a pot of Ale,
hauing a fiiggot before me, which I meant to sit the
burning out of, I heard in the next roome (somevrhat
doaer then where I sat) two or three laughing very
handy, and as through a creuice in the boords I migltt
espye them, I saw a fax queane with a double chin, set
betwixt a couple of leering companiona, at the least
crafty knaues : where laying mine eare a little to the
wall, I heard aU thdr chat, which was as I will tell you :
Cousen quoth one of them (to this Fubs) by this drinke
(and then he fedit me off a iHiole Can, that his eyes
stared with his draft) this money was wdl got : why I
got forty shilUngs of M. you wot who, for only telling of
him where the widdow of the Eagle dwdt, setting her
out, to bee aQ in the pfamers papers, in the thousandes
at least, and a house so furnished, it would doe ones
heart good to come in it, and for a Wife the world had
not a kinder creature : now, to her I made a trayne fay
her cousen my neighbour, to bee so acquainted with her,
that after I had got into a little diat with her, I set her
in such a gogge for a husband, with setting out this
gmtleman to be so gallant a man, so goodly a man, so
fine a man, so kinde a man, so louing a man, so court-
eous a man, so proper a man, and so braue a man, that
besides liis liuing which was more then hers by a great
deale, his creadit was such with the great ones, that she
should go in her Hood euery day, and leade a life like a
Lady at the least : Now when with these wordes I had
aet them both in sudi tune that I knew how to have the
drawing of their purse stringes, when I had so long
plumjBd vpon his feathers, that they began to growe too
fast for getting off, then finding an olde Ardier insteed
of a Sutor, that noting my acquaintannoe with the Wid«
dow, wonld make a profit of my tnuiaile, to him fdl I,
and giuing ouer my young gallant. feU aboord with his
bounty, and haxdng him in bond (beside his daj^y
liberality) that if hee gat the widdow, I should haue the
hundreth poundes, to worke went I with my wittes, to
bring this worid about : and one day sittfaig with the
widdow in sad taike, after she had asked me of my
youth, (with a sigh) I answered that he was wdl, and
if that shee would bee secret, I would acquaint her with
that which should make her thinke mee an honest man :
she not caring what she sayed, to heare what I would
lay, promised secrecy : whereupon I began to play my
part kindly : Alas widdow quoth I (to deale plaindy with
you) my friend and I must be two, for whereas I thought
him the most honest, and stayed kind Gentleman, and
good husband in the world, I find he Is a wencfaer, and
a spend-thrift, and so hasty that nere a friend hee hath
but is weary of bis company, and withaU (I may td you)
he is in ddM, truly I haue bin sonrie at my hart, that I
was so decehied in him, to open my mouth in Ms
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MERRY WONDERS.
oOmendation, espedally to a woman of your worth, who
it were pittj that he should Uue, to looke vpon more
then as a stianger : but I hope there is nothing so lar
past bat may be called backe againe? No quoth shee I
warrant you, I will looke to that well enough, and I am
f^aA I heare of it so soone, and I thank you with al my
hart : oh these yong men are dangeitNis to deale withall :
indeed (as they say) they will make much of one, for
they will make as much of one as they can and then
leane ys to make our prayers at whining crosse, but I
will leaue them all and bee ruled by my friends, I am
not so young, but I can make much of an oldeman, and
loue him to, if hee vse mee weQ, for I see by my neigh-
bours, it is better behig an olde mans darling then a jrong
man worldling : say you so Mistiis quoth I and truly if
you be so mmded, I warrant you I will fit you with a
gentleman for your tume : one, that though hee bee
somewhat in yeeres, yet is he as staite an olde man, and
as neate in his apparell, as if he were but twenty yeeres
of age : one that loued his olde wife out of cry : hee hath
but one daughter, and shee is married, so that hee hath
no charge to trouble him: and for his wealth, hee
knowes no ende of his goodes : Yea quoth the widdow,
sndi a one were worth the looking on, and for the
honesty that I haue found in you. I will thinke the better
of you while I knowe you, welcome to me at all times,
and bring your friend, it may bee he shall not mislike
his entertainment : with these good wordes, I tooke my
leane, and after many thankes, making her bdeeue
wonders, about my villany went I, and being well
acqnaintffd with a cousen of hers, who was to pay her a
summe of money, which should be fcMgiuen him by this
olde man, if he could get her, we made such meanes, that
with the good helpe of her kinsman, who lent this Cunny-
catching cunning companion, both money and wares
for his furniture : we found such times, and made such
meetings, that we dapt vp a wicked bargaine : and for
my paines (wliat care I for the vndoing of her and him,
and twenty more, to seme my tume) I gat these crownes,
and will haue more to them ere it bee long : and bee
hang'd you will quoth good wife Bumble Bee, but sirra
wotst it thou what? He tell thee as pretty a tale : in my
house (thou knowst) I haue them that wiU> carry meate
in their mouthes, and not loose a bone for a shaddow :
now vpon some month a goe, I entertained a young
gossip, that was not such a baby, but she knew how to
butter her bread, and yet the vilde baggadge (because
she was somewhat snowte Dure) would be a little proude
and foolish withall* she wouM be for no Churle, nor
Chappes, she was a minion for a Champion : yea but
daughter quoth I, we cannot keep house with fiure tookes,
wee must haue money, and the Churle at home will be
Uberall abroad, and the Chuffe wil bring better prouan-
der then Chaffe, where be meanes to baite : be content.
a pune of gold b worth ten pipes of Tabaooo, please
an olde mans humour, and haue his heart : these youths
of the parish, that are so sprase hi their apparell, haue
little money in their parses, and their verses and their
tales, are not worth a puddfaigfor oar trade : the basket
with cakes, the peeres of stnlies, the lewels, and the
goki, this is it that nudntaines the matter, talke is but
winde, there is nothing to be borrowed on it, leaue
your idle humor, or you will hue bat ill faoooredly :
Now sir, how she listn'd to me I know not, or how
she profited in my instructfon, bat an olde Widower
comming to my house (insteed of the common coarse
that he might haue taken) fell in so great a liking of
her beauty, that leaning to frdl aboord with her for, and
so forsooth, he began to teU her how great a pltty it
was that so sweet a creature, in &oe and body, should
haue so foule a minde : and if that rather neede of
maintenance, then wicked delight, did driue her to this
lewde Unde of life, and that he might be perswaded
of her loathing and leaning her ill course, his wealth
was sufficient : chUdren he had none, and to bring her
to good hee cared not tospende halfe that hee had, shee
should be wife, child, knie, and perlutps heyre to the
best part of that he had : this sound in her care, so
went to her heart, that by such meanes as he wrooght,
my girle was got away, and my house atanost ooerthrowne
by it, for I may tell you she was a diamond wench, for
colour and countenance, and a wit at will : bat when
this Wkiower had wedded her, and she began to looke
about her. she was so turned honest that it was awonder
howe shee could hit on it : but to be short, one day
(not past a wedce a goe) she sent for me, and her good
man being abroad, she gat me alone with her in a
chamber, where after a showre of teares : oh quoth she,
leaue leaue your widced and heOish life, it may last a
while, but the end wil be nooght : Ufagins viri^yes,
yong mens patrimonies, olde mensweahhes, lost, solde,
and wasted, bodies diseased, mhides troubled, hearts
agreeued, and soules tormented, he! in the house, and
the dean in euery comer : take heede I say of a feire
wammg, let the shame of nature, the hort of reason,
the abuse of time, and the olfenoe of grace, make you
loath this vilenes, and leane this villany, deuised by the
deuitt, and enacted by his angds: God is where be was,
he hath called me home, follow me to him, breake up
your iU company, and feU.to your prayers : if you want
to come to mee, I will not see you want, but if you will
not take this kindly, and follow it soundly. I wil leaue
you vtterly. hate you deadly, and persecute yon most
cruelly : Now when she had made an ende, she stung
me so to the heart, that I was not able to answere her
a word a good while, but at last comming to my selfe,
I did thanke her, and toUe her, that she shouU see I
would thinke on her, whereupon she gaue me this golden
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MERRY WONDERS.
13
and by this golde so I haud for I haiie put two away,
and the nst shall follow as fiut as may be, for I wil
tome christian, and doe thou /To^v too, and in good
earnest if thou wilt doe as I will doe. wee will strike a
bargaine : thon hast been a knaiie, and art sorry for it,
I haue been a drab, and am ashamed of it, let vs leaue
al knauery and sweare honesty, wee shall doe mom
good with them that know vs when they see vs, then a
thousand of them that looke vpon vs, and will not
bdeeue vs : Well Ma4gi quoth Uie Cheator, thou hast
ahnost turned my heart in my belly with this taike of
thine, and truely I will soone come home to thee, when
it shall be thy &ult if wee iumpe not vpon the maine
point, but what meanes my Cosen Rainoidi to change
colour and sit so sad? Oh oosen quoth hee, I heere
you talke of a mendment, and rdoyoe to heere it, but
when I thinke withall vpon my owne wickednes, it
prickes me to the heart to remember it : Oh the fiedse
and oounterfet wares y* I haue sold to sfanf^ chapmen
in the country where as wdl in losse of wares, as hf im-
prisonment for breach of payment, I haue vndone a
number, and the goodes of dhiers honest that I gat into
my hands, and then dosdy (to oousen my creditors)
played benckrout without neede : Oh Cousen when I
kept Shoppe, if a poore Gentleman had broke day with
me but for forty shillings, I would haue de&med him,
with shifter and beggar, and I know not what, but when
I had vndone I know not how many, and yet all
would not thriue with me, what shall I doe? Why
Cousen, aske God mercy for your sinnes, of that which
you haue, pay as for as it will goe, or employ it to such
good vse, as may in time make satisfoction : no doubt
but God will be merdfoll, you will thriue and prosper,
and your conscience will be at quiet : say you so Cousen
quoth hee, I thanke you with all my heart, and since I
haue neither wife nor Children, if yee two make a match.
I care not if I spend the residue of my life in your
company, I will be a lodger in your house, and we wil
Hue and die like IHends : vpon this they clapt hands,
called for their reckonings and departed, when going
out of the doores the men were both turned to Plouers,
and the woman to an Howlate : and thinke you not this
a wonder?
LOK. No as it is no wonder, that Wiiliam Pltnter and
his oousen Rcgir of Mallets moore, and Sib Howlate of
NOcocks Marsh, should meete a[t] Bulley Market, and
drinke a Pot of Ale at the Mag Pie : but for the wonder
it was their talke and turning honest, if the tale bee true
as you ten it : but looke you the Sunne goes lowe it is
time to be walking let us keepe the rest of our wonders
till our nert Meeting.
Fran. Content, and it shall goe hard, but I will bee
for you : in the mean time farewelL
Lor. Adue.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGB 4, EnSTLB-^BDlCATORT 'TO MA. IOHN CRA-
nocKB, CuTLBR.' See on this name our Memorial-
Introducdon ; also on the patbedc personal references
of this and other Epistles dedicatory.
ToTHS Reader, p. 4, coL z, L a, '/oitdi' s foolish :
1. 6, ' many a mm wotukr* s very many, or a multitude
(plural) : L zo, ' vnha^ly,* i.t. the Writer not bdng
very happy at tlie time : coL a, U. 7-8, ' suck a doe about
nothing:* the saying was a common one early : 1. zo^
*asl kauo rtoMon ' = according as I have reason.
Mbrrt Wonders, p. 5, coL z, L z, ' Grtem RusJUs '
s bents— a fomiliar rustic phrase equivalent to 'Good
morning.' The names *Fkandsoo' and *Lorillo* are
in accord with the (then) popuhffity of everything
Italian : L z6^ * blacki Swann* '—for long was regarded
as a worid's wonder : L 33. ' toya ' » trifles : col. 3, L
93, 'ftfA«/i^ fit i!il#^y»M«' = does move good dead thsitt
when aBve.
P. 6, ooL z, 1. as. 'Mtf iigm of tko vnldogoou:* the
' Goose and Gridiron * was a common inn-sign, but the
*wilde goose* is not ftmnd in Larwood and Hotten's
• History of Sign4)oards :' L a6. 'badUsido' « garden,
or here, back-court. Heniy Vaughan the Silurist uses
it in his ' Looking Back ' thus :—
• How bnrve a pnMpact it a bright Awisi»A/
Wh«r« flow*!* and pahns rsliMh the eye 1
And days weU ipent liktt the glad But abide,
WhoM aorniag-glories amnoC dye.'
Lyte, in hU edn. of Vaughan, ignorant (apparently) of
the real meaning, or offended by iu changed applica-
tion, altered the text to this :—
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NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
*How brave a prospect u a frmoer^d^hin
Where flow'rs and palms refresh die eye I
And days well q>ent like the glad East remain,' etc.
So too the reprint of 1858. I was the first to restore the
Author's text. A quotation from Ben Jonson's / Case is
Altered ' will illustrate the early and later meaning : —
* Oniom .... but if thou wilt go with me into her
father's back-Hde, old Jacques back-side, and speak for
me to RacheL' (Act iv. sc. 3.) Then in sc 4, Jacques
being told by Rachel that there are some persons in the
back-garden, cries in fear of robbery, 'How, in my
back-side t where? what come they for? Where are
they?' It is in this bacLendosure that Jacques digs a
hole for his gold, and covers it with horse-dung, and
that Onion, lest he should be discovered, gets up a tree.
It might be worth while inquiring how ' beck-side' has
come to have such a deteriorated and oddly^Ufferent
application. See Fuller Worthies' Libiary edition of
Vangfaan, voL L 999 : iL zzy : iv. 338-9. L 3 (from
bottom), '^ pounding* s impounding or seizure by law :
coL 3. L a, ' siavertd'^to ' staver ' is to * totter :* L za,
' roanedcurtalUs ' = sorrel docked horses : now ' roaned '
is = bon-grey colour: iHd,, 'TrtncMmon' = 2A old
hilarious dance : 1. 34, ' mary ' s marry : L 40, 'guie
the wall to no man ' = allowed to pass or gave way :
A story is told of a foolish nobleman who, meeting a
venerable Puritan clergyman on a narrow foot-path,
insultingly occupied its entire breadth (or naxxowness)
and observed ' I never giue way to fools.' He received
for answer stingingly, 'And I always do A7,'>-and the
ancient Puritan stepped down.
P. 7, col. z, 1. 7, ' Morris daunct ' = Moorish dance :
I. zz, ' minikin ' as diminutive : L 33, ' Oxts ' — mis-
printed • Ores :' col. 3, 1. zo, ' Bearard* = bear-ward or
bear-keeper : L zz, * Sarazins ' = Saracens : L 14. *S.
Ckrisitpktr* » ht^. as the saint was : I. Z5, *swad"
8 rustic bumpkin : ibid., *browes* = brose : I z6, *inor%
«W ' = salutations : L 30, *pincke* = beauty, after
the flower so named and the bird (chaffinch) : L 34-35,
' Bla ' and ' soifa ' » notes in music : L Z4 (from bottom),
'coda i^mer bones '—minced oath, * cockes' being a
corruption for 'God,' as fai Hamlet (iv. 5) 'By eoeit
they are to blame :
whores.
L 6 (from bottom). • TrmiUs' =
P. 8, coL z, t 3Z, * Mane-oombe' s comb used for a
horse's mane, etc. : L Z4 (from botttom), ' Urckin ' b
hedge-hog, which boys still believe rolls itself over
fEdlen fruit and carries it ofF on its prickles : L 5 (from
bottom), ' minions ' =: parasites : ooL 3, 1. 3, ' LobJkin '
= lobcock or lubber: L 3, 'friskaU' sleap, as in a
dance : 1. Z3, ' blew Crawi and red OwU* « Inn Signs
(fiEmdfril) : L z6, ' coaru* -=■ corse, f.e. ct^se.
P. 9, ooL z, L 9, ' sfrisUte* ^ spry, acdve: L zo.
*pricW s advance : L Z3. ' Lywu-hound* s some local
breed of hound : L Z9, *dn4gion kafU:* 'dudgeon's
root of boxwood: 'haJU" s handle : ool. 3, L zz, '«wf/'
= sale : L Z4, 'banckrout* = bankrupt : L Z5, 'FaOor'
s agent or manager : L zy, * taUor* stenter : L 33.
' there is nofidiing to the Sea.* See Memorialrlntroduc-
tion for curious illustration from Sir John Davies.
P. zob ooL z. L 5, * chapmen* s merchant or buyer : 1.
7, 'A«<gvflP<fftf's made of herbs, etc., taken from the
hedge, e,g, nettle beer «nd the like.
P. zz, coL z, 1. 37, ' sowst* « sauced : L 38, ' Frinity '
-^u. Trinity ? but the names are fanciful throughout :
L 43, 'Burdell'.* See Glossazial Index, s,v, : L 43,
* laced Mutton' = a prostitute: coL 3, L z6, 'pinners'
=s pinders, i,e. the official who had charge of the
'pound,' and whose duty it was to confine stray cattle
in it : L Z9, ' trayne' s stratagem : L as, 'a gogge' =
a-gog, frill of excitement : L 4Z, ' sad* s serious.
P. Z3, coL z, L z8, 'iA»4r's: stayed: L zz (from
bottom), ' not loose a bone for a shaddow '—the allusion is
to the old fable of the dog and the shadow : L 8 (from
bottom), 'vilde* s vile : L 7(firom bottom), * smfwUfait*
= &cefiEur : L 3(firom bottom), ' Cht^ s sullen, chur-
lish : coL 3, L 6, 'peeres of stu^:' qu. mjsprint for
' peeces,' »'.«. pieces?
P. Z3, coL z, L 61 'i^ro^'alooae woman: L zz,
'turned:* misprinted 'turning:' I 13, ^immpenot* ^
agree not : 1. 30, ' wA«r» '—misprinted 'were :' coL 3. L
i9> ' Mag Pie '— e once common inn sign : see Lar-
woo J and Hotten as before, a.n.— G.
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A POSTE
With a Packet of Mad Letters.
1603-1637.
40
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NOTE, i
The first edition of these ' Letters,' which consisted of one Part only,
is undated. The earliest dated one — ^but Part ist only — ^that I have met
with, is of 1603. Another, probably others, had preceded, seeing that it is
said to be ' Newly Inlarged.' In Appendfx to thie present reproduction
the more noticeable various readings, etc., from 1603 are recorded, so far
as an imperfect copy preserved in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh,
enabled. I am indebted to my friend J. Aj. Diomson, Esq., Edinburgh, 1
for a most painstaking collation of 1603 with 1637 edition, as far as the
former goes. In the Memorial-Introduction will be found an account of
several editions, and of kindred books. The text of 1637 is adopted, as
having most probably received the Author's latest corrections, albeit the
1603 text corrects manifest errors of 1637. These 'Letters,' when
critically studied, have not a little of biographical interest in them, while
they shed light on olden manners and usages, more especially on the
domestic life of our forefathers and foremothers, in youth and age.-— G.
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A POSTE
WITH A PAC
KET OF MAD
Letters.
Newly imprinted.
LONDON
Printed for John Harriot.
1637.
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TO THE RIGHT
WORSHIPFULL
MAXIMILIAN DALLISON of HAWLIN,
in the Countie of Kent, Esquire :
NICHOLAS BRETON wisheth the happi
nesse of this World, and Hea-
ven hereafter.
I Find in LoHne^ French^ ItaUan^ and Spanish^ Bodkes of Epistles, dedicated to men of good
account, as well for their places, as spirit : bat withall I must confesse the Authors of
those writings, to have beene men of those Judgements, that have set downe matter worthy
regard : now, for my selfe, though I cannot stand in the ranke of those rare wits, yet noting in your
Judgement, that true Noblenesse of Spirit, that by the regard of your good fjeivour, may grace the
workes of an unworthy hope, and presuming (upon my knowledge of your discretion) to receive
pardon of my presumption, hoping that you shall finde nothing displeasing to an honest minde, some
things profitable to a young wit, and wishing all, worthy the finvourable acceptation of your good
patience, in all due thankefulnesse for your undeserved goodnesse, I humbly take my leave.
Yours in affectionate service
NICHOLAS BRETON.
TO THE READER.
iU if you be, be you so, gentle Reader; you shall understand^ that I know net when, there
came a Poste, I know not whence, was going I know not whither, and carried I know
not what : But in his wc^, I know not how, it was his hap with lack of heed, to let fall a
Packet of idle Papers, the superscription whereof being only to him that finds it, being my fortune
to light on it, seeing no greater style in the direction, fell to opening of the inclosure, in which I found
divers Letters written, to whom, or from whom I could not leame. Now for the Contents of the
circumstances, when you have read them, judge of them; ctndas you like them, regard them: And
formy selfe, hearing you liked well of this first Part, I have adventured a second, which here I
present you with, both in one : but fearing to be too tedious in this Letter, lest you like the worse of
those which follow, I rest as I have reason. Yours, Al B.
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The Contents of the first Booke,
I. A oomptementall Letter,
8. Ftom a Sonne to his Father,
3. A Letter of Love to his Mistresse,
4. A Letter admonitory to a Gentlewoman
U?lng fai London,
5. A Letter to his mistresse desirintf marriage,
6. A merry letter of newes of oomplaints, .
7. To a vertuons Gentlewoman,
S-9. A letter of comfortable advice, to a firiend,
who sorrowed for the death of his Love,
with the answer, ....
lo-ii. A letter of advice to a young Courtier, with
the answer, . . . .
13-13. A moumfnU Letter to a Brother, with the
Page6
ihid
ibid
iHd
7
ihid
ibid
iHd
8
14. Toai/Mitiilcrinbehalfeofasickefriend. iHd
X5-16. A ktter of a Jealous Husband to his Wife,
with the answer, ....
X7-i8. A letter of kind oomplcneBts to a friend,
and the answer, ....
x9-ao. A letter of love to a Gentlewoman, with her
az-aa. A letter of soorae to a ooy Dune, with her
answer, .....
93-04. A letter to a Coule dowdy, with the
8(S-a6^ A letter for the prefiBnring of a servant,
with the answer, , , f ,
af<0. A letter of oounsell to a ftlend, with the
a9-30w A letter of oomibrt to a sister In sorrow,
with the answer ....
31-39. A letter of love to a fidre mistresses with
the answer, ....
33-34. A letter of coonseU from a kind lather and
the answer, ....
3S-36. A merdiam's letter to his Factor, with the
37-3IB. A letter of challenge, with the answer, . .
3^4& A letter to a friend for newes, with the
10
iHd
iz
iHd
za
iHd
13
14
iHd
IS
ibid
z6
ibid
4x^49. A disswasive from marriage, with the
answer, .... PBgex6
43-44. A kind letter of a Creditor for mony, with
the answer, .... 17
45-46. A letter of newes, with the answer, 18
47-48. A letter perswading to marriage with the
answer, ..... iHd
49-Sa A letter of unkindnesse upon a deniall
of a courtesie, with the answer, . . Z8-19
51-59. A letter to an unthankfidl perroh, with the
answer, ..... ibid
53-54. A letter to langh at, after the old fashion
of love to a maid, with the answer, . Z9-90
55-56. Ftam a Father to his Sonne advising
against suertiship, with the answer, 90
57. The answer of the langh, .
58-59. To a friend familiar, with the answer,
60^1. To a familiar friend, with the answer.
69-63. A love letter, with the answer,
64-65. To a CEuniliar friend, with the answer,
6^^. A letter of love to a fidre mistresse, with
the answer, ....
68-69. i^^tf^ to Mafgeri4 his sweet heart, with
tlie answer, ... . . 93-94
70-7Z. Ftom a Yeoman in the Country to his Son
in London, with the answer, 34
79-73. To a wife in the country, with the
answer, .... ibid
74-75. A letter upon ordinary causes, with the
answer, ..... ibid
76-77. A letter to a fHend for despatch of busines,
with the answer, .... 94-95
78-79. Letters of love betwixt Jfimaid^ and Lorima,
with the answer, .... ibid
8o-8z. A reply, with the answer, . ibid
89^3. A fiuniliar letter to a friend in the Country.
with the answer, .96
84-85. A letter from a father to his Son at the
Vnivcrsity, with the answer, . 96-97
86. To his deare and only beloved Mistiis
Smsam P§arU^ .... 97
ibU
91
ibid
99
ibU
99-93
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^ ^T^ rT^ ^T^ riT rj^ rj\ rj^ T^ ^T^ ri^ ^T^ T^ ^T^ ^^r ^^\ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ rT^ rT^ T^ T^ T^ ^j^ T^ T^
A POSTE WITH A
PACKET OF MAD
Letters.
X. A Compltmemtail LetUr.
Diart/rumd,
|HE elegant composure of your lines make me
to esteteie you a d6epe scholler, and the le-
monstianoe of your loue towards me, makes
m6t glory in so exquisite a friend : with what
an eztasie of comfort shall I bee rauished by your com-
pany, who surfet thus with joy at the paper, which
beares the Characters of your name and hand-writing?
which writing truely is most delectable, but not satis-
factorie, for I cannot deriue a fiilnesse of content to my
selfe, though I were made possessor of both the Indies,
or had the affluence of all outward commodities, if. I
euer be depciued of your society, which I account as
the greatest moity of all terrene happinesse, who am
resolued stn to continue my sorrow for your continued
absence, and request you to hasten the hower wherein
I may congratulate your safety, and to abridge my time
of mourning with a speedy and moat welcome retnnie
vnto
Your dstfoied friend. A, B.
a. From a Sonne to his Father,
"ITThereas it is the pert of euery child, being by duty
VV and nature chiefly bounds daily to soUidte God
with importunate prayers for his Parents prosperity : I
therefore good Father being a sonne more bound then
any through the fluent bounty of a Fathers loue, doe
now in all reuerence, obediently remember my teak and
duty, with my fenient prayers for the continuance of all
true felidtie towards you whose loue hath beene the
flood to fill the banks againe, when my krQgular ex-
pencea were the ebtides to make my monie run low :
but as I am insufficient to make a plenary retiibutiott,
or to cancel the Obligation of your so many kindnesses
and baiefits, so will I neiier forgtet to shew mygratelull
remembrance ; but behig ashamed to retume nothing
but bare words in retribution, 1 have 9X this present sent
yon a Gelding, whose worth I leane to your triall and
experience, and desire you to accept him as the rentall
tribute of
Your obedient Sonne, /. if.
3. A ietterjffl^ove to. his Mistris.
Loveliest Mistris,
That poverivU Deitywhk&lMdLflBkindlBd.the heartt
of mightiest Monarchs with ihe.iieaittilull linea-
ments of roiia chkSa Ladies» at this time hath mani-
fested his soveraigntie ouer me, who belnff taken in the
snare of looe^ and fettered 4n the bonds of afieolion, am
in the same predicament of paasioR: the countlesse
griefes, which day and night I hane long endured for
your sake (able to melt a heart harder ten a diamond)
may be as perswadiag Oraton fo-mooe yous pittiluU
nature to fiauours as my hngiiiwhlng estate doth implore
(if yon bold my liHsin any «egaid>that you would voncfa-
sale by your kindnesse to comfort my smde, which is
prepared to liocMike this wietched body vpon deaiall :
But fearing lest I bane too much slackt the rdne of my
pen, and btei too Ubenll 4n writing, awnyting in your
answer for the sentence of life or death, wisbfaig you a
perpetuity of Joy, I rest,
• Yonrs most <4keUonaMyY A, B.
»
4. A Letter admonitory to a Gentlewoman
Hiring in London,
ITisobseraablethat whenaman hath a glasse of a
brittle substance and for the worth of great price
and value, he is very chary and heddfidl thereof, be-
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A PACKET OF LETTERS.
caaaeif b7«iaik'ihoaldbe6 brokcB, itis fanpossibk
to Inne it reyired : I make tte application Tnto yimr
•eUe (Coaski Z?i»«%) Toor Mft3rdeii4iead betaig a jewdl
of hi^ estiflDate, may bee oomparad to that tariftle waie,
whidi qehaoa joat mn te the greater for the preienia-
Ikm, magr gpet aenicke that no Art of man can make
whole agaiae; eada biow> that no httbe is of anffident
eflicacytoaiia: Let aot aaymjAlful adnicebein ill pert
eooepted» the teespaase befeg so imieda^'mahte, and the
loase so irreooaenble : your Sex (Cousin) is of it adfe
prone and prapeeae vnto> pkasnre, and Lomdem is a
place loQer of prooocatiiies to Sinne : joor beauty shall
there homely mtoe with CoreOde tenqrtatlons, though
haply in the hannli'ste coontiy the fortresse of your
chastity found no assaylants. But I hope your genuine
and innate vertue will protect you from so loule an
tgnominii^ and giue mee cause to rest alwaies.
Your kvimg Costn^ G. D,
5. A LetUr to kU Mhttis deHriitg marriage.
Courteous Bfistris Amu, the only joy of my heart, I
thought ft fittfaig to declare my mlnde in writing
to you : longHmehaue I rested your true and constant
lone, hopfaig tb linde the like true aflTection from you :
I write not hi any dissembling sort, my tongue doth
dechoe my heart, assuring you that I doe not regard
any portion, but your hearty loue to remaine firme to
me. I would be glad to know when you would appoint
the day of our marriage, if it stand so to your liking :
deare Amee take some pitty on him that loueth you so
well : you know that I haue beene profferd good mens
daughters in mariage, but I could neuer fancy any so
well as your selfe. I desire to know the lulnesse of your
affection, whether it doth equall mine or no, and upon
the reodt of your answer, you shall see me shortly after :
though I reoeiiie jrou in your smocke, I haue sufficient
meanes to prouide for yo6 and me both. I bane sent
you a ring in token of loue, which I pray you accept of.
I omit all eloquence, not doubting but you will consider
my feruent scale which cannot be expressed with words.
Thus requesting your answer, I commit you to God.
resting
Your assured loving /rUmd HU death, H, K,
& A mtrry iMter ofuemts of CowipUtimtsA
Honest -Goune my old Schoole-fdkm and Khide
friend, glad to heare of thy home quiet, how
ener I £ue with my fiuie traueU : where as thou writest
▼nto m^ for such newes as this place ye^eth, let mee
ten thee that there are so many, and so few of them true,
that I dare almost write none: onely this vpon my
* SeeadnnetailsllcMrfroaittiosedB. in Appendix.— O.
knowledge I dare deHner thee for truth, that of late in
the Qtie there are a number of complaints euery home
in the day : Thi Souldier oomplalnes either of peace or
pennrie, the Lawyer cither of ladce of Qyents, or cold
fe^s, the Merchant of small traficke, or ill fortune, the
Tradesmen of lack of Chapmen, the'labourers of lacke
of woike, the poore man of lacke of charity, and the
rkh of lacke of money, the thiefe of the ladce of booties,
and the Hang-man that his trete are bare. And for
your feminine gender, many old women cry out of
young Tnthitfts, and many young wenches complaine
of old misers : Howsoeuer matters goe, I cannot helpe
them, but as I heare of their complaints, I haue written
thei the contenu, which being scarce worth your read-
ing, I leaue tothy worst vsing, And sosorrie that I haue
BO matter of worth wherewith better to fit thine humor,
in as much kindnesse as I can, I oommend my loue to
tiiy comnutad, and so I rest
Thine ever as mine owne W, P,
7. To a vertmoms GentlewomaM,
I Will not deny but your frure eyes are able to dart
loue into any beholder, but the vertues of your
mind haue wonne me to bte enamored on your person.
They that aime at the forme, tie their kmes but to an
apprentidiip of beauty, whidi broken with sicknesse or
yeares, they grow'either cold in their affsction, or fidl to
a loathing of their once bdkxied object, but I (confiding
va your wisedome^ ft supporting my hopes upon the
pillar of your saptoioe) put it to your Section cither to
grace me with your frivour, whose loue shall bee as dur-
able as the immortaU essence of your soule, from Whence
flow your neuer enough commended vertues, or to cast
it on somf superfidall and tfempomry Louer, whose
affection will fiule with the decay of your soone vanish-
ing beauty., But I will here sA a period to my lines,
and giue way to your discreet oonsidecation to oonr
template and discnsse the most affectionate sute of
Yota^ ever vowed servant, R, /.
8. A Letter 0/ comfortable advice to afritHd, who
sftrrvwedjor the death of his Love,
HOnest Alexander, I heare thou art of late ftllen
into an extreame melancholy, by reason of the
sudden departure of Susanna out of this life : for thy
sake I am sorry she hath left her passage on this earth,
though being too good for this world, she is sure gone
to a better : now if thy mourning could reoouer her from
dteath, I would wilUngly beare part of thy passion : but
when it doth her no good, and thy selfe much hint, let
not a wilftill humor lead th^e hito a woefiill consump-
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8
A PACKET OF LETTERS.
tSoii. Thou knowest she is senselesse in the gnme, and
wilt thou therefore be witlesse in the world? Say lone
is extreame, and let mbt bele^ie it : wilt thoa thtfefote
deprioe nature of reason? God forbid: well thou
knowest I lone th^, and fai my lone let me6 aduise
th^, not to goe from thy selie with an imagination of
what was, to lose that which is : because she is in
Heanen, wilt thou be in Hell? or if she be halfe an
Angell, wilt thou bte more then halfe a Deuill? Oh,
spend thy spirit to a better purpose : let not the remem-
brance of her perfection driue thee into imperfections :
nor make loue hatefiill to others by seehig the vn-
happinesse caused in thy sdfe. O let not lande shew
folly in thee, howsoeuer vertne deserued honor in her :
Leane thy solitary dwelling and come Hue with me, we
will deuise some good meanes for the remoue of this
melancholy. In the meane time, make not too much of
it, lest it chance to proue a madnesse : Loue thy selfe,
and bele^ne thy friend, and what is in me to doe thte
good, command as thy owne : glad I would Me to see
thee, as hee who doth intirdy loue the6, and so desirous
to beaie from thee, to the Almi^ty I leane the6, Fare-
wea
Tkimi as his cwmit F, D.
9. His Atuwer.
Kind FroMki I bane recehied thy friendly Letter,
and note thy carefuQ loue ; but pardon me if I
doe not answer to thy Uking. Alas, how can he truly
judge of Loue, that neuer kindly was in loue? or know
how soundly to helpe a soirow, that neuer inwardly felt
it? Reading makes a SchoUer by rule, and obaerua-
tion I know doth much in the perfection of Art, but
e3q>erience is the Mother of Knowledge. My Mistresse
beauty was no moonshine, whose vertue gaue light to
the hearts eye, nor her wisedome, an ordinary wit, which
put reason to his perfect vnderstanding : and for her
graces, are not they written among the vertuous? Thou
saidst wd, she was too heauenly a Creature to make her
habitation on this earth : and is it not then a kind of
hell to be without her in this world? Imaginations are
no dreames, where substances are the object of the
senses, while the eye of memory is neuer weary of see-
ing. Oh honest Ftanht thinke thou hast not lined that
hast not loued, nor canst liue in this woild, to haue
such a love die in it : It is a dull spirit that is fed with
obliuion, and a dead sense that hath no fedling of loue :
thinke therefore what was, is with me, and my selfe as
nothing without the enioying of that something, which
was to me all in alL Is not the presence of an Angell
able to rauish the sight of a man ? And is not the light
of Beauty the life of Lone ? Leaue then to burthen mee
with imperfection in my sorrow for her want, whose
presence was my Paradise^ and whose abeenoe is my
worids hell : thou dost misconstrue my good, in a
languishing for her lacke, and knowest not my heart,
in thinking of any other comforu : No Pranhs, let it
suffice though I lone thed, I cannot foiget her: and
though I liue with thed, yet will I die lor her : bane
patience then with my passion, till time better temper
my aifection : in whidi, most denoted to th^e of any
man lining, till I ste th^e. (wfaidi shall be as shortly as
I weD can) I rest.
Thine as thou hufwesi, D, B,
w
za A Letter 0/ advice to a young Courtier.
\ y noble kinsman, I heare you are of late growne a
great Courtier, I wish you much grace, and the
continuing of your best comfort : biit for that your
yeares haue not had time to se6 much, and your Idnd-
nesse may hap to be6 abused, let mee entreat youa little
now and then to looke to that which I counsell yon :
keepe your purse warily, and your credit charily, your
reputation valiantly, and your honor carefully : for your
friends, as you finde them vse them : for your enemies,
feare them not, but looke to them : for your loue^ let h
be6 secret in the bestowing, and discreet in the placing :
for if fancy bee wanton, wit will bee a foole : scome not
Ladies, for they are worthy to bee loued : but make not
loue to many, lest thou bee loued of none : if thou hast
a fimour. be not proud of thy fortune, but thinke it dift-
cretion to oonceale a contentment : goe neate, but not
gay, lest it argue a ligfatnesse, and take heed of lauish
expence, lest it begger thy state : play little, and lose
not much, vse ezerdse, but make no toile of a pleasure :
Read much, but dull not thy braine, and conferre but
with the wise, so shalt thou get vnderstanding. Pride
is a kind of coynesse, which is a little too womanish :
and common familiarity is too nedre the Clown for a
Courtier. But carry thy sdfe euen, that thou fall on
ndther side : so will the wise commend th^ and the
better sort affect thee : but let me not be tedious, lest it
may perhaps offend th^ : and therefore as I liue, let it
suffice I loue th^ And so wishing thee as much good
as thou canst desire to be wished, in prayer for thy
health, and hope of thy happinesse, to my vtmost
power I rest in affectionate good will
Thine ever assured, H. K.
zi. His Answer,
Sweet Cousin, I thinke you haue dther some Court
in the Country, or else you have studied the Cour-
tier, that you can set downe such rules that are no lesse
worthy the reading, then observing : bdeeue mee they
shall bee my best leisures studies, and in my daily
courses my oounseUors, my soUidtors in loue, ft my
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Judges in honor, my gnides in greatest hopes, and my
admonitors in greatest dangers : for your paines in
them I thanke you, and for your kindnesse I kme you :
your care of me I see by them, and will not vnkhidly
foiget them. I must oonfesse, I finde Courtiers dose
people, and Ladies strange creatures, and loue so idle
an humor, that I am afiraid to lose time in it, but the
better by your aduice, I hope to cany a hand ouer it.
For aparell, I will kedpe my stint, and care for no fond
fashion. And for exercise, nature is so giuen to ease,
that good qualities are ahnost out of use : as for vertue,
poore Lady, she is scarce able to line with her pension :
but for study, I hane little time so much company witb-
draweth me : and for a booke, next to the Bible, your
Letter shall be my Library. And thus smiUng at such
Gnls, as thinly no grace but in a gay coat, nor wit, but
iD a stale jest, noting many a b^^^ like a King, and
many a Lord like a pooie Gentleman, seeing the truth
of Solomon, in his conclusion of all earthly comforts,
that all vnder the Sun is vanity, meaning not to be a
servant to a base humor, nor to reach higher then I
may hold Cast : in thankful! kindnesse for thy caiefoU
letter, and DuthfuU affecdon to thy worthy sdfe, wishing
thte so neere me, that I might never be from thee, I
rest,
Tkint wJkai wUtu owtu, N. B.
la. A mottm^kll LtUtr to a Bmfkir.
GOod Brother, the misoy of my uncomfortable life,
the crossenesse of my cruell fortune, and the vn-
kindnesse of my vnnaturall kin, have made me so weary
of this world, that I kmg for nothing but my httest
hower, and yet loath to despaire of Gods merdes, will-
ing to take any good course for my commodity, I haue
of late beene perswaded by some of experience in their
joumies into those paru, that my trauell into the Low-
Countryes, would bee much to my benefit, as well for
the language, as for my skill in such traficke as I would
make vse of in those places : but my state being so
downe the winde, that I know not how to set saile vp hi
the weather, liauing no stocke to lay out, to giue mee
hope to bring In, I will euen set vp my rest vpon the
resohition of fortune, and thrust my selfe into some
place of sendee in the warres, where I will either winne
the Horse, or lose the Saddle : if I die^ merde is my
comfort : if I Hue, desert is my hope. But to the help-
ing forth of this my foriome spirit, good Brother put to
your helping hand, assuring your sdfe that I will not
Hue to be vngiatefuU : for as my heart loueth, my soole
shall pray for yon, and when I hane time to see, I wiU
be no stranger vnto you. And thus agrieued to charge,
r more meaning to trouble you* beseeching God to
40
enable me to requite you, in the true kme of a naturall
brother, I rest.
Yours as mius owm, M, S.
13. His Answer,
DEare brother, as I grieue at your crosses, so I would
willingly procure your comforts. But my state
much inferiour to my will, makes me vnable to satisfie
your expectadon : and yet would I hurt my selfe rather
then you should perish : for you shall recdue by this
bearer what I may, and more as I shal be better able.
But touchmg your courses for the Low Countries I feare
your traficke will be but little gainefuU, the warrs so
eate vp the wealth of the Country : and for your intent
touching Armesy I feare your forwardnesse is too great
for your experience. Yet so tun doe I allow of your
noble resolutions herein, as I would lesse grieue to heare
of your honourable death abroad, then see your discon-
tented life at home : and therefore for winning the
Horse, or fosing the Saddle, leane that to Gods bless-
ing, who will bestow honour as it shall please his diuine
prouidence : but good brother, hane patience with thy
crosses : attend mercy for thy comfort, and hane a care
of home, howsoeuer thou fearest abroad : I know thy
minde is great, but take he6d of pride, lest it be a barre
to all thy preferment, and ouerthrow all thy honour : I
96c thou art weary of the world, make then thy way to-
wards heauen, that God, vho hath tryed thed with
calamities, may blesse the6 with etemall comforts : in
hope whereof, willing in all I can to hdpe, praying
heartily for th^, with mine vnfoined hearts loue, vnto
the Lord of Heauen I leane thee;
Your hnisig Brother, D. S.
14. To a Minister in MUil/k of a sieke friend.
Sir,
'T* Hough it hath ener bedne my study to lumish my
-■• sdfo with constancy against the diastrous infor-
tunities of this life, yet I could not but bee much moued
out of the tendemesse of my loue, with the newes of
your friend Master Goddards debilitie, and assure you
dckenesse hath not so vehemently sensed on his body,
but sorrow hath as vfolently attached my heart : for the
recordation of his many fiiuours, so liberally though vn-
desemedly bestowed vpon me, makes me to partidpate
faihisgriefe, asif itweremineowne : Since it would be6
mdenesse in mfe now to trouble him, I hauediuertedmy
Letters vnto you, and bes6ech you (a6eing in all mens
opinions the time is come that hte must put off his
mortality, and passe through death as through a gate
into enerlaadng life) to put him in ndnde to bewaile his
misdeeds, and to bccge remisdon of his sfais with pour-
B
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ing out of his teares, which are so gradons fai heaven,
that eaery sin is washed away with such a flood, and no
weeds spring aftersaeh a faine. But happily it is a
saperfluous eare in me to set a spoire in your side and
to pricke you on, who are forward enough of your selfe
to performe all holy offioies that can bee in one of your
coate required : therefore if sotrow baue beene a bad
dictator to my pen, beare with the boldnesse of
Your mommgfmtlfrtemdt B. F,
15. A Letter of a Jealous husband to his wife.
W
rife, in as much kindnesse as I can, I aduise you to
leaue such courses, as are neither to your credit,
nor my contentment : you know, much compahy bouseih
many occasions of idle spdechesi and young mea are not
in these dayes giuen to speak the best of their kind
friends : trifles and toyes were better refused then
accepted, and time idly spent brings but '\xiffSaf or a
worse blot : of all tli^e birds in the 'fi^ t loue not A
Cuckoe in my house : truly I doe' not dissemble with
you, your li|^t behamour doth much dislike me, and
how glad I would be to haue it 'reformed, you shall
know, when \ sludl see it : shall I make you fine to
please another, and displease my selfe? shall' I leaue
you my house, to make an hospitality of ill fellowship ?
fit not me with the foole : howsoeuer'you fei^ your sdfe
with a foule humor: shake of such acquaintance as
gaine you nothing but discredit, and make much of him
that must as well winter as summer ydn : Looke to your
house, haue a motiierly care ouer your Childi^n, set
your Seruants to worke, and haue an eye to the maine
chance : leaue tatling Gossips, idle Huswiues, vaine-
headed Fellowes and needtesse charge, so God will
blesse, and ifae world will thriue with you, your Neigh-
bours speake well, and I shall truly loue you. And
thus hoping that you will, by this my secret admonition,
haue a care of your good cariage, I rest in hope of
your well doing.
Your loving husband, T, P.
16. Her cunning Ansuter.
HUsband, with as much patience as I can, I liane
read ouer your vnwise Iietter, wherein jealousie
ktepes^such a stir, that Loue doth but laugh at such
idknesse : much company driues away idle thoughts,
and for Fooles it is good to be affinaid of Had4-Wis^:
lU thoughts beget ill speeches, and an old dog Utes
sorer then a young Whelp: for beggenr> ^t IrfiiLltvpon
the sloathfuU, I know how to woike for my linings and
for blots, speake to Scriblers, for I hane no skill fai
writing. Now for the Bird, to answer you with the
Beast : I tbioke a Calfe in a Qoset is as iU as a Cuckoe
in a Cage : If I were sullen, yon would sure suspect my
humour, and doe jrbu mtsUke my merrie behauiour?
WeU, your ooiioeh maybe defonned, in being so wrOg-
ftUy inlbmed, <o tauc me- so suddenly reformed : my
finenesse is yoartMNrntenanee, and my conversation your
credit : and tliersiM« doe you shake oif your louaie
iealousieb l- wlB naktr^choise of bettor ieompany ! your
house wOl stand tet if ft fidt not, add your children be
quieter then • their Fatter: yoitr seruants eame their
wages, and'lh^'inaiae ctaanoe is nicked' wdl enough :
Women arast tHlk* when they m^ and mennot be
scorned; thoughfiot emeflBilied>: and he that k^epeth
a house, onifi setke-t^ defray- the eharge : and to hef>-
ing that you wU letoe your ieedousie,' and thinkeof
some matter of wore worth, as oarefrm of my carisge,
as you of youvctedit, tteanteg to doe'as well as I can,
without yo«r teadbiflg, >aad as ^ell as if you were «t
home, I rest, Your too much kving wifsi H,. P,
17. A Letter of hind eompiements to a friend
Kindest of friends, where I loue much I speake little
for aliection hath ^mall pleasure in ceremonies :
your kindnesse I haiie found, my desert I date not
speake of, lest it more offend my selfe to thinke on, then
you to looket^nr!' but sfhce you haue made mbt happy
in your acquaintance, let me not too long lacke your
company : for though I line among many good neigh-
bours, yet doe I mvch want the comfort of so good a
friend, by whom I should not onely gaine the Yse of
time, but find the profit of my desire : which ioyning
issue vrith your humoun, cannot but so concuxre with
your contentment, that if there bite a Paridise on the
earth, 1 hope to find it in the ftdr passages of our tones,
whkh grbunded on teftue, and growing in kSndnesse,
cannot choos^ but b6e blessedly fhiitfiaD. In briefe, ttH I
see you, I wOI moume, and if not the sooner, t shall
languish': 'for my wishing and want cannot be satisfied
with absence t hasten therefore your comming, aild maki
your owiie wtioome : for what I haue or am, enter into
the roll of your possession, where, in the fr^hold of my
loue, I ateure fbe'^subsiance of my life. And so leauing
oOplements to tottgue^lrits, in the truth of an honest
heart Trest,
Yours as you doe, and ever shall hnow, N. B.
18. His Answer,
Sir, I haue reoeiued your kind Letter, and I find you
very fine at your comer : you will speake and say
nodiing : bee^lo^ptent in plainnesse : but you must not
speake 1n the clouds to them that aiw acquaihted with
the Mbone \ 'and say what yoa. wiU, I must bdMeue 6f my
selfe as I list, for indeed, I know mhie owne vnwotthi*
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II
nesse of your commendation, in which, I wiU rather
beare with your a£fection, then bee conceited with your
opinion : Yet not to be either disdainful! or vngratefuUp
be not so fisirre deoeiiied in my disposition that wherein
my presence may pleasure you. I will answer you with
my absence, nor long delay your expectation : for excuse
is but cold kindnesse, and too much haste is not fit :
therefore as soone as I conueniently, can. I assure you,
you shall se^ mte, and in full measure wjth your affec-
tion finde me, to the vttennost of my power* rather in
action then protestation, during life, in £aire weather or.
fowle. ' Younai mine owiUt W. R, . ,
. 19. A iMUrafLevttojiGttMtwowuM,
FAii« Mistresse, to court you with eloquence, were as
ill as to grieue you with fond tales : let it there-
f6re pleasto you rather to beleeue what I write, then to
note how I speake : for my heart' being fired in your
e3res hath vowed my seniice to ' your beauty : in which,
finding reasons admiration, I can thinke but of
nature in her perfection: in which, being ranished
aboue it sdfe, crauetb of your &uour to be instructed
by your kindnesse :- 1 meane no further then in the
obedience to yonr oommandement: for if I be any
thhig my seHe. it shall bee notiiing Inore then yours, and
Itisse then nothing, if not yours in all. I could commend
you aboue the skies, compere you with the Sun, or set
you among the stars, figure you with' the Phesnix,
imagine you a goddesse, but I will lesnie such weake
praising fictions and diinke yo« onely your selfe, whose
▼ertuous beauty, and n^ose honourable discretion in the
care of 4 little kindnesse is able to command the loue of
the wise, and the labotors of tiie honest, with the best
of their iiadeauours in the happinesse of your imploy-
moit to seeke the height of their forttme : thinke not
thorefore I flatter you in hope of &uour, but honor you
in the desert of worthinesse : in which if you would
vouchsafe to entertaine the seruice of my affection, what
you shall finde in my loue I will leaue in your kindnesse
to consider. In the care of which comfort, craning
pardon to my presumption, I rest humbly and wholly
Yours denoted to bt commanded^ E, W, ■
90. Her Answer.
SIR, I haue heard SchoUers say, that it is Art to
oonoeale Art, and that vnder a Face of simplidtie,
is hidden much subtiltie : of which how silly women
need to be affiaid, I will leaue to wise men to consider :
and though I cannot in fine and fit termea, answer the
curiositie of your writing, yet after a plaine and homely
fashion, I will intreat you to accept of my writing : per-
fection and corruption cannot meet together in one
subject, and therefore my imagined beauty, being but a
shadow of deceit, beltene not your eyes, till they haue
a better .speculation : and for the inward parts of com-
mendatioDs, Tamperswaded, that wit is not worth any
thing that b drawne into admiiatibn of nothing : ondy
this AOt VBkindly.to requtt your good thoughts of little
worth. : Jeauing fictionato idle iiemdes, let me fntreat you
aot mistake your figures, and to honor a better substance
thenmyvnwortfayselfe; And yet sor fane to assure your
desert of my contentment, that wherein I may conveni-
ently eounteniaile the care of your kindnesse, excuse my
indisoaetion, if I iaUe of niy desire : in which, wishing
you moBe happincsM, then 10 be commanded by my
vnworthinesse, I rest as I may.
Yomr loving poorefrimd, M, W.
W
21, A Letter qfsc<nme to a coy Dame,
\ Istris Fid», if yofr ware but altttle fieiire, I se6 you
would b^ adghty proud : and had you but the
wit •of a Qoose, you would sorely hisse at the Gander :
but beiog with as bad qualities as can be wished, as rich
as a new sborn^ sh^epe, I hope fortune is not so mad,
as to blesse you fieuther than the begger. It is not your
holyday face put on after the ill fauoured fashion, can
make your half nose but vgly in a true light, and but
that yo» aie exceedingly beholding to the Tayler, you
might be set vp for the signe of the.Sea crabbe. Now
for your parentage to help <^t (he hope of the rest :
when Ibe Tinkers sonae» alid the Coblers daughter met
vnder a hedge at tbv miUdng of a Bull, within forty
wadces after,. what fell out, you know. Now, not too
plainly to lay opfsn the Idule members of a filthy Carcasse,
but as patiently as I can to- keep Deeonem fn your de-
9criptkm,>let.metell you, thalidl this and much more
being true in your disgrace, I cannot choose but maruell
that yon moume not to death in imagination to thhike
thait a monster in nature can haue any grace in reason :
btttletttbeasitis, I haue but tost a little tneath in
talking to a deafe eare, for I meane to take no more
traiiflll to the subiect of so ill an otnect : and therefore
aseaaiag to make my facelwell and beginning with you
both at one instant, leaning you to toathe your sdfe, as
one whom no crea ture can be in* knie withall : sorrie that
I euer saw yoU| and neuer mdre imending to trouble you.
In.recompenoB of your eourseentertainement, I rest in
all kindnesse : this present, and ahwaies.
Yours as much as may ke, 7*. £.
33. Her AnsuKT. ....
[Aster Wyldgoose, it is not your hufUe tufiie can
make m^ afraid of your bigge lookes : for I saw
the Hay of Andent Pistoll, where a Cracking Coward
M'
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was well cndgeld for his knanery: tout railing is so neore
the RascsU. that I am almost ashamfd to bestow so good
a Dame as the Rogue on yon : bat for modesties aske, 1
will a little forbeare you, and ondy tdl you, that a
hanging looke and a hoQow heart, a cunning wit. and a
corrupt conscience, make you so fitamate for th6 Deuill,
that there is no Christian will desire your company : now
for your state it is much on Fortune, which brfaigs many
of your fellowes to a deadly fisll, when the paine of their
heads is onely healed with the haltar. And for your
linage, when the Bearewards Ape, and the Hangmans
Monkey met together on a hay mough, vrhat a wfaelpe
came of such a litter, let all the world hidge, I say no-
thing. Now for your stump fe^ and your lame hand
suting kindly with your wrie nedu, who would not make
of[f| their eyes, that could endure the sight of such a
picture ? now your wealth being but a few words, which
you haue ahnost all spent in idle humors, hoping that
the Tortoise will not quaxrell with the Crab, and that
when you haue slept vpon your Ale, you will get a
medicine for your madneme till the Woodoocke tell you
how the Dawcocke hath caught you, leaning further to
thinke on jrou, more then nterly to loathe you, glad that
your entertainment was so much to your discontentment,
in full measure with your malice I rest
Yomrs asfom sti, A, W.
W
93. A LttUr to afiwU Dowdy,
\ Istresse lofu Inggi* : I heare that you thinke your
selfe faire, but you are much decdued : for the
Cuirien oyle is but a course kind of painting : and for
wit, how Cur you are from vnderstanding, the wise can
tell you. Now for qualities, where you learned them I
know not, but if you could leaue them it were welL I
wonder not a little, what madnes bath possessed your
braines, that you can make so much of your self : are
your eyes your owne? or are they so scaled, they cannot
see? get you to your prayers, and leaue making of loue :
for age and euill fauour, had n^ed to be helped with a
good purse. I heare you study Musique : indeed when
the Owle sings the Nightingale will hold her peace : but
for shame, learn not to dance, for a barrdl can but
tumble : but would you vse a medicine for your t^eth you
might be the better to speake with in the morning : what
ailes you to buy a Fan, except it be to hide your face?
and till your hands bee whole, you shall weare but dogs
leather for your gloues : in truth you abuse your selfe
that you keepe not your chamber for none sees you but
laughs at you, or at least loathes to looke on you : be
therefore content to doe as I wish you, speake with none
but by Attoumey, leaue the Painter to better pictures,
and rather grieue at nature for framing of you, then
thinke of any thing that may hdpe you : your goods be-
stow on me for my counsdl, and make sute to death for
your comfort And thus hoping that being weary of
your sdfe, you will hasten to your grane, I end,
VoMTS as you sot, ff, I,
24. Hit Answer,
SIR Morris MaUpart, you may thinke your sdfe wise,
but you doe not shew it : for nuling words are the
worst testimonies of a good wit. For good qualities, I
thinke you know them not, nor can goe from the euiU :
but for madnesse, I thinke it sorteth best with your
humors : for the hdp whereof, it were good that you
were letbkxMl in the braUie. But for ill sight, who is so
bUnd as bold Bayard, that will not see his owne folly?
My prayers I will not forget to God, to blesse mee frtun
such foule spirits on the earth. And for loue, more then
charitie, I hold you the farthest off in my thought :
now knowing your pouertie, I wonder you will speak of
a purse. As for an iIl>fauoured face, goe to Paris-garden
to your good brother : indeed your Croyden sanguine is
a most pure complexion, but for your Tobacco, it is a
good puxge for your rheum : For my Fan, it keepes me
sometimes from the sight of such a visard as your good
fooe : and for my hands, I keepe my nayles on my fingers,
though you cannot keepe the haire on your head. Now
for laughing at fooles. you are prouided for a coxcombe :
and for loathing all ill countenances, let the hangman
draw your picture. Be therefore contented to bee thus
answered : Speake wisdy, or hold your peace, and be
not bude with your betters, lest you know the nature of
Had-I-Wist : so hoping that you will be weaiy of the
world, and that you will hang your selfe for a medidne,
to heale your wits of a mdandioly, I wil bequeath you a
halter vpon free cost, at your pleasure, and so I rest.
Your frUnd for such a wuUier, B* P.
35. A IMUrfor tho freftrring of a Strvamt,
O IR. knowing your necessary vse of a good seruant,
^ and remembring your late speech with mee
touching such a matter. I thought good to commend
▼nto you in that bdialfe, the bearer hereof, W, T, a man
whose honest secrecy, and carefulldillgenoeypon a reason-
able triall. will soone make proofe of his suflidencie. His
parentage is not base, nor his disposition vile ; but in
all parts exquidte as one of his place : such a one as I
am perswaded will seme your tume : if therefore at my
request you will entertaine him, I doubt not but you will
thanke m6e for hhn : for I was glad I had so trusty a
seruant to commend vnto you. and hope to heare he will
much content you : and thus loath to trouble you with
longer circumstances, leauing his seruioe to your good
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regard, my loue to your like oommandement, in affection-
ate good will, I rest.
Yours ever assund, N. B.
a6. Tht Answer.
SIR, I haue recdued both your Letter and the bearer,
both which I will make much of for your sake :
for in the one I will often see you, and in the other re»
member yon ; your oOmendation of him azgueth your
knowledge, a sufficient warrant for his worth, which I
will as kindly and thankfully think on : his countenance I
like well, and his speech better : and for the performance
of my expectation, I am the better perswaded of his
discretion : when I see you, you shall know how I like
him, in the meane time, he shall finde that I will loue
him : and for all things necessarie for his present vse, I
finde hhn sufficiently furnished : but if I finde his want,
it shall be soone supplied. So thanking you for sending
Mm, and wishing you had come with him, remaining
your kmde debter, till a good occasion of requitall, with
my hearty commendations, I commit you to the Al-
mightie. Your vtry loving friend, R. V.
ay. A iMUr ofcounsell to a friend.
MY best apprawd and worthiest beloued PHlo, I
heare by s«ne of late come firom Venice^ that
seeme to bee somewhat hiward in thy acquaintanoe, that
thou art of late fidlen into an amorous humour, espedaUy
with a subject of too much vnworthinesse : a newes, that,
knowing Uiy spirit, I could hardly beUeue, that vpon a
solemne affirmation, I was sorrie to heare : for Beauty
without wealth is but a beggerly charme, and Honour
without Vertue is but a tittle for a Title : Hath she4 a
gUbbe tongue? it is pitty sh^ hath not a better wit : is
she wittie? it is a sorrow it is not better bestowed : for
the craft of one woman is the confusion of many aman :
doth sh6e say shte loues thte ? beleeue her not : nay,
doth she^ loue th^? regard her not : for it is a iewell of
so little worth, as will glue but losse hi the buying : I
feared the Plague had taken hold of thy lodging, but
thou art pepperd with a world of infection : thy study
is infected with idlenesse, thy braine with dixzinesse, and
thy spirit with madnesse. O leane these follies, thinke
loue but a dreame, and beauty a shadow, and folly a
witch, and repentance a miserie : wake out of thy sUepe
and call thy wits together, be6 not sotted with a humor,
nor slaue to thy sdfe-will : leaue courting of a Curtexan,
and k^epe thy breath for a better blast : saue thy purse
for a better purpose, and spend thy time in more profit,
let not the wise laugh at th6e, and the honest lament
thte : for my seife, how I grieue for th6e I would I
could tell th^ : but let thus much suffice th^, beleeue
nothing that she saith, care for nothing that she doth,
nor giue her any thing that sb6e wants : s^ her, but to
purge melancholy : talke with her, but to sharpen wit :
giue her, but to be rid of her company, and vse her but
according to her condition : so shalt thou haue a hand
ouer those humors, that would haue a bead ouer thy
heart, ft be master over thy senses, by the Yertue of thy
spirit : otherwise. Will, hauing gotten the bit hi his
teeth, will run away with the bridle, ft Reason behig
cast off, may neuer sit well againe in the saddle : but
why doe I vse these perswasions for the remoue of thy
passions ? if thou be soundly in, thou wilt hardly get
out : if thou bde but ouer shooes, thou maist be saned
from drowning, wbatsoeuer I heare, I hope the best :
but to auoid the worst, I haue presumed out of my kme,
to send thte the fruit of my affection. In which if my
care may doe thee comfort, I shall think it a great part
of my happinesse : howsoeuer it be, I c6mit the con-
sideration to thy kindnesse. And so till I heare from
thde, which I daily long for, I rest
Thine as mine owne, N, B,
a8. His Answer,
GEnUe Milio, I haue recdued thy most Idnde and
carefull Letter, a messenger of thy most honest
loue, who hath told me no lesse then I wholly beUeue :
that loue in idlenesse, is the very entrance to madnesse,
but yet though I will thinke on thy oounsdl, giue me
leaue a little, to goe along vnth conceit : wherefore let
me tell thee my opinion. Beauty without wealth is little
worth, but bemg a ridies hi it selfie, how can it b6e
poordy valued? and Honour bdng but the state of
vertue, how can you plucke a tittle out of her Title? the
tongue is the instrument of wit, and wit the approuer
of discretion : where, if reason be graudled. Nature may
be admired : now for words, they haue thdr substance,
and Loue is not to Me abused : for it is a jewdl well
knowne, that is worthy of his price : infecttons are euery
where, and Jealousie a most crudl plague : but rid thy
sdfe of that disease, and feare not my health in the
other : re-concdt is a kinde of diidnesse which worse
tormented then with idlenes is troubled with too strong
a madnesse : but he that is vnwise, had neM be reformed,
and he that laughs at an imperfiection, may £b]1 himsdfe
vpon the Foole : now for a mad Dreame, or an imagfaied
witch, concdted sl^p, or an faitreated waking : I must
confesse they are pretty humors, and wil thinke of their
eiTors : now for sotting and slauery and for courting hi
knauery, be perswaded that time will imploy my purse
to better purpose : then grieue not for me, but only loue
me, and let that suffice the6 : and for thine advke in
sedng, talking, and giumg, feare not the Had-I-Wist of
my folly : for hee that is master of himselfe shall not
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nfi^d his Mistresae, ft therefore he that cannot ride, let
him leaue the saddle.: for Reasoa hath a power ouer
Wit, where Will Is but a seruant to Nature : in the cer-
taintie oC which ooufse* imending so to lay my hands
onny heart« that I will fe«re no hones on my h«4> with
many thanka lor thy Und peiswasions» hophig thou wilt
take no exoeptiona at my constructids, intreating th^
to bel6ene of me no more thea thou needest, and tp loue
mee as than doest. iathe &ith of that affection that holds
th^ deare to my loue. 1 rest during liie. . .
Thim oblijitd and devoted, W. B.
■ - ■• ' *
9^. A Letter of comfort to a Sister in Sorrois.
DEare Sister, I heard lately of your husbands de-
parture ior ib/^/mdies, when with not little ^rrow
I considered your heauy«ase : in which, finding h(s wa&t
to be grieuous, and your friends cold in comfort : I could
not choose, without vnldndnesse, but remember th^ Usw
lines of my loue vnto you : I know your state is lyeake,
how faire soeuer you make your weather, but the more
is your patience worthy of honour that can so nobly
conceale your discOtentments : for my selfe I would I
were able to doe you good : but what I haue or can
procure, shi^l not fgile to doe you pleasure but^your
mind be too great to stoope, to be beholding, what I. am
able to doe^ take as a duty in my brother^ loue : g9od
sister thereft>re be of good chfere, ft put your cai;e vpon
me, 1 will s^ you often, A loue you euer : for a Creature
of your worthinesse is seldome found in your Sexe, that
for her husbands, loue will aduenture the state of her
liuing : your chikhnen are.not many, but suck as are. shal
be mine, and you to me -as my self : take therefore as
little thopght, and a« much comfort as you can, no doubt
but god that trictk his a^mants wil blesse them, hope
thA of my brothcn happy xetmn. and tilhe come, com-
m^ndnift ; shortly, God willing you shall s^ pie : in the
meane time let jne intreat you kindly to accept tl^s little
token of my greater knie, which is bi»t the assurance of
the beginning of my lUlectiQns neuer ending, in which
predi^ameat qf nve j^ei^dship, I rest euer assured.
Your loving Sister, R. W,
■^ 30. Her Answer,
SWeet Sister : I haue receiued your kind Letter, and
. louing token, for both which I am your tbankfiiU
debtor; but touching my husband, though his wants were
grieuous, yet to want, him is my greatest sorrow, for in
the. stay of his. loue was the stay of my liuing : I am
sorry that you know my weakness^ : and wish it but in
strength to answer your kindnesse : but good Sister,
though I am willing to conceale my crosses, to be be-
holding to so honourable a Spirit, I count it not the least
of my happinesse. Therefore though I had denoted my
selfe to solitarinesse in his absence, your company shall
be to me a light in darknesse, and noting the nature of
your kindnesse, will ever be beholding to your loue :
come then to me when you will, and command what you
will, for I will be as good as you will : my children are
my worlds, ioyes, and my hearts iewels, in whose fiice I
would behold their fiithers, in whose loue I would spend
my life : so in a merry goe sorry, grieuing for his absence,
and wishmg your presence, pnying for his happy return,
your health, and mine own patience, that in too much
passion of affection, I fad not vpon iiidiscretid, with
most hearty tfaankftiU loue I commend my selfe to your
conmiandement.
Yours ajfictionatefy bound, E. G,
31. A Letter of Love to afiire Mistresse.
FAire Mistresse, to trouble you with a long circum-
stance, I might perhaps feare you with the losse
of time, and to make an end ere I begin, might argue
little care of my conceit : but to auoid both superstitions,
let me a little intreat you vrith patience to penise. in a
few words, the summe of a long tale, in which the truth
of Loue, to the latest houre of death, protesteth the ioy
of his life but the fruit of your lauour, of which the
thought, of his vn worthinesse doth too much shew his
vnhappinesse. Time makes mee too briefe, but in your
wisedorae is my hope of vnderstanding, that in my tryall
you may trust m^, and by desert estedme me, in which
if I deceiue youer expectation, let mee die in the miserie
of your disdaine. Thus not to flatter you with a fisire
style in the state of yoiir worthy commendation, beseech-
ing to be commanded by the kinde care of your discre-
tion, in the bands of a vowed seruice, I humbly rest
Yours ever assured, R. O.
32. The Answer,
SIR, as t would be loath to be thought proud, I
would as vnwilUngly be found idle : either to be-
ledue too well of my selfe, or not to haue a respect of
others : Truth is sddome masked with smooth words,
and loue is not bred, but vpon great contentment : your
liking may be greater then my desert, and so alter vpon
a better consideration : but mistake not your happinesse
in my fiiuours vnworthinesse, where the best of my
commandement may be the least of your contentment.
Your c6sideration of time may excuse my shortnesse
of writing : where, in a word you may vndcrstand that
indeed I intend, that truth is honourable in loue, and
Venue the fairest joy in affection, in which, if I doe not
misconstrue your conceit, I will answer the care of 3rour
kindnesse : in which, according to the due of desert, you
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shall finde the effects of your desire. And so for this
time I rest .
Your ^oori frUndt A, Q*
35. A Letter 0/ counsell from a kuuU Father, ^
DEare Son jou must not from yotir father tooke fbr
a flattering lone nor take it vnkindly that I giue
you warning of what may preiudioe your good. . Aboue
all things serue God, and keejw a deare consdenoe,
posse not the limits of alleagiance, nov build Castles in
the aire : oonuerse not with fooles, for you shall lose
your time, take h^ed of knaues, for there is much to be
feared in them, and beware of drunkennesse, for it is
a beastly humor : I hane heard you are much given to
Aldiymistry, it is a great charge to many, and profiteth
few» imploy your time so, that you lose not by the
baigaine : what a griefe it is to want, I pray God you
neuer know, and therefore eschew prodigalitie, which
quickly makes a poore man. I haue, sent you an
hundred crownes, wel may you vse them, and when you
need any more send to me for them. After the tefme
the vacation will call th^ into the Country, where
knowing thy Fathers house, thou maist make thine owne
welcome, till when and alwaies I will pray for thee, that
God will bl^sse thee that I may haue ioy in thee. .
Your loving Pother, H, W.
34. A himU answer of a loving Sonne*
MY deare Father, as I will not flatter my selfe with
your loue, so I cannot but ioy in your kindnesse,
whose careful counsel within the oompasse of so few
words, I wiU locke. vp in my heart .as my best iewell.
For to serue God is the duty of a Christian : and no
longer let mee liue then in the care of that comfort. A
deare Consdence I find like a Sanctuary, where the
soule may take a safe place of rest To passe the limits
of AUegeance merits the losse of life. And to build
castles in the aire, they are but mad mens hnaginations.
Fooles cannot vnderstand mee, and knaues will but
trouble me. For drunkennesse neuer doubt me, for it
is most loathsome in my nature. For your crownes I
humbly thaok you, and hope to bestow them to your
liking. Touching Alchjrmie, I heare much, but bd^eue
little : but I wil not waste your land to make a new
metalL The Vacation is neere and I will not be long
from you : where finding you well shall be my best wel-
come. So praying for your long health and hearts euer
happinesse, in all humble thankes I take my leaue,
Ycmr oMient Sonne, R. W,
1 See Appendix for another text of this Letter and of the
next— &
35. A Merchants Letter to his Factor,
AS I haue reposed trust in your care, I looke for
your performance of my credit : your abilitie in
managing such matters as I haue conunitted to your
charge, I make no doubt of : and therefore hoping in
your discretion to heare of my expected contentment, I
wil looke by your next Letters to heare of the summe of
my desire : in the meane time let me tell you, that I sent
you fourescore broad Cloaths, and thirtie Kerzies, with
other such commodities as I thinke fit for your vse in
those pairts. I pray you make your best market, and
take heed to whom you credit : for as I heare there are
men reputed of great wealth, in suspitid of playing bank-
rupts : faiaue therefore the more care ouer your businesse,
your trauds shal not be vnconsidered. Your French
wines I heare this yeare are very small, and your Gas-
coigne wines be very deare, prunes cheape : but you
know your markets, and I hope you will haue care of
your money, for it is hardly come by, and as this world
goes, doth much in great matters : if there be any newes
of v^orth, acquaint me with them, and in any wise doe
not trouble me with vntruths. Your Cousin tds me that
you are in good r^;ard with the Gouemour, for certain
doaths that you latdy bestowed on him : he told me
the cause, and therefore I commend your discretion : for
sometimes it is better to giue dien to saue. In summe,
let this suffice 'you without further drcumstance, you
haue my loue and my purse, t pray haue a care of them
both. So till I'heara from you, I rest.
Your loving Master, T, P,
36. His Ansufer,
Sir, I beseech you mistrust not your trust, nor haue
any feare of my care : for haiu'ng both your
loue and your purse, how can the one let m^ forget the
othef? No, sir, be you- assured, howsoeuer Bankers
play banquerout, pawnes will deodue no credit :
And touching such afiaires as I haue in charge, doubt
not of my dispatch. Your Ooaths I haue recdued :
and like them very well : yoor Keni6s are very good, I
would you had sent more of them, for they are mudi in
request and well sold I haue by good happe, met with
an hundred tunne of Gascoigne Wines, vpon a good
market, as yxm may know by my note : Prunes are
good, and good cheape, and therefore I haue sent you
greater store of them : on the Fjits you shall find the
Marke ; with two letters of your name. I haue sent you
likewise, a Tunne of Cuchiniles, which I bought by a
great chaunce ; the price you shall find in my note with
the rest By the next Poste you shall heare what I
ne6d: in the roeane time hauing no intelligence of
worth, loath to trouble you with trifles, glad toperforme
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that dutj, tiiat your kindnesse hath bound me to,
wishing to liue no longer then discharge the office of an
honest care, praying for your long health and euerlasting
happinesse, I humbly take my leaue,
Your/aitkfuU servant, M. IV,
37. j4 Letter of ChalliHgt.
li^Y wrongs are so many, as may no longer bee
iVl digested, and your excuses so idle, as I will
henceforth despise them, for your words are but winde,
and therefore I am weary of them : and if you be not so
cold in complexion, that you dare not maintain your
reputation, me^e mee to morrow early in the morning,
in some Fields a mile out of towne, and bring with you
such Armes as you doe ordinarily cairy : assigne your
place and houre, and ftdle not your appointment, that
God the Judge of right, may determine of our wrongs,
and the point of the sword put a period to our dis-
courses. Thus hauing blowne ouer an idle paper with a
few last words of my intent, answer me as I expect, or
heare of me as it will £all out, in haste,
Yomr enemie till death, T, P,
38. The Answer.
TIT Hat you haue written to mee, I retume vpon your
^^ selfe, as loth to lose time in answer of such
idlenes : if yon durst go alone I would goe with you :
but let it suffice you, that I know you, and therefore
meantf not to trust you : but bring a friend with you, and
I am ready for yon : come to my lodging as early as you
will, and though I would be loath to break a sl^ for
you, yet I wil take a little paine to answer you : as for
the field we will cast lots for the place, where God and
good Consdenoe will quickly determfaie the quanell : but
I feaie the point of the sword will make a Comma to
your cunning, which if it doe, you shall find what will
follow. And so leaning further words, wishing you to
bde as good as your word, I end.
Yours as you mine, T. W.
39. A Letter to aJHendfor newes.
COusin, I know, you that liue abroad in the world,
cannot but heare of newes euery day, which we
in the Country would be glad now and then to be ac*
quainted with : your labour will not be much in writing,
and for your kindnesse it shall not be vnrequited : wee
heare much murmuring of many things, but little truth of
any thing : but from yon that know, I would be glad to
leanie. There is a speech among some idle Astrono-
mers, that the man in the Moone hath follen in loue with
a stane, and waUdng through the Clouds, was almost
drowned in the water : and that the Tumblers in the
Forest haue spoyled a number of blacke Conies, so that
Rabbets are growne so deare, that a poore man may be
glad of a pboot of Mutton. It is said here with us in
these parts : that you in the Citie are much troubled with
a new disease : truly we haue reasonable good health,
but that there are such plagues in diners houses, what
with shrewd wines and bad husbands, stubbome children
and wicked seruants, that many a honest man cannot
line in quiet with his neighbours. Thou^ the Spring
be not very forward, yet there is great increase of
things, especially of Children, which how they may
answer the Law, I will not greatly stand vpon. Thus
hauing no matter of moment, wherewith at this time to
trouble you, faitreating you that I may shortly heare fix>m
you, I rest in much affection
Assuredly yours, H. Q.
4a His Answer.
IMTY good cousin, to answer your kind letter, if there
AV A were any thing here worth the writing, I would
not haue been so long silent But such are the occur-
renu in these places, as are either not worth the noting
or better concealed then written : for loue in youth is full
of idlenesse, and malice in age is so malicious, that
vertue is so hid in comers, that there is little or nothing
spoken of her account For the man in the Moone I
leaue him to wait on the Sunne : but if hee haue a mind
to any Starre, I leaue him to foUow that Owle light : for
his waterie Element, since it is all fai ckmds, let it hang
in the Aire, I will not meddle with that lotting Astro-
nomie. For Conies I am no Warrener, therefore let
them that haue the keeping of the grounds, looke to
their games, I haue small sport in such idlenesse, but for
a ptee of Mutton, a young Lambe is worth fiue old
Conies, and he that is not glad of such a feast, let him
fast for his dinner. Forour new diseases, it is with many
men in the head, and women in the tongue, Seruants grow
great Libertines, and Children are sicke of the Parents,
and for Neighbours, there is so much lone in the streets,
that there is ahnost none in the houses : and therefore
besides other ordinary diseases, w^ want no plagues to
make vs to looke into our sinnes : but God amend all, for
one will scarce mend another. And therefore intreating
you to haue patience with me til the next week, when
you shall heare of the best newes that come to my hands.
I rest in all bounden good will,
Yours as muck as nusy be, T. V.
41. A disswasive/rom Marriage.
C Weet Cousin, I am sorry to heare, that being so well
"^ at ease, you will ooosen your selfe of quiet : and
for want of a worlds Hell, you will put your selfe in
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Puigatoriewithawife : bat if it may bee thati speakeia
time, heare what I say : if slie bee foire it may br6ed
jealoosie : if foole; dislike and change : if rich, take heM
of pride : if poore, misery : if yong, beware the wanton :
if old, take hab& of the Beldam : if wise, she willgouern
thte ; if foolish, Mx thte : how deare soeuer she knies
thde, she will sometime or other, either crosse thee, or
crowne th6e : and therefore if thou wQt be mled by a
friend, let neither old nor young, faire nor foule trouble
thee: beleeue me, as I hane read, these are the properties
of most Whies, to weaken strength, to trouble wit, to
empty purses, and to bre6d humors. But if I be deoeiued
in my reading, and mine author in his writing either in
altering your coarse, or prouing your comfort, tell me
your mind when we meet. Til when, wishing the con-
tinuance of that quiet wherein you now line, or the true
contentment of the best loue : leauing to your owne dis-
cretion the managing of your affection, I commit you to
the Almightie,
Tkitu what mine owne, N. B.
4a. His Answer.
GOod Cousin, I finde your kindnesse aboue your
knowledge, in mistaking Paradise for Purgatorie :
for a Wife is the wealth of the mind, and the welfare of
the heart : where the best judgement of reason findes
discretions contentment. May be, is a doubt : but what
is, must be regarded : in which sense I am pleased.
Where Youth with Beauty, and Wit with Vertue hath
power to command, there kindnesse must obey. Pouertie
I feare not, and Wealth I seeke not ; bntitsufficeth mte
to seeke no other fortune for the summe of my worlds
happinesse : where the auoiding of euil. and the hope of
good, makes me know more comfort then you are able
to concdne. til you enter in that course, wherein the joy
of loue is the second blessednesse of this life. What
shall I say, but that I know not what to say to ezpresse
the perfection of this pleasure, which puts downe all idle
imaginatioas ? From which hoping to Ue thte remoued
when I ste thte, till then and euer, I rest,
Tksne as thou hnowesi^ D, E.
43. A Hnde Later of a Creditor far mon^.
SIR, I pray you take it not ynldndly, that I write thus
earnestly vnto you : for more necessity then will
hath vrged me to it : my money is not so much, as you
well able to discharge it : my losses by Sea and ill
Creditors by land, make me straine coortesie with my
Friends, fior their hdpe in anextremitie, yet doe I desire
nothing but my due ; but as I was ready to lend, I would
be glad to recdue with that fulnesse of good wil, that
may continue our kindnesse. I write not this as doubt-
40
ing your discretion, bat to intreat year patience, if your
purse be not in tune : for were I as I haue beene, and
hope to be, I could rather beare too long, then ask too
soone. especially of so good a friend as I hane alwaies
found of your selfe. Cbnsider therefore my case, and in
your kindnesse answer me. Time is predous, and there-
fore lest by disappointment I b^ dis-fumished. and so
perhaps discredited, I pray you, speed your answer :
which, howsoeuer, shall be welcome : and therefore
earnestly intreating you to help me now, that I may the
better requite your kindnesse hereafter, with many thanks
for your great feuours, which cftnnot bte forgotten to be
deserued : I take my leaue further at this time to trouble
you, but will rest in what I shall bee able euer to
pleasure yoo, to make you know how much I loue you.
Your loving friend, T, Ji.
44. The Dtitors Answer.
SIR, your request is so reasonable, and your kind-
nesse so much, that for a greater matter then you
demand, if my purse were not in tune, I would straine
my credit very farre for yon : beare then a little with my
forgetfulnesse of the Day, and thinke it not trouble to my
patience to Xnht put in mind of my credit : your Sea
losses I am sorry for : and wish your recouery by Land.
Debtors that will not pay, make Creditors they cannot
lend : but for my selfe, to make you know how much
interest you have in my affection, let me tell you, that
though by some unexpected expences, I am short of my
hoped redconing, yet vpon the reodpt of your letter, I
haue be^ne thus carefiill for you, your money I haue sent
you, and as much more for so long time I will lend you :
whid) you shall recdue of this bearer, and in my letter
the day of paiment : whidi if it may pleasure you so much
as I wish you, I am glad I had it for you : howsoeuer it
faD out, vse it to your owne discretion, and so fieur be
alwaies assured of my loue, that my word and d^ed shall
be all one in yoor comfort And so leauing ceremonious
complements, in vnfained good wQ, I rest alwaies to my
vttermost power,
Yours as mine owne, D. IV.
45. A Letter ofnewes,
TO performe my promise in my last letter, my kind
and best cousin, you shall vnderstand of such
occurrents, as I heare goe current and for truth : I heare
there are certaine old people that speake mudi of Pro-
phedes, where they set it downe for a certaine rule, that
this yeare, and many to come, he that wants money in
his purse, and a friend in the Court, may walke in the
Country, and picke strawes, for his comfort : for the Law
is very dangerous for begging, and Charity Is so cold,
C
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that the poore must staiue, lather then the rich will
want Old men shall neuer be yong againe in this world,
and beauty in a yong Woman wiU not let her know her-
selfe : honestie without wit will die on the Foole, and craft
without credit will labour to little purpose. In summe,
there will be a great plague among the Poore, withlacke
of money among fooles for lack of wit, and ksauea for
lacke of honesty : but it may be nature may alter her
course in many things, and Prophecies may fall out im
contraietxes. Howsoener it be, welcome that come in
Gods name : and so hopmg thou louest nolegerdemainc^
nor wilt be led away with blind Ptopbedes. writing this
onely for exercise of a merry humor, I rest,
Thiiu what mu€» P, R.
46. Thi Answer.
SUch idle PropheU as you mdet with, haue such kinde
of matter aayou write of : but let the world wag as
it list, there is not a truer wag in the world then thy seliie :
and were it not that I feare my Letter would come to
light, I would answer you in your kind. But to be short
let me tell you, that Lawes are good to take order with
such Out-kwes, as after prodigality put themsehies vpon
charitie. And yet to crosse your rule of little experience,
old men may haue young humours, fiuoe Wenches put
wise men to their wits, and honestie may thriue with a
meane trade, when a oaftie knaue may lose by his cun-
ning broking. As for the plague, I feare it is neuer from
you : for if neighbours agrde, yet their wiues may £el11
out : and while the poore fret, and the rich frowne, there
is little hope of health, where the world is so out of quiet
And therefore hoping that you haue vrit enough to beware
the knaue and the Foole, and to make your choice of
the best company, wishing your continuance of your good
humor, with thanks for your waggish Letter, X rest in
our old league,
Yours as mine owne, R. B,
47. A Letter perswading to Marriage,
DEare Cousin, I doe not a little wonder at your
solitary life, and more at your little care . to
match your selfe in mariage with some Virgine worthie
your loue : wil you leaue the world without memory of
your name? your inheritance to no issue of your owne
honor? and runne a course of too little comfort ? M^
thinketh that your knowledge of the diuersity of varie-
ties should settle your consent vpon some spedaD
vertue : what if some women be aged ? some are youth-
full : and some froward ? other may be kinde : and
some wanton ? there are better stayed : and some
sullen? some are louing : and is there none can fit your
humour? God forbid : the law of Nature, the law of
Reason, the Law of God doth will it, that loue breeds
increase by a vertuous ooniunction, whidi cannot b6e
performed without the honour of this course. Bastards
will be witnes of their Ruents wickednesse, when
natural! children are the joy of their Fathers : and a
true lovhig Wife is worth a thousand wilde walkers :
her care in the House ; her kindnesse at the Table, and
her comfort in the Bed, are pleasures better oonoeiued
then expressed : fall then aboard with such a Bird, as
you may hold for your Pkeenix, and thinke thy mind at
best iibertie, when it is free from the bonds of folly.
In fine, let me intreat thee to make thy house a home,
thy Wile thy worlds kme, and thy children, thy earthes
ioy : which, as I hope thou wih be glad to haue, I shall
be glad to see. For good speed whereof, in hearty
prayers I rest.
Your laving Cousin, R, W,
W
48. His Answer,
[y kinde Cousin, I sde you are better read then
experienced : for Bachelors Wiues, and Maidens
Children are pretty things to play withall : but hte that
knowesmany dangers, will take hded of all. A Wife is
an euerlasting substance, which if it be not of the better
nature is a periUous thing to meddle withall : for if it
catch hold of the hands, it may put the heart to sore
paine : and the Pheenix is such a Figure, as if I must
finde her in a Woman, I feare mte 1 must s6eke a great
way for her. For the lawes that you speake of, I yeeld
toThith : but Loue is so nice an humor, that heseldome
settles in a place : for Bastards I loue not the breed :
and better childres will doe wel when they come : For
Bed and Board aad those tricks, let them ioy in them
that haue them : when I finde time I will thinke on
them : in the meane time, more at quiet in my lodging
with a friend, then perhaps I may be at home with a
Wife, not foreswearing mariage, nor posting to Purga-
tory instead of mistaken Furadise, wishing thy prayers
for my better happines then Loners idlenesse, and if I
doe marry, to be kindly matdied I rest,
Tkine ever as mine owne, D, L,
49. A Letter qfvnkindnesset upon a deniallofa
Courtesie,
IF my deserts had not exceeded my desire, I would
haue hated the nature of my humor, which loues
nothing lesse then to be too much beholding : my re-
quest was not much, and the grant but easie, howsoener
for Ul frtfhion the excuse may be cunnmgly framed : but
though I conoeiue unkindnesse in this course, I can
rather grieue then be angry, for I will mistrust my wit,
tni I sde too much of my sorrow, and loue my friend
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though I be plaine with his patience : be content there-
fore rather to let me tell you of my discontent, then to
cover dissimulation, and to wish your better regard of
my afiection, then to gioe me just cause to touch the
eare of your discretion, which in denying a trifle may
lose a greater benefit : but not to goe too farre in im-
patience, let me thus grow to an end : Friendship once
grounded is not easily remoued : and therefore being
assured of my loue, beare with my dislike, and wherein
I may better pleasure yon, doubt not the ill requitall of
anUndnesse, For I can chide and not be angry, and
better loue you, then tell you so. And so Intreating
your reasonable answer for my satis&ction, I rest, all
displeasure set apart,
Y<ntr loving friend, N. S,
5a His Answer,
YOur hnmoroos kinde of writing puts ma to study
for an answer, for your anger wtthont cause, may
moue cause of anger : you know you might command
what I am, and will you haue more ? Conceit may bee
deceiued, and so kindnrtwe abused, and snspltion of
Impatience hath the least part of discretion. Excuses
are idle among friends, and therefore words shall bee
deferred till our meeting : when setng our owne fiuilts
you wil not thinke anusse of your friend : Grieue not
then without cause, nor be carried away with conceit,
and as you know my nature, command my loue, which
Is Cure from the thought to make a friend beholding :
be not discontent with a denial, till you haue better
reason of displeasure : but measure me widi youraelfe,
and you shall finde small cause of difierence : if there
be any, let kindnesse dispute it, reason confesse it, and
patience beare it : so shall friends be themsdues, and you
and I not fiUl out. So hoping that you will satisfie
your selfe with this answer, till we m^ to talke further
of the matter. I conclude with your kindnesse, and rest
euer
Yours as /an huw, T, W.
$1, A Letter to an unthankfull person,
I Haue heard that a Prince sometime ordaining a
punishment of all offences, left ingratitude to the
Gods to plague, as past mans power to punish enough :
The tale may well be true, considering the vilenesse of
such a nature, as I think the like liueth not in the shape
of man. Couldst thou not onely forget, but abuse my
kindnesse, and 10 make a monster of a wicked shadow ?
I could not haue beKeued it, had not 1 too vrell proued
it But I wish you could leaue that humor, lest it make
a loathsome nature : and though I will not reuenge a
wrong vpon a subiect of so much basenesse, yet wiQ I
leame to know the condition of so much vilenesse and
as well wame my friends from an enemy, as further
abuse mine owne wit with so mistaking of a friend. In
briefe therefore let mbt tell you, as I know you I regard
you : and as I found you, I leaue you, as one fit, if there
lacked a Card to be^ put into the'stocke for a wicked
helpe. And so sony to haue lost so much time to write
to you, I wish all the world that knowes you to hate
you.
Your enemy from the hearty D. M,
53. His Answer,
HOw strangely men will write whom impatience hath
put out of order. A good tume is lost when it
b cast in the receiuers te^th, and abuse misconcetued
can hardly be well excused : consider better of what is
done, then wrong the meaning of a good mind, and you
shall find without excuse no true cause of displeasure.
If the informations of malice haue mOued choler without
judgement, poore men must endure the misery of euiU
fortune. Against my selfe I will confesse nothing, but
referre time to dedde all doubts, when truth shall shew
the differences betwixt a shadow and a better substance.
So leaning ill humors to like minds, and good thoughu
to better natures, hoping to finde you your selfe, whidi
wHl bee &rre enough from that you write, in spite of the
Deuill, I commit you to God, and so I rest.
Your friend whether you will or no, D. R.
53. A Letter to laugh at after the old fashion
of love to a Maid,
AFter my hearty commendations, trusting in God
that you are in good health as I was at the writ-
ing hereof, with my Father, and my Mother, my Brothers
and Sisters, and all my good friends, thanks be to God.
The cause of my writing to you at this time. Is, that
Margery, I doe heare since my comming from fVaheJield,
when you know what talke wee had together at the signe
of the blue Cuckoe, and how you did giue me your
hand, and sweare that you would not forsake me for all
the world : and how yon made fne buy a Ring and a
Heart, that cost me eighte6ne pence, which I left with
you, and yon gaue me a Napkin to weare hi my Hat, I
thanke you, whfch I win weare to my dying day. And
I manieU if It be true as I heare, that you haue altered
your mind, A are made sure to my neighbour Heglins
younger Son* Tknly Margery you do not Well in so
dofaig, and God will plague you for i( : and I hope I
shal line, and if I neoer haue you : for there are more
maids the Manikin, and I count my selfe worth the
whistling after. And therefore praying you to write me
your answer by this bearer my friend, touching the truth
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A PACKET OF LETTERS,
jouto
of an how the matter stands with you, I
God, From CaWnogntrnt^
Your trm lave, R. P.
54. Her Answer.
TRudj Reger, I did not looke for such a Letter from
your hands : I would you should know I scome it :
Haue I gotten my Fathers, and Mothers iU will for yon,
to bee so vsed at your hands? I perodue. and if you be
so jealous already, you would bee somewhat another
day. I am glad I finde you, that you can beledue any
thing of me : but it is no matter, I care not : send me my
Napkin, and you shall haue your Rhig and your Heart,
for I can haue enow if I neuer ste you more : for there
are more Batchelors then Roger, and my penny is as
good siluer as yours, and therefore seeing you are so
lustie, euen put vp your pipes for I will haue no more to
doe with you : And so vnsaying al that euer hath beene
said betwixt vs, make your choise where your list, I know
where to be beloued, and so I end, from Wake/Uid,
M,R.
W
55. P^vm a Father to his Soh, advising
against sureOship.
[ Y Son, I hope so wel of your disposition, that you
will not vnkindly conceiue of that which in loue
I write, for such is the nature of my affection, as I had
rather bet vnderstood in carefull aduising you for your
good, then found winking at your ilL It is told me,
which I am sorry to heare, but would be more aggrieued
to beledue, that you are very ready in writing your name
vnder Bills and Obligations : by which as well for your
owne idle expences, as to pleasure others, in hurting
your selfe, you bagin to take vp so fast, that I feare you
will bee so low taken downe, that you will hardly euer
rise againe. Beleeue me Somie, suretiship is a priuy
enemy to a good nature, which may sooner pay Uiree,
then reoeiue one : and therefore among other things
that I would haue you to take heed of, let suretiship be
one of the chiefest : what you can spare your friend,
deny him not, but as you loue your libertie, beware of
sealing and deliuering : play is but losse of time that
might be better imployed, for the gaine is but vngra-
tious, and the losse is often grieuous, and therefore vse
it little, and rather for company then pleasure. Danc-
ing I allow of: but let not your legs fling away your
wit in wasting your wealth : sp6d by measure, howso-
euer your musick make you dance. Be carefull of thy
speech, thrifty in thy expence : wary of thy company,
and jealous of thy friend : seme God, and lieare not the
DeuiU: what thou needest, let me know, and in thy
can of thy counsell, let me see thy kwe : of which
hauing no doubt, and therefore wisb^ tb6e all good,
desirous shortly to heare from thee, I rest
Yonr iavimg Paiher, T. W,
W
56. The Answer.
' Y deare Father, fam bee it from my heart to haue
an unUnde thought of so kinde a Father, in
whose good aduise resteth the most part of my worldly
happinesse : what you haueheard, I bestefa you [not] to
beleeue of me: I haue s^ene in others so great mischiefe
and miserie to ensue vpon suretiship, that I rather wish
neuer to write, then to subscribe to my mine; For so
few pay their owne debtt, and so many pay for others,
till they haue nothing to pay for their owne, that who
keepes my friendship for that end, shall misse of my
loue in another : and therefcnre feare not what you heare.
but bel6eue what I say : touching Play, I loue not to
trouble my braine with idlenesse, nor lose time in the
abuse of hope : for Dancing, as it is an exercise that I
doe not dislike, so it is not so much my delight but I
can rather leane it then loue it : but fior my expenoes,
feare not so much my little oare of your charge, nor
lesse regard of your kme, in wUch, vnder Heauen,
hokUng my hearts diiefe luq)pinesse : in pcmyer fior your
health, and hearts ease, I take my leane.
Your oMumt Sonne, T, W.
W
57. The answere of the taught
\ Y good wagge, I see tranell hath not so altred
thine humor, but thou wilt euer be thy selfe
with thy friends : for thy kind Letter I thanke thee, and
as kindly as I can, will requite thee : as you are there
full of sorrow, we are here full of mirth : for in euery
place there is nothing so common as laughing: one
laughs at an other : the wise man laughs at the foole,
to see the nature of his imperfections : ft the foole
laughes at the wise mft, because nature lets him know
none of his sorrowes : the riche man laughes at the
poore, to see the maner of his life : ft the poore man
laughes at the rich, to see the miserie of his care : the
faire laughes at the fowle, to see how they are despised :
and the fowle laugh at the fiure to see how they are
troubled : the honest laugh at the knaue, to see how he
shifts with the world : and the knaue laughes at the
honest, to see how his simplidtie is abused : for par-
ticulars, how any one laughes at the other, eyther the
old at the youthfuU, or they at the aged, I dare say
1 This Letter in 2603 and 1609 editions is not in diat of
1637. It deserves preaervntioD. Pterhaps it wu meant to be
superseded by Nos. 53 and 54.~G.
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nothing : but wert thou heere, and I had not the more
cauae of sorrowe, we would laugh a little together, to
looke at the laughter of this world : but they say, he
may laugh that winnes, at least till he loose againe :
but the natures of their laughing are diuers and very
straunge, for some laugh so loude that they are noted
foolish : some laugh so wide, that they shame their
mouthes with lacke of teeth : and some laugh so cun-
ningly, that they smother it vp in a smile : but let them
laugh till they be wearie, it is a good world when mft
are merrie. Which hoping thou art, or praying thou
maiest be, that when we kindly meete, wee may com-
mune better of these conceits, wishmg thee all content-
ment, and my selfe the happinesse of thy good com-
pany, till I see thee and euer, I rest : one and the same.
Tkuu as thorn knowai, R, W,
58. To a fritnd famUar,
HAuing little matter wherewith to entertame your
expectation, I haue beene enforced to study for
nothing. By this bearer I know yon looke to heare
firom mde, and to salute you with silence, were a cold
commendation. Let it therefore suffice to heare of my
health, and the good passages of all the proceedings
touching your Law causes : wherein if my loue faint in
labour, I vdll leaue to be my selfe : ere it bee long I
shal haue occasion to come nte« you, when a few miles
shal not be much out of my way to ste jrou, when if
your Falcons be in tune, I shal be glad to s6e a flight :
so soon as conueniently you may, I pray you let me
heare from you : and if you come to the Towne, let my
house bee your Inne, where making your owne welcome,
I hope we shall be merry. And thus for want of matter,
briefer then I would be, I conunend my loue to your
kindnesse, and so I rest alwaies.
Your assured loving fritnd^ Af. P.
59. The Answer,
HE that hath his wits at comroandement, n^edeth
little to study, and therefore being prouided of
inuention, a little matter will seme the tume: if of
nothing you make so much, what would you doe with a
little more? Thus I write, to m^ with your humor,
which in silence speaks more, then he who talkes much
to lesse purpose: in briefe, for your kinde Letter I
thanke you : for your care of my businesse I will haue
care of you and for your sdfe onely I loue you : if you
haue occasion to come downe, vse my house as your
owne : my Falcon hath kild a Partridge, but of her
flight I will make no brags, but when yon come, you
shal s6e sport, that I am perswaded will like you : hi
the meane time glad to heare of your health, the con-
tinuance whereof I heartily pray for, wishing as soone
as conueniently I may, to s^ you, that wee may trie a
Course with our Greyhounds for a fat Bucke : Hauiug
now no matter of import wherewith to trouble you, with
my most hearty commendations, I conunit you to the
Almighty.
Hour very loving/riendt C. K.
60. Toafamilarfrietsd,
EYther paper is scant, your affaires are great, or your
spirit is lazy, that in so many wdekes, I haue not
heard from you so much as how doe you. The cause
I would be glad to know, so it be not such as I shall be
sorry to heare, that eyther lacke of health or libertie be
not the cause of your silence : I pray you therefore mend
this little fault in friendship, to cease the trouble of
imagination : and in a sufficient ejccuse set my thoughts
at quiet, which being much distempered through doubt
of your health, I haue sent this bearer on purpose vnto
you : whom I beseech you in all loue retume to me with
all sp6ed. Newes we haue none worth the writing, and
therefore knowing your sf^t desirous not to be troubled
with toyes, in that hearty loue that holds you as deare
as my life, wishing no greater worlds comfort then in
the oontinuall injoying of your happie company : hoping
shortly to see you here, which can bde no sooner then
long wished, and shall be euer most welcome, in the
vnfoined affection of a true friend, I rest,
Yours as mine owne^ N, B,
6z. Tlu Answer,
IPercdue it is true, that I haue often heard, that loue
Is not without jealousie, but as fearefiill of hurt, as
carefull of good : but to put you out of all doubts that
may be some disquiet to your wished rest, let it suffice
you to know my health is as you left it, I thank God for
it : my affaires are not much, but I could salute my
friend, nor my spirit so lazy, but I could write a letter
to my so mudi beloued, and to excuse my silence, let
me tell jrou, that the last weeke I wrote vnto you by
your Fathers Bailiffe, who, I maruell, hath not deliuered
it ere this time : in that letter you shal find my mind
touching your suit in Court, which I feare, if it be
tedious, vnll proue more chargeable then commodious :
but obseruing a good course, a good opportunity may
be prosperous : in my letter I haue written at full vnto
you, wherein, I hope, you will deare all suspition of any
&ult in my silence, and expect my comming down ere it
be long : in the meane time with hearty thankes for all
kindnesse, without any further needlesse complement,
I rest,
Yours as mine owng, R, B,
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A PACKET OF LETTERS.
63. A Love Litter^
FAlrest Mistresse, if ^pon so small conference,
words may haue creditp shee shall not Uue whose
iuiour shall command more of my seniioe : for such is
the vnfaigned affection, in which I haue denoted my selfe
to your employment, that if there be a heauen in this
world, I will seeke that Paradise, but in your klndnesse.
Thinke not that I s6eke with eloquence to creepe into
your good opinion, for I had rather be, then sdeme to
be, him that you will I shall be : for such being your
worthinesse of far more honor then the seiuice of my
aiiection, mistrust not his truth, who hateth the thought
of dissimulation, ft wisheth no greater happines then in
the honor of your Commandement : for louing but you,
being fiauoured by you I cannot be happy but in you.
To Court you with flattery is too common a foUy, and
to bribe your kindnes were a conceit of basenes : but to
auow your seruice, let be the duty of loue. which from
my heart to your eyes be a messenger of my true
thoughts, who with all their might, to my vttermost
power, haue conjured me in true seruice.
Yours OHtly and wholly ^ H. W,
63. TluAnTWtr,
GOod Sir, to abuse your kindnesse, were as vngnici-
ous, as to admit your seruice might be dangerous :
and therefore not vnthanldiiU for your offer, giue me
leaue to consider of the acceptation : a sudden passion
holds not, and a first view may be deodtiuU : lead not
then your heart by your eyes, to the hurt of your spirit,
and s^eke not happinesse in commandement where
liberty is so much contentment : liking may be short of
loue, and lande may be mistaken in the true felidtie,
but if truth haue denoted your loue, honour will be the
reward of your seruice, whidi if you shall proffer to one
more worthy, you shall make your selfe the more happy :
for my selfe I will thinke the best, till I finde the con-
trarie : but to auoid the worst, blame me not to be
carefull : a good beginning, with a better proceeding,
promiseth a blessed ending : which wishing you in all
those courses, where truth is honourable in all her actions,
hauing occasion of your employment, in a friendly title
of commandement, ready to acquite that kindnesse that
is honourable in construction, I rest as I finde cause.
Your loving friend^ M. R.
64. To a familiar frUnd.
HAufaig so fit a messenger. I could not let him passe
without some remembrance of my loue vnto you,
wherein if I may any wales pleasure you, I will be readier
to performe it then speake it : touching such things as
you wrote mto me by the Carrier, I haue taken such
order for them, as I hope will be to your content, not a
little glad that I had so good opportunity to speake
with the parties, so soone vpon your Letter : I assure
you, I found them as tractable as you could wish. I
haue stayed all causes till your oomming to Towne, when
I hope to bring all matters to a good end : I haue sent
you by this Bearer a Rundlet of Sacke, I hope not of the
worst ; howsoeuer it be, I wish it better then it is : I pray
you take it in good part, and write me word how you
like it, that I may either thank my ^ntner or change
him : newes here are none but old, or £ilse : and there-
fore onely wishing you al happinesse, with my hearty
commendations to your selfe, and to your good Bed-
fellow, I commit you to the Almightie. London, this
tenth of yufy, 1656.
Your loving Jriond, T. W.
65. An Answer.
I Haue racdiied your kinde Letter and friendly Token,
for both whidi, with many other good fttuours, I
most heartily thanke you : and for your care of my busi-
nesse, be assured it shall not be forgotten. I will be at
London if I can, within this month : when you shall rale
me in all things as you list : I am glad you haue spoken
with them, and hope by your good meanes to haue a
peace after a long warre : if it had not b6ene for mine
Ague, I had btaie with you the last w6eke, but as soone
as I am sound. I intend to wbt you : in the meane time
in requltall of your Sacke, I haue sent yon a fat Doe,
which if it proue like your wine, I am sure it will passe
with warrant : as it is, I commend it to your kindnesse.
and my selfe to your conmiandement : and so hophig
of your good health, which I inay for as mine owne,
with thanks to your Wife for my Banbury Cheese, for
whidi, I haue sent her a pound of Pepper that she wrote
to me for : readie in what may lie in our power to plea-
sure either any one, or both of you as one : I take my
leaue at this time, but rest alwaies,
Gavttkorpe^ Dec. sa. 1636.
Your poore friend, M. R
66. A Letter of Love to a f aire Mistris,
SWeet Ladie, if the reach of my capadtie could climbe
the hope of your fiauour, it should b6e a strange
piece of seruice that I should refuse at your commande-
ment : but, when I thinke vpon your noblenesse, and
then behold mine owne vnworthinesse, I can but swallow
vp those sighes, and dare speake nothing of my loue :
and yet when I know that the eics of honor regard vertue
in no little grace, in the seruice of honor, I can feare no
ill fortune : in the nature of which humblenesse, throw-
ing my heart into your hands, at the fdete of your fauour
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laying the height of my hopes happiaesse, till occasion
of imployment, and euer deuoted to your comnuinde-
ment, I rest without rest, till I may euer ondy and wholly
rest.
Yours, in all I am, or not to be my selfe at all, D, G.
67. Her Answer.
SIR, I haue heard it of the Wise, thus, if Hope climbe
to honor, Vertue is a good hold, whose seruioe the
most noble doe most fauourably entertaine : in the nature
of which humor if your a£Eections be grounded, haue no
feare of fortune, howsoeuer enuy be your enemy. Who
speakes an in saying nothing, may vnderstand an answer
by the like reason, and thinke that hand vnworthy
honour, that will not kindly regard the heart of loue :
leaue then the sighes of feare to the fidthlesse, and
swallow not a Gudgin in a dreame, but as you finde
cause of honor, so performe either your loue or seruioe,
which too good for an vnworthy, reserue for your better
fortune : And so in the best sort of kindnesse, ready to
requite your good meaning, I rest in what I may,
Your assured /rieud T, N.
W
68. Robert to MargerU kis Sweet-heart,
\Argerie, I haue reoeiued your snappish Letter,
whereby t s^ you are more angry, Uien I thought
you would haue betoe for a mis-word or two, but I hope
to mend what is amisse : for I ste I was too blamej for
now I find the knauery of the world, I will looke a hltle
better to my selfe : for it was your Cousins domg to de-
uise lies, to set yon and me out, but if you will be ruled
by me, wte will mdet with them well enough : vpon
Friday I wll m^t you at the market : where we will
haue a Cake and a Pot, at the Pickerill and Spurre, there
we will strike vp a bargaine, that will not be broken in
hast : and so sorry with all my heart that I haue done as
I haue done : sending th6e twenty kisses by my sister
Panull, and this bowed Groat for a Loue-token, I rest,
Yours from all tlu world R, O.
O^
69. Her Answer.
|H Roger, the world is well amended : I thought you
were misused, to write to me as you did : but
friends are nere so farre out, but they may be as finr in
againe : and therefore since it was against your will, I
foigiue you with all my heart : & let my cousin doe his
worst, He not goe from my word : cm Friday lie mbex
yoa at ten of the dock, and bring a p6eoe of baoon in
my pocket, to relish acup of Ale, when it shall goe hard
if all hit right, but some body shaU wipe their nose for
their knauery. and so Roger, hoping that you will no
more abuse me as you haue done, to bel^&eue lies and
tales of me, till you know the truth, treading all vnkind-
nesse vnder foot, I rest, with all my heart, as I was and
will be euer. Yours as you know, M, R.
7a From a Yeoman in the Country, to his
Sonne in London,
SOn, you know what chazge I haue b^en at with you,
as wel in bringing you vp to London, as in furnish-
ing you for your preferment : all which I hope you will
haue such care of, that I shall not think any thing lost
that I haue done for you : in any wise seme God, please
your Master, & be carefull of such things as you are put
in trust with, be rather an example of good then of euill,
ft haue patience with all things, howsoeuer you are crost
in your expectation : beware of euill company, and Pride,
and Drunkennesse, and take heede of following faire
Women. Isballbegladtohearewellofyou. andaslste
yon thrifty, you shall find me kind : your master is an
honest man : and agood trade is gainefoll : but, I hope,
I shall not n^ed to be too earnest in aduising thte for
thy welfiEu^ God, who hath created th^, I hope will so
blesse thee, that I shall haue joy of th^ : and for my
selfe, with my blessing, I haue sent thte here inclosed a
token of my loue : vse it to thy good : shortly, God will-
ing, thou shalt heare fruther from me : in the meane
time and euer, I rest.
Your loving father, T, N,
W
71. An answer of the Sonne to the Father.
' Y good Father, I haue recdued your kind Letter
and token, for which I humbly thank you : and
for such things as you wish me to haue care of, be you
assured I will not be vnmindfiill of : for my Master, I
thank God, he putteth me in trust more then I will
speake, and vseth me so kindly, that I were a )ew if I
diould deceiue him : but my Mistresse is so perillous a
woman, that if she be displeased, there is no quiet with
her: but all the house may leame patience of my
Master : and therefore I will feed her humour, and let
her haue her saying : for Women, when I meane to
wiue, I will take choise : and Ibreuill company, I hope,
God will blesse me out of sudi as are not for my good :
and therefore feare not but I hope one day to giue you
cause to think all well bestowed that you haue, or wUl
lay out for me : I haue sent you by this Bearer a haw-
king beg, my Mother a paire of Gloues, and my sister
a Girdle : my Master hath him heartily commended
vnto you and to my Mother : and desires you to send
him Tp a good Cheese, which hee will requite : hee hath
sent my Mother a pound of Sugar, and giueth her
thanks for her fine Puddings : this is all that at this
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A PACKET OF LETTERS.
time I bane to write vnto you, and therefore beseeching
your blessing, praying to God for your health and long
life, with my humble duty to you and my good Mother,
and commendations to all my Friends, I commit you to
the Almighty. Umdtm
Y<mr louing stmne^ V- N.
73. To a vfift in the Country.
GOod Wife, in all kindnesse I commit me to thy self,
assuring th6e that I thinke it long till I haue dis-
patched my businesse, and am at home againe : But I
hope of good sucoesse in my suite, for my Counsell doth
warrant my case deere : Vpon Friday next I shall haue
triall, which I doubt not will goe on my side : if it doe
not, my thought is taken, for I thanke God I can line
without it, though I would be loath to lose it My
health, I thanke God, I haue well, and pray for the
same to th^ and thine. I pray you send me vp twenty
pounds by this Bearer, with al sp6ed, and within fine
daies after the dispatch of my businesse, expect my
comming downe : in the meane time kisse my little
Babes for mde, to whom with thy selfe, I send my hearts
hoping commendations, and so in haste I commit thfe
to the Almigbtie.
London Your very loving Husband, R, T.
73. Her Answer.
SW6et-heart. your Messengers haste makes mee
briefer than other wise I would be, the good dis^
patch of your businesse I hope, and heartily pray for :
your health I am glad of, and your retume cannot be
so soone as wished for. Your money I haue sent by this
Bearer. Your little ones with my sdfe would be glad
to see you, who doe not a little misse you for diueft
causes too tedious at this time to trouble you withall :
But in any wise remember your Girles Cawle, and your
Boyes Hat, which will not be a little welcome. But
good Husband, make one end or another with it this
Tearme, lest ddaies and demurres, make yon to spend
more in it then it is worth : But you know what to doe
better then I can aduise you : and therefore leaning it
to your discretion, to doe what shall best please you, I
commit you to God, and rest, in haste.
Chaulkley. Your very loving Wijk, M. T.
74. A Letter vpon ordinary causes.
Sir, it is giuen me to vnderstand by some that lately
came from those parts, that in the Hands there
haue arriued of late, certaine Fishermen, that by a crosse
wind, and sudden tempest, are driuen into your harbours :
if it be true, and that they lie there for any time, I pray
yon faile me not to buy me a hundred of Ling, as much
Haberdine and other fish such as you think good : I
would lay out a hundred pounds willingly : what you
lay out, you shall ypon your Letter haue payed here in
London^ to whom you shall direct it : I haue sent downe
by the Carrier a p^eoe of broad doth, of the same
colour whereof you wrote vnto me : I am assured it will
be to your liking : if you need any more or any thing
else that may lie in my power, I pray you make as bold
of me, as any friend you haue : Cole-fish and poore-John
I haue no need oflT, and therefore hoping that yon wa
husband my purse as a friend, with my hearty commen-
dations, I commit you to the Almighty, London, this 8
ai Houember, 1636.
Your loving Ji^iendf M. R,
75. TKe Answer,
Sir, your Letter and piece of cloth, I haue receiued,
for which I heartily thanke you, for which you shall
receiue money by my Cousin at Dice Key, when it please
you to send to him : but for the fisher-men, indeed they
put in for a night, but in the morning thciwind came
faire, and they put to sea againe : so that except a few
Ling that they bestowed vpon our Mayor and Baylifb,
for some firesh victual that they had from vs, there was
little bought here at this time : but we heare of them
that shortly we shall haue a fl6et come by vs, when, if
there be any good to be done, I will not faile to befriend
you to your content : in the meane time wishing any
good occasion, wherein I might requite your kindnesse,
in prayer for your health and hearts ease, I commit you
to God : Yarmouth this 15 of December 1636.
Yours assured to command, T. D.
76. A Letter to a friend for dispatch of businesse.
I Am bold to intreat your kindnesse, to stead m^ in
what you may touching the purchase of the Mills
and Hop-gardens, for which if your neighbour will take
mine offer, I am for him, or else I must otherwise de-
termine of my mony that I haue reserued onely for that
vse. I am offered great penny-worths in diners places :
but the ayre pleaseth me vrell about that house, and the
trouts in the little brookes haue made me haue a great
mind to dwell thereabouts : if therefore you can bring
him to my price, I will be beholding to you : if not, let
me know his mind, and 1 am satisfied : for to tel you the
troth, I would haue it though it cost me more then it is
worth, and so intreating you to do mbt what good you
can herein for which you shall not find me vnthankfiill,
I rest,
Your loving friend, A. W.
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25
77* TJU Answer,
IReceiued your Letter, dated ihe tkli af this month »
whereby I vnder^taiid y otji mmd touching the lease
of the two MiUes and Hopp-gardens .' bui I cannot bring
it to passe one p^uiy Tnder the Summe, whcrvpon he
tels me you were in a maimer agreed : the man is hard
but very honest : and the: Land good, luid lielh finely to
the house : the Soyle is health fiill : and there is good
store of Springs : besides, the Riuei- ij poi farrc off, whraic-
by you may baue carriage w^kley from the City vpop a
small reckoning : but vse your discretion, the price you
know^ and m^ you may command, but time would not
be deferred, for there are many about it : and therefore
leauing to your discretion, dtber to take it, or refuse it,
with assumnce of my heipe to the viTuost of my po'!^eT,
either in this or what else may pleasure you. I alifc'aies
rest*
Fmri tff jvs kjawi T. D.
7$, Lgiien ^JWv htttmxt JtiMttldo amd i^rfna.
FAirest of the world, and sweetest on the earth : the
beauty of whose eies puts the best wits to admira-
tion : and the wisdome of whose gouernment commands
the honor of loues seruice ; how should my amazed spirit
hope of powies" to presume r^^re the happmease of your
fauor J* No« Foriune is my eucr swonie enemies and
desert must take place in higher reach, then the longest
arixjo of my vnworthinesse : yet let me not be so depriued
of Reason, that I tnay not looke into the nature of Vertue^
where honour La kindnesse makes beauty Angelicall : but
In the humUity of alfection to offer ihe imployment of
my seruice, in which if I faile the expectation of your
alTe<^on« ^pon the condemmilion of iostifBdency, let dis-
grace be my deadly punishtnent i wh^e, in the Labyrinth
of sorrow I tnay languish all my dayes. But if the Fates
be not too froward'in crossing the iudeuour$ of my duty,
be you gratious vnlo loue, that bath wholly swome me
your seniaut : with which title if I may be honored, I
will sceke no other colors of my comfort* But fearing
your vnksovk^e occasions of af£dres, I wiU not be tedious
to your patience but rest euer in my louc,
V^mr vowed, tkfftigh furt aHawtd itruaHt, I?maM&.
79^ Htt Anmstr.
Wittiest of an hxmdred, and craftiest of a tbouBaad :
whose eloquence tike inchautment, would take
prisoner a weake judgement How should my simple
capacity concciue the drift of your aduioe ? Fortune is
but a fiction : and therefore it is no matter for her ^end~
ship, wbile desert hath a power in the preferment of duty,
and ione in venue giues an honor to beauty \ where, if
40
Reason be earefuUH Affection may be joyfull. But leaue
Angds to the heauens, and take heed of deuib vpon
earth, which vnder the clofikof humility bide the head of
ambition* Perfection hath no affinity with Corruption :
and what the heauens determine, the world must indure^
But in flattery of tny perfection you haue decdued my
expectatiou, who imagining you wise^ am sorry to s6e
the contrary : and if I might be judge, the Law would
qukkly haue his course, where dissimulatioQ appearing,
should be condemned to perpciuall disdaine \ but hoping
better of your humor than to wrong the simplicity of
bel^fe, let Ihe patienct: of affection lead you out of the
Labyrinth of sorrow^ to the mountaine of that blisse,
whose vertue may giue you giace : to the attalnemeni
whereof kauing your thoughts to thdr best issue, 1 r^t,
as 1 may,
YmtrfrUmd L&riMa,
80. A Repiy.
THe high honor of your Venue, that from the merit
of your graces flyeth through the worlds so fane
beyond fame^ as makes her amajced of her wonder^ so
dnmpeth the power of tay spirit, that as an eye which is
beholding the Sun, twinckleth with the Uds for fi^ue to
lose the sight ; so the bumble eye of my heart, that lu
beholding the bright beams of your Sunnic beauty,
trembling in feare by presumption to lose the life of loues
hope, Eubmitteth It selfe to the will of that power, which
in pitty may saue, or in fury may kill the life of that
erealurCj who at Ihe feet of your fauour hath laid the
height of his felidty. Show therefore the heauenly
nature of that vertue, which may purcba^ you worthy
honor : take not pleasure in destruction, that may be
gradoQS in comfort : but lead the heart by your eye, that
hateth the light, but in your loue : where in the glasse of
clearest grace, truth may see her beauty vuspotied ; and
honour in truths seruice, craues but the entenainement of
imployment : In which, time shall oonfirme that care shaJl
euer conclude : my thoughts shall be onely honored la
your sluice, and my loue euer happy in your commande-
meiit : la hope whereof, if I tnay, I wil rest,
Vimrs itur^ Rinaido.
Bi< fi^ Axrm/r^
THe low course in loues oomfort that you take, to lead
you into my liking, is so forre from the nature of
good desert, that t know not whether silence were a fit
answer to idlenesse, or reprehension a Just reward for
Lndiscretiou : and therefore in doubt what to doe, pardon
m^, if I doe not as I shotild : for ibougb wisdome would
admit no cause of danger, yet court esie is such law in
Nature, as is too great a iriend to lotie. Yet if I could
D
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A PACKET OF LETTERS.
chide andnotbeangiy, I oonld wish yon leaneacrfeping
climbing, lest you be thought a baser creature, then maj
stand with the honor of your condition. Leaue a
twindding eye to Owlie sights, and figure not the Sun in
the Cipher of a shadow : nor presume further then you
may passe without feare : but in submission vse that dis-
cretion, that may maintain the reputation of affection :
and be perswaded that Vertue cannot be vngradous,
howsoeuer foUy rune vpon destruction : murther is hatefiiU
to nature, and loue is the joy of reason : what then should
trouble a good spirit that is possessed of no ill humor :
but in the resolution of honor to build the hope of bis
happinesse, and while colours are fittest for Psdnters. to
march vnder the Ensigne of truth : where in the field of
Fame, Vertue carieth the victory : to the tryall of which
seruioe leaning the happy euent of your aduentures, I
rest as I may.
Your poore friind assured^ Lorima,
83. AfawUliar Litter to ajriend in tht Country,
HOw ne6ne ingratitude is to foigetfulnesse, I would
be loth my silence should make proofe, especially
knowing the kind welcome of my vnworthy Letters : and
therefore vnderstand you, that all things are here as you
left them, health nothing impaired, and our substance
(if we may so terme our drossie treasure) little diminished,
but our mindes, through want of your company not so
merry as whS you were with vs : for, the fiisty spirits of
vnseasoned wits, who vnderstand no other wealth then
their owne will, make time tedious, which (were it better
exercised) would be more pleasiqg : and to tell you the
truth, were not bookes my better firiends, I should be
subject to much melancholy : but my Library though but
little, stands m6e in much good stead, in which if there
be any booke that may pleasure you, I pray you make
vse of it : and so soone as you well may, let me intreat
your retiime, and till then your often writing, that we6
may joy in our health, whidi as I hope of, I daily i»ray
for : newes here are many, but so few true, or of any
worth, that being as yet altogether vncertaine v^iat to
bele^ue, till I haue further certain intelligenoe, I will
craue pardon at this time, and rest alwaies
Your assured Jrund, A. T.
83. His Answer,
IN readiog your letter, then which nothing but your
sdfe can be more welcome, mAt thinks I see the
meeting of two Loners in a morning, who surely dream-
ing of each other in their sleep, scarce wel awake, came
out with a kind of wOder, Oh Lord, how haue you done
since yesternight : so may I say to you : it is not a full
w^eke since we were together, and shall we lieaze silence
for so little a while? But what shall I say? It is a
pleasing humor to sollidte loue, and a content to the
minde to continue quietnesse, which fortune crossing m
want of presence, wit can worke fai spight of absence : let
then the muddy fish dwell hi miry Lakes, and the better
natures s^eke sweeter places : and for the Library I will
not make thte jealous of my loue, but let me tell thed,
they are most sweet companions, and so for their owne
sakesest^eme them : and though I louethem, yet will I
not depriue the^ of any of them : for an vnderstanding
spirit they are a kinde of Paradise. Now for my health,
I thanke God I n6ed no Physicke. and for my purse, it
hath vent enough for letting my money grow rusty, and
for my mind, to tell the6 truth, it is with God and thde :
with whom I hope to be shortty, till when, and then, and
euer, I rest.
Yours what mine thine, N. B.
84. A Letter Jrom a Patker to kis Sonne
at the Vniversity,
MY deare Sonne, as nothing can ioy the heart of a
Father more, then the obedience of a louing
chOde, so can there be nothing more grieuous then the
stubbome spirit of an vngradous Sonne. I speake this
to th^, knowing thy yeares and vnderstanding able to
digest the consideration of my desire, which, in summe,
is my ioy in thy good. For, let me tell the^, my estate
thou knowest, and how much I haue strained my credit
for thy aduancement : to which, learning being a speedy
and assured good meane, I would be glad to s6e my com-
fort in thy profit, in such finits of thy study, as with the
blessing of God may hasten thy preferm^ : I am sony to
tell th6e, that I heare thy diligence doth not answer my
desbe, and would gladly wish it otherwise : but I hope a
kind admonition will sufiice to work a good nature : and
therefore will rather hope the best then doubt the con-
trary : and in the loue of a Neither, let me intreat thfe to
auoid the company of a lewd fellow, as rather an enemy
than a fiiend : the feminine sex are dangerous to affect :
for as they wil be a losse of time, so with hinderance of
study they will procure expence. The exercise of the
body I admit for thy health, but let thy k)ue be in thy
learning, dse will thou neuer be good SchoUer : for
Desire and ddight are the best Masters both of Art and
Knowledge, while reason vertuous, makes vnderstanding
gradous. And therefore not out of the bitter humour of
displeasure, but the carefiill nature of affection, I write
vnto thte for thine owne good : and so praying to God
for thee, whom I beseech daily to blesse thte, with my
hearts loue, to the Lords blessing I leaue th^.
Thy loving father, H, N.
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85. An answer o/the Sonne to the Father.
AFter the bands of humble duty, my good Father. I
bane receiiied your most kind and louing Letter,
in which, how much ioy I haue recdued, I cannot ez-
presse : fearing rather your sharpe rebuke, than louing
admonition : but God is himadfe, who can and doth
worice more in some natures with a kind chiding, than
in some other with many strips : I know you are not
ignorant of the inclination of youth, and therefore doe
thus kindly touch the hurt of vnh^edfiilnesse : for which
how mndi I doe humbly thanke you, I hope my care of
your oounsell, in time, shall pleasingly tell you : there-
fore, for what ill you haue heard, grieue not : and of the
good you may heare, doubt not : and beldeue me, for I
will not abuse your trust, what vanity soeuer I haue
s6emed to affect, my Booke hath b6ene the Mistresse of
my loue : in which how much I will labour, and finom which
what profit I will gather, your hope shall s6e in the effect
of Gods blessing ; without the which, how dangerous
are diuers studies to the vnderstanding of vngradous
spirits, I would it were not known in any, and pray God
that none may know it in me : my preferment I leaue to
Gods pleasure, who best kpoweth how to dispose of his
semants : and for your contentment, that it may be in
my obedience. Your health as my worlds happinesse, I
pray for : mine owne moderate exercise, with abstinence
from ezoesse, doth with Gods blesshig hold me in good
state : and for the feminine sexe, though I would be no
hypocrite, yet I had rather read of them then be ac-
quainted with them : for I allow of your opinion touch-
ing them : and so hoping that ere long, you shall recdue
as much content of my courses, as you haue euer
doubted the oontreiy : in the duty of my humble loue I
take my leaue for this time, but rest alwaies
Yonr obedient Son, T, N.
86w To his deare and onefy beloued Miftrisse
Susan Pearle.
Sweetest of my thoughts, and nearest of my loue, if
Reason had the power to expresse the nature of
my passion, I am perswaded that the eye of thy beauty
would vouchsafe a kind looke vpon the heart of my loue,
which continually kmguishing in the doubt of my affec-
tion, desireth not to line, but in the comfort of thy Und-
nesse : loath I am with ceremonious eloquence to moue
suspition of truth : and yet an Orient Pearie would be
set in pure gold : grosse speeches fit not fine spiriu :
and for your selfe, I will rather honor than flatter you :
and if I may serue you, I wil so well deserue of you,
that I will lay the hope of my worlds happhiesse, vpon
the honour of your fauour, setting aside all care of other
contentment : I haue bequeathed my life to your loue :
in which, if I foik in the truth of your trust, let me
recdue the reward of your disgrace : which being more
direfun then death can be, let me but intreat your admis-
sion of my seruioe, belMe of my loue, and regard of my
triall : which be it m body, or in mind, shal haue no
rest, but in your pleasure. What shal I say? but tune
is pretious, and delayed patience in Passion most grie-
uous : hasten therefore I beseech you, the hope of my
desire, in the happhiesse of your oommandement, and
let no doud of mistrust bane me the Ught of your
loue, which bdng on this earth the ondy bright Starre
that leads me to my worids heauen, let me liue as in
death, tH I may reuiue in this comfort in hope whereof,
and desire of whidi, laying the head of my fortune at
the feft of your honor, I rest with little rest, till I may
iully and wholly rest,
Your onefy and all, or mine owne nothing at aU, T. /.
FINIS.
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A POSTE
WITH A PAC-
KET OF MAD
Letters.
LONDON,
Printed for J^oAn MarrioL
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NOTE.
In the Epistle to the Reader this second Part was semi-promised and
anticipated, €^,y ' if I heare you like well of them, when I meet next with
the Poste, it may be I will cast about with him for more of them" — word-
ing which has an important bearing on the Breton authorship of the
Pasquil set of books. See our Memorial-Introduction. — G.
-'•'-••-'•'hxJh.x^v.xS**.-^^
••^
To The Reader.
^ader, I know not what you are^ and therefore I cannot well tel what to say : onefy this at
adventure : if you be wise^ you will not play the foole in scoffing at that which perhaps
may deserve a better countenance: if you be not wise^ I can but pray for your better
vnderstanding ; how soever you be^ I will hope the best of you^ that you will think of my Work as
it deserves^ which is as much as I desire. If you get any good by it, thank me for it : ifhurt^ thank
your self for your abtise of that might serve you better. This is al I can and wil at this time say
unto you : my intent was to pleasure many, &* you may be one of them : and to hurt none at all, and
therefore not you. So leaving my Book to your liking, as itfalleth out, I rest, as I haue reason.
Your Friend
Nicholas Breton.
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The Contents of the Second Booke.
i-a. A Letter betweene the Knight R. M.
•^J^ & the Lady E. R. with her ans. page 3a
3-4. His reply, with ho* answer.
5-6. A meny Letter from a oonoeited friend to
his like CEuniliarp with the answer.
7-8. A reply to the last letter, with some newes.
and the answer. ....
9-ia Another reply, with the answer. .
II. To my honourable good Lord, my L.
MOTCUtm .....
la. To my loving Consin 7*. W, lustioe of Peace. 34
13. To the light honourable, his ve^r good
Lord, the Lord W, H. .
14. To his deare friend Master ^. ^. at his
lodging in the Temple. .
15. A Letter of a Batcfaelor to a rich widow. .
16. A Letter of advice to his friend W. G. .
17. To his most Honourable Lady Madame
IzabtUa TaHna, ....
18. To my most beioved Godfather, T. H. .
19. To my dearest beloved friend, H. W.
aa To his frurestmtstresse and hearts honour,
mistresse A. T. .
ai. To his very good friend, master W. B. for
the borrowing of la pounds for 6
moneths. .....
83. To the right worshipfull my very good
master, Sir Thowuis Ward Kn^ht, at
his house in Padow.
93. To my assured loving fiiend, T. B. with
speed for mony lent to restore back.
24. To a Ittdge in the behalfe of an offender. .
95. A Letter of complement To my very
good friend master H. W. at his house
in Arthingworth. ....
a6. To his assured friend, master Thomas Rise
at his house in the Strand, tntreating his
helpe for dispatch of businesse. .
37. To his venr good Iriend, master R. M. con-
cerning the purchase of oertaine lands. .
A Letter to a proud mistresse with the
ftswer of a witty (but reyling) wendL
A Letter of challenge to a swaggerer, with
the answer. ....
To my very good Cousin, master I. D. at
his house in ^fMJtdlr.
3a
3a
33.
34-35.
33
36.
33
34
34
34
37-38.
39-40.
41-43.
35
43-44.
35
36
36
45.
46-47.
37
37
38
4«.
38
49-50.
51-52.
39
53-54.
39
39
40
55-56.
57-58.
59-60.
30-31.
40
41
41
6i-6a.
63.
64.
65.
66.
67.
To his dearest, Surest ft worthiest of love
honour and service, mistresse £. E. page 42
A letter to a friend to borrow a piece of
mony, and the answer. . .42
A letter of good counsell to mistresse H.
C at her house in Chest 42
To my sweet love, mistresse K P. with the
ans. 43
An old mans Letter to a young widdow,
with the answer. . . -43
A letter of a young man to his sweete-
heart with the answer. . .44
A meny letter of newes to a friend, ¥dth
the answer. .... 44
To a young man going to travell beyond
the Sea. ..... 45
To his friend G. T. in his time of sicknes,
and sorrow, for a great misfortune, with
the answer to the same. . -46
A younger brother to his elder, falne un-
happily on a little wealth, and suddenly
growne fondly proud. . . .46
To a £ure proud Tit, with the ans. 47
A kinde sister to her loving brother, with
the ans. . . -47
A young man to his first love with the
answ. ..... 48
A Traveller beyond the seas, to his Wife
in England, with the ans. 48
A Letter Admonitory to his friend in love,
with the ans. .... 48
The Country mans letter to his beloved
sweet-heart, E. S. with the ans. to her
heart of gold, and beloved. 49
An angry Letter by a young lover in the
country, to his love M. N. with the
an. ..... 50
To her more friendly, than bdeeved fruth-
fuU. master Tko: Jewell, - 51
A valedictory Letter to his inconstant
Mistresse. . -51
An amorous Letter to a most fiiire crea-
ture. ..... 51
A letter giatulatory to a kinde Gentle-
woman. ..... 51
A Love Letter. .... 52
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A POSTE WITH A
Packet Of Mad
Letters.
I. A Utter beiwume thi ICnigki R, M.
omdtkeLadyB, R.
Faire Lady,
1^^ should be that spirit, which through the
instinct of loue vnderstandeth the silence
of truth, whose tongue is the heart, whose
words are sighes. in which are hidden the
secret fipuits of those 1Ve6s, that ondy grow in the Para-
dise of reason : Vouchsafe then. Csdre eye. more bright
than the Sunne beames. with one splendent glance of
your gradous feuour. to blesse this rude and vnworthy
Paper, the which if it haue made you any way offended,
in the fire consume it : but if through the power of the
Fates, or the effect of your kindnesse. it may doe you
the least pleasure, let him be metamorphosed to worse
than nothing, that would be any thing, but that Letter,
during your reading, or ener any other thing, than at
your pleasure in your service, for that vnder heauen.
hauing no cause of comfort, but m my concealed hope
of your grace, let aU worids sw6et be as bittemesse to
my thought, that shaU se^ke sweetnesse in other sense :
so looldng for no felicity but in the nest of the Pkanix,
which is in the admiration of honor, in the humility of
loue, I rest
Y<mrs devotid to be commatided^ R, Af,
a. Her Answer,
\17Tsedome might well appeare in that heart, which
could pierce into the conceit of that spirit, that
with the figures of loue. decehies the sense of simptidty :
which not suspectmg euil. finds sddome other substance.
Oh poore truth, how is thy title made a shadow of
decdt? while in seeking of Plaradlse. Fofly falls into
Hel : yet not to wrong any creature, happy may he Uue
Aat makes Faith his feUdty. and pardoned be that
^pw thai does but his Masters message : let then sighs
bee buned in the death of foigetfulnesse. while siksnce
nideratandeth that yertue speaketh : and to tfc fire of
that flame, whose heat is more felt than scene, be that
Letter burned that offends me with pleasure : so assur-
ing my sdfe that if fix)m the nest of the Pkemix you
passe withoutafeather. dther the figure wiUbeaCypher
or the tocy affection : so leaning your best thoughts to
a blessed issue. I rest afiiectionatdy.
Your in what I may, B, R,
3. His reply.
Y'Nworthy should that heart bee of the least of loues
w happmesse. that can haue power to giue plaoe to
the poyson of Decdt : and more than miserable were
the life, that to hd makes such a passage. Oh blessed
Creature, doe not thmke the world to beetheCaueof
theaccursed. Nor doe a wrong to tone, in the suspi-
tion of truth : simple Faith hath no feare. and true loue
cannot faine : but if silence be the only answer of the
expectation of comfort, hope in obscurenesse must seeke
the happinesse of desire : but let your &uour be the
Feather in the nest of my honours Pkanix: which till I
may kindly reodue. I shall in the Sun4)eames of your
beauty consume to the ashes of discomfort : in which,
commending the Summe of my life, to the true and
honourable seruice of loue, I rest.
Yours what mineewne, R, Af.
4. The Answer,
\7Ngratious is that spirit, that through suspition of
^ Decdt. doth tajury to loue : and blessed is that
feucy. that Uues ondy by feith : sweete is the wane.
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where kindneiwe ends the quaireU, and little the hurt,
where hope is a most present and ready help : in briefe,
thejr are blind traueUers» that in seeking to find Heauen,
goe to Hel : and if lone be himselfe, he bath life in assur-
ance : let it then suffice you. to find the due of Desert,
where desire exceeds not limits of Reason : so, fai the
nature of that honour, that giues Vertue her best grace,
commending the comfort of your care to the condition
of your conceit, I rest, as I haue occasion to equall
honour in true affection.
Yours as IJindi cause, B, R. *
5. A wurry Litter from a conceited friend
to Mis like familiar,
HOnestie, I hope I am in the right, except the great
_ Wmd haue blown deane away your best wit :
giue me leaue, spight of your t^eth, to tel you that I loue
you, and lest I should grow deafe, I would be glad to
heare of you : and therefore bailing a fit messenger I
thought it not amisse to write, not for any thing I haue
to say, but that while I thinke on you, you should s^e I
doe not forget you : for though complements are but
idle, yet they make words instead of other matter. Now
to the purpose, you shall vnderstand, that at the writing
hereof, a sudden occasion of businesse made me make
an end ere I had begun, and therefore intending to write
I know not what, to abridge my conceit I know not
how : but hoping that you are wise enough to thinke
what you list, I will ondy pray for you, that being in as
good health as I left you, as soone as conueniently you
can, I may meete with you, when, and where it shall
please you : for as you know, I am for you in al kind-
nesse to quite you, and so to him that made you, euer to
blesse and ke^ you, with my hearty commendations I
leaueyou.
Yours what mine owne, N. B,
W
6. An answer to the same,
[Erry Grigge, I am sure I am not in the wrong,
except the Suns radiant beames haue dried vp
your braines since I left you : Let me, for I will tel you
that in my loue I out leape you, and will not be so idle,
as not to answer you, that my senses doe not so fiule me,
but that I vnderstand you, and hauing no better company,
would bed glad to bee troubled with you : for you haue
not a kinde thought wherein I doe not quarrell with you,
whether is of mere force in the nature of true friendship :
which because Fortune fauors few fooles this yeare, wte
must tarry longer to play our game : but neuer too late
to goe to an ill bargaine, for now we doe but talke, our
Purses take no hurt, but when the Terme comes, that
wed may Joyne issue in our cause, I feare the Khigs head
40
in Fish-street will find vs too good Qyents : but all is
well that ends wdl, except it were bad fai the beginning,
as I thinke by this my Letter : for being troubled with
lie not tell you what, lest it should make you thinke I
care not what, I haue written what you may read, and
doe as you se6 cause, either to reply vpon imperliectiO, or
let it rest with a Nonplus : and so not doubting you to
be your selfe, and to put me in the number of your
second selfe, I rest to your selfe, and my selfe.
One ahoaies Yours, H. W.
7. A reply to the last Letter, with some newes.
IF you were as wise as I could wish you, I could take
a little paines to write vnto you : and yet for that
you vnderstand your selfe, I care not if I trouble you
with a little idlenesse. In the Parish of Saint Asse, at
the signe of the Hobbi-horse, Maid Mairian and the
Foole fell together by the eares with the Piper : so that
had not the good-man of the Pewter-Candlesticke set in
for the Morisdance, the May-game had beene quite
spoyled : but when the game had gone round, and their
braines were well wanned, their legges grew so nimble,
that their heeles went hi^er then their heads :
but in all this cold sweate, while histie-guts and
his best beloued were casting Shedpes eyes at a Cods
head. Hue and Cry came suddenly thorow the street
The Foxes haue killed a tame Goose : at the sudden
noise whereof the multitude were so scared, that
all the Moris dancers were diuided, and the Foole ran
home to your towne : but because we haue some misse
of him in our Parish, I pray you keepe him not too long
with you : and so for lacke of better present occurrents,
content your selfe with such newes as the time affords
yon : hereafter yon may haue better, till when, and
alwaies, I rest as you know. Yours, T, R,
8. An answer to the newes,
IF you were not more then halfe mad, you would not
haue danced such a Trenchmore with your little wits,
but yet since I ghesse it is about the full of the Moone,
I will hope shortly of your amendment : in the meane
time let me aduise you to take patience in your vnder-
standing, to direct you in a better course : for when yon
waked out of your dreame, you saw no body, but the
man that you thought was runne to our towne, and he
was putting you on a Coat with foure Elboes : for Maid
Marrian, shde, I thinke, is troubled with you in her
Creame-pot : but for the Hobbie-horse, alas, he hath
forgot your tume : and therefore you should doe well to
make repaire to our market. I thinke it will be a Saints
day, when if a naughty bird doe not crosse the Nightin-
gale, you shall heare some strange muaicke about our
E
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Medow-plot, and at the least jroa shall heare the old
Song that you were wont to like well of, song by the
Uacke browes with the cherrie-ch^eke, vnder the side of
the pide Cow : Come line with me and be my lone : you
know the rest, and so I rest,
Thint what mint, N, R,
9. AtuOhar Reply.
OBrane Oliver ^ leaue me not behind you : you play
the Merchant all the We6ke, and make all whole
ypon the Holieday, you would be angry if you could tell
how : and yet hauing the Cards in your hand, you cannot
choose but tume vp the Noddy : the matter is not great,
that Taylor that fitteth my Coate, hath made you many
a Jacket, where if it were not for displeasing Jacke an
Apes, I could make him &U out with his Workman, for
acquainting you with his intention : but let this passe,
and to a better purpose : my Neighbour and your good
friend hath a welcome in store for you, and his eldest
daughter would make you both a Husband and a
Brother : her worth jrou know, and his wealth will doe
no hurt : I should be glad of your good Fortune, and
you I thinke should play well at, be you pleased :
and so much for the conjunction. Now for newes, I
heare none of late, but that the Bayliffe of our hundred
hath had a mischance, his Wife taking a blow that neuer
smarted, he hath a paine in his head that cannot be
cured, for hauing no other Plaister but patience, is
resolued to make good che^ with his friends, and
finding himselfe alone, is content to make merry with
good fellowes ; this is all for this time, and so in hast I
end.
Yours, N. B.
W
10. Am anrwer,
THen Wit goes a wool gathering, the thred of it
may be fine if it be well spun : I see you haue
little to doe that haue so much leisure to play your
Luripups ; if I could not meet you right, I would fit you
a penny worth : but though I cannot pay you your due,
I wil not die in your debt : and though I play at Noddie,
I will not take the Card out of your hand, for I know not
how you can spore him : but leaning Gamesters to their
tricks, and Jack-an-apes to his Monkie, let me tell you,
that for 3rour neighbour you are so neere hhn : that I
afed not to trouble him : and for his wealth and her worth,
you know well enough what to doe with them : for my
sdfe, I loue not to shake hands with your Constable in
the company of kind feDowship, but yet not wronging an
honest Wench, I will wish her better fortune then my
affliction ; and so commending my selfe, I will assist
thee with my good prayers, that the Bayliffe of the
Hundred may find thte one among a thonind, 1 1
to shake hands, but not heads with : and so in 1
little ooGBikm of sudden bnsmewe, I will here oondode
for this time, and alwaies rest,
mme, R. M.
XX. To my Honorable good Lord, my
Lord Moron,
Right Honorable, to ezpresse vmo your good Loid-
ship the humble duty of my affection, I cannot
better doe it then by this Bearer : whom for many good
parts fitting jrour Honors pleasure, I can well commend
to 3rour fauourable entertainement : for, as good Masters
are like black Swans, so such Semants are dioise Crea-
tures : for a little matter of small moment will hoise vp
Folly aboue the Clouds, while Wisedome runnes a course
of a more carefnll temper : such I hope shall you finde
your Seruant, whose wit and conscience take such
oounsell in all bis actions, that the judgements of good
experience hold him worthy good account : for my selfe,
lest I may be partial!, I will leaue his praise to your
proofe, and in hope of you* contentment, only intreat
your entertainment : shortly I hope to sde you : till when
perswaded that his seruice shall gaine him more pnuse
then my Pen, I will leaue his <iualities to your tryall, and
his seruice to your fanour, and so in infragible loue rest
during life
Yours assurtd in true qffkeiiont R. B.
13. To my loving Cousin T. W.
Justice of Peace.
^Orthy Sir, I would be glad to write you Newes of
the dispatch of your bnsinesse, but yet it will not
be : for Lawyers being full of Clyents, cannot answer all
men at once, and therefore considering your matter is a
case of more conscience then gaine, I must attend the
leisure of your Counsellour, who as he is wise, I doubt
not but will proue honest, and then a little time will be
well borne with, that brings a good honre at the last :
your aduersary is full of money, and tnidgeth vp and
downe like a Foxe, but I hope in stead of a Goose, hee
will be choaked with a feather : haue you no feare nor
care of it : for I doubt not to effect it to your content : and
so much for your Law businesse. Now for other matters,
the occuirents of time are either so fnuolous or dange-
rous, that I thinke silence better blamed then babling :
for though there be few Partridges, yet there are many
setters here in this Towne, who listen for speech, inter-
cept Letters, accuse the simple, and vndoe the foolish :
and therefore I had rather be silent with the Nightingale
til May, then prate like a Cuckoe out of season : yet for
that you shall not thinke me fearefiiU of sparrow-blasting.
W^
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3S
J wm write jroQ a little oewes. Tobacco is like to grow a
grpat commoditie, for there is not an Ostler nor a Tap-
ster, bat will be at his whiffe or two, and vse it as a
shooing home to diaw on a pot of Btan. Bottle Alois
more common than good, and yet deare enough, it is
so taken vp with the dnmken cme. Thtenes are well
wteded. and yet besides shonegroat Teasten, there are
some tookers now and then. Painting was neoer so
common, and pretty cbeape. And for Women, some
goe like Anticks, some like Maskers, some proudly sober,
and some like carelesse resdlntion, bat some few like
Angels : bat they are too high for men, and therefore
lie leane them to higher powers : now men are as in
times past : if yoang, hardly wise, though witty : if aged,
wise : if wealthy, serued and honoured : if poore at least
scorned, if not worse vsed : if wise perhaps imployed :
if foolish, baflled : this I say, for the most part, for some
time, for some cause both youth, and age, and pouerty.
and folly, are finely borne withall : but for that this is
rather an old obseruation then any new matter. I will
end my long Letter with neuer ending loue : and so in
hope of your health commit you to the Almighty.
Your very loving Cousin^ IV. R,
13. To th* right HoHourabUt his very good Lordt
the Lord W,H.
Right Honorable, your Noblenesse neuer ceasing to
bind my sendee to your kindnesse, hath made me
at this instant to presume a little Tpon your good fituour :
So it is, my good Lord, that I am shortly to bestow a.
Daughter of mine in marriage vpon a Gentleman of some
worth, and according to our custome, friends must be
feasted, when a Pastie of Venison is a grace to the
whole seruice : your Honour shall much pleasure me,
and as often heretofore, giue me no little cause to be
thankfiill : my state is not great, but my loue so farre
assured, as wherein I may deserue that I cannot requite,
I &ne of my hope, but I will discharge some part of my
debt : and so not doubthig your fauour to this my sute
for a Bucke : Beseeching God to adde hapinesse to your
good health, I humbly take my leaue.
Your honours in all hunUlenesse, R. S.
W
14, To his deare friend. Master F.R.athis
Lodging in the Temple,
[ Y Noble friend, you wrote of late vnto me for my
opinion of your intent, and aduice for your
course : which two points, I will touch as truly and fitly
as I can. Your intent is to leaue your Studie, and first
to Court, and then to armes, but what hath altered your
intent in Studie, to Call vpon an intent to strange courses ?
For your Bookes peaceably intreat of those things which
you may finde disquiet in passing thorough. For,
touchhig your first course, is it not better to read of
Princes, than to carry their Crownes? Yon cannot fiBsle
their burthens, enxpt you hane thefr Garsf. How fiill
of perils are their pleasures? Yea how many instnimems
of miscbiefe doth the Denill send into the Worid tocR«e
the courses of good Princes, that are leadmgthefar people
to Heauen? And if they bee W^ues to their owne
Flockes, how safe it is to be iarre from their CourU?
Now, leaning good Princes to Gods blessfaig, and others
to his amendment, goe a little to his CounceU. Oh bow
great are the weiglit of their charges? And how many
the natures of their troubles? Whoif they allbeof one
mhide, and as it were one body of many members, yet
sometime a Toe, or a Finger, a Hand, or an Arme, a
Tooth, or an Eye, a Tongue, or an Eare, may perhaps,
bee out of temper, and so, that all the body may be out
of finame : say their wits are great through experience of
place, and their powers great in the vertue of fauour, yet
withall when experience is put to a new studie, prouid-
ence must trie the power of wit with no little trouble, and
when {deasures bold in power, loue hath no place in
seruilitie : and when power rests vpon fauour, what is the
feare of fortune ? And further, is not the care of a
common-wealth, a continuall toile of wit ? Power a
dangerous step to pride, hatefrill in the highest eye 7 and
Fortune ▼nfiuthiull in all her fauours ? Rather read then
the laudable cariage of their courses in the seruice of
Kings, then seeke in Court to see their Kingly courses.
For God onely knoweth their consciences, themselues
only their care, and thou canst not know theh- crosses.
But leaning them to their honourable proceedings, goe
a little lower to the Ladies, and what shalt thou see?
Either a Creature like an AngeU, if vertuous : or wuse,
than a Woman, if vicious : perhaps thou shalt see paint-
ing spoile a good complexion, or decdue a shnple eye
sight : heare out of a fine presence, a fond spirit speake
idlie, and perhaps, an idle wit play the Wanton. Now,
what art thou benefited by all this? Abuse thine eye
with a picture, offend thine eare by folly, or lose thy
time in idlenesse. Were it not better for thee to read
the fiction of Venus, then to be a seniant to Vanity ?
And to laugh at fancy, then to follow folly? Yea, say
there be a Phoenix among Birds, if her nest bee too high,
take heed of climbing for feare of a fall : take heed of
the Object that makes an Abject of a Subject But looke
aside at the Attendants, what shall you see? Cost and
Courtesie, long seruice, painefiill duty, hope of fauour.
with feare of displeasure, a great Haniest, many Labour-
ers, and a few Gainers, and it must be so : for desires
are many but deserts few, and therefore they haue little.
In summe, a Prince thou canst neuer be, a Counsellor
neuer think to be : Ladies are loueIy,.but beauty is costly :
and the chaige of attendance may bring hope to assur-
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anoe. In my opfnioii therefore thy intent is not good,
and thy proceeding will be worse in thy humour of court-
ing. Now, for Annes, is it not better to reade of Noble
Acts of Conquerors, then to try the misery of the con-
quered? and to suffice Nature with a little, then to starue
for want of food? Oh the danger of death, the doubt of
victories, the crosse of valor, the terror of sacking a City,
the defence of a battle, the sight of bloud, the cares of
the sorrowiiill, and the consideration of conscience : Oh
these with many others ill bankets, bitter stormes, deadly
wounds, cold lodgings, hard finre, stinking drink, and
louzie rags : and who knows how long? These things,
I say. with what else I say not, are sufficient I hope to
disswade thee from so desperate a course : rather reade
of true valour, and vpon good cause and fit time aduen-
ture life for Honour, for thy Country, thy Religion or thy
life : otherwise vnder the shew of seeking Honour, goe
not like a hired Butcher to kill beasts, like a Tyrant to
kH men for money : remember what thou hast read.
Blessed are tk* Peau-makers : Seeke Peace and ensue it,
for God will blesse it if he make it. Yet if needs thou
wilt goe to the Field, begin not with thy Court, lest
dainty fare, ease and idlenesse, make thee vnfit to ad-
uenture the hard course of hon6ar : but though hn re-
gard of the great trauels. and perils in those passages, the
titles of Honour doe most truly belong to the well-
deseruers, while Valour shewne in Mercy, doth grace
Noblenesse in Goodnesse : yet for that I thinke thy
body not answerable to thy s^ririt, out of my loue I haue
written thee my Aduice, hopiug that it will take effect,
though not as I wish, yet such as may be to thy good :
and so knowing thy judgement sufficient to detomine of
thy best course, I leaue thee with it to the direction of
the Almighty, whom I beseech eucr so to blesse thee,
that I may alwaies heare well of thee, and lejoyce to see
thee. Ftom my lodging in the little CoUedge this tenth
of August, 1636.
Tkiiu more then spokem, N, B.
15. A Letter of a Batchelor to a rick
Widow,
ndow, if you would be sowre I would call you
sweet : for though you know I loue you, yet
you will say I flatter you : but yet be it how it will, this
is truth, bdedue it as you will, your eyes haue caught
my heart, who hath swome me a seruant to your will :
I cannot with eloquence Court you, but I can trudy
loue you, and think my selfe blessed if I might enjoy
you : for as your presence may please the wisest, so
your wisedome may command the honest: for your
wealth, bee it more or lesse then is reported, your selfe
being of more worth then you can haue wealth, I wish
your selfe rather then what is yours. You feare perhaps
W
youths inconstancy, it is tryali that prouetb truth, and
for my loue it shall end with my life : but what are
words vnbelfeued? or hopes not firmely grounded ? like
the Vision of a dreame, which awake prooes nothing :
yet, good Widow if you be kind, pitty me : and if pitti-
fiil, fauonr me : and if gracious, loue me : God will
regard you, Loue will be true to you, and I will die ere
I will deoeine you : you may increase your coyne, and
decrease your comfort, when a coughing Song at mid-
night may make you w6epe before day, but venture a
little and haue much. What I am or haue yon shall
hane all, my lone, my sendee, my life, and what can
you haue more? A little more drinke to make the cup
run oner, and perhaps marre the drinke that was good
before : a little more coyn to fil the other bagge, and
pertiaps fidl out to prone a piece of felse moneyp when
commanded by a oostrell, that will serue for nothing but
a Cuckold, or curb'd by a Cub, that will grate you to
the bones for an old Groat, you will curse your treasure
that was the cause of your destnictiO : No, no, be good
to thy selfe in being kind to m6e, heare m6e, bdetoe
m^, loue m6e, and take m^ : for I will bee a seruant to
thy will, a Companion to thy Undnesse, and a Steward
to thy substance : This, as I Hue, and hope of thy loue,
thou Shalt finde : for my heart hath auowed it, and I
will not be a viUaine to my owne soule. In which,
praying for thy health and to b^ made happy in thy
kindnesse, to say Amen to my prayers. I rest,
TTUne auowedt kowsoeuer regarded, T. M,
z6. A Litter of aduice to his friend W. G,
HOnest Will, I heare by your Mother that you are
going to the Uniuerstty, where no doubt, but
with good care and diligence you may doe your sdfe
much good : but for that I haue passed the place that
you are going to, and haue tryed the natures of those
studies, and the profit to be made of them, let me tell
the6 mine opinion of them, and which I thinke best for
thee to follow for thy good : First, for the better blessing
of whatsoeuer thou follow, bestow some labour in read-
ing of the Diuine Loue : that done, note what I tell thde
for the increase of thy stocke when thou shalt come to
haue any dealings in the World : for thy better instruct
tion in such courses as may be for thy commoditie,
obserue these Rules that I will reade thte : First, for
Grammer, it is euery Ushers of pettie Schooles common
Flaile : Logicke is but for the Uniuersitie : for Musicke,
it brings more crotchets than Crownes : for Astronomic,
it goes too high aboue the Clouds to doe any good on
the earth : Cosmography is good for a Traueller, and
Astrologie for a Seaman : but for him that meanes to
gather wealth and grow rich, let him be perfect in Arith-
meticke, to be sure of his numbers, it will be a meane to
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gfow rich many wales : for if yoa keepe a Mercbants
booke, jroQ shall learne his aocoonts. the prises of his
wares, and the galnes of them, as well by great as by
retaile, as wdl ootward as homeward, and this is a sure
way to wealth. Againe, if yon be aduanoed to a place
€»f OflSoe, to keepe aoooont of the number of the people,
the dntics, tribuies. and what paiment soeuer to be made
by them, for Subsidies, Fift^enes, Customes, and what
else soeuer: Arithmetidce is most neoessarie for thy speedy
dispatch of all those businesses : for bowsoeoer honour
may be sought or bought by them that haue enough,
s6eke thou wealth, and that will bring Xhbt what the
World can gine thee : for if thou Call faito want, and
Impairing or spending thy stocke, be forced to take
some mesne course for thy maintenance, I wO tell thte
what thou Shalt find true : the honest will onely pitty
thee, and say that thou mayest k^epe a Schoole, it is an
honest trade, when a Chuile will gmtdi at his groat for
a shilliags worth of labour in beating quicke sense into
a dull wit : who if he be not capable of a good vndei^
standing, yet shall the £EUxlt of his imperfection be
imputed to thy negligence, and thou vndeseraed reoeiue
a frowns or a fonle word for thy labour : now the proud
Pteoocke that hath a little more money then wit, will
perhaps entertaine thte to a blew Coat, and forty
shillings, whidi how grieuous it will be to a good spirit,
thou shah find, and I ahall be sorry to heare : beleeue
me, if thou haue all the Sciences, be furnished with
many hmguages, and art acquainted with honoursble
courses, and a heart as honest as can liue, yet if thou
lacke wealth to grace all the rest, thou shalt haue a
Foole come ouer thee, and a knane abuse thee, and he
whose wit goes no further then his trade, so play ypon
thy miserle, with scanning thy course of life, that thou
wflt wish rather neuer to be borne, then to be borne
downe with Tnhappinesse : yea, for necessities sake thou
shah bee forced to bestow thy study in fictions and
foUies, and to spend thy spirit fai vaine, yea, I may say
▼ile inuentions, to commend an vnworthy person, to the
wound of thine owne conscience, who though he loue to
heare himsdfe flattered, yet perhaps when he hath
miserably rewarded thee, yet will he lie of his bounty,
which is little better then beggery. Oh what a plague
is it tQ a noble spirit, through meere want to present an
Aste with a burden of wit : or a base spirit with a lYact
of honour? Oh deare WiU, the wealthy that hath but
a Uttle wit, will grow rich with making a benefit of thy
labours, while thou not weighing the lack of judgement
in the first directing of thy course, wilt pine away with
sonow, to thinke of thy mistaken fortune. In briefe
therefore, follow my oounsell, study all the Arte supeiv
fidally, but diiefly Arithmetick, for it is the assured way
to wealth : bee not ignorant in Diuinity : for it is the
soules comfort : and take heM of Poetry, lest it run
away with thy wit : for it hath commonly one of these
thrfe properties, belibelling the wicked, abusing the
honest, or pleasing the foolish : and therefore, though
some excellent man may haue some excellent humor,
doe thou rather reade in an Euening, then make thy
dayes worice in the study of idlenesse : ghie them praise
that deserue it, tnit doe not thou bend thy deligfate
towards it : for in a word, it is more full <^ pleasure
then profit. Thus haue I writ thee a tedious Letter,
hopii^ that if thou wilt follow my aduice, it will doe
th^ no harme : and if so much good as I desire, I shall
be glad to see it: in the mesne time, leaning thy
courses, with thy sdfe. to the guiding and tuition of the
Atanigfatie, I rest
Tkim in mtmek agkcHon, i?. P.
17. To kis most HommraiU Lady Madame
iMobelia Tarina.
Honourable Madam, how my vnworthinesse may
hope of your goodnesse, I cannot finde ; but in
the notes of your Noblenesse, which as it may well
challenge the height of your Title, so doth it bind a
world of Seruants to your &uor : among whom my selfe
more desirous then able to deserue the least of your
countenance, am now presumptuous to trouble you with
an humble suite : I hane a sister, of yeares sufficient to
vnderstand betwixt good and euiU. and of disposition. I
thanke God, not amisse : her bringing vp hath betoe
chiefly at her booke and needle, yet is she not vnfur-
nished of other parte fit for a seruant of her place :
whidi if it mig^t so stand with your good pleasure,
should bee to attend your Honour in 3rour Chamber :
her truth I will vndertake for, her diligence I wil not
doubt of, her Idnde natur I can speake of, and her
affection vnto your Ladiship I know is not a little : if
therefore in all these she may bee pleasing to your
entertainment, I shall be bound to your good fieuiour in
the honour of her preferment : which being the highest
aduancement. that her dutie can deserue, I leaue her
seruice with mine owne to your honourable imployment.
So craning pardon to my boldnesse. with fauour to my
snte, I humbly take my leaue.
Your Ladyships in ail kumbUntsu^ B. W,
z8. To my most htUmtd God/aikir, T H,
GOd fiither. at the Font you gaue me a name, and as
I haue beard and read of others, you vndertooke
to see me brought vp in learning, and in the leare of
God : I do not remember that euer I yet reodued
penie from you toward the charge therof, and yon
hanittg neither charge of wife or children, might doe
wen to bestow your blessing vpon me, in somewhat
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better then a bare band, wbidi wil buy nothing '• » it
possible that faauhig one foote in the graue, the other
should be so fisire off? Am I your ntoest in nature,
and shall I be farthest off in loue? I know not.the
cause, but what eoer it bee, misoonoeiued in kindnesse,
let mee intreat you to beledne my loue, and I desirano
more : for when you are wearie of the flatterie of those
that feed vpon you, among the great showers of your
kindnesse that you daily raine downe vpon their fields,
you will, I hope, bestow one drop of grace Tpon my
grounds. I will vrge nothing but your will, and will
loue 3rou more then they which tell you more : be not
oouetous to gather for them that gape for your goods :
and be not fast-handed to him who loues you more then
all you haue : and the good that you will doe let it be
in your life, that you may see your contentment in the
issue of your kindnesse : loath I am to wearie you with
words, and therefore in loue of a true heart, which daily
prayeth for your health and hearts ease, hoping that
God wfll moue you for my good, whosoener is a meane
of my hurt, I cease further at this time to trouble you,
but rest alwaies in duty of mine humble loue,
Your qffketioHaU GodSomiu, T. B,
19. To my tUarat beloved friitid on tartk, H, W,
HOnest HarrU, out of a troubled spirit of a tormen-
ted heart, I write to thee, and therefore beare
with my skiU, if it be not in the pleasing nature of so
good an humour as I could wish, and thou art worthy of :
but as I know thee able to judge of colours better then
the blinde eyes and beMe-heads, and of that true kind-
nesse that can and doth rather comfort the afflicted, then
encrease the sonowes of the distressed : let me fanpart to
thee some part of my passion, that patience hi thy pitty
may better play her part in my spirit : what shal I say ?
I line as wi&out life pleasured in nothing, crossed in all
hopes, put in many feares, languishing in many sorrowes,
and troubled with the griefe of a wounded conscience t
not with the harrour of Morther, the feare of Treason,
nor delight of sin, but with the cruelty of Fortune, the
vnkindnesse of Friends, and the breach of credit, and
most of all with them whom I most loue. Oh God my
heart aketh, and blame it not : and my^iirit moumeth,
and reproue it not : for though patience be a vertue that
maketh men diuine, yet there is but one Christ, and men
are no Angels : and let me tell the truth, the miserie of
my life is intolerable in the sense of nature : for, compare
the afflictions of the most patient, with the causes of my
passions, and prouide a world of pity to bdiold the map
of my miseries : hath one man be6ne wealthy and be-
come poore? so am I : hath another suffered wrong? so
doe I : another buried his Parents. Children, and deare
friends? so haue I : another trauelled fiure in hope of
gaine, and returned with loese? so haue I: another betee
wounded in the warres, fared hard, lafai fai a cold bed
many a bitter stonne, and betee at many a hard banquet
all these haue I : another imprisoned? so haue I :
another long bin atcke? so haae I : another plagued
with an vnquiet wife? so am I : another indebted, to his
hearts griefe, and faiae wonld pay and cannot? so am
I : in sum, any of these croeses are able to kill the
heart of a kinde Spirit, and all these lie at once so
beany vpon my heart, as nothing but the hand of God
can remoue : besides my continQall toile for the reward
of vnquiethesse, while that which should bee my comfort,
is my oorrostiie : fanagine how with aU this I can hue, and
thinke what a death it is thus to liue. Oh for thesoone
of the proud, the abuse of the vngradons, the scoffe of
the foolish, and the sninning of the mkind : the company
of the disoontentiue, and the want of the most affected :
the disgrace of learning* the losse of time, and the misery
of want : if there be a hcU on earth» it cannot be farre
from this caue of my discomfort : where I am sure, the
deuill, seeing my desire to seme God, layeth all hisbarxes
he can in the way for my discomfort : but I defie him,
pnd hope hx Christ that my lining and louing God, who
hath tiyed my soule in aduersities, wH one day in his
mercie so looke vpon me, that the deuil shal be driuen
back from his purpose, and, the teares of my body wiped
away, I shall rejoyoe in such a joy, as, all my griefes
deane forgotten, my heart and soule shall in the joy of
my sense, in the heauenly harmony of a holy hymne, sing
a new song of praise to the glory of my Sauiour : for the
hastening whereof in my deliuerance from my torments,
and comforts in his merdes, I will frame my daily prayers,
andbeassuredof thy Amen : but I feare I am too tedious,
and therefore will thus end ; God continue my patience
but not my sorrowes : giue me deliuerance from my
miseries, and make me thankfiill for bis blessings^ and
blesse th^ with as much happinesse as thou knowest I
want, so leaning my hopes to his mercies, and vs both
to his tuition : I rest with as little rest as I thinke any
man can rest,
Thitu or not mine owm, N, B.
ao. To Ats/aire Afistresse and hearts Aononr,
AiistresseA, T
LAdy, I haue bedne so ill a SdioUer to loue, that I
neuer yet learned the courting of beauty, neither
wouhl I willingly ^^ Art to abuse vertue, and therefore
if plaine truth may find fauour, I will vse no Attumey
in this cause : whidi being to bee nidged in your kmd-
nes, I will onely cry audience, and stand to your axbitre-
ment : my case being mine owne Lawyer, thus I plead :
Your eyes haue stohie my heart, now I must either be
accessary to mine owne hurt, or accuse you of the Fek>ny :
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but rather willing to lose my heart in your eyes, then
keepe them to looke on other light, I wfll ondy appeale
to your selfe what to do in this passion : If I loue. you
must know it, for your eyes haue my heart : and if I
lose my heart, you must haue it, for your eyes are well
worthy of it : but now you haue it, preserue it for your
seruice : let it not die in displeasure that hath no life
but in your loue : if it could speake, it would tell you
how dearely, highly, and onely it honors you, and if you
wil bel^eue it, you shall quickly finde it : for it is dedi>
cated to your seruice, and hath no care but of your
&uour : ke^ it then to your vse, vse it to your pleasure,
and let it die in no other comfort. In summer not to
dwell vpon ceremonies, it is nothing mine, but all yours :
and if it may line in your eyes, it sedkes no other heauen
in this world : driue it not then from you, that hath no
life but in you : and take it wholly to you, that is as
nothing without you : so leauing it, with my selfe, to the
honour of your ondy seruice, I take my leaue for this
time : but will rest euer,
Yours avowed and devoted, R, S.
az. To his very good friend. Master W, B. for the
borrowing of ^pounds for six Months.
Sir, I know you loue no long Letters, and my sute
bdng to most men so vnpleasing. I would be loath
to be tedious : I haue purchased a piece of Land, and
laid out al my mony : now vpon the sudden an vnex-
pected occasion puts me to an extraordinary charge, for
the furnishing whereof, I am constrained to try my good
friends : among which presuming of your kind prc»nise
vpon any uxgent occasion to stand me instead : I am to
intreat you by this bearer to hdpe me to forty pounds,
wherein you shall so much pleasure me, as so much may
do, and as I can requite it, I wil not forget it : I would
haue it for six months, my day I will not breake, I wiU
take it kindlie, and deserue it thankefuUy : my Seruant is
trustie, and therefore I pray you send it by him : and as
you will tie assured of my loue, fe^ me not with delaies
or excuse, for I know you haue it, and you know I will
pay. Thus loath to vse you like a Broker, to send you a
pawne : as an honest neighbour let me be tieholding to
your kindnesse, in which you shall giue me cause in the
like, or a greater matter to rest vpon, at as short a warning.
Your assured friend to use, R. H.
33. To the Right Worshiffull my very good Master,
Sir Thomas Ward Knight, at his house in Padow.
Sir, after my humble duty : I haue talked with diuers
of those parties to whom you directed me, touching
the benefit to tie made of the suite which you haue in
hand, whose opinions, I finde diuers : yet all agree in
this, that if you can procure it ixreuocable, the mony
will be aduentured : other wise, they are loath td ingag^
their states and credites too &rre vpon bare hopes, for
hues are vncertaine, and in the change of times, diuers
things fall out contrarie to expectation : you shall there-
fore doe well, before you trouble any of them in it, to
make sure of the matter, in such sort as may bee best £or
your profit, for the sute being effected to good purpose,
leaue mee to deale in it to your content : there is much
muttering that you are like to be crossed in it, I would
therefore wish you to trie your strength in it, and not to
slip time, for it is precious in a good course : beare with
mee I beseech you, if I moue your patience, in vrging
your sp^ed, for it is for your owne good. Against your
comming to Towne, I wil haue somewhat else for you to
set on foot, for he that will worke must not haue the fire
without an yron : but knowing your businesse, I will for-
beare at this time to trouble you with idle newes : and
ondy praying for your health and hearts ease, conunit
the consideration of yoiur owne causes to the managing
of your good discretion, and so humbly take my leaue
for this time, and rest alwaies.
Your worships humble servant, J, T.
33. To my assured loving friend T.B. with spud, for
money lent, to restore bache.
N One-payment of debts, is not ondy a crack in
credit, but a losse of Friends : vpon your letter I
fumisht your want, and fortune hauing be^e your friend,
a laige conscience, mee thinketh, doth not well : your ex-
cuse yet I know not, nor can wd deuise it : but acquaint
me with it, that I may not wrong your dispositiO, for a
setled affection expected the like measure in kindnes :
the monie you had of m^ is not much, but if it had done
you a pleasure I am glad of it : and if you can well spare
it, by this bearer I pray you return it, or the cause why
you detaine it : I haue lately bought Sh^epe to store a
Pasture that I haue to farme, and my monie bdng short,
I am bold to write to you for mine owne, which if it come
shall be wdcome, if not, so that I know how it may stftad
you, I will forbeare : and for the conference betwixt your
Son and my Daughter, I thinke they are more readie for
vs then we for them : your minde I know, and am con-
tented with it : for as I s^ their proceedings, we will
soone &11 vpon agreement : and to be plaine with you,
I thinke I were best rather to prouide you more monie,
then demand any more that you haue : and therefore
making your excuse in this only point of affection, in-
treating pardon for my plaine manner of writing, assuring
you, that if this matter goe forward, (as it is no other
like) as their loues, so shall our purses be one : And
thus hoping of your health as mine owne, with com-
mendations to your kind Son, your sdfe, and your good
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Shrew, I commit yoa to the Ahnightie, CatUnrbury, this
fourth day of August, 1636.
Your very loving Jriemd^ N, T.
24. To a Judgt in iJU bthalfe of an Offtndir,
MY good Lord, jrour honorable care of justice, I
hope, is seasoned with the charitable weight of
mercy, for though the law cutteth off offence by sharpe
punishment, yet death takes away repentance, and where
there is sorrow there is signe of grace, the best judge of
true justice. Christ Jesus, pardoned the great Sinner.
ft with the gentle rebuke of, Sinne no more, called her
to great grace : now shal Justice vpon the first fact, vse
another course vpon an Offender? I know it is your Oath
to doe all manner of Justice, yet may you giue time of
repentance in reprieuing this poore man. whose pardon
wil be easily attained. Your honor shal doe a good deed :
God. in imitating his course in justice, will surely regard
and reward you : the penitent Offender shall be bound
euer to pray for you, my selfe with all his friends, wil
truly honour you : and no doubt but our King, who is
full of mercie, when his Majestie shall heare of it, wil
cOmend you : beseeching therefore your Honour to stay
the sentence of death vntU the next Assise, or grant him
a reprieue till the said time : leauing &e poore mans
life to a word of your mouth, with my humble and
bounden seruice to your good health, and all other
happinesse. I hmnbly take my leaue.
Your honours in all humbUnesse, D, H.
35. A Letter of Complement : To my very good friend
Master H, IV. at his house in Arthingworth,
Sir. if I could haue let passe so fit a Messenger with-
out some thankful remembrance, I were vnworthy
of so good a friend : but your kindnesse being such as
wil euer worke in a good mind, I pray you let me salute
you with this little token of my loue : The Rundlet is of
such Sack, as BristoU hath no better, and the Sugar-
loafe for your Ladie, I assure you is right Barharie,
which at this time is here of some price, but vpon the
ceasing of the troubles there, I hope we shal haue it
cheape here : in the meane time howsoeuer it bee, what
you ntede command in that or what else may be in my
power to accomplish : and so wishing I were with you
at the killing of one of your fat Buckes, with my hearty
commendations to your selfe and your good-Bcdfellow,
and many thankes to you both for my great good ch^ere,
and most kinde entertainment, hoping to 8e6 you at my
house at your comming to towne, where you shall make
your owne welcome, I commit you to the Almighty :
London the xx of Julie.
Your very louing and assured friend^ G. R.
^ To his assured friend. Master Thomas Rise, at his
house in the Strand, intreaiing his helpe in dispatch
ofbusinesse.
A Gainst this time of my attendance vpon the Judge
of this Circuit, I shal haue occasicm to vse many
things, whereof I am now vnfumished: your skil in
chusing the best, and knowing the prices, I know long
since by your kindnesse in the like trouble : and there-
fore I entreat you once more to take a little paines with
this Bearer my Seruant, in hdping him in the laying out
of his monie, vpon such parcels, as in my i^ote for my
vse I haue set downe : your traueQ or kindnesse shall
not be vnthankfully forgotten, and wherein I may in this
Country, or else-where pleasure you, you shall not fiule
of my best meanes. If you haue any newes, I pray you
acquaim me with them, and if the ship bee come from
the Indies, what good sucoesse they haue had : but some
earnest businesse makes me briefer then I otherwise
would be, and therefore hopmg of your health, and not
doubting of your kindnesse, with heartie commendations,
I commit you to the Almightie. Salop this twelfth of
June, 1636.
Your assured friend, T. M.
37. To his very good friend, R. M. concerning
the purchase ofcertaine Lands.
Sir, where you wrote vnto me, toudiing the sale of
your Lordship of Bar, I cannot answer you for two
causes : the one, the price is too high : the other, your
haste of monie is too great : for touching your price, the
Land you know is much impaired since the death of your
Father, the Woods are low and verie backward, by cuttmg
it afore their full growth, and your Trete are so wasted,
that there is scarce a piece of timber worth the felling :
your Moore is shrewdly spoiled for want of drayning. and
your Pastures are so ouer-growne with Bushes, that it
will aske great cost in stubbing, before it bte brought to
any good passe : yet notwithstanding, for that we^ haue
be^e vpon speech for it, and that you se6me willing to
deale with me, if you will pitch a reasonable price, your
monie shall not bei6 long deferred : I pray you therefore,
if I may haue it as I told you, if it b^ a himdred pounds
more, I care not, but further indeed I will not goe a
pennie : let me know your mind by this Bearer out of
hand, for I am offered (I thhike) a better baigaine : but
for my words sake, and the rather to be your neighbour,
that we may now or then haue a game or two at Bowles.
Hoping for your good health and your BedfeHowes, I
commit you to the Almightie : from my house, this 13.
of June, 1636.
Your very loving friend, E.R.
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SB* A LttUr /u a pnmd Miiirmse.
HOw beauty will make a Foole protid^ I would your
plaister worke did not witnesse ; but liad you wit
to helpe wick^ne^se, yi>u would put a ParraLt out of
couDtenance \ your countenance is made after your con-
cdt» as full of marie iTicks as a Monkey ; and for your
foot-pace, I thinice you h&ue sore h6eles, you walke so
nicely* as vpon egge-shels : your haire is none of your
owne^ fl.nd for your staple dre^ it Ib like the gaud of a
Maid-Marion, so that had jrou a foole by the hand, you
might walke whene you would in a Moris-donee : Oh fine
come to It, how ix fiddles like a Hackny that ^ould tire
at halfe a mile. Well your Tobacco breath with your
toothless Chap9^ will be Portly such bad ware« that you
wil stand In the Market, and no man bid a penny for
you : bul what dOc I ixieane to spoiU; P^per with such
matter? and therefore I will abruptly end ; wash your
feet, S'coure your hands, put on a cleane smocke, get you
to your prayers, repent your wickednesse, and mourn to
death for your soules sake, for your Carkasse is not worth
the carrying to the earth : and so hoping that in a good
humour yoM will doe ^mewhat better then hang your
selfe, I leaue you to this mis-hap that finds you for the
roost filthy creature on this earth, till you be neuer more
s^cne in the world.
Ynur potfre/ritnd ai a fimk, B. 71
39. Tki HHJWtr ^fa witty but railing vwwrA.
BEtwixt a railing Kuaue asd a Rascal!, what is the
difference ^ And from a nittie Rogue what can bee
lookt for but a Lowse : Oh deuiH Incarnate, who euer
knew such a vilJaine ? Your haire I will not meddle with
for feare of a fall : but f wonder the Jewellers doe not
deale with you for a face : who^ a Pinne can scarce
stand betwixt a Peaile and a Ruble: Oh the French
rbeume bids you ke6pe out of the winde, for feare your
l^Jiell stakes scarce hold vp a rotten carkasse : now in
st^ad of a Moris dance, you know the hey vp HoB&rni :
where the Hang-man at the gallowes stales to leame you
a new tume : but thou wTetched worme, vn worthy the
name of a man, get th^ to thy kn^, a&ke forgiuenesse
of all the world, make thy confession in the Cart, and
commend thy £OuLe to the Lord, for thy flesh the Dogs
wiU not meddle with : and so in haste, hoping my letter
may come 10 th^ before the last cast, I end in haste.
Thy ckariiahUfriimd, B. C,
3a A LtUtr of Chiiiienge t& a Swaggertr.
Slira, your swaggering is so foolish, that the children
laugh at you where you gt>e : and for your valour^
if your Feather be away, your sword will doe no hurt :
your tossing of pots feare none tut flies, and for yotzr
40
braue words they are nothing but winde. But lest I doe
you some pleasure in telling you of your faults, let it
suffice to make an end of all matters : to morrow in the
morning you shall haue me by eight of the clock, in the
field beyond your Lodging, neere vnto the Poole : where
if you dare come alone, jrou shall finde me without com-
pany, ready to doe more then I will speak : till when ex-
pecting no other answer then your sdfe, I rest,
Yottr avowed emmU^ /. 7*.
31. A dogged answer.
DOe you imagine me a Philistian, that you begin to
I^y Goliah in a Letter? I assure you, if yotu-
de^des be like your words, my Feather will not abide
your windie words : but for my sword, it hath no point,
and therefore cares not a point for you : if you be not
drunke, I muse what madnesse doth possesse you : but
the best is, I hope now you haue spoken, you haue done :
for I will be there where you appoint, but I doubt joo. will
not performe : but as you tell me^ of my fiatdts, I hope
to whip you for yours : and sorrie to haue lost so much
thne about idlenesse, I end.
Yours as I have reason, F, R.
33. To my very good Cousin Master /. Z>. ai his
house in Swands.
COusin, I vnderstand, yoa are determined to put your
younger Sonne Apprentice to a Merchant : bel^eue
mee I highly commend your resolution herein : for I that
haue trauelled farre, A se^e much, can speake some-
what of them, and thehr noble Profession : I could well
giue it a higher title ; for a right Merchant is a royal
fellow, h6e is desirous to see much, to tnuiell much,
and sometime to gaine a little doth adnenture much,
though sometime for a little aduenture he doth gaine
much : but what are the simdrie natures of perils, as
wel at Sea, as at Land : as weU of his goods as his per-
son, none knoweth but hunselfe. or like hlmselle: but
hauhag traudled fisiTe, and finished his voyage, after his
safe retume, hauinggiuen God thankes, note what is the
course of his life, to obserue a comely order in the Qtie,
and enrich many poore men by the retailing of his goods,
who sit at ease and sell in their Shops, that which bte
with great v>ilean<i danger fetched out of fiure Qnmtries.
Now say his gaine be great, let it be answered in the
desert of his trauell : shall a feire or a fine Horse, brought
out otBarbarie, bee here finelie kept, well fed, and neatly
dressed, and ridily attired : and shall not a Merchant
that hath trandled many miles beyond Barkarie, b^
thought worthie of a fine house, good Land, daintie
fere, and an honourable Title, for the resolutkm of his
Admenture, and the toile of his tnuiel? shall a Lute or a
F
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Citteme, brought out of Jtafy, bee put in a case of
Uduet, and laced with Gold for well sounding? and shall
not a Merchant that fetcht that Lute, and went farre
further then that Countrie for better Commodities, bee
thought worthie of his gaine, and honoured for his
minde : shall the Lawyer sell breath at a high rate ? and
shall the Merchant be grudged his price of his Wares?
what shall I say? who vpholds the state of a Citie? or
the Honour of a State vnderthe King, but the Merchant?
who beautifieth a Court with Jewels and outward Oma^
ments? but the tnmell of a Merchant? who beautifies
the Gardens with sundry sorts of Fruits and Flowers,
but the trauelling Merchant : hte may well be called the
Merchant, the Sea-singer, or the maker of the Sea to
sing : the Sea-singer, when he ha& figure wind, and good
weather : and maketh the Sea to sing when shte sees
the goodlie houses that float vpon her Wanes, and cast
Anchor in her Sands. But let me leaue the Sea, and
come to the Land : consider of the swfet and duill
manner of their Hues : whose Houses more neate ? whose
wiues more modest? whose apparell more comely, whose
diet more daintie? and whose carriage more commend-
able? valiant without quarrels, merrie without madnesse,
bountiiull in their gifts, and verie neat & dioise in their
Banquets? whose children better nurtured? whose ser-
uants better gouemed? whose house better stuffed and
maintained? Furthermore, what comfort haue the dis-
tressed found beyond the Seas? and how manie poore
do they relieue at home? what Colledges? what Hos-
pitals? what Alms-houses haue they builded? and in
effect, what Cities haue they enlarged, and what Coun-
tries haue they enriched? how few Lawyers can say so?
if that be all true ; which much more might bee said in
their honour, giue them their right : I say the Merchant
is a Royal fellow, and goe forwards with your intent : if
you will euer haue your Sonne s^e any thing, know any
thing, doe any thing, or be worth any thing, put him to
a Merchant : and giue with him such a portion as out
of his yeares, may set vp his trade or traffick, doubt not
h6e will doe well, and thinke not he can almost doe
better : so beseeching God to blesse him in all Us courses,
without which hbt will bed worse then nothing, I pray you
doe as I wish you, charge him to seme God, and so
tnme him to the World : and thus haning truly written
you my opinion touching my purpose, wishing health,
and honour, and all happinesse, to all worthy true Mer-
chants, in hope of your health, I commit you to the
Ahnightie. ArtktMgworik, this ao of August, 1636.
Your vtty loving Cousin, N, B.
I
33. TV Air dtaresit fairest, and worthiest ofloue,
homomr, and siruiee, Mistresse E, E,
F I should oonunend you (fturest of women) aboue the
Moone, and compare you with the Sunne, you
would put me in the clouds for a flatterer : but knowing
your owne worth, and finding the substance of my truth,
you cannot blame me, in admiration to speake truth of
your perfection, which of what power it is in drawing the
seruioe of reason, if you would beledue, loue would
quickly tell you : but the cause of vnoonstande in the
vnwise, brdedeth distrust of truth in the most fjEUthfiill :
but all Birds are not of one Feather, nor all men of one
minde. In briefe, not to make a long haruest of a little
Come, whidi bdng ripe, would be gathered in good
time : let tmth be my spokes-man, and beletfe my com-
fort : the hope whereof, as my ondy worlds happinesse,
referring ondy to the care of your kindnesse in the fiaith
of tme affection, I rest.
Yours avowed and assured, R, N.
34. A Letter to a Friend to borrow a piece o/Mohey.
SIR, as lothing more trieth a friend then calamitie
so is there nothing more grieuous, then to be be-
holding : in kindnes therefore, If I may become your
debter for fine pounds, it is not mudi, yet will it pleasure
me more then a little : your appointed day I will not
breake with you, and wherein I may thankfully requite
you, you shall finde no foigetfulnesse of your khidnesse :
but time is predous, and therefore entreating your
spdedy answer, in hope of no denial I rest,
Your assured friend to command, T. IV,
35. TAe answer,
I Would be as glad to pleasure you as any man, but
tmth cannot be blamed, for with more then for my
necessary vse, that I cannot spare, I am not presently
furnished : I pray you therefore take not a deniall vn-
kindly : for if my credit will pleasure you, I will not faile
my best to doe you good : if otherwise you would vrge
me, it will be to little purpose : and therefore sonde that
I am not in tune to satisfie your expectation, I must
leaue patience to your kinde discretion, which as you
know me, shall command m6e, for I am and will be, to
the vttermost of my power.
Your assured friend, D. S.
36. A Letter of good counsell to his Afistris If. C. at her
house in pe. Chest,
My good Cousin, I remember at my last bdng with
you, wde had some conference about considera-
tion : bddeue me, when I consider the worid, and what
I haue sedne in it, and the best things of it, and that all
fai effect, is as nothing, or rather worse, if any thing at
all, I wonder how men, who haue so much judgement
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43
of good from euill, how can those men that know the
vnoertaine time of death, line as though they thought
neuer to dye? how can he that readeth or heareth the
Word of God, and beltoieth the tnith of it, b^ so care-
lease of it, and so disobedient to it ? Will men be sick,
that may be whole? or die, that may liue? what shall I
say? but as Paul said to the Ccrintkians, O yu foolish
pwpU, toko hath hewUchtdyouf It is the word of God,
that iransgrtssipm is as thi sinns of Witchcraft: and
sorely, if men were not bewitched with sinne, they could
not so delight in wickednesse, being the crosse and barre
to all their happinesse, could the Thiefe consider the
doome of the Law, or the miserie of the despoUed, surely ^
he would not steale : if the Adulterer did consider the
filthinesse of his action, and the shame of his follie, surely
he^ would tume honest : if the murtherer did oonsidor
the horror of death, and the terror of sin, he would neuer
Un : In briefe, if any shmer would looke into the foule
nature of sinne, he would b^ out of loue with it : and if
he dkl consider the power of Gods wrath, he would be
afraid of it : Nay, could, or would man consider the
goodnesse of God towards him, in commanding and
forbidding nothing, but that wliich is good for him, how
could he be so forgetfiill of Us owne good, in offending
the Amhor of all goodnesse ? If the vnthrift could con-
sider the misery of want, sure he would not be6 carelesse
of his estate : if the couetous could consider the miserie
of the poore, he would be more charitable : if the Swag-
gerer oould consider the oomelinesse of sobriety, and the
shame of immodesty, surely he would be more duiU : If
the Magistrate did consider the miserie of the poore, he6
would not be6 so carelesse of their tonnent and put them
to such sorrow, but remember, that justice without
merde, is too ne^ a touch of tyrannic. If the offendant
did consider the griefe and shame of punishment, he
would oontaine himselfe within the compasse of a better
course. If he that preacheth the Word, and folioweth it
not, oould consider the heauinesse of Gods judgements
and the shame of his folly, he would doubtlesse be more
carefall of his soule, and more kinde to his flock. If the
Lawyer could consider the Law of God, he would neuer
griene his Client, nor speake against a knowne truth :
but as I said before, to leaue tediousnesse, it is the onely
lacke of considemtion, that maketh the h^edlesse will of
man to rtume the way of errour, to the mine of his best
comfort : and therefore I intreat you, notwithstanding
my allowance of your judgement touching the heauenly
prouidence, and power in the motion of all good actions:
yet so to allow of my opinion touching want of oonsidero-
tion, that it is one of the greatest causes of the confusion
of reason, by the corruption of Nature : and knowing
that the care of your consideration is such as doth, and
may wd giue example to most expert men to follow the
rules of your directions in the whole course of life, wish-
ing my selfe so happy, as to enjoy the company of so
good a friend, till I se6 you, and euer, I rest in bst
setled affection
Your very laving frieml N, K
37. To my sweet Loue^ Mistris E, P,
SWe^t Loue, if absence oould bre6d forgetfulnesse,
then fortune should doe much harme to affection,
but when the eye of the mind looketh into the joy of the
Heart, the sentence may well be spoken. As in silence
you may heare me, so m absence you may s6e m6e : for
loue is not an houres humour, nor a shadow of light,
but it is a light of the spirit, and a continuing passion :
thinke not therefore I doe, or can forget th^, or loue
my selfe but for th6e : shortly I hope to se6 th6e, and in
the meane time though not with th6e, yet not from the6,
nor will be at rest with my selfe, till I may rest onely
with the6, I rest alwaies to rest,
nUue onely and all, F, W,
W
38. Her Answer,
\ Y deare, if delaies were not a death to loue, ex-
cuse were currant in the construction of kind-
nesse, but sentences are better spoken then vnderstood,
and a pleasing presence is better then an excused
absence : remembrance is good, but possession better,
and loue holdeth memorie but a kinde of melancholy.
Let your selfe therefore be the messenger rather of your
loue then your Letters, lest Fortune in a mad fit be
crosse to your best comfort, not in respect of my con-
stande, but my Parents vnkindnesse. This is all I will
write at this time, but wishing a happy time to the
beginning of a neuer ending, I rest till that time, and at
all times, one and the same.
Yours as you hnow E, P,
W
39. An old mans Letter to a young Widow,
ridow, I haue ndther a smooth Face, nor a filed
Tongue to cheat your eyes, nor abuse your
eares withall : but a true heart and a constant minde
that doth inwardly loue you, and will neuer decdue you :
fickle heads and vnbridded wills know not where or how
to bestow themsdues, when thdr wits goe a wool-gather-
ing among shrewes that haue had flifeoes, they may be
kinde, but not constant, and Loua loues no out-lookers :
besides, light heads haue no staled he^les, ft a Uttle
wealth is soone spent : who knoweth the woe of want,
can tdl you the difference betwixt an old mans Darling,
ft a young mans Warling : Why? how can they loue,
that scarce know how to Uke? I know you hane
many Sutors of worth, but none that I thinke more
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A PACKET OF LETTERS.
worthy then my adfe : for none can loue you so much,
or esteeme you so well : for I haue knowne the World,
and care not for it, nor for any thing but you : If
therefore all I haue may please you, and my selfe, to
loue and honour you, inake my comfort your content-
ment, and I will seeke no other Paradise in this world.
Thus hoping that reason in your fituour, will effect the
hope of my affection, leaning you to your selfe, to be
your selfe, I rest,
Y<mrs or not Ms owntt T, P,
40. Her answer.
Sir, I could neuer ste you but in a letter : I should
delight much in your presence, but contraries are
not correspondent : a gray-head andgreene minde fit not,
your perswasions were forcible, were not your selfe of
too much weaknesse : but though for your good will, I
thanke you, yet for nothing will I be indebted to you,
no, not for a world would I be troubled with you : for
as your yeares, so I feare our fancies will be different :
and the patience mouing choller, may brfede anger,
when to be an old mans Darling, is a kinde of curse to
nature : you say well, who can loue, that knowes not
how to like? when the senses are vncapable of their
comfort, what is imagination but a Dreame? a bUnde
man can judge no colour, a deafe man hath no sldU in
Musick, a dumbe man no eloquence, and an old man
little feeling in Loues passion : for my Sutors, they sute
my time, and seme their owne : and for their worth, I
shall judge of the most worthle : now for their wits, if
they lose not their owne fletees, let them gather Wooll
where they can : but for your loue, I will not venture on
it, lest being too old, it be not sw^, and for my young
Sutors, I hope I shall take heed of shadowed sowre-
nesse : as for Fortune, whUe Vertue gouemes affection.
I will not feare my felidty : so hoping your owne reason
will perswade you to haue patience with your passion,
and leaue me to my better comfort, meaning to be as
you wish me, my selfe, and none other, I rest.
Not yours, if mine owrne, P, M,
W
41. A Letter of a young man to Mis sweet^heart,
f Y Loue, if I could haue as good passage as my
Letters, I would bte a better Messenger of my
thoughts, then my words can ezpresse: but as the
secret of my heart is sealed vp in my Letter, so is the
secret of my Loue sealed vp in my heart, which none .
can s6e but your eyes, nor shall know but your kind-
nesse : let me not then languish in the lingring hope of
my desires, but hasten my comfort in the onely answer
of your content : you know the houre of the first i
ing of our &ntasies, the true continuance of our irre-
moueable affections, and why wQl you not appoint the
conclusion of our comfort. Triall cannot let yon doubt
my Lone, and Loue will be swonie for the security of
my truth : both which thus fax pleading for me in your
fauour, giue truth the reward of triall, and Loue the
regard of Truth, and deferre not the sentence of Justice,
to let me line or dye in your judgement : for imprisoned
I am m your beanty, bound in the bands of your seruioe,
and line but in the hope of your fiiuour, in which I rest
euer and onely to rest happy in this World,
Yours, though not yours, P, £,
43. An answer to his Love,
MY Swe^, I lather wish your selfe, then your Letter,
though in the haste of your desire, your presence
had betoe to little purpose : forDe6desareingoodway,
that are subocribed and sealed : but till the deliuery be
made, the matter is not fully finished : haue therefore
patience for a time, for it is soone enough, that is well
enough : and yet I .acmfesse in kindnesse, delay is little
comfort : yet sUy for a faire day, though it be ahnost at
noone : be6 perswaded of my affection, and let fiuth
fieare no fortune, for toue can be no Changeling, and so
imagine of my selfe : when you offend, I will punish
you : and when you doe please, I will praise you : so
assuring truth bdiefe. and loue comfort, I rest so soone
as I well may, to giue the reason of your best rest, and
till then, and euer ¥rill rest.
Yours as I may, M, L
43. A merry Letter ofnewes to a friend.
Right Trojan, I know thou louest no complement,
nor carest for any trickes, but as a good-fellow
and a Mend, wouldest heare bow the World goeth : all
the World I am not acquainted with, and therefore I
know not what to say to it, but for the little part of it,
the pettie place, or Parish where I dwell, and some few
miles about it, I will tell you, there is a £eJl of Connies,
for there is sudi a World of them euery day in the
Market, that except they be young and fax, there is little
mony bidden for them : Hackney-Jades are scarce worth
their meat, and euery house hath such a dogge, that not
a begger dare come neere the doore, and not a Mouse
at a Chedse, but a Cat is at her heties : Maid Marrian
of late was got with child in her sleepe, and the Hobby-
horse was halfe mad, that the Foole should be the
Father of it : a great talke there is of setting vp of a
new Taveme. but Tobacco is the thing that will vent
the old Sacke : there is spoken so much gibberish, that
we haue ahnost forgot our Mother Tongue, for euery
Boy in our Scboole, hath Latine at his fingers end,
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mairie it is in a Booke, for aU his wit is in his Copie,
for in C^Ue hoi hath little. Our Free-scboole is new
painted with Wisdome ouer the Gate, for within, except
some vnhappy Wag, there is no more wit then is
necessary. Now, for other newes I will tel you, wet
weather frights vs with a hard Haruest, and Usurers
are halfe mad, for lacke of vtteiance of their mony :
Law was neuer more in vse, nor men more out of mony:
and for Women, they are strange Creatures, for some
of them haue thre6 faces, and so fine in proud paces,
that if they carry it as they doe, they will put many men
out of countenance : for other ordinary matters, they
are as you left them, a pot of Ale is worth a penny, a
Bawd will haue braue Cloathes, the Man in the Moone
is aboue the Clouds, and the Knaue of Qubbes will
stiU make one in the stocke. Other things there are
that I am shortly to acquaint you with : in the meane
time write vnto me how thou doest, and how the winde
Uowes on your side : and so sorry I haue no good thing
to send th6e, with the loue of my heart, I commit th6e
to the Almighty.
Tkim to the end, R. B,
44. An answer,
THou mad UUlaine, what hath walkt about thy
bralnes, to put thy wit in such a temper : a tale
of a Tub, and the bottome out : wdl, to quite your
kindnesse, you shall know somewhat of our world. So
it is, that the Fox hath made a hand with most of our
fat Geese : the Woolfe m^ets with our Lambes, before
they can well goe from the Dam, and the Water-ret
hath so spoiled our Fish-pooles, that if he had not
be^ne caught with a Trappe, we might haue gone to
Sea for a red Herring. Our Bailiffes Bull runs thorow
all the Rie in our Parish, and the Tanners Dog hath
wooried a wild Sow. The Bailiffe of our hundred takes
vpon him like a Justice, and since the new Ale-house
was set vp, the Constable is much troubled : but though
Oates be ranke, and Rie be ripe, Wbeate is but thinne,
and Barly short : good fellowship goes downe the
winde, and yet wenches are right bred : our Piper is
fallen sicke of an Ale-surfet, and old Huddle got a
blow at midnight, that makes him straddle all day.
Pamell shall haue her sweet-heart in spight of Tom
Tinker, and there is wondering in the Towne that thou
art not in the Gaole before the Sessions : but be thou of
good cheere, there is time enough for a good tume, and
come when thou wilt, thou shalt make thine owne wel-
come. Oh mad slaue, let m6e b^ merry with th^ a
little, for thou knowest I loue thee : thy Grand sire is
going to his greue, and hath bequeathed th6e a knaues
portion : the Bell hath gone for him : but so soone as
he is past, I will send th6e word in Post, that for griefe
of his death thou mayest drinke to all Christian souks :
thy Sister is where she was, and sweares thou art
honester then thy Father. I will say no more, but thou
hast Friends that thou knowest not, and therefore come
when thou wilt, w6e will haue a health ere we part : and
so in haste farewall.
Thine to thtproofe, R. S.
45. To a young man going to travell beyond the Sea.
GOod Cousin, I finde by your last Letter your present
intent to treuell, I pray God it may frill out for
your good : for though in respect of your yeares, your
bodie be in good state to endure some hardnesse, yet
there is difference in the natures of Countries, both in
the Ayre and dyet ; but aboue these things, there are
many things to be obsenied, that negligently regarded,
may be greatly to your hurt : as first, for your religion,
haue a great care, that your eies lead not your heart
after the horror of Idolatry, serue God sincerely, not
fondlie, not in shew, but in truth of scale, and for all
your comfort in all your course, that you trust in him,
and none else : Seoondlie, for your carkasse, take h6ed
of too much following the feminine sexe, and pray for
oontinencie, it is a blessed vertue. I speake not this for
the common sort, for I hope your spirit is too high to
stoope to such game, but for the Syrens, whose frices
are bewitching objects, and whose voyces are inchanting
Musique ; if these be in the way of your Eare, or your
Eye, haste you from them, lest too late you finde it too
true, that you will hardly scape drowning, when you are
ouer head and eares : such weedes will hang about your
heeles as will so hinder your swimming, that you wHl
hardly ouercome it in hodth, if you hap to scape with
your life : furthermore, if you m^ with some chast
Penelope, whose beauty walkes euen with vertue, let not
a chaste eye in her beget an vnchaste thought in you :
I speake not this in feare of any thing but your youth,
yet though I know you well disposed in many wayes, I
doubt you are not right in all : and this being a thing
that I know most necessary, I thought m my loue to
giue you a note of : now for your purse, let it be priuate
to your owne knowledge, lest it be an occasion of your
vnhappines, and breM you more partakers then for
profit : now for your tongue, let it follow your wit, and
tip it with truth, that it may abide all touch, and for
your dyet, let it be sparing, for better leaue with an
appetite, then goe to Physicke for a Surfet : now for
your conuersation, chuse the Wise, and rather heare
them, then trouble them, and against all Fortunes take
patience in your passage : so seruing God, and obseni-
ing the World, no doubt but you shall make a benefit
of your voyage, and I will be joyfiill of your retume :
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A PACKET OF LETTERS,
and thus loath to tyre you with a long Tale, when I
know in a little you vrill vnderstand much : in prayer
for your good sucoesse and safe retume, I commit you
to the Almightie.
Arthingworth 24 of Julie 1636.
Your a^Honate kinsman /. M,
45. To hisjriend G, T, in his time o/sickmsse, and
sorrow for a great misfortune,
DEare George^ knowing the cause, though not the
condition of thy sicknesse, I am bold a little to
aduise th6e for the better recouery of thy health : Thou
knowest (deare friend) that there is nothing passeth
neither vnder nor aboue the heauens, but either by the
direction or permission of the wisdome of the Almighty:
there is no Day but hath his Night, no Element but
hath his contrary, nor comfort on the earth without a
crosse : thou art soirie to s^ the crueltie of Fortune,
but tume thine eyes to a better light, and thou shalt s^
it a triall of Gods loue : for if nature be accursed for
sin, thou must finde it in this world or another, and the
second death is worse then the first If sicknesse make
the^ fe^le Gods hand, shall not patience make thee trie
his mercy? and health make thee know his loue? If
losses make the6 poore, wert thou not better with
patience be6 Gods begger, then in pride the worlds
King? grieue not then at thy fortune, but liue by thy
fiuth: be rather a lob then a Saul, for there is no
spuming against so sharpe a pricke as Gods purpose : I
am sorrie for thy sicknesse, but more for the cause : for
to moume to no end is me6re foUie : and a pinhig sick-
nesse is a signe of more passion then patience : Christ
suffered for thde, suffer thou for thy selfe, lay away thy
too much melancholy, for sighing is womanish, and
w^ing is bablsh : be wise therefore for thy selfe, and
be good to thy selfe, plucke vp thy spirits, and put thy
selfe only vpon God, liue not like a dead man, but die
like a lining man : let not fortune be a messenger of
death nor impatience a prejudice to thy health : take
thy Horse, and ride ouer to m6e : and take thy time
as it fels, if faire, the fewer cloathes : if foule, take a
Cloake, but deferre not the time, for thought pierceth
apace, and for the minde, there is no Physicke but
patience and mirth : bring the first with th6e, and the
last I will prouide for th^ : till when, wishmg th^ out
of thy solemne Cdl, and to take my house for thy better
comfort, till I see th^, and alwaies, I rest.
Thine in all mine oume, D. i?.
H
47. An answer to the same.
Ow easUy the healthfuU can giue counsell to the
sicke. and how hardly they can take it, I would
I were not in case to prooue : but I s^ patience needs
not to be perswaded, for where paine is, sh^ will bde
entertamed. I know there is no resisting of Gods
power, nor muttering against it : but yet thinke that
flesh and blood in many things hath much adoe to
beare it, and though Fortune be a fiction, yet it troubleth
many fine wits, and the triall of patience puts the best
spirit to a hard point : neuer to haue had, is little woe
to want : but to lose, hopelesse of recoueiy, win sting
the heart of a good mind : a sorrow is sooner taken
then put off, and death is comfortable to the afflicted :
Fooles cannot take thought, and knaues will not, but the
honest and the carefull vnderstand the plague of misery :
if death be this way ordained me, I cannot audd it, and
if helpe come vnlooked for, I shall b^ glad of it : but
if you win take the paines to make me try the comfort
of your company, my selfe shall haue some roome to
entertaine a friend for such a ne6de : and knowing your
loue, can account no lesse : I pny you therefore with-
out further ceremonies, let m^ see you very shortly :
If I liue you shall know my kindnesse, if I die, you shall
find my loue : so drawing towards a Feuers fit, I am
forced thus to conclude in the spight of Fortune : in the
grace of God, I will digest what I can, and pray for
patience for the rest : and so hoping speedily to se6 you
tni then and alwaies, I rest.
In sichnesse and in health thine what mine, H, H,
48. A younger Brother to his eldtr^ falnevnhappily on a
little wealth, and suddenly growne fondly proud,
GOod Brother, as I am glad to heare of your heaHb,
so am I sorrie to heare of your iU carriage : it is
told me by them that I can bel6eue, tKat your wealth
which should make you gratious, makes you in a manner
odious : why, it is wonderful!, that you can so suddenly
metamorphose your mind fix>m wit to folly : it grieueth
me to heare your description of almost as many as know
you : it is said you lodke ouer the moone, walke as vpon
stilts, spteke as it were for Charitie, and with a swelling
conceit of your wealth, make your face like one of the
four winds : in your apparell you are womanish, your
Ruffes set vp in print, your beard so starched & your
countenance so set, that you are more meet for a pro-
logue before a comedie, then to giue example of chiilitie :
formality is a kinde of folly, when he that walkes vpright
like a Rabbit, is like a Boy that should say Grace : they
say you are seldome without a flowre hi ]rour mouth, I
would it were fitly perfumed for the desert of your
foUy : you weare your Cloake alwaies broad, that one
may se^ your silken inside : and your Garters beneath
your knee are ready to weepe for a Rose : all these notes
are taken of you, and withall, that to maintaine this
pride you are so couetous as the Diuell : for as I heare
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you are both an Usurer and a Broker, and haue more
cunning tricks in your trade then a honest heart coukl
away withall: truly, this is not wel, for your estate
needs it not, your education doth not teach it : let me
therefore intreat you to tume a new leafe, sing a new
song, be courteous, be not couetous, kinde, but not
proud, and haue a consdenoe in all your courses : for
there must be an end of all out matters, and Repentance
will be6 the best paiment of your ill taken accounts :
bd^eue it, for you shall finde it at last, I wish not too
late : and so out of the sincere loue of a true heart, that
holds you as deare, as his owne life, rather desirous to
tell you what I finde amisse in you, then to sooth you
in what I finde grieuous in you : to his Grace that may
amend you, with my prayers for you, I leaue you.
Vintr true laving Brother, R, B,
49. To a /aire proud Tit,
FAire Mistresse, why should you tume that to a
curse, which was giuen you for a blessing ? I meane
your beauty, which should haue made you gradous,
but hath filled you so full of pride, that you marre your
colour with an ill countenance : and when you speake,
you counterfeit such a kinde of lisping, that you cannot
bring out a wise word : your bodies are made so strait,
and yofoi £udingale so great, that in stead of a Woman
you may make an Antick of your selfe : I am plaine,
but tell you troth, I thinke you are best in yourquoiting
coat : for your tricking and tyring takes away all your
proportion : so that the Painter and the Taylor haue
put Nature out of countenance : but since it is the
lashion for Fooles to weare a Cockes combe, let them
weare feathers that list, I will not blow them away, but
as a good friend let me tell you, that tels you but for
your good, be honest and be hanged, and let knauery
goe to the deuill : stand not ledring in your doore, nor
deuise lies to make Fooles, nor vse trickes to picke
pockets, for in the end all will be nlLught, for the For or
the Gallowes, or the Deuil wil be the reward of plaine
treacherie, if in the way you scape beggerie : and there-
fore follow my counsdl : Giue ouer betimes before it
giue ouer you : and since I haue turned my coat, tume
your old gowne, and we will joy together, to goe both
in a liuery, for, say the word, and I am for thee : and
so till I heare from th6e I commend me to th6e.
Thine if thou vnlt, Z>. H.
5a Her answer,
YOu wicked viUaine, hast thou plaid the Jew so
long, that thou art weary of thy selfe? and now
commest to me for a companion : soft Snatch, your trick
is an ace out, and of all the Cards I loue not a Knaue :
my beauty is not for ble^ eies, nor shal pretended
honesty cheat my folly : hast thou had three occupations
and none thriue? a Pedler, a Parasite, and a Pander?
and now wouldest be a Connie-catcher ? Sir, I haue no
game for your Ferret, and therefore hunt further : Now
for my 16eres and my lookes, and my tricks and my
toyes, if they fit not your humour, I am not for you :
but for the Por, the Gallowes, and the Deuill, and the
Ale-house, keepe you from them, and I will keepe me
firom you : and if I thought I mig^t trust th^, I oould
put thee in a Fooles Paradise : but if thou art not
afraid of sparrow-blasting, come home and take a Birds
nest : which if it be better than a Woodcocke, thanke
the Heauens for thy good Fortune, and me for my good
will and so til I see thy liuery, I leaue thee to thy selfe.
Thine if I like, M. T
$1, A kind sister to her laving brother,
MY deare Brother, as you know our loue began
almost in our Cradles : so I pray you, let it con-
tinue to our graues : I haue had a bad Husband, and
you no good Wife, and yet with patience we haue
lined to see the strange changes of time : but we must
one day waike after our friends, and therefore in the
mean time, let vs make much one of another : write
vnto me how you doe in body and mind, and when I
shall bee so happy as to enjoy your good company : for
being alone, you may be as a Husband and a Brother,
to controle my seniants, and comfort my selfe : bel6eue
me, I long to s^ you, and in the meane time to heare
from you : and therefore I pray you let no messenger
passe from you without some few lines of your kmd
loue, which are as deare as my life : this I pray you let
mee not faile of. And so vrith my hearty conunendaUons
and most kinde loue. in my daily prayers for thy health,
I leaue th6e to the Almighty.
Thy very laving Sister, A, N,
52. His answer,
SWedt Sister, I haue receiued your louing Letter, for
which I retume you many kinde thanks : my body
I thanke God, is in good health, but my minde some-
what out of temper, for I see three things that doe
much grieue me, a Foole rich, a Wise man wicked, and
an honest man poore : for the first either by prodigality
wasts himselfe, or like a dogge in a bench-hole, hords vp
Us mooy he knowes not for whom : the second tumes
wit to an enill course, that might compasse better
matters : and the third lines in griefe, that he cannot
shew the veitue of his condition. But when I consider
againe, that here is no Paradise : the Angells liue in
Heauen, and Hell is too neere vnto the earth : I am
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glad I can &11 to prayer, to shunne the traps of the
ileceitfull ; aod since I cannot goe from the course of
Fates, to take my fortune as patiently as I can. You
say wd, we haue lined to s6e much, and yet must dye
when we haue seene all. you are rid of a trouble, and I
wd freed of a torment, yet are there crosses enow to
trie the care of a good oonsdence, in which I doubt not
your wisedome, nor shall you of my will : but as patience
is the salue of miserie, so is loue the joy of nature, in
which, as we are neerely linked, so let vs line insepar-
able : shortly I hope to see you, and till then and euer
will loue you : the Lord of heauen blesse you, and in
his mercy keepe you : so with my hearts loue to you, to
the Lords tuition I leaue you.
Your vtry loving Brother » E, B.
53. A young man to his first hve,
SWe^ Loue. sfaice first I viewed your fiaire Beauty, I
saw none like you, nor like any but you, my
reason is drawne out of many grounds, and all in your
graces. For first your beauty being such as exoe^deth
my commendation, your wit too high for my reason to
rrach, and ]rour demeanour so discreet, as driues me
only to wonder : bdeeue my aflfection to bee vntouched
with vntmth, and requite my loue with some token of
your good liking: for bdng the first star that hath
made me study Astronomic, let me not line in the
clouds of your discomfort, lest in a mist of miserie I £all
to the lowest of fortune : leaning therefore my life to
your fauour, or my death to your fix>wne, I rest restlesse,
till I may rest,
Your ontly in all, T, P.
54. Her Answer.
IF your heart were in your eyes, and your words were
all truth, I should belieue a strange tale of the great
force of Fande, but I must intreat your pardon to pause
vpon my judgement of your opinion, I would I were as yon
write me, though I did not requite you as you wish me :
for though I would not be ynkinde, yet will I not be vn-
carefuU. Astronomie is too high a studie for my capad-
tie, and the douds are fittest dwellings for them that are
so high minded that the earth cannot hold them : In
briefe therefore, build no Castles in the Ayre, lest they
happen to foil on your neck, distrust not your fortune
where your affection is foithfull, nor put your life to loues
passion, lest it trie your patience too much. Howsoeuer
it be, cany reason in all your courses, and your care will
haue the more comfort, to which I wish you as much
hope as a true heart may deserue, and so not knowing
your rest, will trouble you no further, but rest as I haue
reason.
Yours imgoodvfill, A. if.
55. A Traveller b^ond the Seas, to his Wife
in England,
"pvEare Vnfe, the miserie of my fortune is more than
-■-^ can easily be borne, and yet the most griefe is to
be absent from th6e, and my little ones : But as a Hen
to her Chickens, be kind to them tiU I se6 the6. and pray
for my successe, as I doe for thy health : from many
dangers God hath ddiuered me, and I hope will after
manystormessendme^a&iredaytodoemegood, and
a foire winde to bring me home : in themeane time I will
haue patience, and intreat th^ the like, for loue so long
setled I know cannot lose his nature, and therefore not
doubting thy constande, I commend m^ to thy kind-
nesse : kisse my Babes for me, and kindly recdue for thy
sdfe and them such tokens as by this trusty Post I send
th6e, and them : and thus hoping of thy health, as my
hearts greatest happinesse fai this world : in prayer for
the same and th6e & thine euermore I rest : Amsterdam
the Qo of August 1637.
Thy deare loving HuOand, T. W.
56. Her Answer,
C Wedt-heart, let me faitreat the6 to be as merry as thou
»^ canst in spight of fortune and her furie : for if thou
hast but life to bring the6 home, yet loue shall bid the6
welcome : my prayers and thy little (mes are daily for
th6e : we all long to sfe th^, and thmkeitlong to be so
long without th^, but knowing thy intent for our good,
we will haue patience till thy oomming, and pray for the
speed of it, with good suooesse of thy trauell : the Posts
haste is great, and therefore I must end : for thy kind
Letters and tokens I thanke th6e : somewhat by this
Bearer, I haue sent th^, my notes in my Letter will tdl
you what, with my hearts loue, whidi can hokl nothing
from you : but auoweth all I am and haue, ready for
you : so with my babes Usse, and my owne. in prayer for
thy health and hearts ease, I commend th^ to the
Ahnightie : London the 23 ot September, 1637.
Thyvery loving Wife E, W.
S7' ^ Letter admonitory to his friend in love,
TJ Onest Wilkin, I cannot but moume for th^, to see
*^ thee in such a passion, as I thought neuer to haue
taken the^in : I hearesay thouart m loue : is it possible
to be true, that the spirit of eirour could euer haue taken
sudi possession of thy wit, to make a Samt of an IdoU, and
lose thy sdfe in a mase? Why? first the thing loue is
another world than this, and hath little to doe with such
creatures as thou keepestoompanie with: I am sorry to
heare how thou windest thy sdfe into such a net, that
thou canst no way get kx)se: fie vpon Folly, leaue thy
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fBuacft lest it be too late, and then no man will pitty
thee : what ? haue both eyes, and be starke blinde ? eares,
and hast heard nothuig ? nose, and canst smell nothing ?
a wit, and canst peroeioe nothing? and a heart, that can
feele nothing, to put thee from this new-nothing which
thoa hast met with, called Loue? Why, let mee tell thee
what it is, simply I cannot tell thee : but what are the
qualities of it, as I haue heard and read of it, I will
deliuer thee. It wiU Cuckold age, and befoole youth,
betray beauty, and wast wealth : dishonour vertue, and
worke villany : this kinde of loue I meane, that makes
thee dance Trenchmore without a Pipe, it will not let one
sleepe, nor eate, nor drinke, nor stand, nor sit in quiet :
it will teach a Foole to flatter, a knaue to lie, a Wench
to dance, and a SchoUer to bee a Poet, before hee can
hit the way of a kinde Vase. It will make a Souldier
lazie, a Courtier wanton, a Lawyer idle, a Merchant
poore, a poore man a begger : it wUl make a wiseman a
foole, and a foole quite out of his wits : it wil make aman
womanish, and a woman apish : to be short, there is so
much ill to bee said of it, that hee is happy who hath not
to doe with it If therefore thou bee not too £Arre gone,
come back againe. If thou canst leaue thy study, lay
away thy Booke, and thinke of other matters than the
mouth of Vinust lest Mars be angry, or Vulcan play the
Villaine, when Cu^ shall bee whipt for shooting away
of his anowes. In fine, give ouer thy humour, for it is
no better than a fiemcy : and line with me but a day, and
thou wilt be m hate with it all night : for the desire is
fleshly, and the delight is filthy : the suit is costly, and
the fruit of it but folly : Leaue beauty to the Painter to
hdpe him in his Art : wit to the SchoUer, to hdpe the
weaknesse of Us memory : and wealth to the Merchant
to mcrease his stocke : cases to the Lawyer to hdpe his
pleading : Honour to the Souldier to put forth his valour ;
and so let thy Mistresse be diuided among them, and
when they are all together by the eares, come thou away
to me, and line with me, and credit me, thou wilt in the
end thanke me for dealing thus truly and plainly with
thee : In the meane time let me heare from thee what I
shall hope of thee, for as thou knowest I loue thee, from
my knie I haue writen to thee, what I know is good for
thee, and what I wish may doe good with thee. And
thus, tin I see thee, hi hearty prayers for thee, and like
commendations to thee, to the Lord of Heauen I leaue
thee.
Thine as thou knauftst, L. B,
58. TkeAnsfoer,
GOod Goose eate no more Hay : what a noise hast
thon made with keaking at nothing ? Thou hast
heard thou knowest not what, and talkest thou knowest
not how : take a Woodcocke hx a springe, and touch not
40
me with these termes : now for thy mourning let it be for
the losse of thy wit : for I haue no feare of had-I-wist.
Loue (quoth he) you neuer knew what it is, and yet
speake so much of it : either you wrong it or your selfe,
that you no better vnderstand it : or let me td you, you
are mistaken in it : It is the light of beauty, the blisseof
nature, the honor of reason, and the joy of tfane : the
comfort of age, and the life of youth : it is the tongue of
truth, stay of wit, and rule of vnderstanding, it is the
bridle of will, and the grace of sence : it makes a man
kinde, and a Woman constant, and while Fooles and
Apes play at bo-p4epe for a Pudding, Louers haue a life
they would not leaue for a Mountaine. Now for Mars
and Venus t they are studyes for Schoole-boyes, and he
that feareth Vulean, let him bee whipt for Cupid. To bee
short, thou art strangely out of tune to write mee such a
piece of musiqne : for were I but in the way, shall I
tume backe to thy whistle ? No, thou knowest not what
it is, and therefore talke no more of it : for hadst thou
but once Idndly had a taste of it, thou wouldest dye ere
thou wouldest leaue it : bele^ueit : Iknowit : and there-
fore for the derision of my Mistresse, I will take it as a
Dreame, and be sorrie that awake thou hadst no more wit
than to write it : but let all vnkindnesse passe, it may be I
will shortly s^ thee, and then make th^ glad to y^d
to me, that thou art in a foule error to wish mee to leaue
my Loue, to line with thee : but since I know thy kind-
nesse, I will beare with thy weaknesse, and in the fiiith
of an old friend barken to thee in another matter : and
so wishing thee no more to enuy so much against a
matter of so excellent vertue, I will leaue th^ for this
time, and rest alwaies
Thine as his cwne, iP. P,
59. The Country-mans Letter to his beloved
TRuly Sw6et-heart, I am so out of order with my
selfe with the eztremitie of loue that I beare you,
that my heart is euen at my mouth to say Sw6et-heart,
when I thinke on you : and if I heare but your name
it makes me start, as though I should see you, and
when I looke on my Handkerchiffe, that you wrought
me, I thanke you, with Couentrie-blew : O how I lift vp
my eyes to heauen. and say to my selfe. Oh there is a
Wench in the World, well, goe too : but when I ste my
Jeat Ring that you sent me by your Brother Will, I doe
so kisse it, as if thou wert euen within it Oh Nell, it
is not to be spoken that affection that I beare to th^.
Why, I fierretted all night for the Rabbet Isentthte, and
haue b^ene in the Wood all day to seeke a Birds-nest
Ibr thee : my Mother is making a Cheese-cake, and shee
hath promised it me for th^ : well, bele^ne me I loue
th6e, and if my high shooes come home on Saturday,
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lie se^ th^ on Sttoday. and we will drinke togetherp that
is onoe» for indeed I doe loue tb6e. Why. my heart is
neuer from tbe6 : for ouer and besides that I thinke on
thee all day, I so dreameon the^all night, that our folkea
say in my sl6epe I call th6e sweet-heart, and when I am
awake and remember my dreame, I sigh and say nothing,
but I would I wot what : but it is no matter, it shal be,
and that sooner than some think, for though the old
Crust my Father, and old Gramme my Mother will not
come out with their Crownes, I care not, I am all their
sonnes, and therefore I shall haue all the Lands : and
hauing a good Farme, we shall make shift for mony :
and therefore Sweet-heart, (for so I well dare caU thee,)
I pray thee be of good cheere, wash thy £sce, and put
on the Qloues that I gaue thee, for we are full askt next
Sunday, and the Sunday after you know what, lor I haue
your Fathers good will, and you haue my Mothers : if
buckle and thong hold, we will load our packs together :
I would haue said somewhat else to you, but it was out
of my head, and our Schoolemaster was so bnsie with
his Boyes, that he would scarce write thus much for me,
but iarewell, and remember Sunday.
Thim mmufrom aU tJU worid. T. P,
6q. Ah Ansvfor to lut ktari^GQld^ and best Mn/^d,
NOwne Loue, and kinde soule, I thanke thee for thy
sweet Letter a thousand times, I warrant thee It
hath bin read and read ouer againe, oftner than I haue
fingers and toes : euery night I get vp our Man into my
Chamber, and there by my beds side, he sits and reads
it to me still, stil til I am ahnost asleep : but when he
reads so often Sw^-heart, and I loue thee : Oh, say I,
you doe lie, and he sweares no : and then I said, I thanke
you Tom, no loue lost, for I am no changeling : and
when he comes to dreame and awake, and wish : I wil
not tel you what I think yet, but one day I wil tel yoii
more : in the meane time be content, and trust me ; I
haue a band in hand for thee, that shal be done before
the time : and let our friends doe their wils, we will not
hang after their humours : No» I am thine, and thou art
mine, and that not for a day, but for euer and euer.
My Mother hath stolne a whole pecke of flower for ^
BrideOUce, and our man bath swome. hee will steale
a braue Rosemary Bush, and I haue spoken for Ale
that will make a Cat speake : and the youths of our
Parish haue swome to bring the blind Fidler ; Well,
be of good che6re, qn Sunday I will be at Church, and
if there be fmy dancing, I hope to haue a bout with your
And till then, and the Sunday after, and euery day after
that, God be with yot). Written by our Man at my
beds side at Midnight, when the folkes were all a*sle6pe.
Your ipm kving in ktoH, lUl dmik us iepawt, E. S.
6i. An angry L4iltF fy a jn(mmg Lavtr tm tSu Country
MArgery the truth is* you doe not vse roe wcB r what
doe I get by you, to losa my dayes worke, and
sit at a stile blowing my fingers is the colde, in hope to
mdcte you a milking, and you send another in your
TOO me ^ and goe to Market another way? Wd if I be
not your Sw^t-hf^rt, much good doe you with your
choice ; 1 hope my Fathers Sonne b worthy of your
Mothers Daughter : Your pricking in a dout is not so
good 05 a Plough, and for your Portion, I can haue your
betters, but it is no matter, he is curst in hi^ Cradle that
trusts any of your words : and therefore since it is as it
is, let it be as it wil : I wil not put at my heart, that you
hang at your h^les : Wei, to be shorty take it for a
warning, for I am angry : If you seme tne so againe,
you shal seru<: me so no more, that is ono^ : and there-
fore either be as you should, or be as you list* for I will
not digest more than I can, that is the truth : others
folkes see it as well as I , what a foole you make of tne,
but it is no matter, I may Uue to be meet with you ; but
yet, if you will giue oner your gadding and be ruled by
your friends counsdl, 1 can be content to forget all
that is past, and to be as good friends as ere we were.
And so hoping lo hcaro belter of you, than some folkes
thinke of you, meaning to be at your Townc the ncjct
Market day. If you will meet me at the Rose, we will
haue a Cake and a bottle of Ale, and may hap to be
merry ere we port, and so farewelL
Yttur/rkHt^ as you um mt^ B. D.
63. Mtr Ansf/Mt^.
TJ Arbafy, you are much to blame to fall out with your
-^ stiie, for want of better company i If you be
angry, tume the Buckle of your Girdle behiud you : for
I know DO body is in loue with you. What's here to
doe with my Fathers Horse, and yotii Mothers Mare?
Why, 1 wonder what you aHe? is the Moone in the
Eclipse* that you are so out of temper? Now, truth it is
pilty a foole cannot haue a little wit| but he will spend
it all la a few words ; Alas, the day, it wjU be night by
and by, and if you be so pe^uisli to put Pepper in ib«
Nose, if you can sn^ze both wBiyes, you are in no danger
of death. Wei, to be plain e, care for your selfc if you
will, for in truth, I will take ao charge of you : for if you
will bold on your course, you may walke whither you
will, and no body looke after you : for my selfe, I wiU
forget your Narae and proper person : I hope there is
Doae 50 mad a^ fo be in loue with you. In conclusion,
come not to me till I send for you, nor looke after me
l\\ I bid you : I wil drinke no Bottle Ate with such a
Bo4t]»-Nofie, ibOf desire to oome to Market lo ttieete such
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« CflWf"**"* : and to ^ad to haae tMs ooGBsioo to trie
jpow patknoe* the Farcnaii of Foaies be joor Wood-
oocka Fiitfier, and teadi yon better bow to vie jpour
wit. if yostaaveaay. Aad to in as little looe m I cao
aaubvaqrcbaritj: In heartfe good vfll* I kaneTonas
I ioaiid yoi^ and ao Rtt
Ymrfrimd as fern set, M. N.
63. To JUr more friendly than htUeved faithfuU
M. Tho: Jewel L
A
Bitlff^weet, is a bitlcr Ptajsicslt I^otioB : if I bee
so to your thoughts, I hope I shall purge your
bead of ill humours : and then fiuning Fande, that
would deoeine plaine Shnplicitie, will abuse neither of vs :
and if your flattery were not groase, in my comi^ezion*
I diould bane no respect of your condition : wliich how
fine it is fiom your protested truth, I leaue to the secret
confession of your little affection : Words follow thoughts
at the h^eles, and thoughts keepe the Head, not the
Heart : where the braine is a little troubled, it puts the
wit much out of temper : and therefore widiing you to
leaue Honor to the Noble, and Seniice to the Wealthy,
giue me leaue to lilce of equality, and so settle my Affeo-
tion in discretion : which hating to disgiaoe the Wel-
deseming. cannot but dayiy fityour the fiuthfull : Distrust
is a Unde of jealousie, which if I could loue, I should
perhaps be aoquafaifed with, but solitarinesse being a
swfet Hfe, why riiottld I sceke my hurt in a worse course ?
yet am I not borne for my self, and Aerdbre wil harfcen
to reason, and yet no further than to know the worth of
a jewel! before I pay too deare for the wearing of it :
and therefore let this suffice you, that no Heauen being
in this worU, talce heed of a HeOof yourowne making :
and putting away the doods of idle fanmoun, looke
into the height of that, that by the dfaection of Vertne,
may bring you to Honour : to which if my helpe may
anaile, I will say Amen to such prayers, as may be made
in a good minde : In which hophig you will labour to
rest, I leane you to your best rest, and so rest.
Your friend asfarre as I may not he mine oume enemy ,
S.P,
I
64. A valedatory Letter to Mis inconstant Afistris.
Am seny thai my owns eipaimcnt sfaouki so cui-
dently pcoue the verity of thai <
opinion, that women genoally azw snbjoct to iaoon-
staneie : sudi was my confidence in yon, and I made
such pollicitations to my selfe of your firmenesse; that I
would hane baldened thataman might sooner reoMue
the Roeka out of the Ocean, and the Mountaiaeaoiit of
their statkn, than me out of your afieotioa: How
canst thou for shame cast thine eies vpon me, whose
pure and exuberant Loue thou hast rewarded with
such fleeting disloyalty, and loue a number : King ft
Louer. march together in this, they can ndther of them
brook a competitor or ooniual : I wil leaue partnership
and fraction to Merchants, but where I denote ray inti*
mate loue to any Mistiis, I eapect a redprocall and
vndiuided affection. But as you hatte deseruedly
alienated your aifection, and cxtinguisht that loue I
thought nothing but death should haue ended, so will
I Justly abandon your scruice^ and here cease to write
or loue any more.
And rest a stanger, A. B,
65. An amorous Letter to a mostfaire creature,
nr Hough the Age be past whidi drew her glorious
X stile from gold, yet neuer was any richer in perfec-
tions than this present Age wherdn you liue ; Nature in
former times did glory when she bad wrought that
matchlesse mould of Helena: since her more skilfuU
hands haue produced your sdfe, as the Master-p6eoe of
her most absolute workemanship. But would I had as
just cause to oonunend your kindnesse, as I haue to
write these Encomiums of your feature, which trudy was
not home to liue and die to it selfe, but for to b^
enjoyed : and the praise of euery good thing, and par-
ticularly of beautie lies in its communion, and partidpa-
tion vnto others. Oh therefore lemooe not your fiiuour
from your most faithfull seruant, who can no more sus-
taine my life in the want of your kindnesse, than the
Earth can remaine fruitfiill in the Sunnes continual
absence : weak words are not able to comprehend the
immensity of my Lone, iriiidi leaning to the considera-
tion of your ripe judgement, in hope of your sole com-
fort, to whom the endeavour of my sdfe, and the
constancy of m/ fidth ai« eternally denoted, I rest.
In the depth of true affection, R, S.
66. A Letter gratulatory to a kinde Gentlewoman,
Good Mistresse,
THis posting Miessenger (yet not so ezpedidous as
the winged Pegasu£\ relinquishing in all hast
this our towne of Lincobu, to transport himsdiie to your
famous City of London, the Center of Qreat Britaaa. I
could not let passe so fie an opportunity m dedare vnto
you how mndi the remeabrance of your by*past Idnd-
neaies, hath bound me to widi yon the highest degrfe
of ai teiiestrial h^>pinesse. But iMking'ai your fauours
with a remunerathig' desire, I finde the namber of them
so gnat; and the gftatDesse so hard tD^ bei6 expressed,
mndi more to be reeonipenBed, that Uke a vanquished
man I am fiune to yedd and suocumbe vnder the bur-
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A PACKET OF LETTERS.
den of so many anerages : Ondy at this present like an
humble Sappliant, I come to beg of you some more
time (the mother of opportunity) vntill by the smfles of
fortunes, and the diligence of my inde&tigable en-
deauours I be inabled to make requitall : but hoping
that thus much may perswade you, that I haue not
buried you in the pit of oUiuion : I conclude and rest
as I am bounden,
Yours ever to be ecmmanded, N, /.
67. A Love Letter,
THe beauty which nature hath so lauishly imparted
vpon you (absolute Mistris) makes her play banke-
nipt with most of the world beside : at the discouery
whereof, as my eyes haue oflen-times stood at gase, so
is my minde altogether captiuated to doe booiage to
your perfections : and thoefore hoping that in your
imployments my future merits shall weigh downe this
my offence of presumption, I hane taken humble boU-
nesse to let you vnderstand how ready I am to performe
you any seruioe that possibility shall inaUe me vnto.
whose loue is the bounds and vtmost end of my ambi-
tious desires, desiring the attainment whereof as the
comfortable Hamest of my carefull paines. I rest.
Yours iu the iufiriugeable hounds tfafictumt /, AT.
FINIS,
APPENDIX.
I. Title-page of 1603 :—
A
POSTE WITH
a Packet of madde
Letters
Newly Inlarged.
[Wood<ut without any legend.]
LONDON.
Printed for John Smethwicke, and are to be sold at his
Shop in S. Dunstons Qiureh-yazd in Fleet street.
1603.
9. Variations: 1637 1603
Dedication L a * places' ' place.'
To the Reader, I 8 'hearing,' etc : in 1603 'if I
heare you like well of them, when I meet next
with the Poste, it may be I will cast about with
him for more of them : till then,' ftc. I zo 'of
those which follow ' : in 1603 ' of that which
followeth.' Liz' Yours, N. B.' : in 1603 ' Your
louing friend Nicho. Brettm.*
N,B,-~i6os* like other editions, is in black letter : the
copy used contains 93 leaves, and the matter wanting
would have filled 6 more. This edition evidently had
no second part. There is no pagination. The signa-
tures run from A to F 3, and probably extended to H z.
It contains 70 letters against the 85 of Z637 ; of which
one is not in the later. The letters in Z637 and not in
the cariier are Nos. z to 5, 7, Z4, and 77 to 85.
Letter 6, L z6 ' And for your feminine . < . I cannot
helpe :' in Z603 the following is dropped in z^ :•—
' ' in fariefe, if I should tell thee of all the complainto that
I heare of, as well among y« Feminine, as Masculine
gender, how some old women crie out of young vn-
thriftes, and some young wenches oomplaine of old
misers : How some cSplaine of their customers, and
some other of their neighbours, it were such a world of
idle stuffe, as would but trouble thee in the reading :
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53
but since tlidr oSpiaintt are al to little purpose, for that
Souldiers are but for extremities, though honourable in
tlieir exploits, ft Lawien are some troublesome, except
vponagreemfitof oOtrouersies, tlioughjudges are worthy
honor in execution of iustioe : and Merchants may beare
with fortune, when their cofifers are full of ooyne, though
in respect of their trsfficke, they are the maintmance of
the Common-wealth : and Trades men may sell cheape,
when their best wares are all vttered, though it is neoes-
aarie, that they be set on worke for the maintenance of
the state : & labourers may rest, when their Haruest is
in, though it be needfiill to set them to worke for the
auoiding of idlenesse : beggers may hold their peace,
when they haue filled the patches of their profession,
though it is not amisse to relieue them for the exercise
of charitie: now the rich men may shrugge their
shoulders, when they haue no vse for their bags,
though sometime it be requisit rather to be sparing,
then prodigall : & for the theefe, let him sigh till the
hangman do hdpe him : and for the hangman let him
moume, for he is sure the Dhiell lies in waite for him ;
and thereikMe let the old mexill munch, and the young
titte moume, I can not help," &c
There are numerous slight Terfoal changes and read-
ings corrective of the later texts : the former do not
need record, the latter have been silently made in our
text, and dropped sentences and words replaced. The
following letters, in fiiU, demand a place here :—
Letters 33 and %^yfrom edition of 1603.
A Lttter of comnsaiU from a kind Father.
[Y deare Sonne, you must not from your Father
looke for a flattering loue, nor take it vnldndly,
that I suspect your ill courses : for I haue passed the
daungerous time that you now are in, and haue hardly
gone through the briers : and therefore in a iealous feare,
from an inward care, I cannot chuse but glue you warn-
ing of what may prehidice your good. Beautie is a be-
witching obiect, and wantonnesse is the ruine of wit :
prodigalitie quickly makes a poore man, and he is ondy
rich that Hues contented. But my good Sonne, aboue
all things seme God, and keepe a deane consdence,
passe not the limits of allegeanoe, nor build Castles in
the aire, take heed of extremities, for they are out of the
course of discretion, and the fruite of Ignorance yedds
but the sorrow of repentance : yofig men may be witty,
but sildome wise : and sometime, though Art be a great
perfecter of Experifioe, yet obseruation is better then
oonodted cunning. Expoioe is necessarievpon occasion,
and hope is not amisse vpon desert : but Reason some-
time is more regarded, then rewarded, where Will is too
poweifull to be resisted. I heare that you are much
M^
giuen to Alchymistry : it is a studie of great charge to
many, and profiteth fewe : yet I forbid you no good
labour, so that you loose not by the bargaine. Vse
therefore a care in the imployment of your time, and
wherein my hdp may further your good, seeke no other
friend for your oOfort For though I would not wish ]rou
to disdaine any kindnesses yet would I haue you as little
as you may to be beholding to any man : for the prodi>
gall are commonly talkeatiue, and the couetous negatiue :
ft what a griefe it is to want, I pray God you neuer
know. Any qualitie in a medioeritie, I gladly allowe
you, but let not your loue be carried away with any
idle imagination. I haue sent you a hundreth Crownes :
well may you vse them, and when you need any moe,
send to me for them : for your aflfection touchhig mar-
riage, I would it were bestowed as I could wish it : how-
soeuer it be, it shall be much amisse, if I mislike it I
haue sent you likewise a Horse, now and then to manage
in a morning, but I pray you forfoeare to vse him as a
hackney to ride vp and downe the streetes in idle humors.
Conuerae with no fooles, for you shall lose time with
them : ft take heed of knaues, for there is mudi to be
feared in them. Long not after newes, least you be guld
with a least : and take heed of drunkennesse, for it is a
beastly humor. Make much of thy money, and abuse
not thy friend : be carefull of thy selfe, and forget not
thy Father, whose earthly ioy is but in the hope of thy
happinesse, and whose deadly sorrow would be to see
thee do amisse. What shall I say more to thee ? thou
knowest I loue thee, and ondy in my loue am I thus
carefull ouer thee. Accept then my admonitions, and
ponder vpon the constructions : they may hap to doo
thee good, but harme they can doo thee none: Vse them
therefore for thy best auafle. After the Terme, the vaca-
tion will cal thee into the Countrey, where knowfaig thy
Fathers house, thou maist make thine owne wdcome.
TO when, and alwaies, I will pray for thee, that God will
so blesse thee, that I may haue k>y in thee.
Your loving Father, H, W,
W
A hind Answer of a louing sonne,
[Y deare Father, as I wil not flatter my sdf with
your loue, so can I not but ioy in your kindnes :
whose careful oounsdl within the compasse of so few
words, I will locke vp in my hart, as the best iewell of
my life : for to serue God, is the dutie of a Christian,
and no longer let me liue, then in the care of that com-
fort. A deane consdence I find like a deane paire of
sheets, where y« soule after labors may take a safe place
of rest: to passe the limits of alliegeanoe, meritesthelosse
of life, and he is borne vnhappie that is vnnaturall to his
countrie : and aiery castles, are but madde mens imagi-
nations : I know extreames are not dureable, nor often
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A PACKET OF LETTERS.
profitable : and repentanee a paiment, that pinchetb the
hart of vnderstanding.
I find the inatniction of the aged to be the best direo-
tid of the youthful, & obseniation with Ezperieooe to
make the perfection of Ait : the neeeMitie of Eipcrienoe
cannot be avoided, but the hope of desert may be de-
ceiued : for while WU stands fior indgement, there is no
holding of argument : touching Akfa jmistiy, I heaie
much, but beleeue little : and for the chaige, I will not
waste your L«nd, to make a new mettaU : b«t if by my
industry I can doo good, I will take the benefite of Time :
for qualities, I thanke your large allowBooe, the best
meanes with labour to attaine them ; for Teadien, are
worthie their rewards : to be behokling I k>ue not. &
hate to be vngrateful : but as I follow not the prodigall.
I haue little pleasure in the oouelous : & for idle imagi-
nations. I c& vse them as fictions : for your crownes» I
humbly thanke you. and hope to bestow them to your
liking. Your Horse will do me much pleasure, ft cause
me to see you the sooner. For galloping the streets, it
is like children vpon Hobby-horses, but giddie heads
haue such bumors^ that God knoweth what wfll beoome
of then : For manage, though theoomrse be honoorable,
yet oottld I be eontent to farfoeare it. though in dMdi-
rection of my affection. I wiU be much ruM by yonr
diacreikm: Fook8cwuMiTndetMuidnM.ftkiiaaeswill
but trouble me : but tnm the company of snch ill con-
eoma amcr too soonew nor badde to&lale. and thcwfote
as they aie» I wfll tmtmm the ! For drvahsBaasM nener
doubt mee, forkisoMaat kMUhsemoto my nature: and
for m$ wmmftfi though it be my seraaai, I will hold il as
mygeodftiend: fotmyfrioDd. heshallbemyselfe; but
my Father my hearts le«e, and aiy liles comfon: im
whose caicAiU admoAhiQM» how kkid K find tho kutr«e-
tioBS, the obedience of my duties shall make kMtRrne to
your ooQtcntmcnt : the vaoation ia neete. ft I will not be
k>ng fr6 you : where frnding ycu well, shall be my best
weloome : so thinking my selfe blest in the heauens^ to
haue so good a Father en the easth, beseeching God to
make me ioyfull in yonr eyss, by the graces of hie mer-
cies, in praier for your long health, with youv haxta euer
happinesse : la all hundde tfuMte X take my teauc;
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page 4* SnSTLB^DBDBCATORT 'TO MAXIlftLIAN
DALLifiON OF Hawlin :' Sir MaiimiHan Dalison of
HaBiiw. oow Kent, was son of WiHiam Didison, Esq.,
desoended ftom William D' Alaaoon (one of the coi»*
paaions of Wifliam the Conqueror) by Silvester, daogfa*
ter. of Robert Dean of- Hailing (his parsnts were married
in 1574, and his lather died hi ^585^ wUoh gives an
appnudmate date for his birth). He was knighted at
the Charter House zith May 16^, and was Sheriff of
Kent in i6]». Ho manied. ist« Paqlipi^ d. of Sir
Michael Sonds. of Throwley, Kt., by whom he had no
issue, aad.adly, Miary, d. of Sht William Spencer, of
Oxfordshifo, Kt The Wills of himself and of his second
wife were both proved in 1631. 1. 8, ^yomng wit:*
Breton named an early vi^uBM 'TheWoricesof ayonng
W>t/Ao.(iS77>.
PART I.
Letter i, 1. 13, ' terrene ' = earthly : L 16. * congratulate
your safety* — note the grammar.
.. a» L. 5> *JUimt* atflowiag : L 15, * retribution'
s reoompeoce^BOtc the ohaagod sense iiqw,
.. 7t l IS* 'feriod' acend.
Letter 8. 1* ^ *paisa^: ' See Glossarial Index, s.v,
,, 10, L 19, *wtake no toile of a pleasure*— ^A a
modem said when on a hot day he was labour-
ing under the burden of his shoulder-bome
wife's coffin and would have his feBow-beaiers
move less quickly. She waft of
la. Let the proverbs or pcQvecbialsayings herein
be noted.
13. L 19. '>hii»/'s9i
90, 1, I. * Art to conceale art* = ars est oelare
artem.
ai, L s8, * course' 9 coacse.
2a» 1. z, ' Aj^^A;^.*' See GloiSBial Index. i.v..'
IL 3-4, *Isawe the Ph^ ef AntAemt Pist$U,
wkert a Cracking Comnrd,* etc. See our
Memoriaklntroductioit on this (ponibly)
Shakespeaieallnskjtt : L 14, ' Betunmarde Afo'
a>bea»4weper's: L 15. 'hay mongk* ^Yaap
93, 1 9, ' sealed* » sewed up—a hawking term.
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NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
55
Letter 24, 1. 13, * Paris-gardim* — often mentioned in
Shakespeare, Sir John Davies, Donne, ftc.
ftc.~a piaoe of entertainment in London.
»• 30^ !• 13, ' bikolding' SB beholden, or Indebted.
*' 33* 1- 3i * prnudice'^vio^ the cfaaoged meaning
now of this word.
M 36, 1. 14, *Fais*^y9X5, barrels: 1. 16, * CucJ^
imits as cochineals.
M 53- Note proverbial sayings and lovemsages as
in Letter la.
„ 55. George Herbert must sorely have read this
Letter.
M 65, dated 'Gawthorpe:' See our Memorial-In-
troduction on this. So too date of Letter
73, 'Chaulkley.'
,, 68, L 14, 'bowed Groat:* now a 'crooked six-
pence ' is the token of good-luck.
*• 73* 1* 9> ' CawU* s coif.
1. 74, L 7, ' Haherditu* = salted cod.
„ 85, L X, '^ajv<&' = bonds->inagoodsen8e: L 7,
'strips* ^ stripes.
PART II.
Letter 6, IL 14-15, ' Kings ktad^* ftc. On this and many
other Inns mentioned by Breton, see our
Memorial-Introduction, and see next Letter :
L x6, ' all is well that ends well '~a noticeable
phrase.
„ 8, 1. 9, * Trtnckmoro*—cmt of Breton's rarest
pieces is called ' Wit's Trendmiour ' (1597}— a
dance : IL 16-19, 'you shall keare the old Somg
. . . Corns limowitk ms and be my lome,* See
our Memorial-Introduction on this most in-
teresting alluskm.
„ xo, L 4, ' Luripups* ss tricks.
„ 19, L aa, ' Tobacco:* note this early reference to
the growing use (or abuse) of tobacco. It is
to be feared that still it Is the 'shooing home '
of this Letter.
Letter X4. The place from which this Letter signed
' N. R' is dated is to be noted. See Pt ist.
Letter 65.
„ 15, 1 29, ' costrelV ss a closed portable yessel or
flask of earth or wood, having projections on
either side, with hole, through which a cord
or leathern strap passed for supporting it from
the neck.
„ 16, col. 3, 1 xa, *UasUng* — ^misprint for 'leaning.*
,, X9. This most pathetic Letter, signed ' N. R' is
of rare biographical interest.
„ 33. Sir Thomas Ward. Kt— I can find nothing
on this ' Knight'— his name occurs in no list
— probably a fancy name.
„ a8, 1 XX, 'Hackmy ' =s hired horse.
,, 31, 1 6, * muu ' = I am amased.
„ 33, ooL X, 1. 36, '^mMmi^f' s governed.
The date-place of this Letter of ' N. R' is
again to be noted.
,, 39, L X3, ' WarUng:' See Qlossarial Index, s.v,
„ 44, 11. 9-3, ' tale'o/a Tttb:' See Gk>ssarial Index,
S.V,
„ 49. Heading: ' TV/:' =s little lady: L 7. '^miiMr'
=s bodice : L 30, ' Por' and next Letter, 1. xa :
SB poker.
ti 53, L 7, '^«««4 Atfi^r' = holeinabench.
„ 58, L 9, 'ia»b'ii^' ss quacking as a goose.
>f 59i L 7. ' Qmemtrie^lew .*' See Glossariai Index,
s,v.
,, 64. Heading ' Valedatory * s valedictoiy.
Page 53, coL X, L 14, 'patcJUs' ^ fools: I as,
'menll' a purple-Csced. %* The accent-
like marie (' ) is from the black-letter type of
original.--G.
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^'-.^•^^•H^'^.^.^.^^'H,^^-'. •^•H.i^^H.^Sh.^-S.-^^H.^S.
^ Mad World my Masters^
etc.
1 603- 1 635.
TTt^rri-'TTTTt't'Tt^rrrr
28
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NOTE.
The original edition of 'A Mad World,' etc., was published in 1603 :
another, which is our text, in 1635 : 8vo, 23 leaves. Both are in the
Bodleian, and nowhere else apparently. That of 1635 is slightly defec-
tive in the imprint on the title-page. See our Memorial- Introduction for
the Epistle-dedicatory to John Florio from the 1603 edition. The imprint
of 1603 shows that the I. S. ctf our text was James Shaw.— G.
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Mad World my masters,
Mistake me not
OR
A. merry Dialogue betweene two
Trauellers^
The TakeTy and Mistaker :
Being very Delightfull, Pleasant, and
Profitable to all.
LONDON
Printed by R. Raworth for /. S. 1635.
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TO THE READER.
■BBBjLF / bee not mistaken, there are many Takers and Mistaken in this world, who take them-
^M |H selues to bee wise with a little witj and rich with a little wealth* Some are taken for
^^^^ religious, thai with their hypocrisie cousin a number of simple people : Other are taken
for good men, that have a little more wealth then honesty: And some are taken for fooles, that have
more conscience then cunning : hut happy are they^ who take the right course to their soules comfort.
In this discourse following^ you shall see divers pretty passages betwixt the Taker and Mistaker,
perhaps as pleasing for the mirth, as profitable for the matter. Now how every one will take it, I
know not The best minds I know will take nothing ill that is meant well; and for the worst, they
know not how to take any tking well, how good so ere it be : and therefore intreating every man to
take it as he list, lest I should bee beholding to I know not whom, for I know not what, I leave to
the Stationer to take his price, and you to take your pleasure^ and so rest
Your friend, if I be not mistaken,
Nicholas Breton,
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MERRY
Dialogue
Betweene two Travellers:
DoRiNDO and Lorenzo.
>R£NZO wdl met, how doest thou iaire this
morning ?
Los. A thoasand good morrowes to
mine honest Doriudo: but how goes the
worid man ? no newes worth the hearing.
Dos. More then axe true, or worth the telling : And
therefore I had as leeve bold my peace, as have no
thanks for my tatling : but I pray thee tell me, where
hast thou beene this many a day 7 I beard that thou
hast beene over the water, I know not how fone.
Lor. Indeede the Sea is a pretty brooke to wade
thorow, and a yeeres traveU will treade a prettie piece of
ground : but to tell you where I have beene, I cannot :
for my way was long, and my memory is short : But
had I time to tell thee that which I could, (at least if my
memoiy would seme me) I should make thee like the
better of home, and the worse of travell whUe thou
Uvest.
Dor. And why, I pray thee ?
Lor. It is not so soone answered, but rather let me
say, why not? For much danger, and more feare, little
safetie, and lesse gaine, made me wish either to have
knowne lesse, or somewhat more worth the knowing.
Dor. I pray thee why? were thine qres not matdies,
or thy Witt out of order ?
Lor. Tkuely, whether the fiuih be in my wiu, or mine
eyes, I know not : But I am sure I was so ouertaken in
misfakm of every match that I met withall, that I had
as leeve almost be an ignorant, as deceive my selfe
with imagination.
Dor. True, for as good to k)se thoi]^hts, as to loose
by them : but whence, or whereupon grew this griefe of
yours?
Lor. I tell you by mistaking.
Dor. But how I pray you.
Lor. Why, the first thing that I was mistaken in,
was my selfe : in whom I was the most mistaken of any
thing in the world. For, with onely a little obseruation,
I was perswaded that there was no matter of worth, but
I had it by heart ; and for trifles, I would not be troubled
with them : but, when that reason came to ripping up
secrets of wisedomes intelligence, I saw my Mrit so
wilftill, that I was mistaken in all matters that I met
with.
Dor. What, men, women, and children ?
Lor. Yea, onely in them : for touching other creatures,
I made no great care of my oonoeipt of them. But now
to tell thee, in my travells how I was mistaken : to run
over aU my courses, it were too tedious, let suffice as
much as may make thee merry to heare, and wise to
remember. Fhst, when I left my Countrey and came
aboord the Buon-a^vemturtt wee had no sooner weighed
Anker, hoissed sailes, and put to sea, but with a fifesh
gale of winde, and feire weather, wee were so merry
above hatches, that me thoi^gt there were none so marg
above hatches, as the Saykrs. But wee had not thus
passed five If giies, till the skie was over-cast, the winde
came about, and grew high, the ayre thick and foggie,
and the drilling raine came so beating in our fjaoes,
that wee were glad to get under hatches : where wee
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were scarody set in our Cabtrins, but the tempest grew
so great, the windes so rough, and the waves so high,
that we were glad with throwixig out almost all the
goodes into the Sea, to sane our lives in the bare vessell.
Now when I came on shore, well moiled and poore,
having lost aU that I had abord, more then a little
money in my purse, which was so little, as that I will
say little of it : I began to thinke with my selfe, how I
was mistaken, to thinke, that one fiure day, and a little
faire weather, ooold make me thinke that the saylers
life (which every minute is subject to danger of one
harme or other, and betwixt a bord and the water, hath
a walke, but in a short and unsteadie roome) should be
compared to the land life, where there is pleasure hi the
faire weather, and shelter against the foule, and no feare
of wind or water, nor many other dangers which I omit
to speake of. And in stead of a whirle-poole in the
water, a walk large enough to walke man and horse too,
till they weare both weary. Now heere was my first
mistaking.
DOK. It may be, if the weather had hdd fiaire, and
that you had met with a good prise, you would not have
thought your selfe mistaken in the merry life of a mar-
riner.
Lor. Indeed somtime the joy of taking, helps the
misery of mistaking.
Dor. Yea, but when the thiefe that hath taken a purse,
if he be overtaken in the high-way, and so take the gal-
lowes for his Inne, that joyfull taking in the beginning,
brings a sorrowfuQ mistaking in the end.
Lor. Well, as for that part, it is none of my play,
and therefore I will leave it to them that love it.
Now to tell thee of my second mistaking. When I
had beene a little on shore, had weathered my selfe,
dried my clothes, filled my belly, and emptied my
purse, I now beganne to thinke how my witts should
worke for my welfere: and first entending to seeke
entertainement of some Noble Person, that would
honourably looke into the vertues, valour, and good
qualities of a good mind, I began to put on a resolution
to aduenture any fortune, and indure any discomfort,
that might be a hmderance to my happinesse. And with
this resolution travelling till I was weary, almost peni-
lesse, and exceedingly hungry ; I came to the view of a
goodly, fiiire, and gorgiously built house, which stood
as it were a mile from a Qtie neere adjoyning. Now
in hope there to finde some such person : as I before
spake of, I began to rowze up my selfe, as one that had
sm assured hope, at least of some good victuall, I meane
of a good dhmer scot-fliee, howsoever otherwise fortune
would be my firlend. When ere I would aproch too
neere the house, lest I should be seene in any unfit
manner, I combed my beazd, gartered up my stockings,
trussed every point, buttoned eveiy button, and made
my selfe ready fai the best mamwr I ooold, to appeare
before the presence of such as I should meete withaU in
this gallant mansion. But when I came neere unto the
house, and finding the doore shut, I did imagine (being
about the mid time of the day) that the semants were
all at dinner, and the lord of the house either laid downe
to sleepe, or gone into his closet, to talke upon some
accounts with hb ladie : but hearing no sound of any
noyse, nor voice within of either man or dogge, I feared
some ill fortune, that there ¥ras some great sicknesse, or
danger of death that might dampe the spirits, and so
cause the sorrow of the whole house : but staying awhile,
and nekher hearing any voice within, nor any poore
creature without at the gate, that might hope of almes
from the hall, I feared the diaritie within was so little,
that my comfort without would be according : but after
that I had stood a while, k>th to loose time, I knodied
at the doore ; where I knocked long, before I had any
answere, and in the end was saluted at a window larre
within by an old fellow, who, it should seem to save a
groate, had slept out his dinner ; whose speech (with a
wide mouth gaped out) was this : What lacke you ?
My fiiend (quoth I) I pray you let me speake with yon.
No (quoth he) I cannot oome down, I am bnsie, my
master is not at home, and here is no body in the house
but I and my wife, and shee is not weO : but say yow
errand, and I will heare you. My errand thought I ;
was there ever such a kemiell for such a curre? doth be
take me for some sorrie fellow, or hath hee no better kind
of greeting for strangers? And thus while I stood
musing, and fretting at my fortune, and this bad fellow,
hee shut the window : and I with a sigh, to see how I
was mistaken in this fiure house, turning me from ft, I
met with a foole in a pyed ooate, who looking upon mee,
after hee had out-laughed himseUe, told me : Sfr, yon
are mistaken, this is a Banqueting-honse, where the
gazers are onely fed with conceipts, for there is not a
chimney that smokes, nor a doore open, it is called
Mock-beggar, ha, ha, ha. Now when the foole went thus
laughing away, and left me more foole to tarry there,
before I stirred my fbote, out of my podcet I tooke my
tab1e4)Ooke, in which I writ downe my second mistakfag.
Dor. Indeede this is too common a mictairii^ in niiany
Countries, but it may be you might have given yon
cause to have spoken better of ft : but indeede faire
houses are for ridi men, and cottages for the poore : and
therefore bemg hi that predicament, ft is no maruell yon
had no better entertainement. But I pray you proceede
with your travell.
Lor. I will tell you, melancholy walkuig a little from
this Mocke-begger, I began to frame ray selfe to the
humour of a cunning begger : when meethig wftifi a
graue old man (who by his veluet ooate, his golden
chaine, and his ricb furred gowne, diould seeme to be
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ftt the least, sone rich Bugar, ^ not some Buifunastdr
of aoine Citie) this wdl appiiinlled pktare with a kmd
of liie that gftue the body ksfis to oairy the head upon
Asqaarepaheofsbonldas; I in hope to find [him] more
comiottafale then the fiihe faonae^ master Modc-begger, I
[having] sah«ed with agraat levomoe, and reqmted with
«pnmd nod, I yet adoentmwd to bad with a foff words.
When hoping to have fannd him a man of no lesse
tmderatandiiv spirit, to jmlge of tlmestate and conditions
of men. then boonty, in the rdiefecf the nafiMtnnamty
distressed. I feU aboord with hsm with these words.
Sir« I thinbe you have heaid of the hard fiortme of the
Btmrnm-vemim^ wim pnt into yoor hariiour this otha:
mght, hardly smdqg her life^ withlosse of ail her goodie
and SOBK of her people; My setfe, with much adoe,
well weatherteatea as yon may see, with some few
that lie sicice in the haven, got to shore, and am now
tmveUiag towards yoar Qde aeere before mee: Loth
I am to enter into any base course far my oomfbrt: but,
if I might be beholding to yonr good foroor, in this
time of my tMstrpiiSf, giving me your name withal, I
doubt not if I live, but either by my selfe. or my better
friends, to find a time, either to requite or deserue it.
He, as one whose heart was so iSratup in his purse, that
he midsstood nothing bm ware and many, after a harsh
hum, ortwQ), gawemethBaaswem; Was there nothing
eaved-ofhergoodslpmyyou? What was her feanglit?
Sir, qnoth I. it was aaost silkes, snd spioes, bat some
s, (fuoth he ; by my
fi^r, a shrenrd mjsrhanoi* : I am aotiy far ye, I would I
conld doe ye good, hat I am now hi hast going aliout
a little boineaBe, and tbevefane I CBMOt stand to taihe
with yon, God be with yon; ihetowne ishaid before
fan. yon Witt be there anon: hot if yon hmm any Jewells
or pearls that yon have sarcd, I iriU givo yon nmney far
it. if I like IL lVMiySir,qnoth I.mweib limve not
y« onely two rings im myfiogen, and this heaoelet of
s I bare saved ; my hrarpifi east me a bundled
I ; if it please ymi so have It cf the price it cost,
though ^^nat my wiU. I Witt fMtmilhk. Whfathat,
apflsi has boatio«ed nose, be dspa en a poire of
Tr***r***l snd IsoUng on ny pesrie faui^ fault vrith
•he asumhrnssa, and the ritiarnrmr, and I haow not
admtelae. till at the last, tUnking So raakt a gaineof
asy miaeqr« he ofinad me leacrowaeBi ssymg, that he
ted ao aeed of it ; but taihsr tfan be disfamUmd of
amntii ^eiag a sfangar) ht would adaentare so much
on it: whereat, 1 saaHowad a sigh, and ooaoeaUag my
I me, I hflpwd iofind
I the Oly.that I waaU beas
hmdasinrii^wdthidL Thus arith an idle wvdortwm,
did I kare this good old genileama, in whom how maoh
I refarre to the judgement of those that can spell him
with hooka, and may desire never to come neere him
withm booke. This was my third mistaking : to take
the shadow of a man, and the snbstanoe of a money-bag ,
with charity or humanity, by the hypocryticaU figure of
gmvity, to be a creature of vnderstanding, a man of
honour, and a blessed reliever of the miseiable.
Dor. Alas how many thousands are so miirsk<*n ?
Why, the blessed Saints holinesse, the Martyn faith-
fulnesse, the Virgins pnrenesse, and the pmyers of the
elect, I have heard and read of : but I never heard of
any rich appareU, or cfaaiaes spoken of among them :
far God Mease vs from it, some ssy the DeviU hath a
chaine wherein he leades a number mtoheil; but I hope
k is not gold. I know not that, but I thhike not, for
murderers haqg in aoa chaines, and therefore he vrill
not be at oost with them, aU alike : but how he doth
with the Covetous, the I^echerous, and the ambitious,
that knowelfa God, and not I.
Lorn. Bat shall I tell you further of my mistakings.
DoK. Yes for Gods sake.
Lob. Then let me tell yon; I had scarcely got within
the gates of the City, but that it was my hap to meete
with a couatreymaa of mine owne, and somewhat of
alliance unto me. This man at first aeeming to be gfaid
to have met me in that dty, promising me to bring me
acquainted with some otlter of my oountreymen, and
that he would be ready to doe me aO the pileesore he
oonki, this did not a little coateat me, hoping that far
oountrey and kindreds sake, I should find no little
fiiendahip. But after that he had made use know three
orfauseof my ooantiymen and broaght am to an Inne,
vriiere fior aqr moaey I might lodge, neidHr muitiag me
todmneror supper, onely was ooatem totakeaeupof
Wine of me, and to sell me that he hoped to drinke
with me before aiy going out of Sowne : thas was I
misfalnpn both in kin aad oouatrey. to hope of any
comfort. But the next morning coamoiag to a Tajtom
house (which was Bicewfae aumnUeymaa of mine) I had
ao sooner taflmd with the good aaan, about thepawaing
of WKf bracelet, aad tsUng ap of scare stnfie far my
appaieH, hat hia wife ia an inner roome, almost as
4«ioke of esn as of tongae; vrith a wide gaping mouth
came to us with this greeting : go too, goodman-goore,
meddle with no pawnmg nor taldng up, you have payd
oaongfa far playing the faole, and yet vrill be an Asm
stfll? I pcay yon wife quoth be, be quiet : aad then to
me, truely gentkmaa, I vrouid be gfad to doe yon any
pleasure, but I haresach a wife, that Idaredoe nothing
without her oonsent: if yoafariog your stuflEe, Iwiftdoe
it youasweU, aad as good cbeape as any man. Now.
I that tooke him to bee the master of the houre, was
aaach mismfcrn, far thewoaienweare the fareches, and
Iwe was to wodm for the hoaae: when pitt^i« the
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poore mans caae, and mudi oommending his paUenoe,
aoiry to thinke how I was mistaken, I tooke another
coarse for my contentment I was not k>Qg in towne
before I had learned how to tume pearle into gold, and
gold into silver, and so to fanUsh my aelfe of such
necessaries as I found most fitting for my use ; when
there passed not many dayes before I fell upon another
fortune, where I was, as I was still in every thing,
mistaken.
Dor. I pray you tell it, we have time enou|^, and I
long to heare it.
Lor. I will tell yon. It was my hap, after I had done
my devotion hi the Church and holy places, passbig
through the streets, beholding as well the feire houses,
as sweete creatures at their doores and windowes ; to
caste mine eye upon a very artifidall fiEtire, sharpe-witted,
wanton-eyed, and fah«-handed, small-footed, stmight-
bodied, and, as I afker found, smooth-tongued gentle-
woman ; I say gentle, for she was so gentle, that she
¥ras as tame as a little FUly, that had been brought up
all by hand. This fine mistresse, I had some hope to
doe some good upon, when setting a good face on this
matter, after a courteous salutation I fell to kissing of
her hand : which she endured with such a pleasing
smile, as gave me cause to proceed further in my
purpose. I had not so soone began to goe about her,
but she had me at every tume, and in the midst of my
talke would be fidling with a ring, in which was a painted
Diamond, that I ware on my finger, which she would
commend with wishing her hand worthy such a favour.
Now I that hoped to have found so gallant a wench, as
franck-handed, as firee-hearted, and as liberall for love,
as ready for cntertainement, found that artifidall beauty
was but a shadow, or rather cover of covetousnesse, or
an instrument <^ wit, to draw on foUy into the mine of
prodigality : so that here I found my selfe so mistaken,
that it made me afraid a long while after, to be busie
with the female kind.
Dor. In trueth this was a prety mistaking : but if she
had beene for you, and would have mistaken you for
her husband, t^ whom you might craftily have beene
taken, and so beene carried to BridewU, or payed for
your pardon ; what a taking would you then have beene
in?
Lor. I know not. but tis better as it was : for as I
found it, so I left it. I ondy spent a few fidre words,
but not a peny of money, for I would not pay for my
repentance : but so leaving her, as I found her, with a
BoMO los wuMus, went about my businesse : which I had
not k)ng foUowed, but fell upon another mistaking.
Dor. What may that bee, if you can remember 7
Lor. I will tell you. It was my hap to heare o< a
gallant Captaine that was to doe a piece of seruice upon
a City of the Tuikes, under whom who could get enter-
might quiddy purdiase both honor and
wealth. Now my youth having beene trained up in
armes, and my fortune filling upon such a point, it was
not long before I made and got mcancs of entcttaine-
ment at the hands of this gallant souklicr, of whom I
hoped to receive the due of my desert: but after that he
had in many desperate pieces of seruice empfoyed me
and saw in me that true valour, that made him In the
enuy of my good deserts, feare some neere pressing
towards his pride, in stead of advancing my fortune, or
rewardmg my seruke, he still put me upon soch con-
tinuall exploits, as threatned every houre nairow escape
of my lifie. But in the end sedng his misery to make a
gaine of those that dkl him honour, hand-ftsted to the
weU deserviqg, and rather plottfaig the death then
aduandng the fortunes of the valiant, got meanes fbr my
disdiaige firom him, and sorry to thinke how I was
mistaken in hhn, as I tdl yon, I left Urn : when I had
not gone &rre, but light upon another mistaking:
Dor. And how I pimy thee? if it be not tronblesoaie
to ihee to redte it, I pray thee let me heare it
Lor. You shall.
TiU misioMmg tfa Dwim,
It was my hap in a little field neare unto a Churdi in
a countrey Towne, to ouertake a little old man in a
gowne, a wide cassodi, a night-cap, and a comer-cap, by
his habit seendog to be a Divhie ; of whom I was In
hope to find that sacred fruit of Charity, that might be
some comfort hi my retume : whom bo^nning to sahite
with a few Ladne words : My friend quoth he, doe not
decdve your sdfe, I understand not your Gre^e : We
here, that dwell farre from the City, and are not troubled
with fine eares to our readmg, care for no more but to
dischaige our duties in. our pkuaes, I meane of a IHcar,
for I am no better ; the Psrson is a man of greater
place, and of fisire possesskms, who dwefleth a great
way hence, and therefore sddome comes into this
oountrey. Ivse twiceayeeretobrioghimhisrent, ukI
perhaps a couple of Capons against Christmasse for my
Land-lady, and that is as mnch as they looke for. And
for my Parishioners, they are a kind of people that love
a pot of Ale better then a Pulpit, and a Comericke
better then a Churdi doore ; who comming to divine
service, more for fashion then devodon, are cootented
after a little capping and kneding, coughiQg and
spitting, to hdpe me to sing out a Paalme, and sleepe
at the second Lesson, or awake to stand op at the
Gospd, and say Amen at The Peace of God ; and stay
till the Banes of Matrimony be asked, or tiU the Oerite
hath crysd a pyed stray buOock, a black sheepe, or a
gray mare : and then, for that some dwdl fiurre off, be
glad to be gotten home to dinner. Now we that have
no more living then will haidljr aerae to keeps a poore
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A MERRY DIALOGUE.
boose, are not in CMe, Ood helpe ns, to doe anything for
our poore bnthnn \ and therefote njr good friend^
troiil>le us not with other speech then we nndentand,
lest if jott oome afore the Constable, he take you for
some Conjurer, and so bri^g your seUe to some trouble ;
which I would be sorry to see : for truely yon seeme a
handsome man ; God hath done his part in you; God
be with yon. Oh Lord (thought I) is this man possible
to be a Churdi-man, and knowelh so little what
belongeth to the Church? Well, this was no little
mistaking : but gohig a little further, leaving this poore
Sir JenUn to his mother tongue, I ovcrtooke a plaine
felknr, to my seeming dad in a home spun ierUn of
russet wooll, a pahe of ckwe breeches of the same, a
falling band somewhat courser then fine Gambricke, a
payre of woUen stockings, and a haUe boote, like a good
high shooe. Now, this plaine out-side, I guessed to be
lined with no eioeQentstttffe in the inside: and therefore
somewhat more booldly then rudely, sahited him in this
manner : good fellow, well overtaken. You are wel-
come, quoth hee : but to ckp a man on the shoulder
before you know him is a pofait quite out of the rule of
all good manners, at least that ever I learned. Alas,
I. good man downe, can your nose abide no
Yes sir, quoth he, with my friends ; but mine
eaies have no {Measure in a foole. This toudiing me
too neerv the qidcke, [I] replied agatne : Oh sir, quoth I,
then if your friends be fooles, you will shake hands with
them ; but a stmnger will put you out of patience.
Hee little mooved herewith, (as it seemed) made mee
this answoe : My friend, I pray you keepe your way,
I would be loth to hinder your walke: but if your
passkm be no greater then my impatience, wee shall not
frOl out for a trifle. But Sir (quoth I) how might I fidl
in either with your self«, or such another, for a matter
of good earnest ? It seemes you are a man of senoe,
and had I not given yon cause of displeasure, which I
am sorry for, I would have acqimimrd you with some-
what, that by your good meanes, I might perhapps be
the better for. Truely Sir, quoth he, my estate is not
sudi as can make me bountifttll to the best deserving ;
but so fine as discretion will give me leave, I wouU be
glad to pleasure a stranger. My house is not farre hence,
but on the further side of this field ; whither (if it may
be no great hinderance to your travell) I will Intreate
your patience to a poore pittance, and if hi either my
aduise or better meanes, I may stead your desire, you
shall find that you doe not looke for ; nocUng that you
shall pay for ; and somewhat that perhaps you shall
thank me for: and therfore, I pray you beare me
oompany for this night ; to morrow you shall take your
Journey at your pleasure. This Und offer (having no
reason to refuse) I tooke most thankfully : and by the
wayafterafowdiaooniieiof myfortnnet; I acquainted
28
him with the resolution of my intent, which was either
to seme in the warres, or in Court, or to profiesse some
trade, or to foUow my studio To which, I asked his
aduice for my good, in all and every one of them : to
which, as I propounded the questkm, he made me this
answcre. And first, quoth he, my friend, I am sorrie,
by these your discourses, to have occasion to call to
mind the foUy of my youth, which taught me nothing in
mine age, but the repentance of lost time : but for that
I have tried fortune to the uttermost of her malice, and
in the end am come to that you see, I would be glad to
tell you a merry tale, bow I was mistaken in many
courses, before I hit on the tight fimipassf : In whfch,
if you can gather anything for your good, I shall thinke
it the best gaUie that I have made of it. Now findhig
this vnlooked for, and vndeserued kindnesseat his lumds,
and nothing more fitting the humour of my fortune at
that time. I intreated him most hartily, to make me In
this first to be beholdmg to him. Whereupon, with a
very little preamble, he fell into this plahie trot : I will
tell you, when I was as yong as you are, and had as
little to care for as you have, being brought up at home
with ease and plentie, and weary of weUtre, would falne
have I know not what, when having the wotid more at
will, then win to goveme my affections, and a desire to
see more then I could well carry away, thinking my
mothers best creame but bare milke; and others thinnest
milke as good creame as might make butter ; taking
leave of no friend, and flattering my thou^its with forw
tune, I would to sea forsooth, with a sight of such spirits,
as (but that theykMked like men) wouU have made
poore people afraid of them: yet these were the men
with whom (in the more hast then good speed) I must
goe lose abroad what I had gotten at home. When,
hoping to have light on some good prise, I was taken
prisoaer with the enemie : of whom being stript of tluU
I had,_with a few old raggs on my backe, among a few
of my firilow sailors, that were set on shore in a poore
taking, I found how I began to be mistaken ; to leave
the land for the Sea, and a safe home for a strange har-
bour. But now on shore vrith my good fellowes in for-
tune, everyman shifting for himselfe, and I tryii^ so
many wayes to the wood, that I have lost my selfe in the
plahie, wearie of doing nocUng, began to looke about
me for my better profit : but such were my orossts in all
my courses, that I could never thrive till I got home
aipMne. For to make an abridgement of a long tale, I
will tell you : In courting I found more cost then 00m-
fort : in warre, more danger then ease ; in leamlngt
moRStndle then profit; hi tiafBcke, more galne then
conscience; in sernice, more pahie then honour; in
marriage, more care then quiet ; and in lore, more pleap
sure then vertue : so that in all my oounes being nab-
taken, that I found a crome to my comfort in enty of
B
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A MERRY DIALOGUE.
than, I fieuiely left the Courtier to his curtesies, the
souldier to his inarches, the scboUar to his studies, the
merchant to his trafficke, the married man to his pm^-
tory, and the lover to his vanitie : and home returned to
my poore cotuge that my parents left me ; and, as mf
wife tells me, my sonnes shall possease after me. Heere
1 live in a meane course, content, and glad of Oods
blessings, never in danger to be mistaken, because I
trust onely to experience: while doing honor to God, and
following my businesse, with the sweate of my browes,
I gaine the foode of my sences, with my necessary
appurtenances. O my friend, beleeve me, hee that is
contented is rich, while he that is rich is not contented :
a little sufficeth nature, and ezcesse is but hurtftill;
beauty but the inchanter of wit ; ambition, bat the over*
throw of vertue ; couetousnesse, the corrupter of con-
sdenoe ; authoritie, the charge of care ; pride, the hate
of nature ; enuie, the nurse of malice, and wrath, the
inuenter of murther : sloth, the losse of time ; drunken-
nesse, the shame of nature ; gluttony, the ground of
licknmse ; and lechery the fire of sfame. These notes
when I had taken by the light of Gods grace, and
obseruation of times, leaving all extremities, I tooka
this meane course : where though home be homely, yet
living quietly and contentedly, I find it true, That he who
serueth God bartily, liveth happily, and dieth joyftdly.
Now my good fiiend, if I might aduise you for your
good, I would wish you to take a stayed course, and lay
away all running humours : looke home, love home, Uv«
at home ; a small assurance is better then a great hope^
and a little possession then a great possibilitie, and
when a man hath his owne, hee neede not borrow of his
neighbours. Travell may be pleashig, and semice hope-
ful!, trafficke gainefiill, and wealth powarfuU : but a
comienient house, an honest patrimony, a kind wila*
obedient children, fisithful seruants, and loving ndgfa^
boors* make such a oommomrealth of contentment in
the tnia conceit of a carefull understanding ; that a king
of a mole-hill, were better then a lord of a great butch.
Ok, to see in a fdre morning, or a Snnnie evening, the
Lambes and Rabbets run at baoe, the birds billing, the
fishes playing, and the flowers budding, who would not
leave the drinking in an Ale-house, the wrangling in a
dicing-house, the lying in a market, and the chearing in
a layre ; and thinke that the brightnesae of a Cure day,
doth put downe all the beauties of the world. But I
doubt I grow tedious, and therefore being so neere
home, I will hitreat your patience till we have sapped,
asd only assure you of a good welcome, to supply the
want of better cheers. With this breaking off his talke,
he tooke me by the hand and led me into his house, the
doore open, as unfearefuU of tbeeves, as vnprovided for
strangers : where we were at the entry saluted with a
mo^iaBt smile of a kind wife, humble courtesies of most
sweet children, due reverence of comely servants, add a
table fiunished for both host and a good guest. Here
(though no Inne) yet I tooke up my kxiging, where with
the entertainement of much kindnesse, havmg fied both
body and mind with sufficient comforts, with due thanks
for all curtesies, I tooke leave of the whole &mfly of
whom hi general! I received kindnesse. Inthemonii^
not too early, receiviag an extnocdiaaiy golden lB.vour,
for a friendly fieureweU, calling to mind his discourses of
mistakingf and notfa)g mine owne crosses in my courses ;
I tooke his cdunsell for my oomlbrt, and with as mndi
wpooA. as I could, leaving my travdl turned even &ire
home againe. And thus much fior this time of nf
traveUL Now what say you of yours? for I am sure yon
have not lived alwayes at hom&
Dor. Oh fine tale, you were tba best ■p^'-^^Tn is
that man of all other : for, where you hoped well of
other, you found the contrary : but of him yo« ^i^^^rght
but littl«, and found much food. But it is no rare
thing : for a man may looke like an Owle, that hath
more wit then ten Asses ; and a woman imiy bride it
like a maki, that hath beene the laother ^ many chil.
dren. A King hi a Play may be a begger ftom the
stage, and a ck)wted shooe may have a pate beyond aB
the Parish. Oh, take heed of a Wolfe in a Lambei
skinne, and talke not of hawking, till you have beene a
Faulconer : for if a man have not his five witts, he may
be a foole in foure of them. But, lest you take my
words for a Lecture, which may be more tedious then
pleasing I will a little tell you of my travell, and bow I
was taken in eveiy comer.
Lor. Yea Sir, now you speake somewhat to the
matter. If your taking were like my mistaking, then
perhaps we should shake hands for our fortunes. But
howsoever it was, I pray you make me acqnaintod with
it.
Dor. I will : and first you shall understand, that my
first travel! being crosse the seas, I was taken short of
my course, and by strange people carried to a strange
place : where being taken for no worse then I was, I
was used no better then I should be. But after that I
had got out of this taking, I forthwith fell to devise with
my sdfe, what course I should take for my comfort, and
fimt I woukl take upon me to be a Courtier, when I
would be so gay, as if honour attended upon colours :
but wise men taking me as I then was, but a footet
brought me into such a taking, that what with love, and
what with sorrow. I tooke such passions, as brought me
to a weake taking : And yet I was taken among the
best for an honest man, and a well meaning. But in
taking my courtly course, my word was so taken in
eveiy comer, and my name so taken in every booke,
that I grew so afinsid of takers, that I durst not almost
goe into any place for Ibare of taking. And to thinke
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II
of cbe MBdff Undi of lakufl^ H is stimnge to dunke
tfaat any ons ahouUl be fakm op and taken downe ao
I as I wi& If I but courted a wench, I was
I lor a wencber ; if I talked menilf. I was taken liar
a|eaalaf, if 1 looked sadly. J was taken for a ^ie ; if I
wore libefail. ibr a prodigall ; if thrifty, for a anndge ;
if nJiant, for a quaneUer ; if patient, a oowaid ; if rich,
wise ; if poere a loole : so that they, who knew not how
to take any thinf as fit shonkl bei tooke me to be sny
thine that they wouU haw ne to be. But this was not
enoofh: iarif I gave ray word, I was taken for a surety;
if I hnhe M, I was taken for n baack^npt ; If I kept it,
I wns taken ibr a silly leUow ; if I talked of n diaease. 1
was taken for a Fhysitian ; if of a case a Lawyer ; if of
amies a Captalne: if of religion, at least a Doctor:
so that (ps I said beiore) I was taken so many wayes,
that I knew not WttU which way lo take my seUiB. fiat
beyond al these, not andy my self was thus taken to be
this and tfaat : but my bone was taken post, my pone
wastaken prisoner, myword was taken hold of; and
what was I, or had I, but was either taken up or downe :
my hone was taken up, my pone was taken downe ;
my word was taken op, my mind was taken downe : in
brieiiB, you could not be more mistaken in any cUng,
then I was taken for every thing. Bmi lest yon should
tUnhe I should chop Logiche with you, or thinim much
of my farenth m telling a kmg tale, I wiU tell you how I
bad like to have been taken aappring. Going to an
Oodinary to dinner,, with a fiaend of mine, who had
haene with me at the taking np of a little money, no
sooner we were entred into the house, and acanae set
downe to a table, short above an home for eotering to-
ipper, but wee wen taken up for n reat at
: when being taken iar n gamester, I had the
trick pnt npon me, wfaieh no aeonar I espied, but hav-
ing got a small rest <nr tupo, faining an nrgeat bnainease,
I took «''*^«*'^ to kave off; lor which cause I was
taken for a cheater. Which iittmg some of that plaoe,
who taking me fior a fine finpeed oompanion, Celi abord
with me ibr assistance and ndoice. so £uve, thai at ktft,
in an assumnoe of aqr fidahtie to them, and vHlany to
aJl the worid beaidea, they put a aum of asoney into my
hands to goe to play with. Which money, I no aooner
waa master oC but die wind seruing well, and I in
madteesse to bee 900^ in the stiH time of the nigfat,
got meanea to ahtp my aelfe for Roane : where beteg a
atiai«>er, I waa to take what conoe I well could for my
eomfarL Where, no sosner I waa arived, but I andted
tothmkehowlhadovertoakemylsfcen. TTni nmii
big to ig«Har,.aad finding ^wwsea eorife, that an honeat
Phiritian might aat hia Apolhnmry waU on wodw, I
> ^IkiiWi ami Cajueam, to pep»
\ of nay Art or atndfe ; that who
wonldnesgiue me ageodiee fornaoieiineer? Oh,
bealing but a Whittoe on a Lords thumbe, and the
crampe in a Ladies finger, I went for the cunning man.
that had a cure for all diseases. So that there was not
a yong wench that would not have a child ; a young
man that was weake stomaked; an old sir that was
deaie ; nor an old Grandam bland ; but would seeke to
mee ibr remedie. By reason whereof, I came to the
knowledge of some secrets, that made me sought to
farre and neere. To be short, I was taken for such a
Physitiaa, that I tooke no little profit of my patienu.
But least my sUl would be descryed, and so my pro-
lesaian disciedit[ed], I turned all my greetings into gold,
which I shipt with my selfe for Antwerpe. But ill gotten,
ill spent, ere I came halfe way over sea, I was taken
prisoner by a Pyxmte, who after hee had taken my goods,
keept me in hold for my ransorae : which having payed,
and gotten away, take me ever after that what they
would, I would take no pioiesaion upon mee, but taking
the world as I could, I would thinke to use it as I had
reason. And thus much for my two first takings. Now
recovering my losses as well as my wiu and fortune
would give me leave, I began to take an humour of
kyve, and by a Uttle doquenoe, and fine disaimnlation,
to goe about (as I tooke her) a creature of more beantie
then wit, and tallce tiien honeaty. To bee short, ahee
was of the donbtfall gn niV r, the common of two or three
acorea, or hundreds, I know not whether. Now this
kik-Hmes nustmase I woukl have a kmd bout withall, to
see if my wit oooid helpe my purse in going beyond the
wiles of a woman : but iriiile I alood gasing on her
leering-eyes, she so stole away my heart with a vaine
afifictkm, that to teU yon txotli, I waa taken in kive, and
Aai ao fost, as that to take hoU of her kindnesae, she
tooke imki<^ my coat. For if ahe but apake of that she
lilced, if my purse could purehaiff it, ahe waa sure to
bane it : ao that in n little time, she tooke my kindnesae
so kindly, thai I was counted the kh&dest nian<I wili not
aay foole) in the worid. Oh, I was not onely so taken,
but so oeertaken with this taking<4nistiesae that she
brought me into such a taking, as is scarce worth talk-
ing cL Oh, mine eyes were so taken with beauty, my
heart with vanity, my wiu with iblly, and my purse
with prodigality ; that had I not the aooner left this
Taker, I had left nothing for takfaig. Now su-, being
tfana weary of my fove-taking. or my takfaig fover, 1
began to bfthinke aw what coarse I were best to
take for my eomfort: when finding many malirious
people, that oouM not live qaiedy with their neigh-
boun, spend mudh money to little purpose, and so fed
the Lasryers with fees, thai they left their ponea with
money: I began to thinke, that a litdeatndyfai the Law.
nne arach good hi a oomaaon-wealth. Where-
without much drramstannft I got me into the
fommli outskie of a kitty feifow ; and for the better
countenance to my credit furnished my study with more
bookes, then I had either time to read, or wit to under-
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A MERRY DIALOGUE.
stand. When hauing gotten acquaintance with some
setters for Clients, rubbing over my poore FVencfa, having
LittUtom before me, and a booke of notes, I know not of
whose writing, I would set on such a counselling coun-
tenance, as if I had beene at the banre before I knew the
hall : when, what with a multitude of Clients and golden
fees, I made such a gaine of my dissembling, that neere
a Lawyer of my standing, but I carried it deane fix>m
him, man and matter and all. In whidi pritty thriving
course, I had not continued long, but that being found
by my learning unfit to pleade for a blacke-puddtng, I
was taken for a petty-fogger, and not so good as a poore
Clarke ; so that my condition being found to be bat a
practiser with cunning, to trouble the quiet of honest
people, for feare of being turned over the barre, I was
fidne to tume my compasse to another course. But to
tell you, during the time of my profession, how honest a
man I was taken among knaues, and how contrary
among honest men, I would be loth to have notice
taken : for indeede I was rather a bench-^istler, then a
bencher ; and more meete (for my good conadenoe) to
be arraigned at the banre, then to plead at a bane. But
as I said before lest I should be taken for that I trudy
was, I left that course, and tooke another hiuention by
the backe. I got me into a Countrey where I was un-
knowne, and there hoping that men that sought to win
heaven by their good deedes, would surdy enrich me
with their charitie : I began to counterfeit a diseased
creature, and seeming with the rueliill countenance that
I framed for the purpose, I would so move the hearts,
and picke the purses of kind people, that I doubted not
in time to grow a wealthy begger. And with this
inuention I went forward, till, after I had so long fol-
lowed my profession, that my benefectors grew weary of
their liberalitie : it fell out by good, or ill hap rather,
that I rhancftd to beg of a very neate and handsome
man, who seemed by his mikl eye to have a heart piti-
full to the distressed. But hee more canning to pry hito
the knauery of my dissembling, then to cure me of my
disease, if I had had any, asked .me of my pahie, and
how I had beene diseased. Which, when I lutd untruly
told him, hee willed me to come home to him, and he
would undertake to heak me. Oh how glad I seemed
of his kmdnesse, and promised to waite upon him, with
many humble thankfft But fearing this my undertaker
should so overtake me hi taking mee napping in my
knavery, I feirely took my way out of the towne, and
never came within the gates after. Thus was I almost
overtaken with a water, before I had made my fire bume
haUe kindly. To be short, if I should tell you all the
courses that I have taken, and how I have beene taken
in every of them, I should make you thinke all 3roar mis-
taking but a trifle in comparison of many a miserable
taking, that I have beene in.
Lor. Why man, so kMig as yon never tooke any
course so fane out of compasw, but yon could guesse
whereaboats you were ; nor ever went so ferre any way,
but you could find the way home againe : let us take
hands together like good firiends and take all wdl that
hath hit well, and warning by that hath felne amisse, to
follow such a folly any fbither.
Dos. You say wdl. but yet ere I make a fuD end, I
will ten you how kindly I was entertained in apfaioe, that
by chance I tooke up for my lodging, where bdng taken
as faideede I was, a man of more hooestie then wit, and
kindnesse then wealth : after good dieere and wdoome,
the good man of the house taking me aside, twgan to
reade me this honest lesson : my firiend quoth he, far
that I take you for a man of that good disposition, that
will take any thing wdl that is wdl meant, let me teU
you, there be many men in the worid, that with mis-
taking the right course of discretioa, run such wild
courses as bring many of them faitopitiluU takings. Som
no sooner come into their land but they take up their
rents afore the day, so long that they are ready to make
a new taking for an old matter : other take money for
leases, ere they know the value of thdr lands : other take
money for their lands, ere they wdl know the Summary
of thdr rents. All these are commonly taken prisoners,
dther vrith the heart-ach for vrant of money ; or the
head-adi for want of wit. And, for many of them, they
are taken dther with the beggar, the theefe, the cheater,
or the foole. Some when they have nocUng to take to.
will take a wife to hdpe forward a miscfaiefe, or mend an
ill matter, but such a one may hap to take a wrong sow
by the eare, that may bite him by the fingers for his
labour : another perhaps takes upon him to be a Fhisi-
tian, or a Surgeon, and with a pill and a plaster, makes
profesdon of great wonders. Now he with taking upon
him much skill, takes much money, and though for want
<^ knowledge, or through crafty viUany, hee is determined
to make againe of his patient, hee will one day give him
ease, and another day torment, as he finds the nature of
his purse, in stead of his pulses. Now, is it not pittie,
but that such a horse-leech were taken and hanged, and
to make a gaine of griefe, will bring any Christian into
such a taking?
Lor. O Lord, is it possible, that there is any such
creature in the world, that by so divdish a nature will
shew himselfe such a dog?
Dor. Too many, but give me leave a little. Some
take upon them to be Divines, whidi ondy make the
name of God a doke for thdr knavery : But these may
rather be called hiroh-men then Churcb-men, who as
they are not troubled with much learning, so they have
no more honesty, then they may wdl away withall. But
these who take deven for tenths, and yet can scaree
reade any other names, then are written in thdr Esaier-
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A MERRY DIALOGUE.
13
bookes, is it not piltj, bat their plaoet were taken away
from them, and given to then that oook! and would take
more carefuU paines in them?
Lor. I take it 10 : bat there is such sinnge takings,
and taken in the worid, that, if God did not take tlie
more mercy on them, sorely the devfll woukl take away
a great many of tliem : but let them go.
Dor. There are others that will take upon them to
be Lawyen : and these having scarce read a line of
LittUiom, aotStf acquainted with a common case, either
in the ma«m1ine or the feminine gender, will set a solemne
coontenanoe upon the matter, and taking money enough
for fees, wiU bring poore cUenU into such a taking, that,
if they perceive not the sooner, how they are taken with
the foole, they willfede themsehies too late to be taken
with the begger. Now these kmd of injurious privy pro-
fessors of the Law will take <^ all hands ui all matters,
and ytbxoi they are taken napphig with the matter, they
take small heans griefe at any punishment that doth
befall them. Now, is it not pitty that sach petty foggers,
as will pry into mens titles, pleade on both sides, and
take all they can come by, were not taken from the banre,
and barred for ever cnmming more at a barre?
Lor. Yea, methtokes it is a great scandal! to the Law,
that such an offender of the Law, as so abaseth the Law,
should not be more sharpdy punished by the Law.
Dor. You say well, but let me tell you a little more
of takers. There are other, that if they can write Item
fp<- a yard of Satten. a halfe elle and quarter of Taffety,
fold up a piece of Grogemm, aske what lacke you, and
sell an elle of Siprous, why he takes himsdfe to be a
Merchant, and that of no meane account in his parish.
But let him be, if he can make a gaineof a countenance,
he is worthy to live by his wit : but if he can take up
wares or money upon dayes, not caring for the payment,
till he have inriched himselfe with other mens goods,
and upon a snddaine take Lnd-gate, and pay them with
the Banck-rupt ; is it not pitty but that he who so
abuscth the credit of a Merchant, should be banished
for ever comming more into the dty?
I OR. Alas, if a poore Gentleman breake day, in the
payment of fburty shillings, the Se^reants will take him
prisoner, and all the towne will take him for a shifter :
but God Messe me out of sndi takings.
Dor. Wen, there are so many iO takers, that it is
pitty there are no better orders taken with them, but let
th<;m goe. Now there are some that take all that comes,
till being taken napping, the hangman taketh order with
their clothes. Other take another mans wife for their
owiie. that being taken with the matter, either fidl into
a pittifull taking for their knavery, or make their pufses
uke order for their delivery. All these, with many more,
are wicked courses to be taken. But to leaue all
occasions of ill taking : take a good course, serue Ood,
take a bit at home, rather then a banquet abroad, and
water of thine owne, then wine of anothers : take account
with thine estate for the defraying of thy charge, take no
rent before the day, take no counsell with the wicked,
take no pleasure in vanity, lest when thou want that is
neoessaiy, you receive comfort with sorrow, or despaire
hi misery : take not a wife without wealth, for it will
helpe to hold love ; nor without wit, for there is no
plague to a foole, nor without grace, for it is a hell to
be jealous ; nor without beauty, for there is no pleasure
in deformity ; nor without education, for a shit wiU be
noysome, and a novice idle ; take her not too old for
conscience sake, nor too yong for thrifts sake ; take
knowledge of her, ere you love her, lest if you be mis-
taken, you were better to be without her. And last of
all, take heed of a Whore, a paire of Dice, a Parasite, a
Piandcr, a Cheater, a Flatterer, and a Promooter. Take
a Courtier for a fine man, a Lawyer for a wise man, a
Souldier for a valiant, a Divine for a learned man, a
Merchant for a rich man, a Qowne for a painelull man,
and a bq;ger fore a poore man : but for an honest man,
take him as you find him, in what estate so ever he be :
If he be in a great one, give him honour ; if in a meane
one give him praise. Now if you find Wealth, Valour,
Wisedome, Learning, Labour, and Honesty, all in one
man ; note him for a rare man, and take him for the
best man. But, because in many it Calleth out, that
Wealth causeth Pride ; Wit, cunning : Learning, pollicy ;
Valour, discord ; Paines, griefe ; and Poverty, misery :
take good notice of every man you have to deale withaJl,
and have to doe with as few as you can. And for an
end, if a good occasion may be taken, slip it not ; if a
good gift may be taken, refiise it not : and if you have
taken a good course leave it not. Take God for thy
chiefe good, thy wit for thy seruant, thy wife for thy com-
panion, and thy children for thy comfort : and what thou
hast, take patiently and thankfully. So shalt thou be
sure, at the count-taking of all the world, thou shalt be
taken into the joyes everbuting. This rule was I taught
to take by them, whom I justly tooke, and truly found
my good friends. So my good frind, for that I take a
gesse of a gratious disposition in you, that you will not
take scome of a small gift of a poore friend : let me
intreate you to take your supper and lodging upon my
charge, and this piece of gold towards the defraying of
your further charges. Thus when I had thankefully
taken his kind offer, and further had well taken to
memory his good admonitions, I tooke my leave of Urn,
and according to his counsell tooke my way home againe :
where, how happy I should hold my seUe to enjoy
your company, I shall make you know by that you
find.
Lor. Oh Sir, you have got the start of mee, it was
the sute I meant to have made to you : but since it is
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H
A MERRY DIALOGUE,
your fbrtimc to be before mee. I am ai yo v will to bee
absenoe ]mi flMy see me. so in siknse you nay teaie
disposed.
Boee? I pcmy you bean mee oonpaay houM, and I will
Doe. Sir, oomplemems are so oonunon, that they be
bring yon halle way backe acsi^
of amaU acooimi, and therefore I will aay but this: CfaMe
your owBe time, and aake your owne wdoome.
Lor. if loan nquite you, I will not forget you, and
detraottime, I am at your diacwtion.
let this suffice you : shortly I ho|)e lo see yon, I will
Dor. Ithankeyou; Letttsgoa.
Dos. What? shall we have oU Adwbs? As ia
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Pagb 4, To TUR Reader, L 3, *«nm«,'s
choal : L xo^ *Ust' s chooses.
T. 5, col. I, 1. 7, * AT teeve,* i.e. as lief, as willingly :
col. 2, 1. 93, * Buon-a-^enture, — see Index of Names for
other occurrences of this ship.
P. 6, coL 1,15,' moiUd ' = toiled : L 9 (from bot>
torn), 'as it were' = perhaps : L 5 (iUd,), * scot-Jree' =
free irom 'scot,' untaxed : cc^ 2, 1. ax, 'groaU* ^sl
coin worth fourpence, a small sum of money : L 54,
*fy*d' = parti-coloured : L 17 (from bottom^, *not a
chimney that smokes : ' Plazkes in his ' Curtaine-Drawer '
(1612) has many hits on those who were inhospitable,
e^. ' Then [in the good old times] Noblemens chimneys
vsed to smoake and not their noses,' (p. 22)— and so
trenchantly throughout (reproduced in Grosart's ' Occa-
sional Issues of Unique or Elxtremely Rare Books in
Early English Literature') : 1. z6 (from bottom) : see
our Memorial-Introduction fior a curious early account
of Mock-Beggar HaU : 1. 13 (from bottom), ' table-book ;'
a book with leaves of vellun, or ivory or wood or slate,
for recording memoranda. Earlier in Hamlet (iL a),
' if I had played the desk or table-book,' and in Winter's
Tale. 'Table-book, ballad, knife' (iv. 3). Later, 'Yes.
sir. and would have prick'd such an impression of mine
besides in her table-book ; heaven bless thegentle-woman,
she's a fair one.' (Howard, Man of Newmarket, 1678.)
A quotatioii
will make
P. 7, ooi X, 1. 7, ' bard,' 1. 11,
from Oeotge Herbert and our i
this dear:
' Agact in things iSbout thee
That all may iMly board thea. M a flown : '
' French, aborder, to go or come side by side with :
hence it has the same etymology and meaning as accost
(aocoast, Fr. coste or cdte) : " accost her or front her,
board her, «roo her, mmiI her." (TwcUOi Night L 3.)
As a resulting sense, the French e^herder also neam to
beoome iismiiiar with (Cotgmve).'— AUiae eda. v^^^^ :
L37.'yVaitff*/'sficight:Lsx. '/^r'^fiailh :«oL9, L 4
(from botton), 'gmi €kmfe' a very cheap: So atffein
Herbert:—
' Hani ihingB are gloirioas, earfe things good cheap '
= pass at a cheap or less rate ; are bou meirchd (as be-
fore, p. 154).
P. 8. coL z, L Z3 (from bottom). 'BndemU' s pri-
son so named : coLslL 14, * hmnd-fasbed' a^otoee feted,
niggarcUy : I. a6, ' Mnacrc^ ' s CoOege cap? L is
(from bottom), ' ConMrftofcr' sidle 'corner 'place? see
Giosaarial Index, j.v. : L 9 {ibid.), 'tafpewg* « taking
off a>e cap, salntataan : L 5 {ikU,), ' Baem' m ban or
baoas : so Hertiert : —
May yet nxhid the ratiww and Una. —
(Aldineeda. p. «6o.)
1. 4 {ibiJ.), ' pyed* = parti-coloured, as before.
P.9. coL it\» St* ComJMrer' = the vulgar impostor who
haunu Fairs, etc., a juggler: L xa, ^Sirjemkin:' 'Sir'
loz:^ preceded ' Reverend' as the prefix for a clergyman :
'Jenkin' slyly intimates this parson was a Welshman :
I. 13, ' itrksM. ' s upper doublet, with skirts : L 14, *close
breeches* ss tiglit-fitting as distinguishrd from the loose
or ' bag ' kind : L 15^ *£aHrser' s coarser : coL a, L 19.
* beholdisig' =i Miida obligation: see Glossarial-Index,
S.V.: L 3S, '/;^^' = Ut, aljghted: L 39, * taking' ^
condition.
P. TO, ooL I, 1, 14 (from bottom), *haee* .
apoctive game : col, a, L 03. */rmm' » away from or off.
P. II, cot I, L 6, *snudge* = mean, sneaking fellow :
1. 34, *Primero:* I give the following note fttMn my
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NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS,
'5
Aldine editkm of Herbert, as before : * pull for friwu '
95. Jordan, L za : ' As suggested in the place in our edition
of Dean Donne, Satire ii., to " pull, is to draw from the
pack" (VoL i. p. as.) Nares is of this opinion, found-
ing on a passage in Beaumont and Fletcher's " Mons.
Thomas," fv. 9. He is doubtful under " Prime," but
under '* Hesi" expresses himself as above ; and to his
quotation we add from "The Churdi Militant," L 135,
"To this great kHterie, and all would pull," where "pull "
is similarly used for drawing one at haxard frx>m a
number.' I repeat here our note in Donne, as sitpra :
'Stephen's MS. reads "as men pulling for prime."
" Prime," inprimero, is a winning hand of different suits
[with probably certain limitations as to the numbers of
the cards, since there were different primes,] different to
and of lower value than a flush or hand of [four] cards
of the same suit. The game is not unknown ; but from
such notices as we have, it woukl seem that one could
stand on their hands, or, as in ^cart^ and other games,
discard and take in others (see Nares, s.v.)' — (pp. 384-5).
L 59, 'JiMgrged' = fingered, our light-fingered, i.e. pick-
pockets : iHd, ' abord:* see note on page 7, col. 1. 1. 7 :
1. 10 (from bottom), ' Roane' —q^M. Rouen? 1. 4 {ibid.)
' Ceprasi* « copperas, red copper? last line, * Whitloe'
= swelling and inflammation about the nails or finger
ends.
P. la, coL I, L 3, 'LiMelom ' =s Ike great Law-book :
L ao, 'bemcJ^^oAifller'ts idler in the Court : see Gfossarial-
Index, S.V.: coL a, I. 5 (from bottom) *lmfrk-men:'
lurcher, is a glutton : see Glossanal-Index, s.v. : last line,
' Easter-iookes ' = Prayer-books ?
P. 13, coL z, L 39, ' Taffety" = a kind of thin silk :
1. 30, • Grogtram ' or grograin or grogeran— a kind of
coarse taffety : L 31, * Sifrous ' = Cyprus— a thin trans-
parent black stuff, crape used in mourning. Used by
Milton in II Penseroso : —
' Sable ftok of cypress lawn.
Over thy decent shoolden thrown. '
L 41, * breaie day ' = £eu1 to meet bill on the ' day ' it is
due: L 43, 'jA(>%^' = unsettled: col. a, 1. ao, 'faine-
full" = painstaking, as under old portraits we read so
and so was a ' painful ' preacher : L az, 'fore'^may be
a misprint for ' for ' or may be = before.
P. Z4, coL I, L 9, 'Adverbs' — qu. modifying ?—G.
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Dialogue full of pithe
and pleasure.
1603.
26
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NOTE.
This ' Dialogue ' is among the very rarest of Breton's books. We
have the privilege of a fine copy. Another is in the British Museum.
4to, pp. 38. See Memorial- Introduction on Breton's travels and know-
ledge of Italian, etc. — G.
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Dialogue full of pithe
and pleafure: between three
Phylosophers : Antonio, Meandro,
and Dinarco :
Vpon the Dignitie, or
Indignitie of Man.
Partly Translated out of Italian^ and partly set
downe by way of obseruation.
By Nicholas Breton, Gentleman.
DigHUS honort pius
Gloria sola Deus.
LONDON
Printed by T. C for Iohn Browne, and are to be solde
at his Shop in Saint- Dunstons Church-yard in
Fleetstreete. 1 603.
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TO THE RIGHT
Worshipful! the louer of all good spirites, and nourisher of all good studies,
lohn Linewray, Esquier Master Surueior generall of all her Maiesties
Ordinate Nicholas Breton wisheth the merits of much worthinesse on
earthy and the ioyes of heauen hereafter.
|Ir, it is a custom among the best minds, to cal their thoughts daily to account, to whom and in what they are
beholding, which considered, they Hedl next to the endeuour of desert, and last of all into a hate of them-
selues, if they performe not something, wherein they are scene to be themadues : now, finding my seUe so
"much bound to your vndeserued lauours, that I cannot anoid Ingratitude, to bury them in obliuion, I haue
awaked my dull spirit to salute your kindnesse, with this token of my loue : wherein you shall finde a matter of more
worth then I am worthy to meddle with handled in Dialogue-wise, betwixt three Phik>sophers : in whidi, vnder the
Title of the Dignitie or Indignitie of Man, are discoursed many necessary points to be considered of, as wdl for the
outward as the inward parts ; wherein it may be you shall finde pleasant wittes speake |o some puipose, no Madiauilian
pollides, nor yet idle fisbles, no straunge Riddles, nor vaine libelling ballades, but quipke spirits whetting their braines,
to shewe the edge of their inuentions : and not to be tedious in my Pre£Bboe before you come to the matter, yon shall
finde in summe, that true worth, wherin Ueth the whole matter, that only maketh the worthie or vnworthie man, and
the due glorie vnto God, who is only worthie of all honour, and of all men : the greatest part of this booke was in
Italian, dedicated to a man of much esteeme, in the Dukedome of Plortmce, and this booke in this our Language, I haue
thought good here in England, to present to your worthinesse, of a better worke, in this her Maiesties RoyaQ Tower
of London : in whkdi, as by your oontinuall tranels in your place, you doubtlesse deserue no lesse gracious regudtt of
the greatest, then acooont with the wisest ; so would I be glad by the due finite of my thankliilnesse, of your selfe, and
men of your worth, to be worthily thought honest. In assured hope whereof leaning my booke to your kinde accepta-
tion, and my loue to your like aooonnt, I rest,
* Yours agtctimuUtly
to commaumd
NicH. Breton.
Co t^e Beaber.
r your patience gentle Reader, giue mee leaue
to laie before your eyes, a discourse vpon
the Dignitie, or Indignitie of Man, handled
in the maner of a Dialogue, by two or three
conceited companions : that though they were no great
Graduates, yet it seemed by that they spake, they vnder-
stood what they teamed ; and though they exceed not in
their knowledge, yet they went not to schoole for nothing :
two of them it should seemewere younger then the third,
who, in his sullaine humour vsed speech that might giue
cause of mirth ; how euer they disagreed hi theb* o|^nions
toudihig the matter they had in taike, yet they parted.
and liued such fiiends, as made good vse eadi of others
company. So would I wish it to be with you that reade,
what euer you thinke of my writing, yet so to oonceiue
of my labour, that bdng not disdamfully spoken of in
this, it may be better imployed hereafter : but least I
should bqase a liking of that which may seeme not worth
the looking on, I will leaue my woike to the worlds
courtesie, and my good wH to my friends kindnesse :
and so rest to txuxy one as I haue reason.
A/riiiuU,
NicJko, Brttom,
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A Dialogue between three
conceited companions : DinarcOy Antonio^
and MeandrOj vpon the Dignitie or
Indignitie of Man.
Dinar,
AnUmio,
^ good friend, wdl oaertaken.
Dinar, That is as it falles ont.
Anto. Why ? I speak out of a good mind,
that hoped to meete with no other.
Naf, your wordes may seeme to be good,
but your minde » knowne to ]rour selfe.
Anto^ So it may bee to you, if it please you.
Dinar, But what shall I get by it ?
AtUo, No hurt, if you mistake not your sdfe : But
why do you growe into this humour ? If you desire to
be sollitary, let not me be troublesome. God be with
you.
Dinar, Nay soft, I loue you too well to let you passe
with your impatience : and therefore temper your wittes,
your walke will be the better : but tell me what you
would say, if yon could speake?
Anio, I would say that I neuer heard any man speake
as you doo : but I would you wouM spetdce !^ some
better purpose.
Dinar, Vanitie, vanitie, and all is vanitie.
Anio, What of that?
Din, Why, when all is nothing, to what purpose is
anything?
Ante, Then Icane the world, and speake of God.
Dinar, O leaue that to the Angels, for men are
become such diuels, that they are not worthy to thinke
vpon the name of God.
Anta, Oh those be Atheists, auengeance on them :
but surely there are some good creatures on y« earth
that stnoerely honor God.
Dinar, But are they not beggers most of them ?
Anio, Such beggers are rich men, which in Grace
haue a great possession.
Dinar, Yea, but that Grace hath title grace in this
world.
Anta, No matter, for there wil one day be a chaunge,
when the goats wil be seuered from the sheepe, and
then Conscience will be somewhat in account.
Dinar, You speake of a great while hence, but there
are many things to be done before that day.
Anto, And yet it may come ere it be looked for.
Dinar, True, but that is either not beleued, or litte
thought on : but a title by the way, if your haste be not
the greater, wil you stale a while with me, and sit downe
by this fidre spring? for I am not young, and old men
must hane baites, if their ioumies be frirre.
Anio, I wiU either stale or goe with you vrith all my
heart, for my bustnesse is not such as can draw me from
your company : but looke you who oommeth out of the
wood, ouer the style, making towards vs.
Dinar, It is Mundro, seeme not to see him.
Mean, Gentlemen, ye are weU met this iaixe morn-
ing : here are two sweete Fountaines, one of cleare
water, and an other of cleare wit
Dinar, What, shaU we haue a play ?
Anto, Why Sir?
Di. Why, doo not you heare the Pftrasite b^n the
Prologue?
Me, Oh Sir, good words, you know I am no capper
nor curtsie man, and therefore if I were deceiued, I am
sorrie for my opinion.
Dinar, Why you know, water may be fowle, and
wit foolish : and therfore wasli your hands ere you
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OF THE DIGNITIE
know the one, and call your thoughts together, before
y(m iudge of the other.
Mean, Indeed Sir, you do well to teach children how
to reade, but he that is entied in his Primer, needs no
helpeinhis A.B.C.
Dinar, Indeed an olde foole is no babe, and yet
bleare eyes may haue a blinde sight.
Mean. It may be a principle among Spittle-men, but
sounde limbes neede no Surgeon : but yet for your
good words I thanke you, and as I can, I will requite
you. But leaning this crosse kinde of carding, I pray
you let vs fall to some fiairer play, that Signior Antonio
may haue a part, and not stand like a Torch-bearer.
Dinar, Why deuise what you wUl, that may not
loose time, and you shall soone trie my cunning.
Mean. Why Sir, shall we speake of loue ?
Di, Oh the vainest thing of the world, which is '
either mistaken, or vnknowne, or at least if there be any,
it liueth in the heauens, where the worU cannot come
at it : what say you Antonio 9
An, Truly I haue no pleasure to loose time in idle-
nesse, for either as you said, in the world it is not, or as
it is, not worth ye talking on.
Di, Well said, wanton loue, is lust : wealthy loue,
couetousnesse, and lained k>ue hypocrisie : but the true
loue is Charity, which in the world is growne so colde,
that it makes me shiver to thinke on it, and therefore
haue litle pleasure to speake on Vl
Mean, Then Sir, shall we talke of Vertne ?
Dinar. What, how litle she is esteemed in the
worlde ? what sayes Antonio f
An. Truly Sir, I can rather sigh for her, then speake
of her, for she is so poorely maintained in many places,
that shee is called but the Lady of the baggers : and
therefore I had rather honor her where I finde her, then
talke of her, where I can do her no good : but if it
please you, shall we speake of Armes?
Di. Me thinkes peace were a better hearing, and
valure is better to be seene in action, then argument :
what sayes Meandro t
Mean. Me thinkes the sound of blood is hideous,
and the terror of death is miserable : but shall we rather
speake of peace ?
Dinar. I thinke you may holde your peace a good
while, before you can truly speake of peace among men,
for since the Author of it went fix>m the earth, I thinke
it was neuer seene in the world. How say you, Antonio f
Anto. I thinke that disccMtl hath so got the vpper
hand, that peace is so put to silence, that there is almost
nothing to be spoken of her, but that it is pittie she is
no more to be spoken of.
Dinar. True : for not only men haue no great
pleasure in her, but the women are out of loue with
her : and what shall we then talke of her?
Anto. Shall we then talke of state matters ?
Dinar. Not for your lines : make deane your dishes
and your platters, but talke of no Princes matters.
Mean. Indeed the meane is best, and a quiet is a
happie life, obey lawes, paie duties, ware bonds, keepe
silence, feare God, and pray for the Queene : these are
all the state matters, that I will either speake of, or
barken too.
Atkto, Indeed litle said, is soone amended : and
silence sildome hath offended : who looketh hye, may
haue a chip Hall in his eye.
Dinar. Yea and perhaps a choppe on his necke,
that may cost him his head : but what shall we speake
in rime?
Anto. A litle, but if you like it, shall we speake of
Poetrie?
Dinar. What Ballades ? why it is growne to such a
passe, that the £. is taken out, and of Poetry, it is
called pottry : why verses are so common, that they are
nailed upon euery poste : besides it is a poore profes-
sion.
Mean. Indeed they are most in vse with Players, and
Musitians, for else they goe downe the world for un-
ployment : but if there were a fall of rich men, there
might be some worke for them about Epitaphs : for if
they be too busie with Libels, they are put to silence
for euer after : but shall we leaue this poore subiect,
and speak of the excellency of Musique ?
Dinar. Oh the Instrument betwixt the legges, wfaerp
the stick and the Fiddle can dluide finely vpon a pbune
song, and carry the parts full, puttes downe all the
Musique of these dayes.
Mean. Yet a still Recorder doth well in a Chamber,
where a soft lip will vse him sweetly : but, what should
staid wittes trouble their heads with too many crochets ?
Let vs honour the Art, and talke of some other experi-
Anto. Shall we speake of Phisicke?
Dinar. Oh the word is ill in pronouncing, Phisicke
is an vnsauery matter, that shewes nothing but sorrow,
for the chaige of the recouery. makes the griefe of the
remedie : besides, onely on the Patients paine, groweth
the Phisitians profit : no, no, exercise, and a spore diet,
early rising, and warme doathes, is better then a pill or
a potion : Oh the very thought of it hurts my stomaeke,
I pray thee let vs talke no more of it.
Mean. Shall we then disooune of Lawe ?
Dinar. Argue that list vpon their cases, I pray Ood
keepe me from their Courts, where their quirkes and
quitides makes me desire litle of their a«quaint-
anoe.
Anto. Indeed I haue heard it compared vnto a Labo-
rinth, where one may get in when he will, and out>
when he can : but the cry of the poore so discredits
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OR INDIGNITIE OF MAN.
maoy of tbe professors, that I haue no pleasure to
speakeofit.
Mean, Shall we then talke of hunting or hawking ?
Dinar, What birdest and dogges? No, no tyring
of legges, and tearing of throates, with luring, and
hollowing, are nothing pleasing to mine humor, I doo
not loue so to make a toyle of a pleasure.
Anto, Shall we then talke of Astronomy ?
Din. No ; let YS rather looke about vs in the world,
then stand staring on the starres : I loue not, with foUow-
ing the Moone to fall into a ditch.
Mean, Shall we then speake a little of Beautie ?
Dinar. Oh tis growne so Artifidall, that the natural
is almost out of print, and because I will robbe no Arti-
ficer of his cunning, I wfll leaue that Art to the Printer.
Anto. Indeed Sir, I heare that most young Louers
are Idolaters, for instead of liuely fiioes, they do reuer-
ence to painted Images.
Dinar, Truly : I am of your minde.
Mean, Then let vs b^ginne where we left this other
day, to speake of the Dignitie or Indignitie of man ;
what say you Maister Antonio f
Anto, I wil answere your propositions, but Dinarco
shal haue the garland.
Mean, Why sir, I will not iniure the Taueme to
steale away the bush, and therefore let words that cost
litle, be affoored good cheape, and as well taken as
spoken.
Dinar. Content is pleased, and for that I will not
be ceremonious, I wiU begin to breake the Ice. I nm
perswaded that there is no creature so litle worthy
honour as man : I meane not absolutely without excep-
tions, as man hath bene and should be, but as man is,
and should not be : and because I would be glad to
heare your two kinde quarellings vpon the questions, and
for that my memorie of that I would say, may be the
better refreshed by that that either of you say. let me
intreate Antonio b^n, as the elder, I cannot say the
better scholler.
Mean, Father, wee wUl oonfesse our selues all punies
to your perfection, and SchoUers in your schoole, where,
who doth remember what you teach, may make much
of his Tnderstanding.
Dinar, Goe too I say, vse Rhethoricke to a better
vse then flatterie, and rather doo as you haue reason,
than say that you haue no thankes for : and yet but
louingly angry, I pray you take not ill a good meaning :
and Maister Antonio, let me entreat you to begin the
deliuerie of your opinion, with your reasons for the same,
touching the worthinesse or vnworthinesse of man.
Anto, Father you may commaund your children,
though we blush at our boldnesse, and therefore vnder
correction, I will be but obedient to commaundement.
Dinar. Well Antonio be not fine with your fiiendes,
it is Art to hide Art : you know I loue you, and so 1
pray you vnderstand me. and yet modestie I allow of,
so it be not belowe the diffe of good Musique : but I
pcay you begin.
AHto. Touching the dignitie, or indignitie of man,
this is mine opinion, that by all which I can with in-
different iudgement finde out by all the notes that I
haue taken in the nature and the life of man, I see not
any, but that compared with other creatures, I finde
him the lesse worthie of any, yea almost of any to be
commended. For first, touching his first substance,
was hee not created of the slime of the earth, then which,
what can be worse imagined ? And touching genera-
tion, is not man euen at this day of the like substance ?
In his conception, is he not infected with oomption?
In his breeding, full of trouble, griefe, and sicknose, to
his breeder? his place a house of darknesse, and his
libertie conioyned to. a limit? when with a world of
paine to his enlaiger, couered with ▼ndeanenesse, hee
comes he knowes not whither, is recdued by he knowes
not whom, doth hee knowes not what, and Hues he
knowes not how ; disfumished of all defence against
hurt, ynprouided of aU comfort towards his good : m-
able to stand without helpe, or to be thankfnll to them
that holdes him vp : crying before hee speakes, to
signifie sonow beyond speech ; and subiect to so many
daungers, as hourdy threaten but his death : which if
hee scape in his In&ncie, he shall finde in his dder age :
for nothing is more certain then death, nor vnoertaine
then the time, and the meane : his desires insatiable, his
humours variable, his furies intoUerable, his shmes 'in-
numerable, and so his life execrable. What? hee is
not this, hee is not himsdfe, and being this, what can
be worse then himsdfe ? for his estate, in what esute so-
euer hee be, let vs see the best that hee can be, and then
consider what withall he may be. If a King, he may be a
tyrant, and that is odious : or a sheepe, and that is erro-
nious. If a Counsdlor, he may be proud, and that may
breed enuy : he may be oouetous, and that may ooirupt
consdence. If a souldier, he may be desperate, and so
dangerous, orbloudie, and so murtherous : or couetous,
and so tredierous. If a Lawier, hee may be partiaU,
and that were perillous : or greedie, and that were
greeuous : or faithlesse, and that were villainous. If a
Merchant, hee may be banqnerout, and so a begger, or
' a cheater, and so a villaine. If an Usurer, hee may be
a dogge, and so halfe a diudL If a Trades^san, hee
may bee a felse dealer, and so a deoduer, or a plaine
dealer, and so a begger. If a Farmer, hee may bee a
Come-monger, and so a Churie : Or a Grader, and so
a Chuffed If a Miller, hee may towle false, and so prone
a Theefe. If a Labourer, hee may be lasie, and so a
lubber : or a begger, and so a roague. In summe, ex-
amine euciy one of these and see of what estate he is.
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8
OF THE DIGNITIE
that may desenie to be honoured for his worthinesse.
If a Queene, I say nothing but God preserue her. If a
Lady, she may lacke honour, and that were shameftill.
If a Gentlewoman, shee may haue a wrong tytle. and that
were pittie. If a Qtiaen, shee may be proud, and that is
vnoomely. If a Country dame, she may loue daundng,
and so further, fidling. If a begger, she may be a
Bawde, and so a bagage ; so that male, and female, I
see no sute, bat in the same they are subiect to such
imperfections, that there is little desert of commenda-
tions, which may make man a more worthy creature
then any other. If he be yong, tis oddes he is wanton :
if aged, he is willull : if rich, bee is proud : if poote,
he is desperate : if wise, he is troubled : if fonde, be is
scorned : so that he is many wayes so blameable, as
that he is almost no way commendable : but in desert
of due prsise, infcriour to many other creatures : what
feedes so grossdy, speakes more loudly. Hues so vilely ?
An Eagle will catch at no flies, when high mindes wil
stoope at low matters : a Lyon win not prey on a Larabe,
but a Tyrant will not spare the innocent : a Hawke will
be reclaimed to her lure, when a man will barken to no
learning : a horse wil know his Ryder, when a SchoUer
wil be a straunger to his maister : yea, a dogge will be
a watch-man at his maisters doore, when a seniant wil
be a theefe in his house : and a spaniell wil wagge his
taile for a bone, while a pesant wil be vngrateluU for a
great benefit. A Nightingale singes by nature, man
cries by nature : the Elephant wil leade a man through
the wildemesse, but man wil lead man to destruction :
the Lisard will keepe a man ftom the Serpent, but one
man is a Serpent to another : the Ant laboureth for his
lining, while man sleepeth out the time of his labour :
the Sparrow wil leame to keepe out, while man wil keep
in no Gompasse : the birds vnto their king the Eagle,
the beast to the Lyon, the fishes to the Whale, are more
in subiection by nature, then men either by lawe or lone,
to their Souen^gne. For neatnesse, how deane keepes
the Bee her hiue, and how fowle is many a Sluttes house ?
For apparell, how doth the Swanne prune her feathers ?
and how fiill of feathers is many a Slouens fowle coate?
For wit, how hath nature taught the Bee to sucke the
honey, and gather the waxe off the flowers, while man
with his foUy geto but poyson from the weedes? What
cunning hath Nature taught the Spyder in her webbe,
while men by Art are fiune to studie for lesse skill ? for
outward neatnesse, the beast li^eth his haire, the bird
pruneth her feathers, the fish scowreth his scales : while
man ondy is so lasie, as he will scarce finde time to wash
his hands : for inward deannesse I meane, of nature,
looke into the Beasts, and of all the most monstrous,
the Elephant, and compare them with man, yon shall
see such to be the difference, as may be a shamefuU
griefe to thinke on : there is no beast, great or small,
but knoweth his time of generation with his female,
which past, he leaoeth her, and felleth to sudi course,
as dther nature or seruice doth commaund hbn, not
dwdling vpon the vilenesse of his action, but as it were
glad to be from it :yetfortlietimeisheetohersokinde. -
that hee wiU sport and play with her, so cardiill ouer
her, that he will suffer none to hurt her, and so iealous
of her kindnesse, as that he will aduenture death» ere an
other shall enioy her. But of all the most worthy to be
noted, as I before said, is the Elephant, who oertaine
dayes before his meeting with his female, that she may
kindly entertaine him, goes to the Sea, and there as
deepe as hee dare stand for drowning, stayeth till the
wanes doo almost couer him, when being well washed,
hee walketh into some plaoe where he may diye him in
the Sunne, then goeth vnto some Rodce, where betwixt
two stones, hee wfaetteth his tuskes, as it were to burnish
them, and sharpen them for some fight : all whidi per-
formed, hee walketh full of mdanchoUy, tin hee haue met
with his female, when putting on a pleasing humour,
hee maketh her such sport, as hee findes most fitting
her contentment : which done, and haning performed
for oertaine dayes, the due course wherevnto nature hath
oommaunded him, he then retires himsdfe into some
soUitarie place, where as it were, weary, and not weU
pleased with hhnsdfe with that he hath done, sdemndy
stealeth alone downe againe to the Sea. where in like
manner as before, hee standeth, tffl he be deane washed
from the ▼ndeanenesse wherewith hee findes himsdfe
defiled : whicfa done, and dryed as before in some
Sunnie place, hee getteth him againe to his feUow mates,
where he passes the rest of his life : and (whidi I had
ahnost forgot) it is said that hee ondyonoe in the yeare,
and onely to one, thus ties the time of his deUgfat.
Now for birds, haue they not aU a time of breeding?
and doth not enery Codbe keepe with his Henne? yea.
and if hee finde any fine graine or seede that hee hokles
most daintie, wiU hee not caU for his Henne, and spare
it from himsdfe, to bestow it on her, and dye vppon him
that win dare to treade her : yea, and m the time of her
sitting, when shee seeketh for foode, wffl hdpe to hatch
vp her young, or bring fbode hito her neast, both for
her and her young ones ; and withall, haning once chosen
eadi other, how kindly without diaunge, doo they keepe
one with another, wUle but one moneth in the yeare,
they haue (most of them) the time of their treading.
Now note I say, this the nature both of beastes and
birdes, both in their cleanenesse and kindnesse to thdr
females, and how ferre it exceedeth the nature of man,
who spareth ndther time, nor place, to foUow his filthy
desires, not caring how Tndeane eytfaer himsdfe or his
mfaiion bee, so hee may after a foU stomacke, and
drunken ryotting, tumble with his Thin, and ahnost not
caring who behold him : and withatt, many a one, yea
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OR INDIGNITIE OF MAN.
to hU owne wilie. to whom he is bound, both by the
lawe of God, and natore, to be Idnde, and in all honest
cx>une of reason to be carefiill of, will bee more dogged
then any dogge, and care not what become of her, nor
who enaoy her, so that hee may make a gaine of her ;
bat how wofttll is the state of that woman, and how
wicked is the nature of that man, let indifferende giue
iudgement, to the commendation of all creatures but
roan, and the onety discommendation of man. Oh how
sweete a thing is it to behold the Eawe suckle her lambes,
the Henne docking her chickens, and to thinke how
little a time they take in thdr generation, after which,
they no more endure the company of theyr Males : and
what a sofTow and shame it is, to see some women send
theyr diildien to Nurses, &rre from them, and so sildome
looke after them, as though they neuer cared to see
them : yea, and without prouiding for them, let them
dther begge, or stame for theyr Ihdngs, and withaJl,
hane theyr lusts neuer satisfied, but readie to spoyle one,
to make an other, or so oft to be breaking vp of the
ground, that the seede hath no time to bring fruite.
Againe, niiat beast or byrd, but knowes his owne young?
and how many a man, that God knowes, knoweth not
his owne chUde, but labours to maintainethe finite of an
others pleasures? What shall I say? Tedious it were
to nmne through the courses of nature in all creatures :
of which no doubt, there is not any, but for due causes
of commendation exceedeth man in his corrupt nature.
Againe, what goodly flockes of sheepe, what beards of
cattell, what flight of byrds, and what skoules of fishes,
are oftentimes to be scene, to line kindly together : and
man, oh wretdied man, how fewe can agree together,
when one can scarce line by an other : yea in the very
time of death, when the sheepe findes it sdfe infected,
he strayeth fiom the flocke, and dies alone in some
soUitarie place, as loath to infect his companie : if a byrd
be dther sicke or diseased, she pearcheth alone vpon
some bough, or twigge, where atone she makes an end
of her life, as loath to griue her friends with her calamities :
the fish no sooner is eyther sicke, or hurt, but hee
runneth to the shore, where alone hee endeth his dayes,
as loath to infect the water with his putri&ction. Man
ondy when he findes himsdfe sicke or hurt gets himsdfe
into the Citie or Towne of most company of people,
there in his owne, or his Hostesse house, in the best
Chamber, hi the finest sheetes, and the most sumptuous
bedde. and among a number of his best friends, how
foule and infisctious soeuer be his disease, not nriwimrd
who see him, nor caring who be hurt by him, gluing
griefe to many, and leaning good to fewe, pertiappes
with roaring and OTing, vomitting and purging, in all
the filthinesse of oorniption, dyes iarre more beastly then
any beast
Consider then, dnoe in so many partes of imperfactioBS,
26
man is so worthy dispraise, and all creatures lining in all
due parts of commendations, doo so exceed him, I can-
not in mine opinion, but condude him to be the most
dishonourable, and vnoommendable of all creatures in
theworid.
Dinar, Antatiio^ gnunercy for thy too true, though
somewhat too bitter laying open, the beastly nature of
man, as too many are found in these dayes : but as I
greatly like of thy consideration of their corruption, so
would I heare what may be spoken of the contrary : for
I am greatly perswaded, that dther some friend hath
decerned thee, some enemie abused thee, or some creature
like a woman, played false with thee, that thou hast so
narrowly looked into the notes of thdr euill nature.
But let it be as it is, thou hast spoken but a truth, for
which let other, I will not blame thee, but rather hardly
thanke thee. And now Mtamdro^ shall I entreat you to
ddiuer your minde vpon this subiect?
Meam, Father Antonio hath spoken so home to his
purpose, that hee hath made mee halfe afraide to make
any reply, yet at your oommanndement, I wil shewe my
weake iudgement.
Toudiing the worthinesseof man, I findehim hi many
due consideratioiis, the most worthy reuerenoe, honour,
and commendation, of all creatures. And first, touching
his first substance : the first substance whereof I find
man to be framed, was rather the creame of the earth,
then the dime of the earth : for surdy it had neuer else
made such butter as could reoehie the print of so ex-
cellent a forme as man : but when nature had bethou^t
her sdfe of some sudi exceeding substance, as that
therein she would be pleased aboue all other, shee then'
tooke rather the creame then the slime of the earth,
whereon she set the foure Elements to shewe thdr Vertues
in that worke, which she woU name her best bdoued,
and hauing framed that excellent forme of man, who
both by his outward and inward gifts, she had made
most gradous of all creatures : what predomination did
she giue mto him ouer them all? yea euen vnto the
Elements, who had theh' workings in his creation, to be
now at his oommandement : hath he not the fire to
warme and to heate with? the water to coole, and wet
with? the aire to breathe by, and to fill with? and the
earth to dwell, and to i>lant on.
Doth not the bird come downe firom his highest pitch?
the beast come downe from the higliest mountains, and
the fish come vp from the deepest waters, and all to feede
his hungry stomacke, to doathe his naked rarkawne, and
to enrich his rustic treasure? doo they not feare his eye?
tremble at his voice? and be they not obedient to his
comnuumdement? but to answere more particulariy to
each point : In Us generation, is not Us substance of
the strength and afanost life of the foure elements? which
met in a little matter, forme so exoelleat a creature? then
B
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lO
OF THE DIGNITIE
for his place^ thoogh daike to blinde eyes, yet hath
vnderstanding there that deare sight, that nature hath
her placing of euery part of his perfect breeding, where
knowing his oonstitntion, shoe presemes him from all
hurt, and feedes him so purely, as passeth a simple com-
prehension : then at the tfane of her appointnient, she
ddiuers him into the handes of tiiose that she knowes
will preseme him, not Uke a beast in the wildeniesse,
nor a bird in a mossy nest, nor a fish in a muddie hole,
but in a priuate place, and in such modest company, as
oonoealing the fniite of oormptioo, bring him foorth like
the frurest of all creatures : when his crying prognose
ticateth his sorrow for this world, where he lost the first
of his perfection, and feareth too great an infection : for
his paine to his breeder, it is forgotten, being bred, and
for his weaknesse in knowledge of either time, place, or
person, it is a cause of greater thankfiiinewe, when he
liueth to know them all: for his disfonishmoit of
defence, his defenders are provided, and for his want of
oomfortt, a world of comforters ; and for dangers when
death n the worst, being the end of sorrowes, the feaie
is nothing : his desires are reasonable, his furies appease*
able; his humours toUerahle: his labours infinite, his
cares discreete, his thougfau high, his studies deepe :
his wit admirable, and his life honouiabia : this if he be
not» he is not himsdfe : now being this, on the caith
what can be better then himsdfe? Now for his estate,
let vs consider eadi estate spoken of, and t^ degreea
answere the oppositions : consuler the worst that b, and
the best that may b& If a King in his tyranny ouer the
wicked, he may be a friend to the vertuous: in his
demenqr to the repentant, he may rcdaime the malig*
nant : If a Couasellour, his auarioe may teach the pra^
digall thiiftinesse : and if haughtie, it may breed feare
in the enuious : If a souldier, a Uoodie exeoutfon may
breed a quicke Victoria, and a speedie peace : If desire
of galne, it may breed more care to keepe, for fears to
loose : If desperate^ Fortune may be a firiend to the
aduenturous. If a Lawier, hee may be partial! in pittie,
and that way may be gratious ; and if oooeteus, it may
make him studious : If a Marchant, his pooertie may
breede patience : and care, may reoooer hb credit : If a
Usurer, he may pleasure the needie, and punish the
spendthrift : If a Trades man* he may be cunning, and
so wealthy : If simple, yet honest, though not rich : If a
Farmer, good husbandry n no chuilishnesse : And if a
Grasiflr, each fette beast is not an Die : If a Millar, a
tuge Thumbe sbewes a strong hand : If a labourer,
recreation may be no lasinesse : If a begger, a good
exercise of Charitie, and a Beade-man for the UbcndL
If shee be a Queene, I say not only with Aniomio, God
preaorue her, by, knowing such a Queene in a little, bat
I may say, a greatt, bleased Hands, whome according to
the CToalleBcte of bar nature the heaueiM haue worthily
named BoMiUihea: I say such a Queen as, not the
greatest Monardiie in the world hath the like, to looe
and honour.
Let me say thus much in her due, that what digaitie
soeuer may be iustly ghiea vnto man aboue aU other
creatures, that, and much more may be giuen vmo her
Maiestie, aboue all other : who in all the iudgementa of
the worthiest wittes on the earth, is wordiily held, not
only the Grace of all her Court, but vnder beanen the
very glorie of her Idngdorae: whose patience in all
trouble^ whose temper in all passion, whose bonntie to
the well deseming, and lustioe ouer the obstinate, wliOBe
mercy to the ofiendant, and loueto the vertuoua :
beautie in nature, wlioaa wisedome in indgement,
magnanimitie in dauagers, and constancy in ReHgkm,
whose prouidence in car^ and resolution in petfomance,
makes her the true figure of the Pkmmixt and theworthy
hmioured wonder of the world : whose praises so ferre
passe the reach of humane reason to set downe, that
admiration may rather contemplate, then conceit ezpresse
them : for while the wise senie, tha vertnous loue, the
valiant feare, and the mightie admire. What can be
said? but that since in the djgnitieol humane nature she
is the worthy wonder of her dayes, let her subiectB euer
pray, tfiat la the euer wonder of the world, she may hue
the blessed Maiestie of her Kingdome, and be perswaded,
that where the vertue of beautie, and beautie of vertne,
the mercy of lustice, and care of iudgement, in the eye
of Grace, the heart of Truth, and the hand of Bountie,
makes that Angell of a woman, which pioues the glory
of a creature. Let the Pkttnix be drawne fi:om bar
Spirit, and the dignitie of man in this woride vnder
heauen firom her Maiestie : whom the Chronicles of neuer
ending ages, may eternise for the gratious Queene of the
world. Of which Truth, while enuy is eating of her
snaky hafres with anger, to hear of. Fame foyfiilly
soundeth ber name in eternaJl tryumph.
But least I bk>t my paper, in seeking to shewe a faire
hand, and abridge much of her worth, in so litle touch-
ing the wonder of her worthinesse, I wil only leaue
Princes to admire her, the vertuous to loue her, the
honourable to attend her, the learned to commend her,
the deuout to pray for her, that God who by his
Ahaigfatie power for the good of her Kingdome, did in
her seate of Maiestie place her, will so in his gk>rioas
mercy, in the same euer preseme her, that while the
iHiole world is foil of her worthy feme, her subiects may
ioy to bdkold the Maiestie of her person : and idnle the
greatest part of the woride doth admire her, the heart of
Englande may euer ioy to enioy her : to which prayer I
hope he liuca not so vnworthily borne, that wil not ioy-
fuUy aay, Amsm, And now. If hi the wcake sexe of
humaine nature be founde this matter of so excellent a
Maiestie, let no creature by many degrees of corn-
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OR INDIGNITIE OF MAN.
II
nendBtion ooae nean vnto man in his true diip-
nitie.
Now to answere more briefly vnto snbiects of kvirer
tjrtles: If a Ladjr, shee may want honour, tnit not vertne.
If 3hee be a Gentlewoman, sbee may be mistaken, and
so wrottg«d. If n Qtifen, sfaee may bee prouder to
anoyde base fiuniUarttie. If a Country-woman, she may
bee danndag, yet no fidling : and if a begger, thongh
pooie, yet may ahee be honest.
An smnme, there is no esute of man, from the Prince
to the begger, but in the worat that they are, tliey may
be txtter dien they seeme to be : in yonth he is wittie,
in age he is wise : in wvahh hee is wary, in pouertie he
b patient : if wise, hee is iionoiired : if fond, he may be
instraeted, or pittied : wliat fiwdes so finely? speakes
more sweetly or lines so vertaously? being man, as he
is indeed, or else indeed is not man : the stooping of a
high minde, sbewes the vertue of humllitie, and to root
oat theofepring of Idolatry, if it be, it is a good tyxannie :
who redaimes the Hawke to the lore, but the expert
FankxMier? or why lones the Horse the Ryder, bat for
his good keeping and managing? A seroaat will keepe
his raaisters oophers, while a dogge win steale his meate
from his Trencher : and a peasant wil plant him a vme
yard, while a spanleU can but spring him a Partridgie. A
Nightmgale cannot bat sing, nor sing but one moneth :
man sfaigeth or sorroweth as he seeth cause, in reason,
at what time soeoer. The fish oannot but swiimne, nor
swimme, but in the water : man can swimme in the
water, and walke oat of the water : the Elephant wil
lead a man oat of the wildemesse, and man wil delraer
man oat of mudi wofixlnesse : the Lysard keepes man
from the Serpent, and man instructs man how to dmnne
the diuell : yea, and in his dhiine oounsaile, may be
called a God vnto man : Man laboureth for the come
whereon the Ant feedeth, and teacbeth the Sparrow the
cut that shee keepes. In sarame, all creatures feare
their king for his greatnesse, only man loueth his
Sooendgn for his goodnesse. Now what Bees hiue is
so deane, as the Merchants partour, or the milke-
maydes dairy ? And for apparel, what Swannes feathers
more neat then the Courders doeke and the Citisens
gowne ? and while man pfauits his gardens with sweete
flowers, the droanes decdue the Bees of the honey.
And how weake the webbe of the Spyder is, euery oom^
raon Weauer can dedpher.
Now while the beast lickes his haire, man bnisheth
his coate: while the Urd pmneth her feathers, man
ooffibeth his haires : and while the fish scowreCh his
skales, man batheth his sklnne : so that for outwarde
neatnesse, there Is no comparison in any creature lo be
had with man. Now for the inwaid put, the Spirit,
man is not carried only by the faistinct of nature, to
seeke eot his remedie of ftist, b«t by reason, to loue the
ofaiect, where veitue is the grace of the sobiect, where
beauty mast please the eye, and those qualities the
minde, that make marriage honouraUe, and lone com*
fortable. When conceit hauing met with contentment,
cannot only keepe company for a time, but is so tjred in
the bandes of affootkm, that fande can neaer get kMse,
but oontinneth loue vnto lines ende : wliere both are so
Idnde that there can be nothing too deare for each other,
and a looing ieakmsie, is a pleasing humour, while hee
labooreth abroad, and she haswifisth at home, ibr thdr
owne profite, and theyr childrens comfort : and while
the WoUekiUeth the Lambe, and the Kite the Chicken,
man keepeth his htleones from the dannger of all hurt :
and bdngsatiafied withonechoyse, theyneuer make other
channge. How many Histories are to be alledged, for
the approouing of thistrnth? yea, how many bane dyed
for want and lone of theyr beloaed? and for theyr kMie
to their little ones, oh how infinite are the studies,
labours, and tmnailes in the parents, for the breeding,
nourishing, instnicting, and bestowing of thdr children
in their Hues, and what care in laying vp for them after
theyr deatlies? what care hath the hosbande for his wife
in her ehfide bedde? wliat solemnitie at a Christening?
and iriiat sonowe at a buriall ? and for knowledge, how
many Fathen hane not only begot, and bredde theyr
owne Children? so that God knoweth they are not
ignorant of his blessings : now for theyr deathes, as they
were borne so they dye, in a bedde, or Chamber, among
sucheasare bygoods or good counsaile to bee the better
for them, and in Citties, for that there is moste hope of
remedie, and amongst friendes, where is moste assurance
of hdpe and comfort : and somedme dye, as wdl'pleased
as to line, and rather to dye, then Uue diseased : so
that in all estates of what condition soeuer, I still finde
man to be the most honoorable creature.
Thus haue I as neare as I can, answered AnUnio to
euery particular poynt of his Inuectiue : but in briefe,
who could consider the maiestie of a King, the wisedome
of a CounseUom*, the valour of a souldier, the learning
of a Lawier, the trauaile of a Marchant, the husbandry
of a Farmer,tlie toyle of a Tradesman, and the patience
of a begger, might wdl anow lojraltie to the PrixKe, loue
to the Connsellour, honour to the souldier, seniice to
the Lawier, and praise to the Marchant, and wish a
good haruest to the former, a good chapman to the
Trades man, and a good almes to the begger : and in
all and euery of them, finde so much matter of com-
mendation, as no other creature can come neare : ^t
since it were a Laborinth too fong to enter into the
infinite causes of commendations in man, to shewe the
desert of his honour aboue all other creatures, I will say
but this in oondosioa, that the foire Ladies of a Court,
the gallant Souldiers hi a Campe, the graue sdiollers in
a Uniuersitie, and the solemne companies of a Cittie.
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OF THE DIGNITIE
and the good feUowes in a Countrey, so patteth downe,
a flight of Wilde Geeoe» a heard of Swine, and a skoule
of Herings, that for aU causes, both maiestie, amitie,
and vnitie, man is the only creature worthie of all
honourable commendation.
Dinar* Mtatubv, thou hast spoken a little to some
purpose, it may be thou hast either met with a kinde
wenche, or an honest fiiende, that hath brought thee
into this good beleefe of all other : but howsoeuer it be,
I mislike not what thou hast saide, what euer it be that
thou thinkest : but to answere ye both, let me tell yee,
that yee are both short of what you woulde seeme to
speake of, which is the worthinesse or vnworthinesse of
man : which neyther lyeth in your praise, nor his dis-
grace, but in that which either aboue. or belowe your
reaches is to be considered : yee hane beene like two
Fishers that came to a Brooke where were good Fish,
but they laie at the bottome, which though no deeper
then they might wade, yet they were loathe to take too
much paines, caught a fewe Engines in the shallow
grauell, and thought themselues no meane Fisher-men :
you haue studied some point of Philosophy, and obserued
much of that you haue seene, but AristotU must giue
place to Plato^ and you wiU leame more if you will take
paines : and for that I will not be so vngiatelull, as to say
nothing touching your opinions, I will deliuer yee a little
of what I haue redde, and gathered fully ; by my reading,
touching this poynt of the Dignitie, or Indignitie of man.
First, toudiing his first substance, it was ne]rther of
slime nor Creame, as either of you hane imagined, but
of a secret instinct of Lone, which woulde haue an
Image lyke vnto it selfe, when the omnipotencie of the
DdUe beganne a wofke of great Maiestie : when in the
seoonde person of himselfe hee shewed the perfection of
that forme. Leame then to knowe, that before all be-
ginnings there was a beginning, which being without
banning hi it selfe, beganne all b^nnings by it selfe,
and willmg to be pleased in it selfe, beganne this first
Image to it selle : so that hereby ye may see hi this
beginner of aU beginning, was loue the first beginner of
this worke, which we call man, who hanhig all thinges
before it selfe to looke vppon, which kude vppon this
slyme or Creame as ye haue termed it, brought it to
that forme which it selfe lyked : and (as it is) then first
named it, man.
Here now was the first and only best part of his
honour, that the creature was made vnto the Image of
his Creator. I speake not of that outward forme,
wherem we beholde him. Now to his second honour,
hee placed him in Paradise, where he made him keeper
of his garden, with possession of all his fruits, one owely
excepted. The third honour, he gane him power and
commaundment ouer all his earthly creatures, and to
name them at his owne pleasure. The fourth honour
was his wife, that he tooke out of his owne side, that he
might be matched, but with himselfe, nor with any
meaner creature then himselfe. These are the four first
proofes of the dignitie and honour of man, in his first
perfection : his creation to the image of his Creator, his
keeping of Paradise, his commaund ouer all other earthly
creatures, and his companion but a part of himselfe. Now
to enter into further parts of honour bestowed rpon them,
the wisedome of the Prophets, the myxades done by
them, the valour of the Kinges, the victories gotte by
them, the blessinges of the fidthfuU, the truememorie of
them, his loue of his beloued, the death of his ondy
Sonne Jesus Christ for them, the messages of his Angdles,
to his semaunts of his loue, the Incarnation of Eternitie,
in the wombe of viiginitie, the insputuion of the Apostles, ,
the patience of the Martyrs, and the ioy of the Elect,
these are all proofes of great honour aboue all other
creatures, whome God had endued with so many ex-
cellent beauties. What Byrd can build a neast lyke the
Temple of 5a/(MiM f or Eagle make a wing with the wise-
dome of It^m the Enangelist? What Lyon so stout
but Sampsom could tame him? and what Gyant so great
but little Damid could conquere him ? and what Whale
so rauenous, but Jonas could get out of him? what
daunger so great, but Josnak would attempt it ? and
what misery such, but laeo^s patience did endure it ?
Now leauing to speake of those ancient examples, let
vs come into these dayes to beholde the myraculous
workes of God in the heart of man, m the gouemment
of Kingdomes, in warre, and in peace, the rare Art in
goigious buildhigs, the cunnhig hand in planting of
fruites, the excellent skill, in the fortifying of countries,
the daintie Art of the Needle in worices of all colours,
the excellent Harmony hi the Art of Muslque : In
summe, all the excellencies that can be fanagined, as
well by Sea, in the Shipwright and Sayler, as by Lande
in the Souldier and Mmer, and the SdioUer as well in
knowledge, as vtteranoe : Are not all these excellencies,
with all the morall vertues, onely propper vnto mafr?
and last of all his acknowledging of his God, to whotne
hee is onely bounde for all his goodnesse? Are not all
these I say, with innumerable more, to be saide suffi-
cient proofes of the honour of man? who still looMng
vp towards heauen, from whence only hee hath all his
good, and where knowing, and despishig the worlde,
hee loueth to be, for his best, last, and euerlastinggood :
Isnot aU this I say, enough to make man ioymhimselfe,
to be seruaunt vnto such a Lorde ? as in loue woulde
first make him lyke himselfe, and then neuer cease to
bestowe his daily and hourely blessings vppon him? yes
it must needes be, by all that hath bene and can be
saide, that by all due causes of honour, man is of all the
most worthie creature : For did not Ithtmah himselfe
speake out of the okrade and the bush vnto Mosts f
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OR INDIGNITIE OF MAN.
Came not the Angell from beauen, to ttlute AhruJuM^
on the earth 7 was not Eliaa carried into heaiien in a
whirle-wind? came not G€tkrUU the Arch-angell, with
a message to the blessed >nigin Mary 9 and came not
Christ himselfe from heauen, to sane sinners from hell ?
and can there be a greater honour to man, or that may
make him more honourable, then to be spoken too by
his Creator, saluted t^ his Angell, and saued by his
onely sonne? no, no, let the Eagle soare as high as she
can, she must come downe to man : the Lyon looke as
fierce as he can, he must &11 downe to man : and the
Whale gape as wide as he can, he must cast vp lomas,
and giue honour to man : for God hath giuen him, and
he must haue the honour of, and aboue all earthly crea^
tures. But now I haue spoken thus much in his behalfe
for his dignitie, least I make him proud of that which is
none of his owne, let me a little speake of his rilenes,
whidi is the iust cause of his indlgnitie. Man being at
the first created so pure within, and perfect without,
that there was no creature so pleased God, hauing made
all creatures to please man, man onely to please himselfe,
oh how soone began the infection of oomiption to enter
into this excellent matter, when the subtlltie of the
Serpent began so dosdy to spet his poyson, that the
venome was not fidt till it came to the heart, and so
ranne to the very soule, when Wit proud of Tnderstand-
ing, vnthankful for his knowledge in seeking more then
needfull, lost that was necessarie : and by whom was
this bane brought him, but by her that came out of htm,
euen a part of himsdfe, the Rimme of his whole selfe,
and which is most to be lamented, a piece so neare his
heart, should bee the hurt of his owne soule : oh what
indignitie can there be more in wit ? to proue it more
truly folly, then like jEsop$ dogge, to loose a bone for a
shadow, or worse, comfort for sociow? and what more
indignitie to the nature of man, then to be so vnthank>
lull to his maker, to make no more regard of his com-
maund, then hauing but one thing forbidden, and with
a penalty of offence^ yet would presume to aduenture
that ill, that might be the losse of all his good. Oh
vnwise vnthankfulnesse, the first ground of his vnhappi-
nesse, and first note of his vnworthinesse. Oh most
vnhappinesse of all other, that he who was made of
loue, should so be made a subiect of hate : and oh most
vnworthy of all creatures to be honoured, that was so
vQgnUefiill to his most honorable Creator : and note
how by one shme, he lost all his honors : he lost the
perfection that he lined in, before his desert of death :
his perfection of that loue, which let him lacke nothing
whUe he k>ued : by tasting the forbidden fruit, he
swaUowed the poyson of presumption, and by the
Angell was driuen out of Paradise. Here was two
honors lost, the Image was now defaced, the creature
of his place dispossessed, and from his pleasures
banished : for whole sin, the earth that before was
blessed, was now accursed : oh too plaine a note of his
Indignitie, when for his vnworthinesse the earth was
cursed with barrennes, he that wasonly framed by the loue
of God, should now flie from the voux of God. Now
the third honor, where he before had the sei:iiioe of all
earthly creatures, he now was faine to tebour with those
creatures: and in seeing their obedience to his wil, sorow
In shame, to thinke of his owne disobedience to his
maister. Now to the last honor, his companion, his
wife, that woman, that part of hhnselfe, which fai kme
might haue beene his comfort ; by want of loue, through
the poyson of pride, wrought his vtter dishonor : where
the shame of his nakednesse, was too true a note of his
wickednesae ; too plaine a proofe of his vnworthines.
Thus k)8t the first man through pride the whole honor
of his happines. Now to enter into frvther paru of dis-
honor, what wickednesse was in Cham^ to vnconer the
nakednesse of his lather, which proued vnworthines to
be a son, that would be the shame of his lather? what
dishonor was in CVn'it, who slew his brother Abtl: how
vnworthy was he to be a brother that sought the death
of his dearest and nearest blood? what Indignitie of a
Crowne shewed Pharaoh when in the swelling pride of
his power, he would oppose himselfe against the King
of Kings 7 How vnworthy was he to be a King on the
earth, that proued such a rebel vnto the king of heanen?
how dishonorable were Sodoau and Gomorrah, who with
the filth of their concupiscence would haue pressed vpon
the Angelles? what Indignitie was in those Princes that
stoned the Prophets, the Embassadors of heauens Em>
peror? what Indignitie was hi ludas to betray his
maister, Christ lesus? was he worthy to be a seruant,
that would be a vUlaine to sudi a maister 7 and what
Indignitie was in all the Jewes, that sought the death of
the Sonne of God 7 Tedious it were [to] runneouer all the
examples of the Indignitie in man, which in the sacred
word of truth are set downe, where ye may plalnely
discouer all the due causes both of a mans honor, and
dishonour: but leaning that true discourse for all
giatious eyes to looke on, let me a litle lower disoend,
into reasons dally obseruation. What dishonor is it to
a King* to be vngratious to his subiect ? what dishonour
in a subiect, to be disloyall to his Prince ? what Indig-
nitie it is to the Counsellour, to be either feithlesse to his
King, or carelesse of his oommaund ? what a dishonor
tis to a souldier to betray his trust, to an enemy ? how
vnworthy is that Lawier that pleades against consdenoe
for coyne ? how vnworthy is that Marehant, that plaies
banquerout without need? how vngratious is that
Farmer, that starues the poore people, and feedes the
Rats with his corne ? how vnhonest is that labourer, who
will not worke for his wages ? and how base a viOaine
is that b^ger, that makes an art of his rogery? let the
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OF THE DIGNITIE
a^reeiicd confesse, I would it were not to be considered.
Let me looke f nither into other proofes of the Indagnitie
of man, where the sonne is sike of the £BUher, the sister
of the brother, the aemaut of the maister, the wife of tlie
husband, the subiect of the Prinoe : where the sonne is
imnatund, the sister is vnUude, the seniant is vntme,
the wife is vnhooest, and the subiect is Ynfiutfafhll: what
Ti»^igiiitj#.g are these, to prooe the disgratioas nature of
man? Againe, where the wmth of the mightie is more
fierce then the Lion, and the pride of the auctions,
flies higher then the Eagle, and the greedinesse of the
ooueiousswaUowesraoretiieQ the Whale; oh how great
are these Indignities nppanat t fea in those, in wlnm
they are most to be kmemted. What Crocodile is
dangerous as the tongue of a Pszastoe? and what Cock-
atrice is so venenouSb as the eye of a leaud woman ?
andwfaatindignitie isit tonschoUer, that should be the
ministBr of tmdi, to oouer cnft with eloquence : and
what ignominy to beautie, that is an enemy to Veitue,
let the deceiwrri coniesae, and abusers amend. In
summe, of what estate can that man or woman be, that
some way Aews not some such part of Indignity, as
speakes act aomething in their dishonor ? But to be
short, the chiefe cause of all the Indignitie that I finde
in man, giuwetb either tfaroi^fa impatieBoe in the proud,
pride in the mightie, disobedienoe hi the subioct, or vn-
thankftdnesse in tiie poore. Learn then the honour of
hnmiUde, the vettue of patienoe, the grace of obedience
and the blessing of thankfUnesse, in which ondy, and
Qods otiercie, I finde lies man's all, and onely truest happi-
nesse, and bis kaoaum most apparant woitfalaesse.
Aad tiiercfore leaue tomakeoompnriaons betwixt dther
beast, fowle, or fish, and amn, imowing the eaceUencie
of Ms nature in his fint perfBCtton, neither thinhe any
beast, fish, or ibwle, so monstrous in siiape, as aum is
in nature, wban he foMuwuL tim course of Us oorrup-
tion: but if hee were created of dm dime of tfaeeardi,
as Maister Antmio describes Um, the greater was the
glory of the Croalor, of to vile a matter to make so
exodlent a creature as man : or if he vere as Mtgmdrp
holdes kim, created of ^e creame of the earth, yet the
Buuer was but a grosse substance to make so gratioos
a creature as man : but say that hee was first framed
out of the looe of God, which did create him to his owne
Image, yet you see more then was of that kme, kept no
part of perfactfon, but fell tfaroqgh the weakneme of it
selfe, into tlm mine of it selfe, for the flesh tooke infection
whereby the spirit behig corrupted, the whole creature
was owerthfowne : so tliat that man or woman, Hiat in
the looe and feare of God. is not obedient to his will,
nor thankfull fi>r his graces, such a world of enorarities
wiU shme beget in his soule, that by the infection there-
of,' tiee will become more vgly in the sight of God, then
the greatest monster in the worid in the sight of man :
and so by due consideration be found by many indigni-
ties to be the most dishonourable creature in the world :
lor outward fi>nne, behold the eiwrilencie of Gods wise-
dome, in his workmanship vpon all creatures, the
feathers of the byrds, the haires of the beasts, and the
scales of the fishes, how euen and smoothe they lye, how
long they keepe their colour that nature hadi once
giuen them : wliiie man, according to his age, eyther
dmungeth or looseth both ooloor and haire too : in
strength the Lyon doth exceed him : in swiftnesse the
Hare will cwtnimie him, and the Dolphin outswim him :
in sweetnesse the Nightingale outsing him : in labour
the One will oot-toile him, and in subditie the Foxe
win ont-raatcih him ; so that in all these gifts of nature,
with many other, he is iaferiour in oommendation to the
beasts, birds, and fishes : and tfaerefcae can iostly chal-
lenge no honor aboue them, only reason he hath beyond
theni, by which he hath power to goueme ouer them :
of which once depriaed, he is worse then any of them :
tlie l)east, though he faaueall the field before him, will
eate no more: the liird though she peardi neoer^so
safely, will sleepe no more : the fish though hee haue all
the sea before liim, will cMnke im> more then will suffice
nature : while the Epknre will eate till his Jawes ake.
the Drunkard will swiiltiH his eyesstare, andtheshig-
gaxd win sleepe till his bones ake: while the one with
his blowing, tlie other with his reettng, and the thivd
with his snorting, so fades himseifeopen to the worid in
the filthhiesse of his imperfection, that who beholds the
hffltfff temper, and the mans intemperancie, wll in
worthinesse of oommendation, Kt the beasts before the
Againe in talke, what Pye chatters like a Scold? wliat
woUe more cnieU then a Tyrant? what Sowe more
' filthy tlien a Shit 7 what Sparrowe more luxurious then
a Whore? what Foxe more subtOl thenaKnane? what
Toade more venemous than a Villain ? or Serpent more
deadly then a malicious woman ? Did euer bh-d betray
the Eagle, his King? the beast, the Lyon, his King? or
the fidi the whale his King? and, how many Kings haue
bene betiaied by trayterous Rebeb, and snppoaed Sub-
iects, yea by theyr owne seruants? I would there were
not too many enunples to the shame of man to oonfime
it. Nay more, how that all« and almne all, blessed,
gratkMis, good, holy, and glorious, merdfbll Rta^ of
Kings, our Lord, and Socdour Christ lesus, was be-
trayed by that diael of a man, that felse, wicked, aad
most detestable villaine indas: what a ahame may it be
to the nature of man, to ihiake that ener man should be
of so Tile a nature.
Thus then you may see, how in the wont part, in the
wiekedaesse of the heart, man may wodfai^ be cattsd
the wont creature ofthe whole worid. Yet least I lease
min in dispafae of hirasalfe, to tfaiake of the viteoHSe of
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OR INDIGNITIE OF MAN.
»5
Us comipted mture* let me speake somewhat to hia
oomfoct, that hath yet bene spoken of : that first pore
snbstaaee, that spiritiial iDstmct of ksoc The first cause
of mans craatioD^ hath in his spirit such an etenutU power,
as that though some vesseBes of hb wiath, he hath
ordained to his secret lodgement, yet ia man generally,
that hath any feeliiv of his merde, he hath so glorioas
a woridng of his gnee^ that by many adminble deserts
of commendation, he may well be called the moat honor*
idde of aH creatmvs : who tcacheth the borse his tr«e
manages* the bird his eare notes, the dogge his stiannge
qaalhies. bat man? Furthermore, is there not fai the
&fie of man such a kinde of dinine power, giuen him by
his Oeatcr, as gines a kind of terror vnto all creatucs,
and m the heart of man is not that vnderstanding that
makes him the most hoaoratileof aU other ? Howmany,
and nure Arts, how ezo^ent and conning workes, how
rich and gotgious moanmems, the diniiiww of times,
the application of experiments, Ae eraptoyments of
natmnes, and the obscnmtioos of examines, the fetching
the byrd from the atae, the frnite from the earth, the
beast from the fiekl, the fish from the sea^ the Fowlers
ginnes, the Hunters snares, and the Fishers nettss, are
they not all the kbonrs of the witte of man? the instru-
ments of warre, the treatise of peace, the harmonies of
Muskine, and the ditties of lone, are they not the deolse
of man? Is not the firmament, as it were raled out, the
earth as it were cha&ed out, and the sea, as it were cut
oat, as if there were a walke amid the starres, a passage
through the earth, and a path through the seas, to which
purpose, the Globes and Mappes are made by the witte
of man? and may not all these ezoeUendes in the wit of
man, aboue all creatures, proue the honor of man ? But
abone all these, that spuit or soule of man. which in
immortalitie beholds the etemall life, in grace beholds
the etemall comfort, and in mercy beholds the etemall
goodnesse, wherein the Saints are blessed, the Martyrs
reioyoe, the virgins are graced, and the Angels are
glorious, and where all together in one Consort doo smg
the HaUduiah of etemitie : this comfort, when man
reoehieth by that faith that God hath by the inspiration
of Us holy spirit so fixed in him, that it can neucr be
from him, when man I say, by the gratioos blesshig of
God, can effect so rase excellencies ih'the worMe, and
bdmlde so many saperexoeDencieBia the heavens, as the
eye of no creators but man is able to looke after : and
withaB, hash as I saide, that heaoenly blessing of im»
mortahtle, that is graoiMed to no creature but man : Let
man be as hee was hi his creation, or as hee should be
in Usgenention, and then leaning all creatures to the
serUce of amn, and man onely to the seraioe of God :
Let vs eonchiieman to be the most honorable creaiare,
and t^ doe dastrt of oooMnendation, to be tyy i
\ set abone thm all.
Thus haue I shewed you mine opinion, how man may
iustly reoehie his Ty tie of Dignitie or Indignitie, eyther
by the gratkms vse of that Reason, by whiche hee doth
fjsrre exceede all Creatures in oommendadon, or by the
abuse of that Reason, thai may make him the worst of
all Creatures. It is not a faire painted face, a proode
looke, a ceaftie witte, a smoothing tongue, nor scraping
or a bribing hand, that makes a man a woocthie Creature,
but a humble heart, a modest eye. a simple SManing, a
vertuons dispositioi^ a true toegue, a liberaU hand, and
a kming heart, that makes man truly honourabl&. Oh
then let the ftinoe be gratioua : the Conrtlcr vertw>os :
the souldier moKifuU : the Lmrier coosdonable : the
Merchant charitable: the Farmer no Snndge: the
labourer painfiiU : and the Beggcr thankful! : and then
wiU Ae Cowmnnwealth of the worlde, be audi a Unde
of heanen on the earth, tiiat the very Angdles of the
heanen, will commend the beautie of the world, when
thus only in man, they shall see the diide digostie of a
Creature : for there wUl bee a day of diaunge, the
weidthy must kane his treasure, the isire must loose her
beautie. and the powerfiill must ooom downe fipom his
place, and aH be summond to appeare at one tisM, and
to one Court : where, as prisoners at a barte, they shall
answere to thegr Inditements, and from whence ddiiieied,
eyther to comfort or execution, and that etemall to either ;
where account must be had of all, and no partialitie be
admitted : where Conscience aocuaeth. Troth oonfesseth,
and Justice condudeth : when if Mercy were not gratioos.
Judgement would be terrible : where Faith is only blessed,
and dispaire ondy accursed : and then shall man see his
dishonour, when the honour of all honours, shall make
him see his disgrace, and recdne his diiefe honour,
when in mercy he recefaies comfort : of wUch honour is
no man worthy, but whom the honour of aU worthinesse.
and worthinesse of all honour, makes honourable by his
worthinesse : in him then the substance and sunune of
all honor and worthinesse, that Judge of aU kistioe, the
searcher and founder of all truth, that Lord of all mercy.
King of all grace, and God of all glory, our Sauiour
Christ Jesus, let mans honour be sought and his worthi-
nesse be seene ; for, what saore he is then in Christ, he
is a most dishonourable creature : and what he is in him,
be is better then any creature. Thus houe I shewne
yon in my opinion, how a man is the most worthy or
vnworthy creature of the world, of either honour, or
ooounendation : which if you stndie neuer so much in
the rules of nature you can neuer finde out, but in the
rules of grace, you shall finde only disoouered : thinke
then with your sdues how glorious is the studie of the
dhiine comfort, where reason only by grace beboldeth
the beautie or defbrmitie, tiie honcNir, or dishonour of
Nature, may not ktose the honour of his vertue : nor
GoMB, the goueiaoor of Reason, may loose the maifsiir
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i6
OF THE DIGNITIE
of his glory : for num being as he should be, is as it were
a god vnto man : but as many a one is, and should not
be is worse then a beast, and little lesse thte a diueU
vnto men. For the Phisition that by his learned skill,
and honest care findes the greefe of the diseased, and
doth speedily bring him to health : is he not a kinde of
god vnto man, and saues his life so neare death? The
Lawier that by his reading and knowledge findes the
right of the distressed, and by histioe deliuers him from
his oppression, is not sudi a ludge a Idnd of god vpon
the earth? The Merchant that hath his debter in prison,
and seeing his misery, in the vertue of charitie, forgiueth
the debt, and setteth him at libertie, is he not a kinde of
god vnto man ? And first of all to be spoken of, if the
Prince finde an vnwiUing offender, with confession,
penitent, yet by the lawe to death condemned, and oat
of the maiestie of his mercy, pardoneth the offence, and
fauoureth the offender, is he not worthy to be called a
kinde of God vnto man ? If a man shall finde his neigh-
bour assaulted, and by theeues, readie to be robbed,
spoyled, and murthered, if he by his valorous aduenture
of his life, doo not only defend him, but be the death of
his enemies, and so for euer procure his aafetie, is he
not a kinde of god vnto man ? If a rich man passfaig 1^
a poore creature, whom he seeth lye in misery and
pouertie, if like the Samaritane, he relieue hhn, comfort
him, and neuer leaue him till he haue recouered him, is
he not in a kinde, as it were a god vnto man? If a
learned and true Diuine, finding a sinner, through the
greatnes of his sinnes : almost in dispaire of mercy, and
so in dannger of damnation, with preaching to him the
true word of God. and shewing him the booke for his
warrant, for that he preacheth, if with such preaching to
him, pcayer for him, he doo ddiuer him from that
dangerous sinne of dispaire, and by Gods grace doo
establish that foith in hfan, that brings hhn into the estate
of the blessed, is he not a god vnto man ? But contrari-
wise, if a Prince vpon a fidse information commaund his
loyall subiect vnto death? that hath by many good
seruices desemed his grations fiauour, is he not if he be
a Tyrant, halfe a dhiel vnto man? If a souldler for the
gaine of a little mony, betray the trust of his Captafaie,
and make sale of his people, is he not a Unde of dhiel
vnto man ? If a Lawier shall by extortion or bribery,
grieue the oppressed, wrong the poore to pleasure the
rich, and pleade against his owne conscience, to the
vndoing of a simple creature, is he not a Idnde of dhiell
vnto man? If a Phisition, will hi stead of a preseruatiue,
giue his patient a pojrioned potion, is he not a Idnde of
diuell vnto man? And if a Merchant, voyd of charitie
cast his debtor into prison , and there beholdtag his misery ,
without remorae of conscience, lettes him perish without
reUefe, is hee not a kinde of diuell vnto man? If a
neighbour In the enuy of his neigfaboun good, aeeke not
only by himselfe, but by all the meanes he can to spoyle
him of all his goods, yea and to depriue him of his life,
is not such a dogge, a Idnde of diud vnto man? If a
rich man, shall passe by a poore soule, sicke, sore, lame,
and wounded, and will not like the Leuite runne from
him, or not so mudi as the Priest say, God helpe him,
but giuing him nothing, raile vpon him, rate him, spume
him, and with taunts, checks, yea and whippes, wound
him deeper then he was at first, and so with cnieltie,
crudfie him, that he will neuer leaue till he haue killed
him : is he not a kinde of diuell vnto man ? Last, and
most of all, if he, who taketh vpon him the outward
habit of a Diuine, and within be so fiurre from diuinitie,
that he will rather leade the sinner bito hell, then the
repentant to grace, is he not a kindeof diuell vnto man?
What shall I need to runne into a worid of questions in
this pomt, is not the vertuous a kinde of God, and the
vicious a kinde of diuell in the world ? Consider there-
fore, since only in God is that originall of vertue, where-
by man only is made vertuous, and by that Uertue so
gredous, as maketh him the most honourable of all
creatures, and in the diuell is that originall of sinne,
whereby man b made vicious, and by his vices so dis-
grack)us, as maketh hhn the most dishonourable of all
creatures.
What soeuer you reade here, or imagine, touching the
true desert of the Dignitie or the Indignitie of man, these
two verses shall be sufiident for your instruction, to
leade you to the most true and perfect vnderstandmg of
the same : which, without further dilatation I will make
my oondusion.
Si Christum iemd scis,
nihil est si attra nescis :
Si Christum nescis, nihil at
si cetera discis :
Know Christ aright, hncw all
that can be worth the hnowing :
But hnow not Christ, and hncw
all hnowle^gi ouerthrowing.
An, Father, I am ^^bA of this good morning meet-
ing* wfaicfa I wonkl not haue mist for agreat matter, and
I am perswaded Meandro is of the same minde : for
where we haue bene but beating the ahe with idle words,
you haue laide the matter before vs, worthy the k)o]ring
on : to which I answer no more, but, if my memorie can
as much pleasure me, as your speech, I win neuer goe to
schoole for better learning : how say you Meastdrof
Mean, I say that I know not what to say, but that
Dinarco hath said so much, that for the much good that
I bane reoeiued by his very much good disoouise, I
hold my sdfe so mudi bdiolding to him, as wfaQe I haue
a day to know him, I will not oease an hoore to honour
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OR INDJGNITIE OF MAN.
17
bim : but as I can but admire him, I win vowe to loue
him : and in my loue will follow him : and so I thinke
will yon, or else you shall decdne me.
Anto. Yea, and not be my seUe.
Dinar, Well, the best is, the Sunne shewes what
time of the day it is, and if it vrere not for going home
to dinner, we should haue a great deale of idle talke,
but, if I haue done you any good, thanke God, the
author of all goodnesse for it : but if you wiU be vaine-
headed, God helpe you, for I cannot : for your kinde
company I thanke you : and if it may not offend yon.
the next time I meet with you, I will haue another bout
with yon : till when, for that our bodies would as well
be r^reshed as our wittes, let vs goe to dinner.
Anto, Father we will attend you, and glad when we
may enioy you : what say you Meandro t
Mean, I [say I shall thhike each houre a yeare, Ull
we meete againe, for I could sweare a good fast, to
meete with such an other banquet
Dinar, Well children, since you will needs put the
title of a fiuher vpon me, I will take it ; and wherein I
can, doo you all the good that you may desire. And so
with Gods blessing vpon you, I ende. Let vs goe.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page 4. Epistle-dedicatory to Iohn Linewray,
Esquier. .... In the 'Old Man's Lesson* Breton
addresses him as Sir John LJnewray. He was knighted
at Whitehall loth July 1604. In the Burial Register of
SL Dionis Backchurch, London, is the following:
' z6o6, June 13. Sir John Lingroy Knight Surveyor of
the King's Ma<<«* Ordinance.' See more in our Memo-
rial-Introduction: L 6, * DiaU^ui'—vaspADluo^ 'dio-
logue:' Cf. To tki Reader, col. z, 1. 4. Various
similar errors are silently conected, e,g, two for too,
Ellas for EUas, and the like.
A Dialogue, etc., p. 5, coL a, L 6, ' thegoais wilibe
stutredfrom the sheep,* etc. See St Matthew zzv. 39-
33 : L 15, ' baiies ' s stops to feed : 1. 96 ' Parasite ' =s
flatterer, panderer : L aS, *c<^per' s giver of the cap,
or obsequious person.
P. 6, coL. z, L s8, * Spittle-men' s hospital men :
coL 2, L 5, ' ware bonds '—qu. beware of bonds ? 1. 19,
*it is eaUed pottry,* 'Poetry' or ihymes were often
carved on platters and other ' pottery :' 1. 33, ' Recorder '
» sort of flageolet : L 50, * quitida ' = quiddities.
P. 7, coL I, I. 7, * tf tpyU of a pleasnre '—this early use
of later a Camiliar phrase, is to be noted : 1. 27, *good
eheape* =^ wvry cheap. See Aldine edn. of George
Herbert's Poems, s,v, : col. a. L i, ' it is Art to hide
Art;' Ars est celare artem : L 6, ' indi^irent' = im-
partial : 1. zo (from bottom), 'banquerout ' = bankrupt :
so p. 13, coL a, 1. 5 (from bottom) : L 4 (frxmi bottom),
' Cknj^' = miserly fellow : ibid,, *towU' = toll.
P. 8, coL z. L Z4, 'fmde* s foolish : L 38, 'neatnesse'
= nice cleanliness : coL a, L 3 (from bottom), ' minion '
s darling— since deteriorated: L s (frxnn bottom),
• Tmtl' = whore.
P. 9k col. z, 1. II, * clocking* =: ducking, or calling :
L 30, ' sko^les :' s schoob : or qu. shoals?^ cf. p. 19^
ooL I. L a. We have the word still, e,g, 'a school
(pronounced shoot) of heiring ' = shoaL It is from the
Dutch, and means a 'crowd.' It has nothing to do
with oxoXt^, *leisnre,* whence our 'school' for instruc-
tion comes : coL a, L 6, *grammercy* = a minced oath,
'great thanks.'
P. 10, col. z, L 5 (from bottom), 'Beade-man* =
beadsman— originally one who prayed for another with
the rosary— since deteriorated : coL a, 1. a, ' Basilethea,'
On this splendid praise of Elizabeth in her old age, see
Memorial-Introduction.
P. iz, coL L L 93, 'cophers* s coffers.
P. 14, ooL
lewd.
x» 1* 3f 'sihe' « skk : L 16, * leand* =
P. IS, col. 1, 1. as. * treatise:* qu.— treaties? col. a,
1. 14, ' Snu4g€ ' = mean, sneaking fiellow.— G.
26
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^Sk^StiS^iiS^S^^StiS^S^aS^StiS^S^S^
GRIMELLO'S FORTUNES.
1604.
34
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NOTE.
The only exemplars of ' Grimello's Fortunes ' apparently known, are
the two in respectively the Bodleian, — ^among Malone*s books, — and^
in the Capell collection at Cambridge, and one in the British Museum.
The latter is our text : smaU 4to, i6 leaves. On the reversed initials,
as before, see Memorial-Introduction. — G.
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GRIMELLOS
FORTUNES.
With his Entertainment in
his trauaile
A discourse full of pleasure.
LONDON
Printed for E White and are to bee solde at his
Shoppe neere the little North doore of S Paules
Chiirch at the Signe of the Gun.
1604.
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TO THE READER.
^imellos Fortunes were more then were spoken of, and such as are you may easily con-
sider of : Who runnes many courses, is some-time out of the way, and so was hee, and
euery man cannot thxiue, no more did he: yet his will was good, so may be yours : But
his Fortune was so so, so may be yours. But what became of him in the end, is not spoken : and
what you meane to doe, I cannot Judge. Him I had litle acquaintance with, and you lesse : only
his name I haue reade, but yours I know not that I haue heard of: Of him I heare no euill, nor
wish to heare any of you : Him I finde wittie, and you I hope to finde wise ; if not I shall be sorrie
for your witte, as mine owne Fortune, to let my labours fall into your hands. But I will thinke the
best, and so in the best thought I rest in hope of your patience.
Your friend
B. N.
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Faxit Detis,
THE ENTERTAINMENT OF
Grimello, by Signior Ganuzido, as he
ouer-tooke him on the way.
Grimello. Ganuzido.
Gki. BSmOa are well oner-taken Sir. Gan.
Whatt are you so sure of it? Od,
Sure of what sir? Gan. Why my
Purse. Gri. Your Purse? no sir.
it was the least part of my thought Gan. Why, what
haue you taken then ? or bane yon anthoritie to take
fo<4es as you findethem fai your waie ? If you haue, you
may happen yet to be deodued. Gri. Why sir, I set no
springs for Woodcocks, and though I be no great wise
man, yet I can doe something else, then shooe the Goose
for my lining : and therefore, I pray you neither feare
your Parse, nor play too much with my folly. But if
you can finde in your hart to do good for him that cannot
deserue it, and will trust a stranger, with as much as yon
dare loose, it may be I should teU you alonger tale then
you would beleene, or else finde you Under then I can
looke for.
Gan. Why? sale I were as I may be (for ought yon
know) an honest man and of ability to doe for you more
then I meane to prate of, if I Uke of your taOce, and your
behauionr, what would yon sale to mee ? Gri. I could
say somewhat vnto you, but that my hart is taSL Gan.
Of what? Gri. Sorrowes. Gan. For what? GrL Oh
sir, it were a woride to tdl yon the discourse of the
causes of them.
Ga. Wen then, by the waie, let me aske yon a ques-
tion or two. Gri. As many as please you. Ga. Then
first, ten me whence yon come? Gri. FVom Ttrra
PloridAt and am going to Isola Brata, Ga. Oh, I
vnderstand a Utk Latin, and if I be not much mistaken,
you come from the florishing Lande, and are tranailittg
towardes the blessed Hand. Gri. Ve^r true sir. Gan.
Then figuratiuely, you come from the Alo>house, and are
going to the Taueme. Gri. (% sir, you make too hard
a construction of my disposition : for, though a cup of
good Ale be comfortable in the morning, and a drat^ght
of old Sacke, warme the hart to bed-ward : yet for my
sdfe, I hohl a moderate dyet the holsomest Phisick, and
for those Unde of houses, they are but for necessitie :
and therefore I pray yon sir, be better oonoefaied of my
condition.
Gan. WeU then, let me aske yon, how yon made your
waike hither? Gri In briefe sir, not knowing your busi-
nes, in admitting your leasure, or requiring more haste,
and so fearing by teadiousnes, to be some trouble to your
patience, with your good fauour sir, thus it is, Afterthat
I had past the great Mountaine of mishaps, I feU into a
long vafle of miserie, in which I haue wandred to the
foote of this hiU of hope, on whidi I haue not bene a
little comforted, since I came into your presence.
Gan. Come, you are so fine, but win you not be angrie,
if I ten you mymlnde, touching yourfigures? GrL Not
for my life Sir. Gan. Then it may be, yon were going
▼p Hoiboum§-HUl^ and so afterwarde to Tihwnu: Fh>m
whence hauing escaped more by good fortune then desert,
you haue gone a-b^gging euer since, and hauing learned
your tennes of Arte, either at Schoole (which you haue
not forgotten, to put to an iU vse) or among such
as your seUe, that with Etoquence, thfaike to cosen
simplidtie of a Utle cofaie, yon would draw a hand of
me : but yon aredecehied In me, or it may be, that lam
deoehwd in yon, and therefore I pray you ten me what
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GRIMELLOS FORTUNES.
you are, your profession and purpose? it may be for
your good : for jrour hurt beleeue me it shall not be.
Gri. Sir, to td you what I am, you know what al men are,
andsoami: Dust and Ashes and wormesmeate, my pro-
fession honesty : which if the heauens will fiauour I care
for no fortune. Ga. Well said, but how do you professe
honesty? Gri. I protest Gan. What, do you ondy
protest honesty ? Why then, your profession is but a
protesution, as thus : You protest it a thing necessarie
in a commonwealth, but more commendable, then com-
modious for many men to deale withall. Gri Oh no sir,
no such matter : I know there is no true commoditie
without it, and for my selfe. in all the courses that I haue
yet runne I haue had so great a care of it, & so great
a loue to it, that I had rather haue lost all that I had in
the world, and my selfe last of all, then haue liued without
it : and without boast be it spoken, I now haue it about
me, and carrie it easily without any weight or trouble.
Ga. And where, I pray you ? Gri Truely sir, in my
hart. Where I hope it is too fisst, for euer getting out,
while I hue. Gan. Well then if I must needs (as Ihaue
yet no reason to the contrary) beleeue what you saie. Let
me heare a litle of your courses, and of your honesty in
them. Gri I will tell you Sir first: After I had past out
of Crosse^owe, speld, and put together, read without a
Festraw, had my Grammer Rules without booke and was
gone from Scfaoole to the UniuersitieB, there beginning
in PhDosophie by Gods giaoe to tndge betwixt good and
euill : and what honour wasinbone8tie« and what shame
in the oontrarie : I rather noted tbea loued the fallacjea
in arguments : and gjoueming nature with reason, I was
called the honest ScfaoUer : For I neuer Tsed Rbetorick
to perswade wickednes, nor Poetrye in wantounasse, nor
Diuinitie in pride, nor law in Cooef ousi^gssf , noc Pbidcke
in malice, nor Musioque in beggeiy : but held learning
so honorable in all studies, that I aHoyded all that might
any waie disgmoe her.
Ga. An4 there-with-all you wakte. Gri. Why Sir?
Gan. Why, I cannot see how being awake, you could
doe so : Ten4>tations, Illnsions, and suggestions (and I
know not what such other trickes) wonkl haue put you so
out of your By-aoe, that you would «ome time haue lost
the cast, had you bowled ncuer so weli Bui let me
heare you a lUle speake of your honesty in all your
poynts of learning.
Gri Why I tell you, I loade no loue to wenches, I did
oosen no simple trust with ▼ntruth : I fed my flocke,
vndid no Qyent, poysoned no patient, nor followed a
Fayrie with a blinde Fiddle : but wonnc the wilfull with
good words, to a good waie : made vertue in the onely
honor of vertue : was true to my friends, followed my
Qyents c^se to his content, Preadied eu^ary weeke in my
Parish Church : Cured soundly my Patientii and made
oontent my best masique.
Ga. And yet could not thriue with all this ? Gri. Qftk no.
Gan. The reson? Gri. I ¥rill tell jrou, wordes had no
weight without money, and I was poore, and the rich were
oouetous : therefore my good wordes onely did good, to
good mindes, that benefited not a litle by my labours : but
my gaine was only a good name: so that most my enemy
which wold saie, I was a foole, would saie, that I was an
honest man. My Poetry belyed no mans viUanie, nor
laide open his shame but reprehended vice priuatdy and
touched no mans name in infruny. My Clyents would
pray for my life, for my true pleading : and my Parish
all loued me, because I was contented with what they
gaue me : my patients commended my medicines, and
my Musio(|ue was pleasing, because it was not common.
Gan. Wd, then sir, your Rhetoricke was gratious,
your Potxye diuine, your diuinitie, pure, your Law
Justice, your Physicke learned, and your Musiqne
Harmonious: and yet with all these you ooukl not
thriue.
Gri No, For I could not flatter, nor faine, nor be
idle, nor sdl breath, nor heare malice, nor abide beggery.
Gan. Wdl said, I like you wdl for this : but let me go
a little fiuther on with you out of booke-matters. What
other courses haue you past with this same honestie?
Gri Triidy Sir, after that I had left my hard studie,
I became a Courtier. Gan. Yea marrie Sir, now you
come to me : let me heare a little of that poynt with you.
Gri. I will tell you Sir, my place behig not great there,
I can tdl you of no great matters, but thus far without
oflfence. I loued no Painting on my face, no superfluitie
in my dyet, nor ezoesse in my apparrell, nor to creepe to
a Thome, nor to flatter a foole, nor oonuerse with a
Maehauiliwn^ nor to make idle loue, nor to sooffe at
vertue, nor to quarrd for trifles, nor to tdl lies, nor to
importune friends, nor todday sutors : but in all poynts
of oourtesie, so linked honesde with modestie, that,
being fidthftd to my God, loyall to my Soueraign, care-
full of my sdfeand kinde vnto my friend : my hart was
all dale, hi a good harbour, and at night, my Consdenoe
made me sleepe quietly.
Gan. AU this I like wdl, and the rather, for that your
estate answeres (at this time) to the condition of sim-
plicity : but on a litle further, for I greatly care not to
talke too much of Court-courses : and yet I pray you
tdl me the cause why you had such a care oif your
honesty in all your Court-time ? But first let me aske you,
why you would not paint your fiaoe as many doe?
Gri Because I would not offend God with setting an
other coUour on my fiuse, then nature by his grace had
giuen me.
Gan. WeU said, but why dkl you fori)eare supeifinitie
in your diet?
Gri For that with gluttonie and drunkennesse I would
not please the deuill. Gan. Very good, now why doe you
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GRIMELLOS FORTUNES.
misUkeezoesaeuiappanren? GrL Because the wise that
saw my fashions should not laugh at me for my foUy.
Gan. A good care : but why would you not creepe to
aThistle?
Gii For feare of pricking my Imees, and maUng an
idon of idlenes. Gan. And why doe you hate to flatter
a foole? Qri. Because I iret at my miserie, to tye my
patience to ignorance, and I would shunne the infection
of a thirsting spirit.
Ga. Well said, but why would you not coBuene with
a MachatdHomf Gri. For feare of a riUaine. Gan.
Why would you not make toue? Gri. Because of the
fashion.
Gan. How so? Gri Why. it is vnfit to the body, or
the minde, or state, or common, or foolish, or an idle
thing or an other about it so that I was loth to loose
time, about the triall of it. Ga. Good, but why dunt
you not scofie at vertue? Gri. For feare to be hate-
fuU both to God and man.
Ga. A gratious conceit : Now why did you misUke of
quarrels? Gri Because they are enemies to peaee,
dangers of death, and disquietnes of the Seaoes.
Ga. Very good : now why did you hate lying? Gri
Because as the deuil is the author of it, no honest man
but abhorres it : no Christian but may be ashamed of it :
lew or none but the wicked knie it : Furthermore, when
Itdltrue^Ishallnotbebeleeuedk Gan. You sale wdl :
Now, why would you not importune friends? -Gri For
feare to weary them, and so to loose them. Gan^ Why
wouM jrou not delaie Sutors? Gri Because I would
not abuse their trust, nor bee pittilesse of their misrey.
Gan. AH this I libeweil : but for that I Jike not too
much to taOce of Court-oourseSk I piay you tell mee of
your next course, and honestie in it. Gri Very willittgly.
The next was Arraes : I left the Couit and foUowed the
fidd, sought by danger to winno Honor : and when by
deserts of seruioe, I had gotten to the charge of Gouem-
ment : I did not abuse my credit, with either foolish
hardhies, or base Cowardice.
Gan. What was your reason? Gri For ftaie, by the
first, to loose either mtaie honor, or my people : Bjr the
other, to loose my credit Tureoooenble. Gan. WeHssid,
N6w to your next poynt.
Gri. I would not deoehie my souklier of his pay, nor
make a ihelch-Cow of a man. Gan. And why t profite
goeth beyond Conscience in many considerations^ Gri.
Yea, with such as thinhe of no other world but this: but
I hane no part in their {day, for honor admitts no Avarice,
and it is an imchristian humor to make money «f men.
Gan. Well said, and what was your next Qare?-Gri
Not to forget merde in Justice^ not to fouour the ifMous,
nor to pardon the obstinate. Gan. And why? Gri.
Because as Justiee is the grace of Judgement, so is mercy
the gfory of Justiae.
Gan. Why would you not firaour the ritious? Gri
Because they are the enemies of God, and the spoyle of
men. Gan. You sale true, but last of all, wherefore
would you not pardon the obstinate? Gii For feare of
infecting of other, and growing into a greater miscfaiefe,
if bee scaped of vnpunished.
Ga. A good coBsMeration, for in time of warre, one
mutinous riUaine may Bnarte a whole Campe: these
indeed were honest cares in you : but it seemes, fortune
was not ahraies your friend, or else she would haue
furnished you better for your preferment : But I see, you
haue learned psetlenoe, which is a great Vertue in all
men, and In all courses. It seemes you had no pleasure
in lyrii^ of Cities, in bloody massacres, nor in robbing
<A Churches.
Gri Oh no, for God nener prospereth the blood-
thirstie, the merrilesse, nor die vngratious : and indeed,
I must saie what I know, that a true Souldier, is neither
Thiefe, Murtherer, nor YnmereifuU. Gan. I am of your
minde in this : But not to trouble you too mudi with
enquiring alter your oounes in the wanes : let mee a
litleaskeyoo of the next course, andasyousaid, ofyoufe*
honesde in it.
Gri. Very willingly. The next ooune I tooke was
this: finding my bodie not answerable to my minde,
and the gaines of my aduentores no greater then would
defraie the* charges of my neoessarieexpences: Ileftthe
field, and tooke me to my chamber, where lesbhied to
betake my selfe wholy to my booke : I fell soundly to
the study of the law: in which, when I had so profited,
that I was able to pleade a case, and hidge betwixt right
and wrong, I had thai care of my oensdenoe, that, of
poore men I wouM take no mon^ and of tl>e rich, I
woukl not be bribed : And findfaig by some small onU-
ruuy fees, I could haidly'paie for my bookes, iny chamber,
and my appareD, and my oot<4ide being fore^vnfit for the
comdinessof that professton : I was enforced to leaue
that course, to a conscience of >m other kinde: and seeing
tho misery of- Clienu, the quiddities in Cues, and' the
long delayings in Conns : I left the Law, sold my bookes.
and my chamber, and keeping only a Nigfat-gowne to
keepe meewflsme Inaoold wtoter, I got me into the
Country, theaa intending to plaie the good husband :
where, hauingtaksn the leaaeof aprettleferme; I hoped
to maknmudi of alkies ■■
Gan. Wdl saM, but let me aake you, why you would
not take money 'Of poore men for oounsell?
Gri Because their miMrie should not eune my Coue-
toosnesse : for though ttie rich would wrong them. I
would not wring them.
Ga. And watt sMe^ * signeof a goede ndnde : But
why woukl you reodue no bribes of the tieh? Gri. Be-
cause I would not seQ breath for money: and I had more
«are of my Conscience than their Cohie.
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GRIMELLOS FORTUNES.
Qa. Wdl spoken, a signe of a grations spirit. And
since a good Consdenoe, b better than a golden Cas-
tell, you did better to seeke a quiet life with a meane
gaine, then to cfaaxge your Conscience with a heape of
treasure. But since the studie of the Law, is both tedi-
ous and costly, I hold a good Pleader worthie his Fee,
and a reuerent Judge worthy bis Honor ; without whose
great care and trauaile, the Commonwealth would hardly
be kept in good order : And therefore I will leaue further
to talke of your Law-courses, and intreat you to tell me
how you fisred with the forme?
Gri OhveryweU:aslongasmyPursewasmyfriend,
I had Horses, Bullocks, Cowes, Sheepe and Come, and
Gompanie enou^ to hdpeme to spend more than I got :
yet would I not mingle the fusty, ouer-growne come,
with the sweet and good. I would not sell an old sheepe
for a Lambe, nor an old Cowe for a yong Heiffor. I
would not forestall any markets, take any house ouer a
TennanU head : sdl rotten trees for good timber, raise
the price of graine nor of Cattell, nor defraud the labourer
of his hyie. But when my Cattle dyed, my fruit was
blasted, and my Purse grew so bare, that great rents
would not be paide with faire words : two or three yeares
brought me so downe the winde, that I could nener
looke up more to the welkin : and so in briefe, selling
all that I had, haning no cfaaxge of wife, nor children, I
tooke that litle that remained after the discharge of my
debts, ft going into some strange place where I was
not knowen, I meant to seeke my fortune, in the seruice
of some such noble or honest Gentleman, as would in
his discretion, regard the care of my duty.
Ga. Why, bane you euer serued? Gri. Yes a while,
bat I bane obsemed the carriage of diuerse, and not the
worst wiu in their places that haue serued : which, if it
were my happe to come into, I would vtteily auoide.
Ga. I pray you'tellmee some of your notes, for by your
hidgement in that you bane rehearsed, I can beleene
nothing in you to be idle.
GrL I thanke you. Sir, for your good opinion of me^
buthow8oeuerIprooue,IwillsatisfieyourrequesL When
I came into a house where I saw diuerslty of seruants,
and euery one make a gaine in his place : I began to
cast mine eies about me, iriien I might see one carrie a
ring in his mouth, ft it made not his teeth Ueed. I
heard another daw aback, as though he would leane no
flesh on the bones : another playe so on both hands, as
if he had put downe a conningjugler ; another playing at
Bofiept, with the des of his mistrisse : another foUow-
fa)g iMdas, in betraying his master, and yet not one of
these but made a gaine of his viOanie.
Ga. As bow I pray you? if at least you can lell mee,
and first for the Rtaig-caixier?
Gri. Why when no man wouklcfaalleQge the Stone, he
should haue the gold for his labour. Ga. Well oooched ;
now, for the next, to the Claw-backe, what got bee by bis
trade?
GrL Some-wliat more then a Lowse, when be met with
a suit of Satten. Gan. Wdl saide, now to the third :
the Ambodreter, he that plates on both hands ?
Gri Sir, Jacke of both sides, got a doke of his master,
and a shirt of his mistres, when be did fit her humor, ft
seme his tume.
Gan. Well hit, but, to the fourth now : Wagge-wanton
with his mistresse. Gri. Oh, hee gate his masters lone
through her conunendatiott, and her comfort through his
owne diligence.
Ga. A neoessaiie seruant, it is a signe he was not idle,
when he was so wdl occupyed. Gri. Ezerdsed, you
would haue said. Sir I thinke at least Ga. Oh you saie
well: but nothing is ilUpoken that is not iU taken. But,
now to the last, the Judas, what gained he?
Gri. That, which of all I pnue God keep me from.
Ga. Why man, what was it? Gri. Why Sir, the Gal-
lowes, if not hdl ; but it is a shrewde presumption : for
Treason is surdy the very higfa-waie to hdL
Ga. Wdl said, then if thou wertweU entertained, with
a good maister, thou wouUest ndther carrie aring. cUwe
a badK, plaie on both hands, be no wagge-wanton, with
thy mistresses nor Judas with thy maister?
Gri. No indeede Sir, I would be none of these.
Ga. What would you then doe, or can yon do^ if
vpon my good liking, of your behauionr, I should
procure your preferment? Gri. Sir, I can do many
things more then I meane to boast of, and when I know
of what title, dther for honor or honesty, my maister or
mistres may be, I will then tell you, how I can fit my
seruice to their contentment.
Ga. Well then, saie he were a yoog Lord, and I would
preferre you to attend him in his chamber. Gri I would
neuer be without a brush lor his i^qjazidl : I would see
his chamber neatly kept, his bed soft and findy made,
his linnen deane washed, and his diestes &st locked : I
would be humble in my behamour, and duill in my de>
meanour, go discreetly on a message, bring him word of
bis mistresse health, and his Cosins good rest: and what
time of the dale it is, etc.
Ga. Wdlputoir ; but saieit wereafine Gemlewoman,
that I would put you to?
Gri Oh, I would be InU of curtesse, hold her Glasse
stedie, bring her painting vnseene, and her Perriwig vn-
crushed : haue her taylour at a becke, runne quiddy
for her errand, now and then td her a merrie tale : and
once in fiauour neuer loose it againe I warrant you.
Ga. But will you not commend her fimorite? Gti No,«i
I hate that rile basenes, or nuher base villanie, to make
my tongue an enemie to my hart : I would nuher leaue
her to seeke a seraant, then I would be found inmch a
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Ga. Wen Hud : but mitt that it were to a meaner
peEKNi, I should put thee. I cannot sale, prefer thee to :
as for example : Let me sale it be some honest man of
trade or tnffique, or so forth ; how could you behaue
your aelfe. that I might hope of your credite?
Gri. Why Sir, I would keepe his booke of account,
cast vp his reckonings once in foure and twCty honres,
looke wel vnto his shoppe, leame the price of his
wares, aske what lacke you of passers bye, yst his Chap-
men kindely» and eueiy one with courtesie : so that I
would get more with good words, then some other should
do with good ware. In briefe, I would be an honest
man. and that is worth afl.
Gan. Good all that I yet heare : A if there be no worse
matter in you, then I haue yet heard from you, nor hope
to finde in you, I do not greatly care, if your case be
despeiate, that for lacke of entertainment, to sane the
chaige of an empty purse jrou would venture vpon a bad
maister rather then none, ile triealitlewhat you can doe
about my house : Base actions, as filling the Dung-cart,
going to plough, keeping of hogs, or washing of buckes,
sweeping the houses, or making deane shooes : these
oflSoes, I haue in my house ; Boyes and Girles enough,
fit for the purpose. But to ouer^ee my fiunily, to in-
struct my children, to be Steward of my courts, keeper
of my Parke, ranger of my Forrest, and now and then
to wait on my wife : one of these oflloes if any be void,
I care not if I place thee in, so that in thy good caziiage,
thou doest not deoeiue my expectation?
Gri Sir, not to trouble you with klle oetemonies, trye
me, and trust me : either yon or your Ladie. Ga. You
saie well : but by the waie, because it is aboue three
miles to my house, and good talke passeth the time well
away, Let me entreat you to tell mee some-what of
your Fortunes in your crosse courses ; if, at least, they
be not such, as you will in modestie oooceale, or are not
willing to call in memorie.
Gri. No Sir, I feare not to satisfie your desire, either
in respect of my foOie or my fortune. For the first is
eiraiiihlr in youth, and the other is her selfe in all ages :
and therefore let me tell you, thus it was : In my young
and litle better then childish yeares, my father hauhig
pot me to schoole, to a more furious then wise Schoole-
master, who by the helpe of his Usher (a better schoDcr
then himself,) brought vp a fewe good wits, to better
vnderstanding then his owne : I hauing leam'd to spdl
and put together, to Construe, and Fuoe, to write my
letters and to soyne, and to make my mistresse PIstles.
when my maister was from home : It fell out I know not
how, that he, being a man very vigilant m all his
eoones ; and seeing my mistresse beautie able to make
a good SchoUer forget his lesson, **«"c*"»"g by his
sUuUe in Astranomie, that the sjgne of his Fortune,
stood too stnrii^it vpoo Ct^Htonu, inwwing to
34
the fotes in their powers: foundeameanestoi
all his Boorders from his house, in regarde of a A/cr/raw
in his head, which was much troubled by the noise of
our Pu-rulines, Now I, as litle guiltie as any, of the
cause of his foUie, was yet amoQg my fellowes banished
his house, and shortly after sent hmne to our friendes.
Where hauing idled it so long, that bookes were enemies
to our delights, I like a good wagge among other, see-
ing one dale a gallant Knight come home to my fEUhers
house, findmg my spirite not so dull as to dwell alwaies
in one place : made all the meanes I could to piefcire
my selfe into his seruioe. Which, with my mothers
entreatie, my fitther brought to passe : Preferred I was
to this Gallant, and from a Scholler must tume Page ;
when, if I should tell you the tenth part of the waggeries,
that I passed through, I should breake mine oathe on the
Pftntable, call olde tzickes in question, and perhaps,
wrong some that were mine fellowes then, who woukl bee
kMth to heare of it nowe : Yet will I not be so sparing
of my speech, but that I dare tell yon one merrie parte,
that I and my good foUowes plaide, that perhaps is
worth the laughing at.
Gan. I pray you do.
Gri. I will tell you : thus it was. I being in my
youth reasonably wdl-fiuioured, of a pure complexion,
and^of a reasonable good stature, and hauing wit.enougfa,
vpon a litle warning, to plate the wagge in the right
vaine : It was my happe among other my feUow-Pages,
to take knowledge of a certaine Gallant in our Court, a
man of no great worth any waie, and yet, a sufficient
Blocke for Frogges to leape vppon : His yeeres about
scMne twende two, or there abouts, his complexion, Sea-
cole saqguin^ a most wicked fiice, and a wit corres-
pondent : to be short, for that ill faces make no pleasant
descriptions, let it suffice, that bee was eueiy waie a verie
filthie fellow : and yet, hauing better clothes then he
was worthy to weare, and more money then he could
wisely vse : This Lob-lollie, with slanering lips, would
be making loue, and that not onely to one, but euerie
dale one : h though he were icarse welcome to any, yet
would he bhish at no disgrace. This yonker had we
foonde out, and hearing of his disposition, we fitted his
humor, one of vs would borrow a Ladies cOmenda-
tions, to get an Angell withall, for a message : Another
get a nose-gaie or a Bale leafe, and bring from his mis-
tresse, which came vp with fine, with a French Crowne :
Another or two of vs, haunt him at dinner, and with a
song or a Galliard, nibble on his Purse for a piece of
g(M : Another of vs, somewhat towards the man, and
in a manner past a Page, would fall In hand with him
for a rest or two, tin which, some secrete tricks of our
owne setting, we could dnie into a few Crowns worth
the taking vp. Now iriien we had Cedds vpon him so
kiQg* tiMtt ira fewed it wooki oone oat : we deoised to
B
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bue a plot to be46ote Mm to the liilL We had amoog
vi one fine boie, (I wiU* not aay, my sdfe, whose feature
and beauty; made hnn an amiable creature.) Thisyootb,
we had agreed amo^g onr sdute. to make a meanes. by
which to catch this Wood-oocke ui a fine spring : Whidi
in few daies after, wee enacted, as I will tell you : we
got apparrdl of a Oentle-woman, (^ waiting woman of a
Ladie)ofwhom, hamngaoqnainted her With our intended
sport, wee borrowed manie things fit for our purpose.
This Boye O^eiog now a supposed Wenche) we caused
to take a kxlging right oner against this Wisards hospi-
tal! : Where, out of his Window, beholding this beauti-
fiiU obiect, his eies were no sooner Lymed with blindnesse,
but, his heart was so set on fire with foDy, diat there was
no waie to qnendi it, but the fiwour of tliis imagined
Cure Ladie, Gentle woman, or mistresse, what you will.
Now we that dailie vsed (more for our oomiort, then iiis
oommoditie) to visite him, no sooner in his diamber
hawing gotten a view of her, but wee fell with admiration
to oommende her beyond the Moone for an excellent
creature : Oh, what an Eie? what a Lippe? what a fore-
head? what a cheeke? what haire? what a hand?
what a bodie ? For further, at the window we oould not
sea : Thua by litle and litle we brought him halfe madde
before, with oeoceite, ready to hang himselfe for loue.
And now must tho» title wits he had, go to worke, to
shew his fdly. Now wee must get him a Poet, to make
him verses in her commendation, a SchoUer to write his
Louo-letters, Musique to play vnder her window, and
Gloues, Soarfes, and Fannes to bee sent for presents,
which might be as it were fore-speakers for his entertain-
DMDt : ' And thus, when we had fitted hun for all tumes,
wee got him such &uorable accesse, vpon promise of no
disbonofable attempt, thAt where before he was but
ouer-shooes, he was nowe ouer-head-and-eares for an
Asse. For now began he to thinke well of him selfe,
and that he should carrie the Bellawaie for Beautie :
when hee should tndeede carrie awaie the Bable for
foUie. Well thus, hauing a fewe daies played with his
nose, A hauing agreed with the of the house to seeme
ignorant of her name and countrie : but that she was a
suitor at the Court : They knew not wlierefore^ when,,
in pittie, to puUthe pooie foole too lowe on his knees :
with holding him off too long from bis off or on, we
deuised one night that he should be at great cost with
a supper in her lodging, and there should be oertaine
Gentle-women, to aocompanie her, & that should offer
her what kindnesse might lie in their powers in the
Court. These we brought, as wee made him beleeue,
to let them see his &uour, and good regarde with this
rare creature, but came indeed onely with a forced
modestie, to conceale a laughfaig at this Cockea-combe :
not to dwell too long rpon drcumstanoes, the Supper
was prouided, the guestes bidden, the Mnskiue in tune,
the Gentleman welooma, and the Boye plaide his part
in the Q, Hee had the kiase of the hand, fowes. and
protestations, gifts and presents* and what not, that migfat
be witnesse of his folly? Now a little before aupper
ynderstanding (by the imagined. wench,) that she was the
next morning to go out of towae, after aolenma promise
to bring her on her waie (kindly aooepted on her p^) to
supper they went : where there were so many healths
drunk to his mistiisse, that with asmnch a doe as might
be drunken to sane his credite, hee tooke his leane tiH
morning, and so got him home to his lodging ' where,
hauing scarce power to stand on his feet, he fell downe
on his bedde, where with the helpe of a litle tricke that
was put in a Cuppe of wine, he slept till next daienoone,
when like a great Beare* gmnting and Uofwing, hee goeth
to the window, where missmg his fonner obiect (who was
now turned Page againe) ashamed of his breach of
promise, got him to bed againe : Where, keeping bis
chamber for a.daie or two. and then aommii^ hMo the
Court seeing some of his lauours wome Xij one of the
Pages,— the Boye tha,t plaide the Wagge with him,
ashamed to demand them, and fearing his foUy to be
Ipiowen in the Court : suddenly turned Cfown» & with
a sighing song. To the tune of, IfV/o-iftiy, wU^adau,
got him in y« cuntrie, where wee neuer heard nBore of
hinu Now Sir, was not this % prettie iest. & wel
handled?
Gap Yea for wagges : I know singemy.selfe wasa P«ge.
a number of such waggieries. Bat yet, I thaakoyoaibr
this merrie tale, it hat|i lasted a good whiles Bat now
tell mee when you had past the Page, in your, next
course, what merrie oonodt can you remember, that
male last another mile? that imay thanke yon foriL
Gri. I will Sir, sfaice yoi^ take this so well : The nesrt
course I fell mto was Ames ; and there I- remaoBber in a
Towne of Gaxm». where I was ia.paie* the Gouemour
a man whome some ill fortune without desart had
throwen vpon an ynworthy honour, being «f himsdfe bo
tymerous of nature, as that a baae note of a Sagtmtta
would have made him start, as if he bad beard theneport
of a piece of Ordinance. This, wicked Creature, bgr the
meanes of his sister (a Minion of our Generals) gotten
into this place : where, though it w«e fecre eno^gbfinom
the enemie, yet, for that (if tfaf skie fell, wee maie haua
larkes: and so, if |he 39u)dier%.woe wme /of their
Uues, they might come thither for a hanging : for,exoept
wee would faiX out among our selues, there was no-feare
of any thhig byt Sparrow*blasting ; and yet here I know
not what cause more then to skana flyes,) wea held a
strong , Garrison ; For. th« . Goucniour being betier>
mooued, the^ c^tberwis^. Bihidad, fearing, some .-two-
legged Rats, should breake into the moatfaesof his bags,
did not onely enuyron his feare (for he was compounded
all of litle better matter) within some seaaen walks with>
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GRIMELLOS FORTUNES.
II
out his Castle, besides Ditches of no Utle breadth and
deepnesse : and «rithm some seauenteene double and
treble walles within the house : where, (as dose as a
Flea in a flocke-bed> he kept Umselfe warme from the
cold winde. Now in this close Cabin, (as he vsed much
to contdne himself, in casting yp of his accounts) one
night, after the reodpt of money for the paye of the
Sonldiers locking vp his bags in cfaestes of Iron, and
then laying vp the keyes ynder his beds head, trusting
none to lye in his chamber, but a sonne of his owne, who
was too yoimgto be a thiefe, and yet by outward appear-
ance seemed to be weary of the father : with this sonne,
a Page as it was saM, (a bastard of his by a Beggar) to
«^om he gaue but sface pence for a dales woike. With
these two (fai a Couch by his beds side) to bedde goeth
his base worship, and there, haning made a reasonable
supper, tooke indifierent rest. But, after his first sleepe
(whidi was but a kinde of starting slumber) he fell into
a dreaine : all of warres, dtschaiging of Ordinance, fyr-
ing of houses, and crye of people : in wiiich, not a litk
amaaed or firighted. he started out of his bed, with ctf-
xDgovxArm€,Arwuf The watch (or father the Guarde)
hearing this suddaine noyse. fearing some great Rat had
bitten theirCi^iitaine by the Nose, (where there was a rich
breakfiutforadosenofleaneMlse:) Tpon the suddafaie
brske in with, How now my Lord ? WeU quoth he, with
a Hak, as though his ibote being in the Chamber pot, he
had beneafiaid of drowning : but as a man in sudi a
maae might somewhat come to himKUe, brake into this
speech* My maisters and friends, there is no inezpected
great matter of importance, but, vnto careftin spirits are
renealed hi their sleepes, that by the prouidenoe of Gods
discretion, they may be preuoited. This Towne is a
pfa^e of great regard with our Generall, the carefiill
gouenment thereof is committed vnto my faonestie : I
wouU be loath to see the perishing of so many soules,
and the secke of so manie houses, as by lacke of care
may ftd out if it be not better hx>ked vnto : Now what
stratagems are in hand we know not : The enemie is
subtilland aciong, wee cannot be too warie of a mischiefe,
you know : Had-I«wist is a foole in all courses, and I
would bee loath to loose my credite, hi slacking my care
in the charge committed vnto me : to be short, I was
this night much troubled to my sleepe with sharpe waires,
tyring of houses, the report of the Ctoon, and great crie
of the people : and the viskm, as it was very dreadfuU,
so it oontinned long, and therefore betogperswaded, that
it giueth me warning of some mischiefe toteaded agsinst
this towne,so wouki Ibeegbd in what I may topreuent
it ; And ttierfere call hMier the Capitaitte <tf the watch
vntonme. This, whenheehadstammertaglytoapitiiull
fieare brought oat, with a Palsey-shaUng-haad, haning
buttoned vp hit doublet ; called for his Amour (whkh
all of nMuket prooie be put on, with al the bast y*
might be) and bdug ftnrnished to meete with a whole
swarme of flies, (with his double guard) out he goes and
meetes the Capitatoe to his flail : where, the wtode btow-
ing high, and making a noyse to the house, he staled &
asked him, harke quoth he doe yon not heare the noyse
of some shot ? Ob no. Sir, quoth he. it is the winde to
the Ghhnn^» > Oh, is it so, said he. then good enough.
But let me tel you, I haue had a shzewde drearae to
night : and therefore am wiUtog to walke the ^qnnd to see
how the Souldiers keepe watch. My Loi4. qiioth the
C^pitainift. you shall need to doubt nothtog vpon iny lifie
I warrant you. It is now towards daie. and the watch is
vpon discfaaige ; I pmie you keq)e ypor Chamber, and
take your rest Well, qupth h«, if it beKW I know you
carefnU and honest, and I will leane all to your ohazg^
till I come abroad : And so leaniog the Capitaine retires
himselfe toto his chamber ; where, keeping on his Annour,
here sets bun downe to a chaire, and there not trusting his
bed any longer for that time, haoing taken a naj^ or
two; the watch vpon their discharge, gagoetha Capitaine
a voUey of shot : the nqyse whereof awaking this gallant
man of two Armes : Hoe. quoth he, to the jQward. one
of ye know, what shot is this ? wlio bringing him woril
of the discfaarg» of the watch, ha was. a litle at quiei.
But the daie betog a Satots daie when vsuaUy the
Countrie people vsed to make ^uch pastime, asiitted the
oonditton of their humors : somewhat .early from a Wood
vnder a hill, which fronted the Towne, and there iHth
Drummes and Fifes (and a few loose shot) oaa»e toward
the towne. to make the Gouemonr merrie with, a Maie-
game and a Morris. Now such a Wfigge as my SQife
mmding to make my selfe and some of jny friends
merrie with a Jest, hautog intelligence^ of.the>same tl^
night beibre, yet seeming ignorant theceot came toto the
Towne, with Arwu, Amu, for the. caemie is at haade.
This crie being brought to the gouemonr. (he to a cdde
sweat, what with feare, and the weight.of his Armour)
called presently lor his Captainea» gjsne. euery one their
charge what to doe : which done, prooiding as well as
bee might for one : banicaded all. his gates without,
and all his dooreswithto: and to.themidn of a Looe-
roome withto a wall of twentle yeardcs thicke of stone,
barricaded himselfe withto a great waDjof Mrth, which
was made for aFomaoe to caste mettell to focOrdiaanoe :
There, ouer-head and cares to.fcaie sits h« with his two
Pages : the doore fest tocked to him. ^ aaoae, the
people betog come to with their n^aie Jhew ;. weat a
messenger fixm the Capitaine of the watch, to entreat
his Lordship to bee partaker of the J^asttoic* and to
entreat the people with some kiadnesiB. .Themesaengsr
being come to the doore and let to» before ha OQald
ddiuer his meMige : Wdl quoth iM . («"yigf"^hg the
enemies before the walles) What is the Dsrlee thaihe
offiereth thee? Btfley my Lord, quoth ihe 1
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GRIMELLOS FORTUNES.
it is a Pastime : There is no enemie, all friends : Your
poore neighbours are come to make you merrie with a
Morris-daunce, and a Maie-game. Yea» quoth he, is it
none other? and with looking in his Purse, and giuing
him iust nothing : It is well ; staie awhile, Boie, giue me
my sword and my Target that my neighbours shall see
how readie I was to meete the enemie vpon the least
Alarum. And with these wordes, causing the Trumpet
to sound a merrie note for ioye of the deliuerance of his
feare : Out he comes among them, and like an Asse (as
eucr man was) shewes himselfe. After a litle gratulation
(leaning them in their sports) got him againe into his
k>dging, and there calling for his breakfast, put off his
Armour, and went to bed againe : where let him lye till
I raise him.
Ga. Is it possible that there is such a Cuckoe in the
workl?
Gri. Yes, and they wonder al that know him, how hee
should come to haue charge of men, that would be afraide
of a shaddow, and be Gouemour of a Towne, that would
rmme into a bench hole. But the Jest was in the
Maie-game : (if you had seene it) For they had made a
Lord and a Ladie : and the Foole was like him as one
could be like an other. But it was but a Tale, and
therefore I will not trouble you any further with it.
Gfl. Grunercy hartdy, thou art as good as thy word,
it is a merrie tale and well tolde. But if I may not
trouble thee too much, let me heare one more, that you
Ught on in your next course.
Gri. With a good will Sir. The next was, (as I saide
before) after I left the warres, I fell againe to my booke,
and studied the Law, where I heard a pretty Jest betwixt
a Lawyer and two Clyents, but it was but short.
Ga. No matter : Short or long, I will tbanke thee for
it, and therefore I praie thee out with it.
Gri. Why Sir, then thus it was : There were two
Countrie men rich Farmers ; fiat in Purses : (how leane
soeuer in the face) These two, hauing in some twenty
yeares or moe (with keeping of bare houses, and wear-
ing of bad ck)athes, selling of wheate, and spending of
Kie,) scraped together more money then manie better
men ; it fell out, that (about or a litle after mowing-
time) these two dwelling neere together, and (as it
seemed) each one of them nigh enough vnto himselfe :
Fell at controuersie about a Hey-oock, the value whereof
(by the iudgement of the Parson, and the Constable, and
other of the Aundents of the Parish) could not amount
to abone two and twentie-pence : yet such being the
stubbomesse of both their stomackes, that no meanes
would tie made to bring them to agreement : to Lawe
they would for the tryaU of their right. And now the
Angels that had bene long lyen in their Chestes, must
vse their whiges for the aooomplishing of thdr wiUes.
CounseHours were retayned, Attomeyes were feede,'and
Solidters were not forgotten : Daies of hearing delayed
demurres, and iniunctions, (and I know not what diuises
were vsed) from one Court to another to keepe them in
their courses so long, till in the ende the Judge (of more
consdence then the pleader) noting the long-time of their
sute, the nature of thdr controuersie. and the substance
of the matter, when he had heard all that could be said
on dther side, made this open speech in the whole
Court. Yee two (maisters) that haue made a long
haruest of a little Come, and haue spent a great deate
of money about a litle matter : the cause bdng such, as
is more to be laughed at, then lamented, Let me tell
you, a litle short tale, and so I will haue done with you.
There were on a Time two men went a fishing for
Oysters vpon the Sands at a low Ebbe : the one was
blinde, and the other lame : The blinde-man carried the
lame-man : so when they had gone a litle waie, they
found an Oyster, which the lame-man espied, and ^ewed
the blind-inan, with guiding of his hand to take it vp.
When he had taken it vp, the lame man challenged it to
be his, because he first saw it : The blinde-man, would
haue it, because he had taken it out of the Sandes : Thus
arguing the case, in conscience who should haue it.
There meetes them a Lawyer, who. hearing the con-
trouersie betwixt them, made this short ende betwixt
them. Giue me, quoth he, the Oyster, which, when he
had gotten into his hands, he picked out the fish and
gaue eadi of them a shdl, and went his waie. So yon
two, hauing made the Lawyers ridi with your wilfukies,
may repent ye of your follies, h go home A agree
together like ndghbours, & keep your money in your
purses : for I am wearie to heare more of it. The men
ashamed of their follies, fulfilled his commandement :
went home, casheerd thdr counsaile, let fiall their actions,
went home & lined like honest good fellowes. Now how
like jTOu of this for a Lawyers iest ?
Ga. T'will seme to waroe a wise man how hee playe
the foole with his purse. But one more of your next
course and then I will trouble you no more.
Gri. Well Sir, I will satisfie your request : The next
course was the Farmer, in which time, I remember a
prettie Jest, whidi, if you haue not heard before, will
surely make you laugh : But howsoeuer it be, I will tell
it you, and thus it vras. A ndghbour of mine, in good
case to liue, though not verie wealthie, and yet such a
one as with his formality on a Hollidaie at Church,
would haue bene taken for the Hedborough of the Parish.
This honest substantial! man, drawing one date a
Mill-poole, among other fish, lighted on a verie great
Ede : which, hauing got on lande, bee brought into his
house, and put it with small Edes into a Cestcme, where,
feeding of it eueiy Morning and Euening, hee made (as
it were) an Idoll of it. For, there passed not a dale
wherdn hee had not that care of his Ede, that it seemed
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GRIMELLOS FORTUNES.
13
that hee had not of greater and better matters. This
Eele» being taken about Candelmas (bee meant to keepe
and feede till Lent following) when hee meant to present
him to hb Land-lord, for a great grntolation : In the
meane-time, hee neuer went out of doores without
gluing warning to his wife and his seruants, to looke
wel to his Eele. When he came in» how doth mine
Ede? when were you with mine Ede? who looked
to mine Ede? I charge you looke well to mine Eele.
Now his wife, a ioUie stout Dame, whomademorereckon-
ingof honestie, thenelther beautie or wisdome (for shewas
troubled with ndther) had in her house a young Pie :
(which we caU a Magot-a^JPie), This Bird, hauing bin
hatched in a Neste hard vnder her chamber window,
she chaunoed to take into her education : and being one
that loued to heare a tongue wagge, either her owne,
her Qossips, her Maides, or her Pyes : for if one were
still, the other must be walking : And when they were
all vpon the going, there was no still-piece of musique :
It feU out that this Good-wife (not a litle displeased at
her Goose-mans folly) in such so much care ouer the
fish, that the flesh was but a litle set by : one dale,
(when her Assdiand was gone forth) sitting with her
maid at the whede : (so fiill at her heart, that yet her
tongue would haue swelled, if it had not broke out at
her mouth) began thus to &11 in hande with her Maid-
seruant : I dare not depose for her Virginitie, but, as I
said, her maid : she fell thus to breake her minde vnto.
Wench quoth she, doest thou not see what a stuire thy
maister keepes with a scuruy Ede? In good earnest
a litle thing would make me take her out of the Ces-
teme, and put her in a Pye, or eate her some waie or
other : For better haue one chiding for all, then haue
such a doe as we haue about her. In truth Mistresse,
quoth she, (as one whose mouth hung verie fitting for
such a piece of meate). If it please you. I will quickly
ridde you of this trouble. My maister is ridde to jrour
Landlords, and there I know he will tarrie to night : if
it please you I will fetch her out of the Cesteme, and
kill her. and flea her, and put her in a Pye, and you may
dispfl^ch her ere he come home, or saue a piece for him
when he is quiet after his chiding. Content wench
quoth she, I pray thee dispatch her quickly: I warrant
yon, quoth shee, forsooth with a trice. Thus was the
Eeles death approching, and the matter thoroughly
enacted. Now the Pye being made and baked, and set
on the Table, and betwixt the maide and her Dame (or
mistresse) brought to such a passe that there was very
litle left for her master. The Magot-a-Fye like a vyie
Bird (that would keepe no oounsaile, but dudy would
vse her tongue, to talke of all that she saw or heard) no
sooner saw the good-man come into the house, (but as
shee was taught to speake) began with welcome home
maister : (and then more then she was tau|^t, she fell to
pratle) Hoh maister, my Dame hath eaten the Ede :
my Dame hath eaten the Eele : my Dame hath eaten
the great Ede. The goodman remembring his fish,
began now to aske his wife. How doth mine Ede?
What meanes the Bird to talke thus of eating the great
Ede? Tush Husband, quoth she, warme you I pray
you, and goe to bed. It is cold and late, talke of your
Ede tomorrow : No quoth he, I will not goe to bed, till
I haue leene mine Ede : and there within a bodily feare
of that which was fidlen out goes to the Cesteme, and
there finding his Ede gonne, oomes in againe, as dead
at hart as a Stocke-fish, (and yet resohied to brawle
out of reason). Comes out : Why hoh (the good wife
ready to burst with laughing and yet keeping it in with a
fiiyned 8{gh) siu downe in a chaire, and hangs the head,
as though she had had the mother : The maid hauing
wit enough, (to make a foole of a tame-goose,) meetes
her maister, and catching him in her annes : cries out,
but softly maister, be a man, and mooue not alL My
dame you know loues you well, and it may be she
breedes, and bring jrou a boye worth twenty bushels of
Edes : sale she had a minde to it, and hath eaten it :
if you should seeme to chide for it, it may be a meane to
cast her awaie, and that she goes with : And therefore
say nothing of it, let it goe. For indeed it is gone.
Saist thou so my Girle, quoth hee, I thanke thee : hold
thee, there is a Tester for thee for thy good oounsaile, I
warrant thee all shall be wdL Then in a goes to his
wife, & findes her in her chaire sitting as it were heauily :
oomes to her and takes her by the hand, with how now
wife? be of good cheere, and take no thought, much
good doe thy hart with her, take the rest that are left,
if thou haue a minde to them I pray thee. With this,
she (as it were awaked out of a trance) said, I thanke
you good husband, and so after a few home-complaints,
to bed they went, where they agreed so well, that the
next morning hee had his part (though it were the least)
of that was left, and glad of it too, and so without more
adoe, goes about his busines. But no sooner was he
out of doores, but the mistresse and the maid went to
the bird the Pye and taking her out of the Cage, plucked
all the feathers off from her head, and left her as bare as a
balde Coote, which in the cold winter was very vncom-
fortable: Which done she was put into the Cage
againe, with these wordes, Tell tales againe of the Eele.
doe :
Now about dinner time, comes in againe the good-
man, and brings in with him a ndghbour of his, with a
good Ceice. but a balde head, that he had almost no
haire on it. Now the Pye being let out of the Cage, no
sooner sees this man put off his hat, but she skips on
his shoulder and sayes : Oh, your head hath bene puld
aswell as mine, for tdling of tales. You haue told my
maister. how my dame eate the great Eele : (and so she
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GRIMELLOS FORTUNES.
would do to any that ihee saw baM, that came into the
home.) And was not this a menie iest of the Pye and
anEele?
Go. I thinke I haue heard it long agoe, but not as
thou hast told it : and therefore as.it is, I thanke thee
for it. And now shkoe it is not fane to the Towne, I pcaj
thee let me trie A Ittle of thy wit, in the annswcrs of a
fewqnestionsthat I willputTntothee? .. .
Gri. With all my heart, Sir, I am for you at this
time.
Ga. I pfay thee, who was the happiest man that
euer thou knewest ?
Gri. My Lord Gouemours Foole.
Ga. And why?
Gri. Because his maister fiuiours him. and none dare
hurt him : hee &res well, and sleepes well, weares good
cloathes, and takes no patnes.
Ga. Countest thou this a happines ?
Gri. For a lasie spirit, but not for my selfe.
Ga. Why. how wouldst thou be happie ?
Gri. In a feeling of Gods grace, in sufficiency of
abUitie to liue without borrowing: in wit, to disceme
iustly : in Conscience, to deale truly : in an honest Idnde
wife, gratious chiklren, honest seruants, feithfuU fiiendes,
and quiet nei^ibours v Neither desire of life, nor feare
of death, but n soome of the one, and ocmtented minde
in the other.
Ga. Wen said: But all this while, I beare thee
speake of no master.
Gri. Oh no Sir, for to a firee spirit, there is no greater
miserie then bondage : And yet, a kinde maister, is a
kinde of fiuher : where kme breeding obedience, maketh
a seruant like a Sonne.
Ga. Andwfaatsaycstthottofakindemistresse?
Gii With a kinde maister they are the harts com-
forter. Bad they are Ukevnto n paire Of Gknies, that
fitte both hands.
Ga, But oouldest thou please both?
Gri. If I know both.
Gan. Then let me put thee in cemfott, of me thou
Shalt hnue rather a fiither then a fineod to nourish thy
jiood spirited ft of my. wife, rather n sister then n mis-
tresae to make much of thee for my sake.
Gr. I thanke you Sir, and for the good I see Iq you,
and the good I hope in you, I will trie my Fortune with
.you.
Ga. And do not thinke it shall be the worst Come
on, you shall goe to the towne, and there dine with mee.
Gri. I will attend you.
FINia
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page 5, col. i, L 9, 'mes^ngsjor WootUocks* : cf.
page zo, L 5 : Henry Purot in his ' Laquei Ridiculosi,
or Springes for Woodcocks' (16x3) popularised the
phrase : s snares for silly fellows : L xo^ ' shoot HU
Goose' : among the old oak carved stalls in Whalley
Church, Lancashire— removed (it is believed) from the
ancient Abbey— is a grotesque representation of a black-
smith ' shooeing ' a goose. Evidently it folds within it
some legend.
P. 6, ool. 1, L 96, *Ajtfnn9'afe9Cue(Latfai>i«ira)
straw or wire or stkk for pointing out the letters hi
teaching : L 4a, ' By-ac$ ' s byas or bias : a game
term: L 6 (from bottom), 'a P^frU with m kUmdo
fuddle'— •sMiher legend : » the Fiddle as of a blind
Fiddler : ooL a, L 59, ' Thorm.* One might suspect a
nt for 'Throne,' but tee page 7, ooL x, L '5,
' Thistle.* Could a hit at King James, just come from
Scotland, be intended ? Peihaps not : 1. 23 (from bottom),
' MaehauiUom ' = disciple of MachiavellL
P. 7, ool. I, L 5, *« Thistle* : see note on page 6,
ooL a, 1. 3a : L 10 (from bottom), *wuUh-Caw' » milch
or milk cow : coL a, 1. 16 (from bottom), 'quidditia ' »
subtleties : L xa (from bottom) 'good hmstamd* = good
husbandman or fiumer.
< P. 8» eoL X, L 84, ^sodtmu the wtMf'— a proverbial
nymg for ndsfoituie: L 95, 'SMOta'ssky i.e. to
Heaven: L 5 (from bottom), *wuut» m gaim of his
mllamio': on these various aUuskms see Oloasarial
Index: eoL a^ L 5, '^aiMMbr'-^queryj Ambrodexter
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NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
P. 9t ooL z, I. 7 (from bottom) 'sayne' s excuse, but
see Glossarial Index : ibid. ' PistUs ' = epistles : coL a,
1. a, ' Meigrum ' = sick headache, whim : i. 4, ' Pm-
rutiM€s ' : query = tmniliness ? L 17, ' PantaiU ' = hi^
shoe or slipper : see Glossarial Index, s.v. : 1. 39-3, Sta
caUsamguitu ' = coal fetched by sea : 1. 38, ' Loib^lUe '
= hibber : see Glossarial Index : L 44, ' AngeW— com
so called : L 4 (from bottom), 'rest' — card term. See
Glossarial Index, s,v. : ibid. ' till which ' = by which.
P. zo^ col. z, L 33, ' hairt ' — misprinted ' a harie ' :
1. 37, ' BtUawait ' s bell away — reference to the old
story of beO-the-cat : but see Glossarial Index, s.v. .' L 3
(from bottom), ' Cochts-combt '—transition form of ' cox-
comb ' s empty nun fellow : col. a, L z6 (from bottom),
' 5<yfoMr'=8ackbat— musical striqged instrument : L Z3,
(f^M^.) ' Mimiom ' s darUng— in a base sense.
P. zz, ool. z, 1. 4, 'Jtochi-hed' — wool-stuffed bed :
L 30, • inexpected* = unexpected : L 37, *sech€ ' = sack :
1. Z4 {from bottom), 'ffad-I-wist' — see Glossarial Index.
S.V., for this fiivourite phrase of Breton : col. a, 1. Z4
(from bottom) ' Latu-rwmu' : see Glossarial Index, s.v.
P. za, col. z. L az. 'betuh hoW = hole in a bench :
1. 36, ' Gramtrcy* =ignax thanks— a minced oath : L Z4
(from bottom) * Kit ' = Scotice ' Kye ' = cows : but see
Glossarial Index, s.v. : 1. 3 (from bottom), * Angels —
coins so called, as before : ooL a, L 8 (fixym bottom),
' HedbcroMgh ' = official— see Glossarial Index, s.v.
P. Z3, coL z, L Z3, *Magift-a'Pi€'=Lffan form of
mag-pie: L 33, ' Asseba$Mi'—noi a bad equivoque on
' husbamd* : col. a, L 37, ' Tester* s a small com. See
GkMMrial Index, s,v,~^.
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AN OLDE MAN'S LESSON
1605.
32
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NOTE.
Our exemplar of the 'Olde Man's Lesson' is that in the Marsh
Library, Dublin : small 4tO| pp. 53. Mr. W. C Haxlitt and others have
mis-stated that Breton simply, ^edited' this. It is not often met
with.--G.
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AN
OLDE MANS
LESSON,
AND
A YOVNG MANS
LOU E,
By Nicholas Breton.
LONDON
Imprinted for Edward White, and are to bee
solde at his Shop neere the little North
doore of S Paules Church at the
Signe of the Gun
1605.
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To the Right Worshipfull and worthy
Fauourer of Learning and nourisher of vertue :
Sir lohn Unwraye Knight, Master Surueyir of
all his MaiesHes Ordinance within his Highnes
Realmes of England & Ireland: Nick, Bre-
ton wisheth encrease of all happi-
nesse on earth and the ioyes
of heauen heere-
after.
Hane often noted, thai the wiaedom of eEperienoe, hath bene the Sdioole of a good wit, where yoath
giuing eare to age, may the better detennine of his ooaraes : And againe, that nature wejing lone with
reason, wotketh the best effects of vnderstanding. The tnith of this yon may finde made good in this little
Dialogue, where the Father kindely deales with the Sonnes duetie, and the Sonnes lone, with the Fstlien
discretion: many prettietnustes haoe passed among them, where each was so pleased fai the Simmiarie of their diaooaie,
that, if all Fathers would beas kinde, and all Children as wise, there would be a blessed common wealth : but the worid
istobeweyedasitis, and their rules to bee made examples of much good: the discourse is Diagolicall, and tlie vazietie
not vnpleasant : where nature with wit, wit with learning, and learning with indgement, may prooue some pahies in
the writing, and worthie patience in the reading. Such as it is (with my better seruioe) I commend to your good fimoor,
hoping that as in this little you may see my looe, so in a greater seruke^ yon will oommaund the bonds of my aflectiQii:
in which, with hearts thankftilnessp, for your euer vndcsemed kindenesse : I take my kane.
YimnDtmUdamdobUgid
NiCH. Brbton.
Co tl^e iSeadei;*
M^
[ Y good Friend, if you be so, if not, I would you
were so, at least, if you be worth the being so :
I haue met of hue with a discourse written tiy I know
not whom, and how well, iudge yon that reade it : it is
written hi the manner of a Dialogue, betwixt an olde
Man, and his Sonne : the Father was a WIddower, and
the Sonne a TVauailer : who after a long absence, came
home to his Father, at whose comming (after kmde
greetings) there passed many pretty passages : in which
Imu: I will not onrnmend the handling of it, but rather
leaue it to conredioii of the wise, then the aOowanoe of
the cmtrarje : and so wishing it may displeasr none,
that are worthy to bee pleased, and not to be worsd
thought on tlien it dcsernes : I leaoe it to your patience,
and mysdlis to your kinde regard, and so rest.
Yimr Lommg BHmdt
NicH. Brbton.
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An olde Mans Lesson: and a young
Mans Loue.
Chremes and Pamphihcs.
Ckn, BBBHOnne. welcome home, God
thee, aad make thee his Seraant
Pom. I thanke jou Father, and
ny Amen to your praier.
Obv. Wen said Boy, bat let me taUce a word or two
with thee : Thoa hast been abroade in the world, and
hast seene moce then thou hast eaten, and hast left many
a goode Towne behinde thee for fanlt of carriage : teU
me I pray thee, whence camest thou now?
Pmi^ Directly from the Vniuersitie, where I bane
made no long stay : far had it not lyeninmy way, I had
not come at it at all, sndi was my haste home, as wen
first to shewe my daede to yoo, as to acquaint you with
the occasion of some matters, which at leysure I wO
impart vnto yon*
CSbv. I mderstand you weU : me you come to see,
but my money is the matter yon would talke of, for
oertaine occas^kms you thereunto moouing : but by the
way, let me aske you what newes are abroad?
Pom* Newes enough, but fewe worth the hearing :
and in the place from wliich I came (I meane the
Academe) then are but two pobites the SchoUers stand
vpon : and one point the Townes^nen.
CArv. And what are the SchoDers pobites?
Pom, Thidy neither leather, threed, nor silke points,
nor pointes of pinnes, nor needles, nor pointes with the
finger but the ftdl point: ofeyther truthorfalshood: for
in argument, wit, and learning, to txye their best Tsrtue,
is in finding out a falshood or maintainhig a truth.
Ckr9» Why then wit and learning can make a fiJre
shewe of truth where there is none :
Pom. Yea, but better wit, ft better learning can lay
it open, that it may be knowne as it is.
Obv. And when it is knowne, what then ?
Pom, Then to be regarded as it deserues.
Ckr§. As how, I pray thee?
Pam, If one holde an opinion that a man is wise
because bee is rich, and an other holde the oontrarie,
and both hauing shewed their reasons, hee that findes
out the truth of wisdom what it is, and in what it lies,
malces it knowne so apparantly to aU good vnderstand-
ing. that wisedome is to tw honoured as a vertue and
grace of the deuine Essence, and wealth to bee esteemed
as a Seruant of neoessitie.
Ckrt, And Is this your Schoole talke :
Pam, Yea Sir.
Ckrt, Good talke for SchoUers : but doe their
Maistets hoUe it so, that money is but a seruant of
neede?
Pom* Yes, and learned it themsdues before they teach
it vs.
Obv. But how vnderstand you a seruant of necessity?
Pam. For prouiskm of appardl which is necessarie,
meate and drinke, and lod|^, which are necessarie :
horse and ftmiture, which are necessarie : maintenance
of wife, children, and seniants, aU which are necessarie :
to keepe good courses, with good company, which is
necessarie : to procure aduanncement, whidi is neces-
sarie : to keepe off want, which is necessarie : to hdpe
the needle, feede the hungrie, and reUene the oppressed,
which is necessarie : In aU which necessarie causes, the
spirit being mooued by grace and reason, to effect that
which cannot be done without money, he is to be
emptoyed as a necessarie seruant, and a seruant at aU
necessities: but wisdome which is a director of the sphit
in aU good, and necessarie courses, & the employer of
wealth in an necessarie causes, is to bee honoured aboue
aU thinges, whatsoeuer man can be master of.
CArv. WeU said : but superfluity then, money hath
nothing to do withal, as thus : better want money theu
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AN OLDE MANS LESSON:
waste it vpon dnmkennes, weuitoiinesse, or wickednes :
for when one hath a coate that will keepe him wanne,
which was the cause gannents were first made, and
money is employed for them to lay on needeles lace of
threed, Silke, or Siluer, or Golde, which makes the
garment more weightie then warme, money is to be
pardoned for any such vnnecessarie ezpenoe.
Pam. Pardon me Sir, it makes the gannent more
oomdy, and oomelinesse is necessarie so faire that it
exceede not reason in measure: furthermore it is an
vtterance of Silke, an vpholder of traflSque, and main-
tainerof Arte.
Ckrt, So Sir, well said Maister SchoUer, how finely
you can make superfluitie in pride, be a rdiefe of
neceasitie, and necessarie to maintaine traffique: bat
content your sdfe, doath thebackewarme, satisfie hunger
and thirst, and so fiemre my monqr hath bene my Seruant,
and so farre hee shall bee yours. Why so you may say
of a house, when the first cause was to keepe Man drie :
to make more roomes then there is vse for, more
Chinmyes» then is fier for ; more Windowes then there
is wit for, and more Painting and Guilding then there is
good reason for : why should not monye lie still rather
then t)ee employed in such vnnecessarie humors ?
Pam, Oh Sir, are not many poore men emploied in
their labours, many men of trade exercised in their Arte?
and is not the beautie thereof comely to the eyes of the
beholder? which may as well praise God in the worke-
man-shippe, as haue pride in the profession of it? oh. it
is the ill minde of one that misconstrueth the good mean-
ing of an other : and therefore monye being made for
necessarie yses, and many necessarie vses in the build-
ing of £aire houses, monye is to bee employed and the
builder for his wisdome to bee honoured.
Ckn. I thanke you Sir : but for my selfe, hee hath
seraed me to builde roomes necessarie for my vseaad no
further, and for a house fit for your calling my monye
shall seme you and no further : why, you periuips will
defend ficasts, and banqueting, when monye is onely to
bee employed for neoessitie to satisfie hunger and thirst.
Pam, Without offence* I thinke I may say, that
Feastes are as necessarie as Fasts : for, as the one doth
pun downe the flesh from rebelling against the Spirit, so
doth the other glue the Spirit more life in reioydng vpon
a iust cause of ioy : as in many ezoeOent Histories^ as
well Diuine as hunudne^ wee may reade : but to allowe
thereby of Dnmkennes or gloionny, I haue no such
meaning : As at mariages, holy dales, and honest menie>
meetings, a little too much, is better then much too
little : foither-more the varieties of meates and drinkes>
as Ale, Beere, Whie, Sugar and Spices, are the better
knowne, wherein God is glorified, and praised for his
blessings, and the Vhiter, the Grocer, the Comfit-maker,
the Cooker the Bnwer and the Butcher, doe by the
venting of their wares, the better maintaine their trades :
so that I thinke I may weU. say, that monye in the
prouision of Feastes and banquets, is to bee employed
as a seruant of necesside.
Chrt. So Sir, you say well : but money hath semed
mee for the good loafe and the Cheese, Beefe, and
Mutton, and nowe and then a Goose and a Chicke, or a
Ducke of mine owne breede or your Mothers ; and a
cuppe of Ale or Beere of our owne brewing : this out-
landish drinke (this Wine) is more costly then wholsome :
I warrant you the greatest part of this Countrie standes
vpon ComJB, and Sheepe : and^where haue you a Plough-
man or a Shepheard, that almost knowes what Drinke it
is, or cares for it, when he sees it? No, Ale and Beere
is our best liquor, and therefore so frne as may kill
hunger and quench thirst, monye hath serued mee, and
so fiuie shall it serueyou : but, whether is more wisdome
in getting money to seme necessities, and keepe it for
necessarie causes, or to studie trickes to toy it out vpon
nioeinuentiona?
Pam. Truely Sir, (as I said before), monye is but
reasons seruant, ft wisdom is reasons maister : then if
reason the Seruant to wisdom, can finde meanes euen
among fooles to get money, either by Labour, Arte, or
Fortune : and wisdome ondy be the director of reasonia
the employment of that money, to the necessarie comfort
and honour of man : I holde it a greater wisdome well
to dispose of a Seruants bnsinesse, then to come by the
Seruant, for money is euerie mans Seruant in one sort or
other : but wisdome liueth but with a fewe, whome shea
maketh more honorable then the money-ly^uter.
Ckrt, Yea, how can that bee? what honor is them
without money? the best SchoUer without money may
make a hard dinner, and goe in a threed-baie Coate :
and for all his grace in the Scfaooles, haue little gmoe in
the world.
Pam. Yet leamhig in it selfe is honocable, and if he
be gratious hi patience, either to beare his Cioase, or to
attend his comfort, thm deserueth he the honour of that
vertue that learning hath taught him, ft is wroi^ed if he
haue it not giuen him : for shall an Asse be held vise
because hee hath put on a Foxes skinne, or like a wolfe
canprayonalambe? orifafoolethathathbutsomncfa
wit as to ptoy the knaue, ft by his cunning to gather
ooine, shal such a Deuil hi the shape of man be honoured
asaGod? God forbid: no, the Golden CaUeofHoieb
was an IdoU, and oouetousnesse is the witch of wit, and
therooteofalleuill.
Ckrt. AndwhidiistheToppe?
Pam. Prida
Ckmt. And what is the body?
Pam. Sloth.
Ckmt. AndwfaatistheArmes?
Pam, Glotony and dnmkennes.
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AND A YOUNG MANS LOUE.
Pom,
Ckn.
Pam,
CArt.
Pom.
Ckn.
Pom,
CArw.
WhatistbeSappe?
Letcherie*
What the Barke?
Enuie.
What are the Leaues?
Vanities.
Tbefrnite?
Ohbranet a TVee for the Denils garden: God
blesse my ground from sadi Trees.
Pam, Amen.
Olrv. But heere me a little, I thinke if a man shoold
touch you with a tickling homor, of an effeminate nature, .
you would defend it to bee good, and money necessarie
to be vsed hi sodi a sendee: aad were not that a prettie
piece of teaming?
Pam. HowBoeoer Sir yon thhike of it : I can shew
good reason for it : for Lone is an humor of the minde
infused mto the heart, by the vertue of the Spirit : whkh
by the grace of wisdome, the art of reason, and the
Seruioe of money, worketh honorebte effectes in nature :
for when the eye beholdeth beautie, nature is pteased in
the obiecte ; wtien reason findeth wit, wisdome is de>
lighted in the Subiecte ; and when wisdome findeth grace
reason is ioyfiill in ▼nderstanding ; and then all these
meeting together in oonoeite, must needes work together
for contentment: for the accomplishment of which,
money must be a seruant -of necessitie. As thus : If
your neighbour had two Sonnes, the one were wise,
learned, yaliant, and honest, yet did want money to
aduance his vertues, and the other had much monie,
and no other good matter to moooe the least humor of
good liUng my sister to whom my grandmother hath
kit a good Portion, shoold afiect this younger Brother
without monye» and leaue to the other all his money :
b it not fit and necessarie, that her money should rather
bee an aduanncement of his irertues, and acontent of her
kindenease, and perhaps increase of her comfort, rather
than bee a choaker of Blidas, with more monqr then he
can swallowe, and be an increaser of Idolatry : and per-
haps, a griefe to you in the Prime of her owne comfort :
so if it should lal out with me to affect the hope of my
fortune, would you spue your Purse to procure my pire-
ferment? beleeue it fether, the best loue is bqpotten tiy
the eyes bred in the Braines, St growes to perfection in
the heart : and shall not money bee a seruant then of
necessitie to attend the oommanndement of Lone? lie on
these Maiket-matdies. where maiiages are made without
aflbctions, and obedience is performed by a gricoed
patience : no let money be vsed as a Seruant to reason,
and not a Maister of Lone.
Ckrt. Oh fine boy ; I almost finde where you are,
but let me tell you, though your wordes hang well to-
gether, yet me thhikes, money lies better together : for
if a Wench that hath monqr Lone thee, spend of her
purse, or els thouwantest wit : if thou haue money, and
loue her that hath none, her wit hath made a foote of
thee : for, tell me a tate of a Tub, of eyes St eares, and
hearts, obiect and subiect, and wisdome, and reason :
without money, tis not worth a whiffo : farAmrmm^aio-'
Hie is a strange quintescence : it will make age young
agahie, it win glue the heart a life beyond all the phisicktt
of the world t why Gold is halfe a God on the earth it
hath sudi power among people. Let a wench be wealthy,
and set out in her bntuerie, though she bee pamted for
her beautie, and scarce gentiU for her parentage, yet if
she catch the name of a Lady, she must bee honoured
like Queene Guitutur: & if she be but neere a Prlncesse,
she shal bee almost worshipped like a Goddesse. Why
goe no further but to our owne neighbours : what a slut
will haue a husband if shee haue but a littte money, and
what fine Wenches match with Clownes, but onely for
their Farmes and theb* stockes?
Pam, Yea, but Father what followes? lealousteand
Cndu>kliy, and Bastardy, & Rogery : she cannot Loue
him, nor he her : youth cannot loue age, age will be
lealous of youth, and Loue wil haue his working : and
therfore as I said before, the cause is oooetousnes and
therooteofalleuill.
Ckn. Well said agafaie boy : but yet twiU not seme
your tume, for I wil haue an other bowte with you : for
money is a matter of more moment then you make ao>
count of : why money makes the medidne for the sicke,
pleadesthe Clients cause,mafaitaines the MarchantsTkade,
makes the Soldiers fight, and the Craits-man worke, and
the Tnuiailer treade Ugfatly, and the olde Mare trot, and
the young Tit Ambte : it doth, I knowe not what, nor
almost what can on earth be done without it? Itfirameth
the histmment, tuneth the strings, playeth the lesson,
St shigeth the song : it famisheth the oourt, graceth the
dtty, ft maintaineth the country : In summe, let me tel
thee, it is a matter of such moment, as there is neither
youth, nor Beauty, Valour, nor Leamfaig, wit nor wis-
dome, but if it want money to grace it, it shall haue
little grace in the world : and therefore let hhn be first
counted wise that geU it, then wise that keepes it, and
last wise that knowes how to yse it : and whatsoeuer
opfadons are of it, holde you with me this assurance of
it, that he is wise who hath it, and so contrarie to all
them that say against it, say you, he is wise that is rich.
Pam, Oh Father I am sorry to heare you speake so
feeHngly of your lone to money : which you hare bene
long hi getting, caiefull hi keepfaig, and win be sorrowful!
in leaning : Oh let it not haue such power ouer you, to
make you a dane to your Seruant : it is but a drcKsse
trodden on by the feete of Beastes, seraeth the begger,
as a greater person, the wicked as the vertuous, the lewe
asthe Christian, embrodereth the Hones doathes as
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AN OLDE MANS LESSON:
the Lords dooke, and the Maides kertell, as her Ladies
petticoate: it begetteth Pride, breedeth warres» pro-
cnretfa lYeasoos, and mynes oountries : and yet let me
say this of it : the fiuih is not in itselfe. but in the Tse
of it ; and for the good that is done by it, is not of it
sellie batin thewisedome of him or her that hath the vse
of it, and therefore let it bee left indifferent good or eufll,
or neither of both, bat fit for either as it is vsed : and
count him rather wise that knowes how to vae it, then
bow to get it : for many get it by a widced Father, which
bdng wise, will not leaue it to a widced Sonne : many
get it by Dice and Gardes, which bdng wise, will imploy
it hi better courses : many get it by an olde blinde widow,
that haue wit to spend it with a sweeter creature : many
get it by pirade at Sea, that employ it in a better course
at Land : In briefe, the getting of it sometime is so
grieuous to a good oonsdenoe, as can approue no wise-
dome in it, and the employing of it may be to so good
an ende, as prooueth great wisdome in the mannaging of
it : and therefore in my iudgement, knowing no man wise
through riches, but, many ridi through vrisdome, I holde
him rich that is wise, not him wise that is rich.
Ckrt, So then you would haue me that haue been
earefull to get money, which I haue lying by me for
necessarie vses, bestowe it vpon you that knowe (as yon
thinke,) how to prooue more wisdome hi the imploying
of it : it may bee I will doe so with parte of it, in hope
that you that can speake so well of it will knowe as well
what to doe with it : but before we come to that point,
let me talke a little further with you touching your
trauaile : what haue you chieldy noted for your benefit ?
Pam, The natures of the Soiles, the inhabitants of
the Countries, the dispositions of the people, and the
wisdome of the Gouemours : To the first, I noted accord-
ing to the dimat of what heate or coldenes, diie or
moystnes, what firuite, what store, and in what season,
what Riuers, fresh or salt, what Cattell, and Fowle, and
Fish, what Mineralles, and what Mines.
Ckrg, And for Fish, you could bring none home
aliue, nor sweete : and, haue not our Seas, and Ircsb-
waters, as good Fish as other? And lor Qittell, there
can bee no better Beefe nor Mutton, then ours : now for
Fowle, both Land and water Fowle: there are in our
heathes, woodes and fens, I thinke as good and as great
varietie with vs as any where : but it may be, &r fetcht
and deere bought is good for Ladies, and if you bane hit
on a little monster, as a Camdion, or an Indian FUe, it
may bee, if you can vse the matter hansomdy, fodes may
giue you money for the sight of it : now for MinenUls,
how much money soeuer you found in the country, I
feare you haue brought but a little out of it, and therfore
for these notes, I thhik for any profit you made of your
trauaile, you had Un as good a-taried at home : Now for
the people, I thinke, they are as we are m shape though
by some of those outlandish, they mishape themsdoet in
thdr appard, I know not what to say to them, but, if
the men be ridi, it is like they will keepe thefa: mony,
and if poore, they will dther begge, dieat, or steale, and
so Hue as long as they can : and for the women, if they
bee figure, they knowe what to make of their beautle, and
if fowle, how to make of thdr money. Olde Folkes can
tdl howe to goueme Children, and youthes will play the
wagges, if it bee with their owne Fathers : for Boyes (God
send them Grace) had neuer more witte then they hone
now adaies. Now for the Gouemours, where there are
manye, it is strange if there bee not one wise, and if the
rest will obserue good notes, their wittes may prooue
nerethe worse: now if there bee maniewiae^ it will trouble
one wit too mudi to take notice of them all : and there-
fore Sonne, though a little expenoe of money hone
bought thee a Ultle experience, and the varictte of know-
ledge haue ginen thee a little contentment, yet, let no
Idoll corrupt thy conscience, no vonttie corrupt thy wit,
nor fidlybee Maister of thy will : tbynalhiesoyle is notu-
rall, thy Conntriemen, nearer to thee then strangers :
thy kindred, then vnknowne people, and thy Fathers
house will giue a kinder wekome, then the PsUace of a
Princesse : Let not the alteratkm of the Ayre. alter thy
nature, the oblect of thine eye the Iudgement of thy
minde, nor the sound of the eare, the sence of thy heart :
If thou bee returned home, as thou wenteat out, I shall
bee glad of it : but if eyther Fhmoe bane taught thee
fimdes, Itolye wantonnesse, Fkmnders dmnkennesse, or
any place widcednesse I shall bee some for thy Ttonaile
and wish thou hadst neuer gone : Oh let not wars make
thee bloudy, Courts make thee prodigal, trade make thee
couetous, lawe make thee partiall, women make thee wan-
ton, nor flatterie make thee pronde : for, as Trsuafle is tiie
life of youth, and tarietie the lone of knowledge, so yet
after all thy Tkauaile Icarae this, nay by the varietie of thy
knowledge leame this Lesson, couldeat thou see all the
worlde, thoushoukiest see nothing but a worlde* and in
theendeofa]l,finde all bane an ende: Ricfaesmnsteytber
be spent or lefte, beauty must decay, honour must be
transported, nature mustgrowe weake, aenoes loose their
fence, and life must ende» and then vriien all is gone^
then vonitie, vanities and all is vanitie : hi the grane
there is no beantiet no honour, no wealth, no sence, no
life : ft thither you must as wdl as I, and who knoweth,
who first? now whether it bee in the Sea, or in the land,
in a Fishes bdly or a Leaden Coffin r all is one, a gmne
there must be, of whosoeucr it be : and therefore before
thou commest to that last Inne of thy worldes loumey,
let me wish thee wheresoeuer thougoest, and whotsoeocr
thou seest, be still one man ft remember one thing :
seme but one God, kmebut oneond thine owne country,
haue but one wife and trust but one friend : for many
Gods breedeth hfnthrni miseries, many oountriea tift-
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AND A YOUNG MANS LOUE.
wtflen homoun, many wiues mens porgatories, and
many friends tnistes mine : first God gaue thee life, loue
him for it : yea hee loueth thee» line to him for it : your
Conntreygaue yon foode mder God» loue it for it : your
Countiey gane you knowledge first vnder God, line in it
for it : your wife giues you Issue, loue her for it, she
easeth your house-oares, Uue with her for it : and your
friend conceales your secrets, loue him for it : and is an-
other your selfe, line neere to him for it : and leaning
tile vaine desire of varietie, Uue to the onely loue of
vertue : spend your thoughts in contemplation of Deuine
comiort, your substance in the aeruioe of God, and
benefit of your countrey : wagge not wanton with the
wandring eyes, nor trifle out time in Tuprofitable toies,
couer not your balde head with Periwigs of borowed
hayre : curie not your beard with hot Irons : leere not
aside like a Beare-whdpe, nor looke vnder the browes
like a Bull Dogge, march not in a towne of peace like a
Sooldionr, nor mnne out of srour wits in an humor :
carry not a picke4ooth in your mouth, a flower in your
care, nor a Oloue in your Hat. for it is apish and foolish,
deuiaed by idle heads, and wome by shallowe wits:
bfaide not your inuentiao to Pdetiy, nor make an Oration
of an Epbtle : Leaxne but two partes of speedie, to
speake good wordes, and to good purpose: goedeandy
but not gaiely, and gakie honestly, and spend thriftilie :
feede sparingly, drinke moderately, sleepe soundly, but
rise eardy, so passhig thy time morily, thou shalt Uue
happily and die blessedUe: This lesson hath been taught
me at home, and I doubt yon will scarce finde a better
abroad: but least I growe teadious to thee, thus to take
thee to Scfaoole as soone as thou commest home, I pray
thee tdl me thy opinion of contentment : whether it can
be so wdl had abroade, as at home?
Pam, Trudy Father I knowe not the mittde of euerie
man, nor how follye to define content : bat when wit
hath found out, reason hath ludged, and nature hath
recdued the pleasure of the Spirit in the deUgbt of the
senoes, I thiijce, if in the worid there bee any content it
is there. Now, be it at home or abroad, all is one, far
there is an olde sentanoe which is oftentimes newly in
effect : Omtu Solum f&rtis fairia : eueiy house is home,
an Countries are one to a resolute minde : a friend is a
friend abroad, and an Minima* Is an *«nimv at home :
vertueisUmitedtonoplaoe, but honoured in al persons,
& loue hath a worlde to waUce in, to take the plea-
sure of his fortune, where varietie of choice tries the
wisdome of judgement : my father, if I beholde him but
as a man, I can loue him but as a man, but when I
thlnke of his loue, I loue him as a Father : now, kMe
bdng bound to no place, cannot forget his owne nature
any wliere: nay absence of place strengthens the
memorie of Loue : and therefore I beholde my sdfe, in
bdng n Sonne, I remember my Father : if I behold your
32
bounty, I remember your Messing, and honour your
Loue : so that still I say, it is not the place, that per-
fecteth affection, no not in nature : and sometime absence
is the cause of the more loy in kme, as in the Souldiour,
who after Conquest retuneth with much more honour
then he had at home : the Marehnnt after a voyage,
pleaseth \ii% mistris with better wares then she had at
home : the Courtier after tranaile, tds his Lady a better
tale, then of a Foxe and a Goose, and the SchoUer after
Tranaile, makes a better verse then at home : why the
Qowne after tranaile can leame to kisse \iit% hand, and
maide Manlldn after tranaile, can make new countenances
and new complexions : oh frubcr, this home-humor wil
soone be wome so threedpbare, that if it were not shifted
with some tranaile (euen with Uuy) wit would grow
lousy : for in place of account, where knowledge is to be
enquired, there is more matter then for the Market, and
of more judgement then maister constables: where
the wise that haue scene the worid, note the necessarie
good of Tranaile : who neuer heard but of a lacke-
Dawe would thinke a Panret a spirit, and dther be
affiraide of her, or in loue with her, when he thatknoweth
her what diee is, wil regarde her as shee is : now he
that neuer saw but an Ape, would thinke a Baboone a
Uttte deuiU : but he that hath tnuiailed where they are
bred, wiU know them for ordinary beastes of those
countries : he that neuer saw a Mountibanke, would take
a curtisen for a better creature, but hee that had scene
thdr tnffiqoe would neuer care for thdr trade : he that
neuer saw a Whale would thinke it a DeuiU in the Sea,
but hee that had been where they are bredde wouU
know it there, an ordinarie Fish : hee that neuer saw a
Picture would goe neere to thinke it an Angdl, but hee
that knowes them what they bee, wiU thmke of them
as they are. Oh Father, the Tiranny of one Prince makes
the merde of an other more gkniotts: the terror of warre.
makes peace seeme more joytuU, and the daunger of the
Sea makes the Land more wished for : doth not the
drunkennesw of one Countiie make sobrietie in another
seeme more gratious? the Treasons in one Countrie
make loyaUtie more honourable in an other? and who
hath not scene the one, how can he ludge of the other?
now, for fimher causes of contentment, what Golde is
in the Indies? what Arte in China? what worionanshippe
in MiUaine? wfaatbuUdingin Fforenee? what Fountaines
in Genoua? what State in Norrembeige? and for Venice
who hath not scene it cannot praise it, but who hath
scene it, and can judge of it, I leaue him to speake of
it Oh the Corne, wine and fruite of Fhmoe t the Oyle,
Spfoe, Drugges and finite of Spahie 1 the Rosen. Pitdi,
Taire, and Hempe, Waxe, and Honie from the Easte
Countries I the Vduets, Sattens, Taffiities and SiUces of
Italy, and other Cure Countries : are these at home?
yea, but howe? not to bee scene with that contentment
B
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lO
AN OLDE MANS LESSON:
that it is at thdr home : for, to see the little Worme
that windes the Silke, how shee liues before her work-
ing, and then, how with her worke, shee payes for her
Uuing, howe neate the Maides bring them to Market,
woimd vp in their worke, how finelye they are wound out
of their worke, and their Silken threedes wouen into
dhien fine Stuffes, as well Ooath of Golde, Tissue,
Siluer, or Tuffed or plaine Veluet or Satten, or stu£fes
of other names, the rarenes in the Arte of it, and the
neatenes in the dooing of it, it is a thousand times more
oontentiue, then to buye it in a Shoppe, and to weare it in
slappe: OhtoseeaGenerallinthemiddestofan Annie,
or a Cittie besiedged : to see the Beatitieof one, endnote
the strength of the other, and to tairie the fortune of
both, it would make you breake your Spade, and your
Flaile, and as olde as you are, trye the Fortune of your
Sworde, to see but one such a sight in aU your life : why
in a Chamber to see a woman of worth sued to, by the
better sort, to heare the ezoellencie of her wit ddieured
at the ende of her tongue, with cucfa a grace of modesde,
as might deare suspicion of vngratious action, when her
eyes like starres did sparckk in the little Element of her
&oe, and her hayres like wiers, might winde up the
thoughts of loues heart, while her wordes like Orikcles,
should coniure honour to loyaltie, to behold sudi a
queene-like creature in the richest of her array, to reade
her in the ezoellencie of her wit, & heare her in the
ezoellencie of her musicke, were such a contentment to
the spirit of good vnderstanding, as would make the
heart to rise, to the highest of his worldes ioy : and, is
this to bee seene at home in a cupboord, or a Come-
loft, or aCowe pastor ? no, no : now I oonfesse, flesh and
blood, red and white, and louely browne. will doe well
where are no better : buta oountrey dannoe is but a ligge
to a' stately Fuien : no fiuher, had you seene that which
I haue seene, and knew that I knowe, you wcM long as
well as I to see that I would see : for an olde Mans
lesson, is knowledge by ezperience, and a young mans
Loue is variety of ▼nderstanding, which is the fruite of
Trauaile.
Chrt» Well Sonne, I sayed it not for nought, that
Boyes in these daies, haue wit at will, God send them
grace to vse it well : but, now I haue heard you at
leysure, giue mee leane to answere you a little touching
contentment : you say, euery house is a home, and euery
Countrie alike to a resolued spirit, but he that selleth
Land at home, to looke ouer Land abroade, when his
money is spent, and hee hath neither house nor home,
what then foUowes, but, insteede of content, play Mal-
content ; and for the oommodiUe of Land, better haue
an Acre of Land in Cheape-side, then a hundreth in the
Land of waste, for it is either vnder water, or subiect to
drowning, and therefore tell not mee of your outlandish
earthnorthefruhc8ofit:for« Icanhaueasgoodhearbes
and firuites here at my doore for my money, as yon can
haue any where in your trauaile. I know it : for I haue
heard them say it, that haue tried it : why ? haue not we
our Cherry, our Strawberie, our Raspesse^ our Goose-
berrie and our Mulberie, and I knowe not how many
berries, as the Season serues? haue not wee the Plumme,
the Pttre, the Aprioocke, the Apple, the warden, and
the Quince, the Walnut and the Filberd, and the Hasell
Nut, the Medler, and the Ches-nut, and al in their
seasons, growing in our countries, & brought to our
markets ? and are they not cheaper heere then to trauaile
for them, I knowe not whether? Indeede^ I thinke we
haue them not in such aboundance* for I holde no such
neoessitie!: now, for Mineralles, I doe not thinke but you
may finde more Golde and Siluer abone the ground in
one Acre in Cheape-side, then you may finde in ten of
the best Acres in your Trauaile : and therefore^ for Earth
I thinke we haue as good at home, as you can finde
abroad : and so much for your earth. Now for your
fine woormes, and your worming Maides, it is a pnettie
idle thing to -stand peering on a Worme, but, perhaps
we haue wonnes at home, that winde themsehies vp in
Silke, though they bee not caried to market, one of whSdi
are better worth then a hundreth of your wormes, ft for
Makles, if our maides be not as deanely on the market*
day, as they are on a Holy-day, trust mee no more, and
I am sorie you can say no more for 3rours : for they that
bee not Sluts, will bee neate, and there is an ende : and
for your Silkes and Veliiets,.wee haue our Sattcns heere
with sudi a glasse, that yon may almost see your face in
it, vppon the backeskle of a Vardingale : and therefore
talkeno mere of it : we haue it heere without trauaile, as
well as you haue it there with your trauaile, and so con-
tent your selfe : Now for your Panats, your Apes, your
Whides ft your trickes, some of them vre heare spodce,
and other we see daunoOy ft other wee heare of, and what
care we for more? they that will bee fooles to giue money
for iandes, let them alone with their follies, I wish not
to tnuaile for any sooh toyes : Nowe for your Ounpe
and your Qttie besiedged, howe gallant soener the sightes
seeme pleasing to your humor, yet I thinke the heart of
a wise man will bee better pleased with a poore peace,
then a Rich Wane : though commonly Warre bee the
cause of pouertie, and peace of wealth : Nowe for your
wenching humor, so fine and so wise, so fidre. and so
sweete in her kxikes, and her wordes, and her trickes,
and her toyes, I thanke God, the thought of that world
is done with mee, and I would it were neuer to bee thought
on with you : for let an Okie Mans lesson bee what it will,
a lUre wench is a jroung Mans Lone, and so I allowe it
should bee : but then I would haue it neerehome. that I
might ludge the better of it, for there are as I heare, so
many Painters of Womens fooes, so many InStructers of
Womens tongues, and so manie flatterers of Womens
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AND A YOUNG MANS LOUE.
II
humors, that if a man haue not both his insight and his
Otttsigfat, he maj pay home for his blindenesse : and
therefore, let Wiers, and Oracles, and such Poeticall
figures or fictions passe, and for a flax-en or a browne
Hayre, for a chaste eye, and an honest laoe, for a good
complexion, and a giations disposition ; I thinke all the
world is not better prouided for good Wendies then oor
Countrie, talke of yoor fiure Countries what you list ; and
therefore I see not howe you are benefited by your
Tnuiaile, more then to haue libertie to tell more then
many well beleeue : but let mee aslce yon one thing
in your Tnuiaile, did you not reade any Aundent
Histories?
. Pam. Yes diuerse : and one which mee thinkes were
worthie to bee reade of daily : of Licurgus the great
Law-maker?
Ckrt, What might that bee, that you wish so to call
inmemorie?
Pom, The Law that he first made when he came into
the Cittie of Athens, that all the Fooles and testers should
be whipt out of the Cittie.
Chtt. That would goe sore nowe I tell jrou, for they
thiine sbrangelie in these dales : but tell mee, haue you
not reade, nor heard the opinions of the Philosophers,
touching their discripUons of some espedall matters ?
Pam. Yes, I haue reade certaine discriptions of
opinions, but, I finde not their names set downe : I haue
reade a strange discription of a Woman.
Ckn, And not of a man?
Pmh, Oh yes and that to good purpose.
Chn, I pray theeif thou canst remember them, redte
Pam, First I read that a woman was the cracke of a
Mans wit, ft the trouble of his vnderstanding, the hardest
pan of his body, ft the worst part of his substance,
Natures Baby, and reasons Torture.
Chrt, And what of man ?
Pam, I reade that Man is the Pride of Nature, the
play of Time, a Woman's Foole, and an Apes Schoole-
Chn. And what of Riches?
Pam, That they are the Plague of wit, the subduer
of reason, the tempter of Nature, and the abuse of
time.
Ckn, And what of pouertie?
Pam, That it is the Badge of Pistienoe, the triall of
vertue, the Touchstone of gnoe and the punishment of
Ckr** Good Notes, but wiiom haue you noted the
moste happie in the world ?
Pam, The Foole.
Chrt. Your Reason?
Pam, Because he knowes no vnhappincsse.
Ckn, And who most vnhappie ?
Pam, The Athist, because he wants grace.
Ckn, Whome the Richest?
Pam, The wise : because, knowledge is a high
Ttaasure.
Ckn, And who the wisest ?
Pam, The fiaithfiiU, because they are halfe way in
Heauen.
Ckn, What is the best gouemement ?
Pam, Loue.
Ckrt, And what is the best punishment ?
Pam. Fasting.
Ckn, What is the best Lawe?
Pam. Ittstice.
Ckn. And what the best pleading ?
Pami. Thith.
Ckn. Short, and sweete, I like all this well : nowe
tell mee what is the best Beautie?
Pam. Vertue : for that it makes the fowle £aire, and
the fiure gratious.
Ckn, What the best honour ?
Pam, Wisdome, for that it semes God, ft gouemes
the worlde.
Ckn, What hast thou read to be the greatest torment
of the worlde?
Pam, An vnquiet wile, because a man is bound to
her.
Ckn, And what the greatest comfort?
Pom, A quiet conscience, because it keepes the soule
in peace.
Ckn, What finde you the moste predous ?
Pam. The word of God, for it directes the soule.
Ckn. And what next?
Pam. Time, for it is wisdomes rule.
Ckn, And what is most grieuous ?
Pam, A frustrate hope, for it grieues the heart.
Ckn, And what moste ioyfiill ?
Pam, A setled fiiith, for it is feardesse.
Ckrt, Which is the moste wittie creature in the
world?
Pam, A Woman, because shee can make a Foole of
aman.
Ckn, And which is the moste foolish ?
Pam. A wicked man, because he leaues heauen for
hd.
Ckn. What holde you the least worthe ?
Pam. Vanitie, because it is a hurt of wit.
Ckn, What vertue holde you the greatest ?
Pam. Patience, for it keepes the Spirit in temper.
Ckn. And what vice the vilest ?
Pam, Drunkennesse, for it makes a Beast of a Man.
Ckn, What is the best studdie ?
Pam. Diuinitie, for it is the Schoole of Wisdome.
Ckn. What next?
Pam. Philosophic, for it is the Schoole of Nature.
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13
AN OLDE MANS LESSON:
CMre. What thinkest thou of Lone 7
Pant. A trouble of wit.
Ckre. What thinkest thou of beautio ?
Pant, A ook>ur.
Chre. Of Youth?
Pam, A Spring.
Ckre, Of Age?
Paim. A Blast
Ckre, Of Honour?
Pam, A TiUe.
Ckre, Of power?
Pam. A charge.
Ckre, Of Wealth?
Pam, A care.
Ckre. Of life?
Pam, A Trauaile.
Ckre, Of death?
Pam, A rest.
Ckre, Trudy Sonne what thou hast benefited thy bodfe
by thy trauaile, I knowe not, but by the Trauaile of thy
spirit, I see thou hast so much bettered thy knowledge,
that I care not whether thou goest, so thou retumest so
well home : and were it not to wearie thee to[o] much, I
would aske thee a fewe more questions.
Pam, What please you I win answere the best I can
and craue pardon, if al be not to your liking.
Ckre, No thou canst not displease my loue, that
ioyes not a little m thine vnderstanding : and therefore,
let me first aske thee, where doost thou thfaike is the
moste danger in the world ?
Pam, At the Sea : for the Whides, and the Wanes,
the Rockes & the sands doe often threaten distraction.
Ckre, And where moste safetie to Hue ?
Pam, In heanen : for in the worlde there is none.
Ckre. But m the worid where is the sweetest life?
Pam, In the Vniuersitie : for there are the best wits,
and the best rules.
Ckre, And where the vainest life ?
Pam. Among women : for there is but losse of time.
Ckre, And where the costliest ?
Pam. Among Courtiers : for there is much pride in
appareU, and great causes of ezpence.
Ckre, And where the Idlest?
Pam. In the Ordinaries, where there is nought but
talke, and play, and Cheere.
Ckre. Where is the quiet life?
Pam. In the Countrie, where wit may feede the spfarit
in oontempUuion.
Ckre, Where the noblest ?
Pam, In the warres : where valour may shew merde,
and wisdome gaine honour.
Ckre. And where the moste blessed?
Pam. In the Church, where piaier, and fiisting, findes
admirable comfort.
Ckre. Wdl said my good Boy, but out of thine owne
Countries tell mee where thou didst finde most content-
Pam. In ItaUe : for there I found the Mardiant
rich, the Soukliour valiant, the Courtier AfEeOile, the
Lawyer Learned, and the Oraffces-man cunning, the
Women iinire, and the Children toward: the earth
fruitefull, the finite pleasant, the Climat temperate, and
the Labourer painefiilL I cannot say but in other
Countries I found diners of these, but not al, so mndi
in any.
Ckre, And where most discontentment ?
Pam, In Barberie, where the Souldiour is bk>odle,
the lewe liues with the Gentill, the Marcbant is of no
pleasing carriage, the Courtier I neuer saw, the Women
are not beautifiill, the Climat is hot, and the Soilebut
euen so, so : and in snmme, little good but Hides and
Sugar.
Ckre. I hope thou didst make no kmg stay there?
Pam, No Sir, nor euer intend to come there againe :
I had rather make Salt my Sugar, then Tkanaile thither
againe for it
Ckre. Where didst thou make thy longest aboade ?
Pam. In Italic, and there, except at home with you,
I had rather spend my life, then in many places of the
world : and in Venice of any place there.
Ckre, Your reason?
Pam Because there I may feede mine eyes with
manie feire obiects, and my minde with many deepe
considerations : to beholde the platforme and Sdtuation
of the Qttie, how it standeth enuht>ned with the Sea :
then to view the stately buildings of stones, as wd hi
their Churches as their Houses : vpon the Realta, to see
the varietie of strangers, to obserue the people, thefa:
habites, their Languages, and their carriages : to see
the treasurer of S. Marco, theprouision in their Arsenate,
and the state in the Dukes Pisllaoe : to note the strict
ft ctuill manner of their gouemement, to conuerse with
fine wits, to accompany kinde natures, to beholde their
feire Ladies, and to eniqy the libertie of oonsdenoe, to
take a Gondok>, and crosse a smooth Sea, to their sweet
Riuers, and at pleasure to take the ayre of their pleasant
villages, to feede of their sweet fimites, and drink of their
delicate wines : with other needeles things to talke of,
that except this oountrie, and your house, I knowe no
sudi place of contentment
Ckre. Thou saist wel, these causes of content
may vrd make thee in loue with the Countrie : but I am
glad to heare thee except thine owne countrie ft my
house, where I doubt not, thou shalt recehie as much
true content, as either Italy, or all the work! can afibord
thee : at least if I can deuise it, it shall bee so : but if it
cannot bee, it shal be my content, that thou shah haue
it where thou wilt, or canst deuise It: but, beefaig
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AND A YOUNG MANS LOUE.
13
now Abroad* ft supper will not be readie this hower : I
pray thee recite me some pcettie Historie, or tell mee
some prettie tale of somewhat that hath passed in the
way of thy passage. I care not of what nature it be, it
Shan content me.
Pam, Vpon the saddaine to call to muide any his-
torie of anndent time, that may be worth the recounting,
I shall haue somewltat to doe : bat of some such matter
as hath passed in my Traoaile, whereof I haue bene
either an eye witnes, or had perfect intelligenoe, that I
may tel you the truth, I care not if I acquaint yon with
the discourse.
Obv. I pray thee doe, and thou saist well, for
Tknuailers are giuen (some say) to begull the worlde
with gudgins : espedally such as long after newes & to
heare strange thhigs, thou^ tliey neither vnderstand
them in the teUing of them, nor can remember a word
of them ; but for thy selfe, though I were but a friend,
yet I see, such is thy knowledge of good, as will not let
thee commit so great an euil : ft therfore, on gods name
say what thou wilt, it shal content me, I will beleeue it,
ft thanke thee for it, for it will be a good meane to passe
away the time, and to make our walke seeme the shorter.
Paim. Sir to tel you of a bloodie fight, a defeated
armie, the Sacke of a Qttie, or a wracke of a Sbippe,
were more lamentable then comfortable : to tell you tA
a monster, that had bin the death of a man, would but
mooue pittie and griefe : to tell you of a plague in a
oountrle, and the ruyne of a kingdome, would but be a
breeding of mehmcholly: to tell you of a Shepheard and
his Dqg, wold but shew you that yon see euery day :
to talke of a Foae and a Goose, why the oountrie is too
full of them euerie where : to tdl you of a Wolfe ft a
Lambe, why it would make you pray for your ilock : ft
therfore to leane al idle ft vnfitting humors, I wU tel you
in my opinion, a true ft prettie discourse of somewhat
that hapned in a Qttie, where I spent some time nUch
I hope shall not dislike you.
Ckrt, I pray thee doe.
Pam, Then Sv yon shall vnderstand, in the Cittie
of Venice, a place in which I spent some time, it was
my hap, among other contentments to fied acquainted
with a young Gentleman, much of mine own yeres, had
bin at the vniuersitie, seene something in trauaile, ft
there finding many pleastog spirits, thought good to
spend some time among them : it fdl out one morning
among other, going towards S. Marco in my company,
passing by a house of a great liCagnifico or gentlemanly
marchant, he chanced to espy, in an entiie within the
doore, a pretty, nay a young gentleman talking with
a fiedre ^damsel, whom be imagined to be the yong
mans mistris, but it fell out she was his sister : now
the young gentleman wel acquainted with my friend,
beckned him into the housci ft gaue not onely him,
but mee also, for his sake, a very kinde wdoom, ft
procured no lesse at the hands of his fiEure sister : whom
thouc^ £bu: short of her desert, I wil describe in her
wixthines : her yeres about twenty, the prime of natures
pride and virginities honour: beautifiil, so far, as a
creature can be imagined, wise with that modesty that
made her wit admirable : ft kinde, with that care that
made humility grations : her portion though not for a
prince, yet able to make a poore man wealthy : ft for
her proportion, the painter might be graced in her
counter&ite : loued she was of al that knew her. hated
of none that could know her : serued of manie that were
happie to attend her, and especially beloued of one that
did truely honour her, who was the young man whom as
my sdfe I loued : often did hee sollidte his suite with
miAi wacstx proofe of his affection, as made her Parents
no lesse willhig to entertaine his kindenesse, then her his
loue : his speech was sildom ft not mudi, his letters few
ft not teadious, his gifts not many, but of worthe : and
thus faire wrought her &uour with his affection, that for
women though he saw many, yet hee loued none but her :
her vertue made him vowe chastitie, her beautie were his
eyes blisse, her modestie, was his loues praise, ft her
loue, his lifes honour : she knew it, and was pleased
in it : I knewe it, and loue him for it : her parents
vsed him as a Sonne, her Brother as himselfe, and she
as her Brother: now affection grew to passion, and
patience to ioyne with reason, for the oomformation of a
mutuall comfort : but what fortime doth in these courses,
too many in their crosses can witnes : he was faire from
his paienu, ft shee at home with her friendes : loath hee
was to put her to aduenture of her honour, with his
fortune, though in him shee reposed her worldes feUdtie :
loath shee was to leane him for want of what with him,
and yet her care was such of him, that shee would bee
ruled by him : and therefore hauing betwixt themselues
sealed with their hands, the infringiUe band of faith and
troth in the heart, after a supper in her fisthers house, ft
a breake-fast in her brothers lodging, as wdl as loue
could giue him leane, hee tooke leaue of his fidre lady,
to looke home toward his father, to whome hee would
impart his suite, of whome hee would obtaine a blessing,
and from whome hee would retume to her, with his
fortune : To tdl you the manner of their parting, if euer
you were in the like perplezitie, would but reuiue a
forgotten passion : but, when swallowed sighes, and
bleeding teares had almost marr'd all on both sides, her
brother caried her away, ft I brought him away, and so
went the world away : Now many a night since haue I
lyen with him, and heard him deliuer suds due praises of
her worthinesse, and sigh out such deepe sorrowes of his
own vnhappinesse, that if I could haue done him good,
I could not haue denied him, and not being able, I could
not but sorrowe with him.
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AN OLDE MANS LESSON:
Chre. Alas poore Gentleman, where did you leaue
him?
Pam. Not Carre from his Others houses
Chre, And doth his father loue him ?
Pam, Or else he were vmiaturalL
Chrt, And doth he loue his Father ?
Pam, Deerdy, I will sweaie for him.
Chre, And will not his fiither hdpe him ?
Pam. He is fearefull to charge him.
Ckrt. And doost thou loue him ?
Pam, As my selfe : and deerest of any but your selfe.
Chre, What wm seme him?
Pam. A thousand Crownes.
Ckrt. I wil giue it him, and thee as much more to
accompany him.
Pam. And will you not repent it when you knowe
him?
Ckre. Why, I knowe he is not mine enemie, if he be
thy friend : and if thou louest him, I will thinke nothing
too deere for him.
Pam. Imagine it were my selfe :
Ckre^ Haue I ought too deere for my Sonne, thai
could finde me out such a Daughter?
Pam. Then deere Father pardon my drcumstanoe,
and fouour my suite, your sonne is the man: my
Mistresse is the Lady : and hi the performance of your
worde, lies the hope of my comfort.
Ckrt. Saist thou mee so Boy? gramerde for thy
merrie tale : I will be as good as my worde to thee and
better in my lone to thee : I will goe to her with thee,
and make vp the match for thee. Thy valour with her
Beautie, thy learning with her wit, thy honestie with her
vertue, thy land with her money, I hope shall make a
happie ooniunction : for though thou wert a stranger,
thou Shalt be found no begger : and now thy Mother is
dead, and thy sister is married, I care not in my olde age
to see a little of the world with thee : but yet by the way,
now thy wooing is past, for thy wiuing let me tell thee :
If shee gouerne thee, thou art gone : Lord haue mercie
vpon thee : and if shee will be gouemed by thee, then
beware of a Fooles Paradioe, for Women haue stomackes :
and if they cannot pranke, they will powte, if they bee
faire they are dther idle or worse occupyed, if fowle
eyther sullaine, or vncomfortable : if rich, eyther pronde
or froward : if wittie, hi daunger of humors : if frmtas-
ticke, out of question Amorous : if young, wilful : if
aged : wayward : Now tell me how wilt thou chuse a
wife? if thou fit not her humor she wil frown, if she fit
not thine, thou wilt firet, & theifore though wit be
gratious, & beautie be pretious, ft kindenes be comfort-
able, ft vertue bee honorable, and wealth doe wd, ft
loue be a wonderfull thing, ft al this be in a woman, yet,
when vse makes wearines, ft wearines makes kMtthsonuies,
ft constancy is so cumberaom that it hinders much con-
tentment : when she fidls deafo, or thou bUnde, or she
sicke, ft thou poore, or shee be of one minde or thou of an
other, that oomplaintes must be made, causes must be
decided, quarrdls must bee ended, •*yr»ffff must be
reconciled, or parties parted, and how then? when will
or want breedes woe or wickednes, ft lone is an other
thmg then hath bene talked of in the olde time, what
then ? swearing ft staring, scolding and bnwiing, cursing
ft bannmg, ft crying ; oh fine Ufie for a mad dog, when
the childe bawles in the Cradle, the wife bnwles at the
table, the nurse wralles in the kitchen, ft the maide
mumbles in the sdler, where are you then ? in a pittifiiU
wood, alas the day that euer I did it : there is no hdpe
for it, ft therefore hi time looke to it : if thy mistris be
as thou saist, God keep her so : if she be not ft hokle
not, if thou saiest thou louest her, I piay heartdy that
itholdeitso: but hope sales the best, ft 1 will bdeene
it, ft feare sales the worst, ft I wil defie it, ondy this my
Sonne, let me tell thee touching the managing of a wills,
maintaining loue with a wife, ft the assured notes of a
louhig wife : ft first for the managing of a wife note her
yeres, her wit, her disposition, ft her acquaintance : if
she be young, be careful but not ieaknis of her, make
not two beds with her, except in sickenes, ft that not
feined : let her not want such company, as you thinke
fit for her, for idlenes ft solitarines, put many thoughts
into a womens head, that may anger her husband at the
heart : why a dreame sometime of vnkindeaes will put
strange passions fauo some womans head, ft thei:fore
awake let her not be without company to exercise her
wits in good conference : least she be worse imploied in
ill cogitations : let her bee apparreUed to thy calling,
but no further, for feare of pride, ft then a worse plague :
let her feede holsomdy, but not tQ[o] daintily : for as snow
engendreth haile, a liooris tongue will haue a couetous
minde: you know my meaning, let her want no
necessaries, nor feede her with superfluities, wdoome
her friends that are honest, ft keep her from tatUng
Gossips, make some commend her modesty in her hear-
ing, but vnseene : cherish al good humors in her : let
her lacke no dlk, cruell, threed, nor flaxe, to worke on
at her pleasure, force her to nothing, rather prettily dude
her from her labour, but in any wise commend what she
doeth : if she be learned and studious, perswade her to
translation, it will keepe her from Idlenes, ft it is a
cunning kinde tadce : if she bee vnleamed, commend
her huswifery, and make much of her caxefiilnesse, and
bid her seruants take nampkt at their mistris : winke
at an ill worde, at least if it growe of ignoianoe : and
sometime feede her humour, so it be not to thine owne
dishonour: let her vse thy purse but be not priuie to thy
state. If she bee ginen to play, take heede of a tricke,
and if it be at Tables, looke she beare not felse : at
boord be menrfe with her, abroad kinde to her, alwaies
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AND A YOUNG MANS LOUE.
'5
to kraing her, and nener hitter to her, for padeAt Griiell ia
dead loog agoe, and women are flesh and blood, though
some haue little wit & reaaon : if shebewise obfleme her,
if vertuous loue her, if kinde requite her, ft if constant
make too much of her, for she is a lewell, and more
worth then you can imagine her: beleeue me Sonne what
I tell thee, for I have daunoed the daunoe before thee,
and though I will not Uowe the home to thee, yet if thou
hunt a good chase I can teach thee : Tush though Boyes
be mad wagges^ yet an Okie Dogge bites sore: and
therefore, my good Boy, heare and note what I tdl thee:
thou wilt finde it win be goode for thee : if she coll and
Usse thee^ and hang on thy lippes, take heede shee doe
not flatter thee, and looke who is behinde thee : if she
powte, and bwre at thee, she meanes no good to thee :
words of course may be good, but course woides are
naught: take heede of a leering eye, and glibbe tongue,
for they are commonly like a crosse4)owe, soone bent^:
take heede of a proud spirit and a fowle month, for they
are moste of themeyther oostlye, or vnquiet : take heede
of a swearer ft a drunkard, for they will surely bring thee
distruction : but what needa I giue thee warning of these
woes, when thou hast made a choice of so many oom-
fortt? ft therefore I wiUooely hope the best, and bdeeue
it, and helpe thee in what I can to it
Pam, My good Father, how much I holde my selfe
bound to your kindenes, I cannot earpresse, but wOl
endeuour in my dutie to make you finde : for though I
am assuredly perswaded of my iudgement, ]ret shall my
wit giue place to your experience: and such and so
manie are the menrle trickes of these dales, that foure
paire of spectacles will scarcely helpe one paJre of ejpes,
to seedearely into the true constande of akinde woman :
for though in my mistris, I hope it is not so, yet naturally
in many, it is so : they haue strange humors hi painting
their faces, in borrowing their hayres, ft changing their
mindes : why, sure I thinke they are madde, when they
thinke themsehies wise : when running from God to the
Deuill, they can cuckolde their husbands with knaues,
though sometime money make sudi matches, that
B^SSers Hue better hues : and it is a fine iest, to see
how the deuil teacheth them, to excuse their owne sfai,
as thus: flesh is fiaile, these wicked men are fol of temp-
tation, and my husband is such a, and so foorth : but
this will not serue, when time shall seme, that they shall
answere for their seruioe to God, and their husbands :
but I hope mine is not so, nor will prooue so : nor any
honest husband is so 01 wiued, nor any honest wife so
iU minded: tis bat a tale surmised to wrong poore
Wenches, and fright poore fooles, and therefore such as
are good, God holde them so, and such as are to blame
let them doe no more sa
Ckrt. Amen Boy say I too: but I doubt the worse,
there Witt be tiickes in the world, that euerie man shall
not bee acquainted with : but shice we are entered into
this same loue-talke, though it bee a matter past my
reach many jrere agoe, yet to refresh an olde wit let me
aske thee one question ?
Pam, As many as please you.
Ckn, If kMie be in the world, where dost thou tUnke
he Hues?
Pam, In mens hearts and womens eyes.
Ckr§, How is that found ?
Pam, By womens tongues, and mens wits.
Ckrt. How so?
Pam, Why thdr eyes speakeUnddy, ft mens hearts
beleeue it : and thdr tongues bewitch mens wits, that
are carried away with it
Ckn, Whither are they carried?
Pam, To thdr willea.
Ckn, And what to doe?
Cam, To vndoe themsehies.
Ckn, Is it so in all?
Pam, For the moste part
Ckn, How then is it with thee?
Pam, Farre otherwise : for when you shall see the
subiect of my choice, I doubt not but you will say, if
there be a Phoenix in a woman, and an AngeU in any
earthly creature, she is one.
Chr$, Oh but Sonne, speake ndther poetically, nor
prophandy, for the Phoenix is but a fiction, and an
Angd is a heauenly creature, if it bee a good one, or
dse I know not what to say to it, whether it may bee in
a woman or not : for let me td thee, a woman being the
weaker vessdl, I wonder how (hauiKg a stronger spirit
then her husbands) she doth not burst with the force of
it?
Pam. No, no, as you say, it may be a worse spirit
then her owne that doth haunt her but by fits, to trie her
husbands patience, which behig found, puts the fririe to
flight, and then she become her selfe againe : but irom
such spirits in women that vse men thus, good Lord
deliuer vs.
Chrt, Amen say I boy, for thy sake, for I haue done
with them : but td me now the reason of patience, why,
a man that sees his miserie, knowes his abuse, and win
abide it, why hee shold so befoole himsdfe to digest it.
Pam, Because, in seekmg to hdp himsdfe, he may
hurt hunself, ft of two eufls the least is to be chosen,
for shame cannot be recoured, griefe cannot bee put off,
murther cazmot be answered, ft therefore a friult must
be winked at : and in time dther age or weakenes, wil
make them wearie of it that vse it, and then repentance
makes the perfect creature : vertue is a diuine guifte,
and eurie one hath it not: Chastide is .good for
Alcambtrie, but that is a long studie : wisdome Uues
but with a few, and therefore a great many must be
borne withaU, and honestie is such a leweU, that there
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i6
AN OLDE MANS LESSON:
is little money to be gotten by it : and yet there are wise,
and Caire, ridi, and Tertuous women, and make men
happie that can happen on them : among which it may
bee tliat your Mistiis may be, and I hope will be one of
them.
Pawt* Oh Father doubt it not, for a staied eye, a
naturall beautie, a soft speech, a straite proportion, a
gratious gesture, and an humble minde, shewe a true
heart, a good wit, a blessed soule, and an excellent
creatoie, and such is my Mistresse.
Ckn. And yet a staied eye, may haue a strange
sight, a blushing cheeke, an ill fore head, a softe speech,
a dye meaning, and an humble minde, a oouered orafte :
but I hope hath not your mistris.
Pam, Oh no, vaiietie of knowledge, solitarie walkes,
holy obseraance and necessarie ezerdse : shew a care-
lull wit, a oontemplathie spirit, a sealous heart, and an
industrious minde, and sudi hath my mistris.
Ckre, And yet varietie may breede nmite, solitarines
may shadowe pride, holy shewes may hide hipocride,
and exercise may prooue cunning : but such I hope is
not your mistris.
Pom, No Father, vertue and vanitie, are odde,
Solitarines and pride are of a contrarie humour, holines
& Hipocride, are contraries, and labour and crafte are of
sundrie natures, and my mistris and an ordinarie crea-
ture are diffisrent hi dispositions : and therefore I beseech
you, if you speake of the best sorte, let her not be left
out, & if of the worst, thinke not of her name, for she
hath no place in their imperfections.
Ckre. I like thee well boy. I see perswasion doth
well in affection, thou wilt stand for thy Mistris agahist
the whole world : it is well done, for if shee bee worthie
thy praise sticke to her, if thou bee worthy her lauour,
neuer leaue her : but now leaning this loue tale till wee
come where the matter is further to be talked of, let me
haue another bowte with you, for a few pohites of your
opinion touching oertaine propositions, that I meane to
niakeyou.
Pam, Deat father your Sonne will bee ready to
performe his best to your pleasure : & therefore say
what shall please you.
CMrt, Tell me then, if you must leaue your fitther, or
your mistris, which would you leaue ?
Pam. My Mistris.
CAre. Your reason.
Pam, Because I may haue such an other mistris, but
such an other father I cannot haue.
CAre, But if your Mistris were your wife, how
then?
Pam. I must leaue Father and mother, and deaue
to my ¥rife.
CAre. If you must loose your land or your loue,
which would you?
Pam. My Land : for I may purdiase other Land but
I cannot purchase such an other Loue.
CAre. If you were without a wife, you may bee rich,
and by a wife shall bee poore : which wiU you?
Pam. A wife for Godlines is great ridies to him that
is content with that he hath.
CAre. If you may bee wise, and will not. and would
be wise and cannot, which would you chuse ?
Pam. The may he, for where there is power, wee
may be perswaded, but where there is no power, will is
not to be spoken of.
CAre. If example teach you, ft jfm conceane it not, or
if you concdue it, and regarde it not, wliich is the worse ?
Pam. Not to oonoeaue, for will is sooner cured then
wit, of any imperfection.
CAre. If a friend deceaue you, ft an enemie hdp
you, vdiome will you kme best
Pam. My friend ; for they doe both againe their
wils, and the one of no good, the other out of no euill
minde*
CArt. Thus much for a friend and a wife : Now tt>
other matters : what dost thou thinke moste needefuU
in the world?
Pam. Hooestie, there is so litUe of it, that it is in
fewe mens hands.
CAre. And what least needefiill?
Pam. Villanie, there is so much, that many hang for it.
CAre. What is the moste comfortable in the world?
Pam. Ayer, for it maintaines life.
CAre. What is moste profitable ?
Pam. Money* for it gaines thousands.
CAre. What least profitable?
Pam. Pride, for it spendes much.
CAre. Whidi is the vylest creature in the workl?
Pam. The Cucko, for she kites the sparrow that
hatcht her.
CAre. And which the kindest ?
Pam. The PeUkan, for she kiUes hendfe to feede
her young.
CAre. Who is the truest kmer in the worU?
Pam. The Turtte. for she neuer cfaangeth whome
shechuseth.
CAre. Whidi is the most dogged bird in the worid?
Pam. TheTurkey^Cockeforhebeateshbhenwhen
he hath troden her.
CAre. Whteh is the most foolish bird?
Pam. The Woodoocke, for she is euer shewing her
taite.
CAre. Whidi is the best beast in the world?
Pam. The Vnkxime. for his home killeth poyaon. ft
he neuer hurteth a Vlighi.
CAre. Which is the most statdy ?
Pam. The Lyon, because he stoopes all other with
hislooke.
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AND A YOUNG MANS LOUE.
17
Ckrt, Which is the moste craftie ?
Pam, The Foxe, when he scapes the huntsman.
Ckrt, And what the strangest ?
Pam, An Ape, because he is like a man.
Ckrt, And which is the most monstrous Beast ?
Pam, A witton, because he hath a world of homes.
Ckrt, Wei said, idiidi is the nimblest beast in the
world?
Pam, A Camelion, for hee can tume himselfe into
diuerse colours in an instant.
Ckrt, Which is the most profitable beast in the
world ?
Pam, An Oze, for when he hath drawne al the year,
he will make beefe against Christmas.
Chre, What is the moste vnprofitable Beast ?
Pam, A Woolfe, for he is good for nothing while he
Hues, nor dead, but for his skinne.
Ckrt, Which is the sweetest Beast in the world 7
Pam, A Ciuit Cat
Chrt. And which is the moste vnsweet?
Pam. A dogge when he hath eaten carrion.
Ckrt, : Well, thus I see thou art able to answere mee
to good purpose, to whatsoeuer I shall propound thee :
but leaning this ticktacke, shall we goe to some other
game?
Pam, What please you.
Ckre, Then let mee bee merrie with thee : and to my
questions answere me conceitedly.
Pam, As I can without offence.
Ckn. Then first to your Gramer rules, howe many
parts of speech are there?
Pam. Two, to speake well or speake ill
CMre, Whatisanownesubstantiue?
Pam, A riche man, for hee can stand ak>ne with
helpe.
dfv. A nowne adiectiue ?
Pam, A Begger, that lines of almes, for hee cannot
stand alone.
Ckn. WhatisaVeifoe?
Pam, Loue : for when you haue declined it to the
full, it makes nothing but a noise : for it hath no sub-
stance.
Ckrt, Wei, leaning further to speak of these groundes
of learning, let me aske you, when an english is giuen
to be made in Latine, what is to bee done.
Pam, No harme, if it be well made.
Chrt. How doe the Nominatiue case and verbe agree?
Pam. Better then many neighbours, that can hardlye
line togither.
Chrt, How vnderstand you the Plurall number in one
person?
Pam, Twowayes: one in haec homo the common of
two or three : or in a Wench great with childe, before
she knowe her husband.
32
Ckrt. How make you a figure of a Cipher?
Pam, When a foolekeepes a place among wise men.
Ckrt, And howe a Cipher of a figure ?
Pam, Of a wiseman without money, for a purse with-
out money is a body without Ufe.
Chrt, How figure you a Gerunde ?
Pam, In hope, euer dooing, and neuer done.
Chrt, And how a Participle ?
Pam, In happe, done well or ilL
Chrt, And how make you a broken number ?
Pam, With sigfaes and aobbes.
Chrt, And how a foil point ?
Pam, At the graue ; because I can goe no forther at
least in the world.
Ckrt, A good place for them that walke right, but
for other, it is a sonie gate to a heauie house : but
leaning these pointes to men of more diuine studies, let
vs a little more taike of the course of the worlde, and
tell mee what is the reason, why one man that hath no
wit, shal haue much money, and an other that is verie
wise, can get little?
Pam, Because the one hath gotten vnderstanding,
and the other hath gotten to stand vnder.
Ckrt, Indeede thou saiest well, the wise man stands
oner, and the couetous standes vnder his money : but tell
me thy opinion, why should a knaue prosper, and an
honest man goe downe the winde.
Pam, Because the one seekes his paradise heere, and
the other in an other world.
Ckrt, What doost thou thinke moste beautifull in the
world ?
Pam, A £eure day.
Ckrt, And what moste vncomfortable on the earth ?
Pam, Emprisonment.
Chrt, And what most pleasing to nature ?
Pam, Libertie.
Ckrt, And what most grieuous?
Pam, Sicknes.
Ckrt, What is the best substance of a SiUogisme ?
Pam. Truth.
Ckrt, And what the best proofe of a good wit ?
Pam, To maintauie it.
Ckrt, Thou saiest well, but I feare I trouble thee
with too manie questions, and therefore not to trie thee
too much, I wil onely tell thee a word or two, of my
opinion of the world, and so we will goe into supper.
Pam, I thanke you sir, I shall be glad to heare it,
and hope, not hastily to forget it
Ckrt. I wiU tell thee, I thinke the world, a mase of
wit, a walke of will, a trouble of reason, a poyson of
nature, an enemie of rest, a labomr of man, a Laborinthe
of time, a wildemesse of creatures, and a pilgrimage oi
patience : where the wise goueme best, and the wicked
thriue moste, and the rich haue moste power, and the
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i8
AN OLDE MANS LESSON AND A YOUNG MANS LOUE.
poare most miserie : where pride makes her triomphe,
▼anitie seUes her wares, folly hunts after fortune, and
honour ibUowes wealth : where children haue long breed-
ing. Women bring chaige, ft men Ttauaile toward
death : Learning breedes studdie, Arte breedes labour,
and Sickenesse weakenesse : the Sea is daungerous, the
Aire infectious, the earth laborous, and the fier is ter-
rible : In summe, no fetidtie in it nor happines, but to
leaue it, & therefore, when thou hast as wel past it as I,
and knowest it as I doe, Catlmm virtuHs patria, et non
tst hie miki mundus: Heauen is vertues Countrie, and
heere is no world for me : but for that thou art young,
and some things are to be done in this world (I hope)
before thou shalt goe out of it, I will first prouide for
thy content in the happie course of thy wished comfort,
ft then leaue thee to the heauenly contemplation of thy
•spirits happinesse : but I see my seniant comming to-
wards vs : the messenger of my stomackes attendance,
and the Sunne is toward his declination, and therefore
for this time I will trouble thee no further, but ondy re-
ioyoe in thy happie health, and that I haue heard from
thee : I see it is euen supper time, and therefore let vs
away.
Pam. I win wayte vpon you.
FINIS.
Imprinted at London
for Edward White, and are to be
solde at his Shop neere the
little North-doore of S. Paules
Church at the Signe of the
Gun, 1605.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Pagb. 4, Epistlg-dbdicatosy to Sir Iohn Lin-
WRATB. . . . See Index of Names S.N. for notice of
him prior to his being knighted : L 7, ' DiagolicalV^
misiNint for (probably) * DialcgolicalV ^Xtl a dialogue
(as infra To the Reader).
P. 5, cx>L 1, 1. 35, * siUU points 'szlBoes (so-called) for
supporting the breeches.
P. 6, ooL z, L zi, ' vtterance* SI yeadmgt sending
forth. Cf. col. a, 1. i.
P. 7, ooL s, L 4, 'a idUofa Tni.' Benjonson had
appropriated this as title of a Play long before Swift used
it in his grim foshion : 1. 14, * Gmimemir'—oi the
Arthurian legends : 1. 33, ' Tii* s a small horse.
P. 8, coL 1, 1. z, *i€rUir=^idrOc
P. zo, coL z. L 8, ' Ti^td* a with tassels : 1. za,
'si^^'ss dape or imtidily, 4,g. to walk about the
house with dirty shoes is to be ' skipe' : L 35, 'Pamm*
» a grave Spemish danoe : coL a, L 4, ' Rasptsu ' s
raspberry : L 7, ' warden ' a= a huge baking pear : 1. 9,
'Medler* =s a kind of apple— see Olossarial Index, s,v, •
1. 30k *glasse*sBf^Ui8a : L 31/ yarHmgale* b fiurdingide.
P. za, coL a, 1. aa (from bottom) ' Realia ' = Rialto—
the renowned bridge of Shakespeare and Otway.
P. Z3, coL 3, L 3Z (from bottom), ' liawe him far want
of what with Mim'—ti word or words must have been
dropped here: L z8 {i^id,) HnfriMgibU' snot to be
infringed on.
P. Z4, coL z, L a8, * grawurcii* ^ gnaX thanks— a
minced oath: coL 3, L zz, *wralles^ s to bawl loudly :
1. 35, ' luMris * = lioorish : 1. 4Z, * cruiW = fine worsted.
P. Z5, ooL z. L Z3, '£9//' = embrace: col. 3, 1. 3,
(from bottom), ' Alcamistrii ' ss alchemy.
P. Z7, col z, L 6, 'tMY^M/'saxckold: L 34. ^tiek-
iacJU'-^B, kind of backgammon: here s entertaining
and pleasant conversation. — G.
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I pray you be not angrie.
1 605- 1 624.
38
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NOTE.
' I pray you be not angrie * was originally published in 1605 (4to, pp. 24.). The following arc
respectively its (a) Title-page, {i) Epistle to the Reader :—
Pray you be not Angrie.
A
Pleasant and merry
Dialogue, betweene
two Trauellers as they met on
the High-way.
By N. B.
AT LONDON,
Printed by W. W. for William Jones,
dwelling at the signe of the Gunne
neare Holbome Conduit
1605.
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TO THE READER.
|NG£Ry is ill in any man ; in a Wise man it will but trouble his wit, and in a Foole twill
but shew his foUie : and therefore I say vnto you aU, one and other, / pray you be not
Angrie: For, Wise men, I hope their Patience will beare with my Follie : and for my
fellow Fooles, I hope they will beare with me for good fellowship : but they that are neither of both,
but betwixt both, neither Fish nor Flesh, but plaine Red-Hearing, I commende them to the
Chaundlors, for I can make no market with them : Now of what nature you are that reades, for witte
or vnderstanding ; or neither of both, God knowes, I know not, and therefore can not tell what to
say vnto you, but ondy as to all other ; I pray you be not Angrie : But take all as well as your wit
will giue you leaue, and I will thanke you as much as time and occasion will giue me reason : And
so with the Title that followes in the beginning of the Booke, and foUowes to the end, I end ; I pray
you be not Angrie : for in good will I rest, to euery one that deserues well.
A Friende,
N.B,
These initials [N. B.] are contemporaneously filled-in ' Nicholas Breton ' in full in the title-page
of an exemplar of 1605 in the Bodleian. Our text is that of 1624, from the same source. The title-
page of 1624 is as follows : —
1 1 Pray you be not | Angry, for I will make | you merry | A pleasant and merry dialogue, |
betweene two Trauellers, as | they met on the High- 1 way. | LONDON \ Printed by A. M, for
Samuel Rand and are | to be sold at his Shop at Holbome | Bridge. 1624. G.
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A merrie Dialogue betweene two Trauellers vpon the High-way,
touching their Crosses : and of the vertue oi patience.
FabianOj and Femuno.
Femuno.
Fabian, Good morrow : how do you ? and how farre
walke you this way ?
Fabian.
I do as you see, neither of the best, nor the worst :
and am trauelling not very fiarre ; & yet somewhat more
then a pretty walke ; about some hundreth miles or two
for a breathing, to teach the daundng legges of my
youth, to plodde for the prouision of mine old age : and
since it is no better, it is well it is no worse : For since
I haue done my selfe more wrong, then I can make my
selfe amends, I must content my selfe with a pudding,
while other may feast, that haue better fisure.
Fern. Then, I pray you be not Angrie ; for Patience
is a playster for all paine, it is the very poyson of all
sorrow, a preparatiue to all comfort, and the oneiy
quieter of a troubled spirit.
Fab. Why how now? Haue youe b^ene a SchoUer
since I saw you ? Trudy I desire not to trouble your
memory, with saying ouer your lesson without booke :
all your Aduerbes and your Ptouerbes, win not doe me
a pinnes worth of pleasure.
Fern. Oh Fabian I haue patience, be not angrie with
your Fortune, there are Flouds as well as Ebbes : Time
hath his tume and Fortune may be as great a friend, as
sh^ hath bdene an enemie : the Starres may one day
shine as well ouer your house, as your neighbours ; and
therefore stay your houre, you know not when it will
come ; and therefore take no thought : I pray you be
not Angrie.
Fab. Well Femuno, to your sentences : let m^ tell
you, that you know that I know, that you know, that
when you and I did first know one another, you knew
the world was better with m^, then to let m^ plodde
vp and downe in this manner, with no more company
but my Dogge, and my plaine Cudgell : but tis no mat^
ter, all is one ; for hauing plaide wily beguily with my
selfe, I can thanke no body for my hard baigaine : for
in the.time of my youth (the most perilous point of mans
age) falling into such acquaintance as were smally to my
commodity, as well of the Masculine as the Pememne
gender, who so long fed my humour with foUie, that I
fell ahnost into a Consumption, before I found the nature
of the disease : at length, (though somewhat late, yet
better late, then neuer) remembring that my &ther left
me more Land then Wit ; and Nature being more Mistiis
then Reason ouer my ill ruled Senses : and seeing the
world at such a passe, that I could haue well wished to
haue bdene out of it : finding my Friends scome of m^,
my Foes scoffe at m^, some few pitty m6e, and few
comfort mde, I resolued to shake of my Shake-ngges,
and to retire my selfe vnto some solitary place ; where,
hauing left one Foole, to laugh at another ; one viUane
to cut anothers throate, and one Honest man to be ex-
ample to a whole Parish, I betooke m^ to a trauelling
life, rather to heare then to speake how the World went :
and to note the courses of the Wise, rather then to enter
into the courses of the Wicked : whereof the World is so
full, that a man can scarce escape their infection : Why ?
if I should tell you bow I haue beene vsed amoQg them,
you would say I had good cause to be Angry with my
selfe, or some body else.
Fern. And yet I say, I pray you be not Angry : For,
if it be with your selfe. Fretting will but brded Melancholy
[or] bring you to such a Sicknesse, that you may repent
it when it is too late. And to bee Angry with any other,
if you cannot reuenge it, it is a folly : if you doe it is
vncharitable ; for you must forgiue. For, if I should
tell you of some tricks that were put vpon m^ when I
was as wise as a Goose on Beadlame Grdene, I should
make you beldeue that, although I preach Patience to
you, I should haue cause to haue little acquintance
with her my selfe : But spight of the DeuiU, I hope to
goe to heauen : and though I carry more Crosses in my
heart then in my Purse, yet I hope (with my fellow
Begger) to be in Abrahams boosome, when a rich Churle
shall dance with Diues in a worse place : and therefore
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/ PRAY YOU BE NOT ANGRY.
MM a friend, let me say to yon, knowing what is good for
yott ; Whatsoeuer Fortune befidl you, I piay you be not
Angry.
Fab. I must confesse it is good Counoell to bane
Patience ; for Patience is a pretty Vertue, but that it
waits vpon a number of ViUaines : But let m6e tell you,
if aman spend all the money in his purse vpon a oom>
pany of vnthankfiill ViUaines, and when h^ oommeth
to the bottome of his Purse, and there finding nothing,
tntraateth with his friends (as he hath held them) but for
an Ordinary or two ; and sooffingly put off, cannot get
a Penny among them : What can you bane in all the
rule of Patience ? onely fret at the heart to heare men
say, I pray you be not Angry.
Fern. And yet let me tell you. That when Anger will
not auaile him. it is better to be Patient, then Angry :
for I bane heard it spoken by a Wise man That he who
cannot bee Angry, is a Foole : but hee that will bee
Angiy, is more Foole : For when I was (as jrousaid, and
I may say) in thie prime of my time, I may say in the
foolish pride of youth, when all the Gold in the Puish,
was Copper to my Siluer : and my Wit was beyond
Reason ; when I was the onely Foole of the World : Oh
then (to tell you) I was ouer taken in the halfe tume,
would make one runne out of his wittes, and into them
againe if it were possible : for say this. If a manhaue no
deformity in his proportion, is no Wood-cock for his
ordinary course of Witte, hath Wealth enough to liueby
his Neighbours without borrowing* is of Parentage with
the best of the Parish, is in the way of good speede with
a Blatch worth the making of : and leaning all honest,
wise, and good counoell, forsaketh his Fortune, and
binds himselfe prentice during life to an ill-liuioured
Baggage, the worst Child that her fiither had, whose
beauty is like the back of a seaooale Chinmey ; and for
proportion, the true proportion of a sea-crab, as much
wit as a gray Goose, and manners as a blind Mare, and
no more wealth then the Wooll on a sh<«ne Sbetpe:
besides, the issue of idle dmnkennesse, which being
grounded in all fooUishnesse, can away with nothing but
worse then nothing ; whose tongue can k^epe no secrete,
whose heart can thinke no goodnesse, and whose life is
a world of vnquietnesse : and spight of his heart hauing
taken her for better or worse, (when sh^ cannot well be
worse, and will be no better) must hold out his life worse
then ten deaths with her : Say your selle, that when a
man thinkes of this misery, it would fivt him to the veiy
bean : But where is the remedy?
Fab. Oh 1 I pray you be not angiy : For if a man
shoukl haue a Sister wbome h^ Loueth Dearely, whose
Beauty with Vertne, were a Dowry for a Prince, her
Linage Noble, her Personage oomly, her nature kind,
and her gouemment so discreet, that by the iudgement
of the wise, she was a match for the worthy : to s6e this
blessed creature, by the cmeltie of the Fates bestowed
vpon the bastard sonne of a Begger, whose Father was a
villaine, his mother a foole. and he a Changeling : whose
eyes were thrfe foote out of his head, his nose too long
for his mouth, and his skinne too wide for his feoe, his
head like a high-way with a little heath on either side,
and his beard bending to the Ale-house, from thence came
the oiiginall of his little honor : and for his vnder pro>
portion, an answering to the upper parte : whose wit was
onely practised in villanie, whose hart studied but Hell,
while his soule was swora seruantto the Deuill : and yet
this rascall Viper shall, onely with his golden Clawes,
cr6epe into the bands (for in the heart h^ oouki neuer)
of a pretty Wench, and carry her away into such a world
of discontentments, that sh^ could neuer leaue sorrowing
till sh^ had got into her graue. Would it not fret such
a Brother as had such a Sister ; orchafesuch aLoueras
had sudi a Loue, to s6e such an ouerthrow of his com-
fort, or confusion of his kind hope ?
Fern. Oh I Pray you be not Angrie : For Marriage
and Hanging (some say) goe by destinie : and although
Hanging is but a short peine, and marriage is a lingring
misery, where disagreement is a deadly life : yet since
wee cannot goe against the will of the higher powers.
Patience is a playster, that will in time drawe a mans
bean out of his belly, except h^ haue more wit to
goueme his passion. But leaning loue toyes, let me
tdl jTou, that if a man finding by some old writings in
his mothers chest, that his Father had Title to a peeoe
of Land, which for want of a good purse, he durst
neuer make challenge to it, and say that I were the man.
and I by the witnesse of my honest ancient neighbours,
can approue it in good conscience to be mine owne in
right of Law ; and thereupon asking oounsell, and pay-
ing for words by waight, and by my learned counoell
perswaded that it is mine past all plea. And thus
playing with my Nose, or rather with my purse, till all
be sptnt ; with Demurrs ft tricks he driues me to beg-
gery, with suing for mine owne right, while he goes gay
with my money, and I stame with his words ; a vengance
vpon his craftie conueyance. Would not this &tt a
mans soule to thinke on it, and cannot hdpe it
Fab. Now God forbid ; I pray you be not Angry ; for
Law was ordained for the best ; and though in all pro-
fessions some are too blame, yet no doubt, but some
haue such consciences, that they would not be cor-
rupted for a kingdome ; but Courte must bane their
f(fes, and SchoUers must not study for nothing. But
for that I am no good Lawyer, nor euer met with any
bribes, I haue nothing to say to them ; but wish the
wicked their reward, while the honest may take h^ede
by their eiramplft : ft so leaning them all to the day of
their death, I wiU tell you of another matter. Say that
I had a friend, at least as I take him ft looing him so
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/ PRA Y YOU BE NOT ANGRY.
dearely that I durst, nay I doe trust him with all that I
am worth ; and being to take a voyage either vpon com-
mand or commodity, fearmg some ill courses to be
taken for my children if I should die, knowing women
generally so sorrowiull for a lost husband, that they will
not tarry long for a new ; and what fathers in law be to
orphants, while widdowes sigh & say nothing, hauing
(in trust to my friend) made a secret d^ed of gift of all
my estate vnto him, the rather that my wife and child-
ren may fare the better ; and now I haue escaped many
dangers by sea and land, and spoyled of all that I had
with me, come home, hoping to finde comfort yet at my
owne house with that I left behinde me ; and there no
sooner entred in at the gate, but with a coy looke, and
a cold welcome, I find my wife either turned out of
doores, or so badly vsed within, that she could well wish
to be without ; & then, if I take it vnkindly, be bidden
mend it as I can ; and so with a frowne or a frtmipe,
almost thrust out of doores, be constrained to goe to
Law for mine owne lining, while my mistaken friend
hauing turned Turke, cares for nothing but his owne
commodity, and contrary to all conscience, playes with
me for my owne money, till the Lawyer and he together,
haue wonne me quite out of mine owne land and so
play me the Traytor with my trust ; leane me in the
misery of my fortune, to end my vnhappy dayes ; Now
can you say to this, I pray you be not Angry?
Fern. Yes very well ; for since you see no remedy*
but God is such a God in the world, as makes the deuil
work many wonders among men, is it not better with
patience to indure a crosse, then to crucifie the soule
with impatience. But say that you should haue a wife
that you thought did lone you well, when shee would
stroke your beard, and never lie from your Uppes, and
would speake you as &ire as Eue did Adam, when sh^
cousned him with an Apple ; would not abide an Oath
for a bushell of Gold, and be so sparing of her purse,
that sh^ would not loose the dropping of her nose :
bridle it in her countenance like a Mare that were knap-
ping on a Cow-thistle : would weare no ruffes but of
the smal set, though of the finest Lawne that might be
gotten, and edged with a Lace of the best feshion :
woidd not abide no imbrodery in her apparell, yet haue
the best stuffe sh^ could lay her hands on ; and feede
sparinj^y at dinner, when sbte had broke her liast in
the bed ; and missed not a Sermon, though sh^ pro-
fited little by the word. This dissembling p6ece of flesh,
making a shew of lamentation, out of the aboundance of
her little loue, for lacke of yonr good company, if you
were but a mile out of the Towne : & if you were to
take a ioumey, would lay an Onion to her eies, to draw
out the Rhewme inst6ed of teares : & hauing eaten an
apple, with pinching in a backward wind, send out a
belching sigh for sorrow of the absence of her Goose-
man : and then after all these, and a world of other
tricks, to bring a man in a bad belMe of her good
minde : if you returning home a night sooner then ex-
pected, & a y6ere sooner then welcome, should (hauing
Keyes to your ovme Doores) come in, and finde in your
owne bed betwixt the armes (I goe no lower) of your
too much bdoued the lining carkasse of a lubberly
rascall, or perhaps the perfumed corpes of some dainty
compation, working vpon the ground of your pleasure
to plant the firuite of idle fancy, to the home-griefe of
your poore heart ; could you be pacified with, I pray
you be not Angry.
Fab. Indeede you put mee to it, with an. If : But I
hope there are no such women ; fie for shame, it were
enough to make murder : but Patience being the meane
to sane many a mans life, ft that perhaps being the
first fiuilt, and shee vpon repentance after a secret re-
prehension likely to tume honest, were it not better to
steale away, and haue her maid to wake her, the matter
cleanly shuffled vp* and sh^ with sorrow rather to con*
fesse it in secret, and to be sorry for it, and In shame of
her £9iult to leaue it, while few know it ; rather then in a
fury or franiy bring in your neighbours, raise vp your
house, beate your wife, imprison the knaue, bring your
wife to shame, and make the world priuie to your
cuckoldry: and so sh6e in a desperate madnesse,
either shamelesse after a little shame, or gracelesse in
impatience to beare her correction, either cut her own
throate, or yours, or both ; and so all come to confeu-
sion, through lacke of a little charitable discretion : No,
God forbid, for rather then any such mischance should
fall, is it not better to say, I pray you be not Angrie.
For to quit your discontentment, say that I should (as
God forbid I should) haue married an honest woman,
that hath brought m^ many pretty Children, is a good
huswife in her house, carefull for her children, and
loulng both to them and me ; and for the space of
many yeares, with a good opinion of all her neighbours,
and good credit with all that know her, had passed
some score of yeares or two with mee, with as much
contentment as a reasonable man might desire : ft td
make her amends for all her kindnesse, I -should either
take a whore into my house, or keepe her as a hackney
at racke ft manger abroad so long, tiU being led by the
nose to beleene that she loues me. when I pay for the
nursing of halfe a dosen of bastards : of which, if I be
the wicked Father, my conscience hath little comfort ii^:
and if any other (as it Is most likely) be the father or
ftithers, how am I beguiled to play poore noddy, to let
my purse bloud, to pay for the nuuntaining of anothers
pleasure? And at the last, if she find me abridge my
lybcrality, in a venemous humor come with an outcry to
my doore, with a nest of her fellow beggers, and there
with rayling vpon me, calling mee old leather, whore-
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/ PRA Y YOU BE NOT ANGRY,
monger, and I know not what ; lay her brats downe
before my gate* & so with a gapeing mouth goeth her
way kaning vabt to my purse onely, to sMce the sauing
of my credit, and so become a griefe vnto my wife, a
sorrow to my Children, and a laughing stocke to mine
enemies, a by-word among my neighboors, a shame to
my selfe, and «ui enemie to mine owne soule : and thus
seeing my wealth wasted, my credit lost or impaired,
and God so displeased, that I know not which way to
tume my selfe ; Shall I neither be Angrie with the
whoore for bewraying me, nor with my selfe to let her so
befooleme?
Fern. No, I say as I did, I pray you be not Angry ;
for shee did but her kinde, to vse her eyes to the benefit
of the rest of her members : and therefore you being a
man of hidgement, ought rather to be aorty for her
wickednesse, then to shew your owne weakenesse, in
such yeares to haue a thoi^t of wantonnesse : but
sure the flesh is weake, and the strongest may fall ; better
is a sorrowful! repentance, then a fretting madnesse : and
since firetting at your owne folly, to sell all the land you
haue, wil not get you a (bote of earth more then your
grane, bee not at warres with your selfe to no purpose :
cease from doing euill, make much of your honest wife,
serue God in true repentance, and the DiueU shall doe
you no hurt : for, is it not better to beare your crosse :
especially, being of your owne making, then to run into
further misdiiefe by the wicked humoui of impatience ?
But to the purpose : say this, (to quit you with another
proposition) put the case, that I being (as you see) a
proper man, and in the way of good speed with a hand-
some woman, and shee in state able to doe for an honest
man that would loue her, and make much of her, and I
haning intent to deale honestly with her, and she giues
me her faith and troth, and sweares by her very soule
that I haue her heart so fast, that no man shall hane her
hand from me : and I thinking that because shee is old,
she is honest : and because she sweares, that shee sales
true, goe about my businesse as she bids me for some
few dayes, and then to retume to the ioyning vp of the
matter betwixt vs ; and in the meane time, after that I
haue spent pertiaps more then my halfe yeares wages
vpoo her In wine and sugar, and good cheare, and hope
to come to be raenry, oome and find her married to a
fihhy cooeoning Knaue, who by alittle more money then
I had in my purse for the present, to bribe another
raacaU like hfanseUe, who was the maker of the match,
<fire]ls in my hoped bouse, giues me the bagge for my
moneyk and hath my fiat old sow in such a snare, that
there is no getting of her out againe : when I am thua
handled for my good will, with this wicked old peece of
whit4eat]Mr, to put my trust in an old hogs-sde for my
habHatiefn, and to bee Uirust out of dooresfor my labour ;
Shall I not be Angry?
Fab. Oh no, in any case : for women haue wits be-
yond mens reason : especially, when they are past a
child, or child-bearing, more then they that are past
children. Oh, I tell you, it is a perilous thing to slippe
occasion in matters of Loue : and Age is either froward
or fraile, and therefore you should rather haue fed her
humour ful ere you had left her, then to thinke that
she would be vnprouided till you should come againe to
her : And therefore I say, as you say ; I pray you be not
Angrie. For I will tell you ; Say that I being a man
euery way to content an honest woman, and hauing vn-
happily bestowed my selfe vpon a woman of the worst
kind, which before I married her, being neither widow,
maide nor wife, but a plaine whore : and this misery of
my dales, being by my follie brought to some better
state then she was worthy : and seeing her selfe in a
glasse growne fiat through goodfare and ease, & setting
her countenance euen with the pride of her folly, begin-
ning to thinke better of her selfe then halfe the parish
besides, should chance vpon a little kindnesse, grow in
loue with my kinsman, or he with her, and so they grow
so great, that I should stand like John hold my staffe,
while they take their pleasure : she should sit at the
▼pper end of the Table, and I at the neither end, she
lie in one Chamber, and I in another, and yet must not
finde fault with it for feare of a stab, or a figge, or some
other villanie, but with a seeming countenance beare all,
as if pudding were the onely meate of the world, while
one makes hornes at mee, another moes at mee, another
calls mee cuckold, another wittall : and I know all to bee
true, and cannot, or dare not doe withaU : Doe you
thmke that flesh and blood can beare this, and not be
angiy?
Fern. Yes very well, for, as you haue flesh and blood,
so you haue wit and reason : and when your wit and
reason can consider, how her trade brings more com-
moditie, and with lesse trauell then your tmffique : if you
be not so wilfiill that you will beare no body speake but
your selfe, or so soomefiill, that you can endure no com-
panion in kindnesse : or so couetous, that you will not
spare a penny towards the nursing of your neighbours
diild : or so proud, that you scome the gift of a friend :
you wil finde that such a wife is worth two Milch cowes :
and whatsoeuer the world sales, you are beholding to
none but her : and where others begger their husbands,
she hath made you the head man of the Parish : and
then, cannot you winck at a htle £ault that is so full of
profit? Yes I wanant you : and therefore I may well
say, I pray you be not angry?
Fab. True, it may be that some good asse that knowes
not how to line without the basest trade of beggerie, will
put on any Patience for profit : but firom such a rascall
nature God deliuer me. But to requite you with as good
as you bring, let me teU you : If I should serue a man
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/ PJ^AY YOU BE NOT ANGRY.
of great wealth, and hee haue a wenching humour, and
hee keeping more Maideseruants in his house, then euer
meant to be true Virgins, & one of these witde cattle,
that for the price of a red Petticote would venture the
l]ming of her placket, should by a mischance of her
Masters making, faHl into a two-h^d Tinpany, which
could by no meanes be cured, without my consenting to
a wicked marriage for a little money ; which I, by the
villanie of the Ttull, which would put the tricke vpon
mee must s^eme willingly to yMA vnto, for feare of I
know not what, to fiidl out I know not why : and so ghiing
a countenance of oontentment. to the confusion of my
hearts comfort, when shee could be deliuered of this
mischiefe, hoping that shee would meddle no more with
any such matters, begin to make a little more of her then
shee was worthy : and she thereupon so lustie, that shee
cared not for the Plarish, so long as the Constable was
her firiend, giue entertainment to whom shee lust, and
vse me as shee list, set more homes then haires on my
head ; and care not if I were hanged for my good will :
This rascal round-about, without good complexion or
good condition ; as ill-fououred as mannered, and so
spoken as wicked : b^ng thus voide of grace, carrlesBf
of all credit, and irremoueable in her resolution for the
wicked course of her life ; this (I say) hellish peeoe of
flesh to dominere ouer me, and with the countenance of
her master, to make a slaue of her good-man, who should
be sent of errands, wfaOe she were with her arrants. I
should fetch wine for their drinking, turn the spit to their
roast-meate, or waike their horses, while they were
sadluig my FilUe : and yet all this (and I lay not what
else) I must beare, as though it were no burthen for a
small reckoning at the weekes end for washing a foule
shirt, or setting of my ruffes right, or seething of a calues
head, or making sauce to a tame goose, or for a nod of
my Master, that makes a noddle of his seruant : for such
and such like matters, to put vp all matters, and swallow
griefe so in my throat, that it is ready to choake me in
the going downe : Is it possible to doe all this, that you
could be, I, and not be Angrie?
Fern. Yes, very well : for profit is so pleasing, that it
puts out a great many ill thoughts that would trouble a
man that hath no wit ; and for honesty, it is a good thing
I must oonfesse : But if a man be not borne rich, and
keepes himselfe so, bee shall gaine little by simplisitie :
and therefore as I said, where patience brings profit, I
say still, beare with your fortune, and be not Angry. But
leaning to talke more of female discontentments, let mee
say this : That I being a man of suffieiencie to supply
the Oflloe of a good place, borne of a Noble house, bred
vp in an courses requisite for a Gentleman, haue tmueUed
diuers countries, uttxut much of the wortd by sea and
land : and through want of my &then discretion, not
left so good a portion as may malntaine my reputatton,
without some better matter then mine owne eMate, and
driuen for my better comfort, to put my fortune vnder
the fimour of him, whom I know not what hath made
rich : and being ondy wise in the world, hath no fitfeling
of Gods gnuse, but by a thousand ill practises, findes the
meane before his death to look ouer a great deal of more
ground then his giaue : and this Captaine of the damned
crue, who is haled to hell with a world of chaines ; the
son of a begger, ft brother to a villaine, to goueme oner
the honesty of my heart with the oommandement of euill
seruice : or finding me not for his humour, to frowne on
me like an old fiying-panne : or to rate me likea dogge,
because I will not been DeuiH : to bee emplojred in more
vilenesse then halfe a Christian could endure to heare
of: now I say, to spend my time in this misery ooely
for picking of a sallad, waigfating at a trencher, looking on
afaire house, making curtesie to an old reliqoe, hold the
bason to the rhewme, or hearing the musiqueof a rotten
Cough : and after many yeeres patience in this purgatory,
where all the wisedome I haue leaned, were but to cor-
rupt the nature of a good wit, either for a trifle to be
frowned at, ft by tricks to be wrought out : or with a
liuery without a badge, to seeke my fortune in some
better soile, to haue serued loi^g for nothing, or for wotm
then nothing, when discontentments must be cancelled,
and I for feare of a mischiefe, nrast speake all honour of
dishonour, and with a meny goe socrie, sigh out my
dayes that are no better blessed : when I shall see a
foote graced, and better wiu put downe: honestie
scorned, and knanery hi more account then commend-
able : and I couseniitg my adfe with an imagination that
seruice was an heritage, where I found nothing but losse
of time ft repentance : Haue I not cause, thinke you,
with all this, to be Angry?
Fab. And yet I say : I pray yon be not Angry : For,
if you had so much of the grace of God, as to make you
nuher leane the hope of preferment, then yeeld to an
ill impkyyment, no doubt but either your priuate life will
finde some secret contentment, or your patience win
finde some^ere aduanoement of your vertues: and
therefore rather be ioyftiU of Gods blessing, then
impatient with your fortune: and thinke not amisse
that I say, I pray yon be not Angry. But to requite
you ; Say that I haning more money in my pmse then
a wise man would part with, but vpon the better reckon-
iogt should be perswaded to play the vsurer, and so
with little reward to make my money muidply, ft by
the cunning working of a cunny oifrhing Knane^ I
should be brought (hi hope of gaine) to take in pawne
for my mony, some lease of a good ferme, or peeoe of
rich plate : which being not fetdit by the day of pay-
ment would retume mee more then double my money :
put my money out of my hands, wliidi I haue fered luU
hard to get together, and I at the day glad of my forfeit,
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/ PRAY YOU BE NOT ANGRY.
hoping to gaine more then a good oonsdence wonld
away withall» finde my lease not worth a point, by a
former deede of gift, or such a conueianoe as carrieth
all away from my fingers, and leaue me (for all my
cunning in the Law,) to pieade repentance to my folly :
or my plate challettged for some peeoe of pilferie, and I
brought to trouble for I know not what, and to get out
I know not how, till I haue brought my stocke to a poore
state, where I may s^ the iust reward of vsury, when I
looke in my purse, and find nothing. Would not this
make one Angry ?
Fern. Not a whit : for knaues will bee knaues, and
fooles must bee bitten ere they will be wise : of which if
you be none, no doubt but there are enough in the world.
And since all the Anger in the world will not recouer a
penny losse, let me say to you, as you say to me ; I
pray be not Angry. And let me tell you, that vpon a
time it was my hap to haue a friend (as I thought) whom
I loued dearely ; and building vpon the care of his con-
science, that for a world of wealth he would not play
the Jew with mee : it fell out that I hauing more then a
moneths minde to a wench aboue a yeare old, whose
worthinesse euery way might command a fiure better
seruant then my selfe ; and yet it had so fallen out
betwixt vs, that our affections were so settled, that I
thought (without death) there could be no remoue : and
therefore fearing no fortune, relying so much vpon her
lone, louing (as I said) my imagined friend more then a
wise man should do (for there is a measure to be kept
in all things) made him acquainted with my secrecie,
touching the intent to steale away my Mistris from the
place where she had no pleasure to be kept in, as she
had b^ene long like a chicken in a ooope : and to the
performing of this purpose, hoping to haue vse of his
best helpe, deliuer him a ring, or a iewell of some value,
to present vnto my loue, when I know his meanes better
then mine owne, to haue aooesse vnto her without sus-
pition : and he after a world of protestations scaled
with too many oathes, to deale so faithfully, carefully,
and secretly for me as my heart could desire, when Caith
there was none, nor care of me, nor secrecy, but in
keeping all from me, when like a dissembling Jew, he
vseth my iewell for a meane to rob me of my better
iewell: when he presented it as firom himselfe, and
reuealing some matter of secrecie betwixt vs, vnpleasing
to her, and nothing to my profit, with inchanting tearmes
winnes her affection, and borroweth my money to cut
my throate, till hauing carried away my mistris, he
eiUier laugh at me, or write me a letter of excuse to col-
logue with mee : When I thinke how with trusting a
Knaue, I haue plasred the foole, in conscience say, if
euer man would &I1 out with himselfe, haue not I
cause to be angry?
Fab. No : for as you said to me, Knaues will be
38
Knaues ; and in matters of loue, he that will not be the
follower of his owne cause, may hap to bee ouerthrowne
in his owne suite: and to looke for constancy in a
woman/ especially of yong yeares, when bribes and gifts
are able to worke great matters in those courses, it is a
meere folly : for, say that some are (I know not how
many) as constant as Penelope, yet let Danae take heede
of a golden shower in her lap : and therefore, I pniy you
be not angry. For let me tell you, to be deodued by a
friend, it is an ordinary matter ; to loose a wench, it is
a thousand mens fortune : and therefore since she was
so fickle to trust to. think her better lost then found :
and for him, get your golden iewels & your money from
him, and let him walke with his wicked household-
stuffe : and let me tell you of a discontentment of
minde. It was my hap (I may say my ill hap) to cast
my affiection of late vpon a very proper young man, of a
pure oomplection, neither effeminate, nor course faced,
neither of lethersellers, nor painters company, but a
good feature and well coloured : and for his counten-
ance, neither Pkiules-steeple height, nor with the fall of
the tide ; but carried in so good a measure, as showed his
wits no more out of order than his members : for his
voyoe, neither Treble nor Base, but a good meane : and
his speech neither Rhetorical!, nor Loglcall, nor Tra-
gical!, nor [Sch]olasticall ; but such, as neither too little,
nor too much, answering directly to euery question :
and speaking necessarily vpon good occasion, won him
such commendation for his discretion, as increasing
much my affection, made mee (as I thought) vpon good
iudgement, make him a good subiect of my content-
ment : in briefe, I singled him out of company, to make
him my companion, tooke him into my house, bestowed
bountifully vpon him, let him not want any thing that
was n^dfull for him : my table to dine at, a frdre
chamber for his lodging, yea ft sometime made him my
bedfellow, furnished him with money, horse, apparell,
tx>okes, and credit for whatsoeuer he would demaund :
yea, and in mine absence trusted him with the gouem-
ment of my whole house ; till my fiuiour bred in his
folly that, at the first I saw not, such a presumption of
his owne worthinesse. as I liked not, when controulling
euen my selfe for a trifle, himselfe to blame in the selfe
same nature for a greater matter, thinking all too little
that was done for him, and viging more then was m^e
for him : at last not able to suppresse the venome of his
pride, till his hart made his head swell as bigge as a
codfr^ead ; in recompense of all my kindnesse, playes
false with my seruant maide, steales away my eldest
daughter, robs my cofers, troubles my conscience,
crackes my credit, befooles my wit, and doth what hee
may to sec^e the mine of my state ; Is it possible that
a man could thinke of such a villaine, and not be
Angrie?
B
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lO
/ PRA Y YOU BE NOT ANGRY.
Fern. Yea very weU ; and I say vnto you : I pray you
be not Angry : For, still Knaueswill be Knaues ; and a
man had neede eatea bushell of salt with a man, before
he grow too farre to trust him : for hee was a worldling,
and out of the simplicitie of your honesty, thinking him
to bee that he was not, might leame him to trust his
like, or any at all, at least with your house, your
daughter, (if you haue any) or your sentants, if you
keepe any : and hauing patience with your ladce of
iudgement, doe for your daughter, as you haue cause in
nature and reason, and pray hi charitie for his soule,
whateuer become of his oarkasse : and since (I hope)
you will take this for no ill oounoeU, I say
as I did, I pray you be
non Angrie.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Pagb 3, Note— Epistle to tub Rbadbr, line 5 :
an early occurrence of a now fiuniliar proverb.
P. 4. coL z, L 19, 'Hetu:* here and throughout is the
marking of the original black-letter types : last line
' wily beguily.' See Glossarial Index s.v, on this pro-
verbial phrase : ooL 2, 1. 14, ' SkaJU-raggi* = a beggarly
fellow— sometimes ' ahab-rag : ' I. 37, ' Crosses ' — alluding
to the ' cross' on the reverse of contemporary as earlier
coinage: So Samuel Rowlands —
' He did reply, faith not a croaie
To blesM me in this case ;
I muflt goe ndce to nwod myaelle
1b aome mora vi^iolaaoBW pkMa.*
ATkmmv ^C/«Ar, liii.
P. 5, ooL I, L II, ' Ordinary ' s dinner in public as
in a hotel : L ay, ' IVootl^ocA' a silly fellow : see Gloa-
sarial Index s.v. for illustrations of this tenn, which
occurs in Marvel onward.
P. 6, col. z, L 18, *frum^* «■ mock : L 39, *lmafp-
ing* s browshig, see dossaiial Index, s,v. .• ooL a, L 9.
' compaHon ' s companion : 1. 10, ' homt-gri^ '—see
Glossarial Index, s,v, : L 6 (from bottom). * noddy* s
noodle, fool.
P. 7, coL I, L 3 (from bottom), * wkU-Uaiker^'-^ot
Glossarial Index, j.v. .• ooL s, L 24, ' mitker* ss nether :
1. a6, *Jiggi ' s ooatemptuous treatment ; see Gkwsarial
Index, J.V, : L 99, *maa* = mows, makes wry feces at.
P. 8, ooL a, I. 7 (from bottom), 'cmnny eateking
Knave,' see Glossarial Index s.v, for illustrations of this.
P. 9. coL 3, L 31, *Pamies steeple height* ^^ Paul's,
which bad a ' steeple ' or spire originally, not Wren's
dome.-»G.
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M URMURER.
1607.
14
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NOTE.
This in various ways historically and biographically important little
work is among the very rarest by Breton. Only two copies are known
apparently, viz., in the British Museum and at Bridgewater House.
The former— which was Jolle/s — is a very fine exemplar. From it,
by permission of the Trustees, I am enabled to give a facsimile auto-
type of the quaint emblem title-page. See our Memorial-Introduction.
Contraction-signs, as 'meber ' for ' member,' and the like, have been
extended, and abounding capitals and italics somewhat lessened.— G.
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I
'4Htfi: ;
A
Murmurer.
Printed bv Robert RAWORTH,aiid
arc to be fold by I»k$ m%f^j^i his
fliopnecrc Chrift-CImrcli
gate, I tf © 7,
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M
u r m u r e r.
\A figure hen: see facsimile.^
LONDON
Printed by Robert Raworth, and
are to be sold by John Wright^ at his
shop neere Christ-Church
gate, 1607.
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TO THE RIGHT HO-
norable, the Lords of his
Modesties most Honorable
priuie Cotmsell.
Right Honorable. It cumot bee vnkoowne to your wisedomes, bow perilous a thing, both to the Crowne, the
Peeres, and the Nobles ; yea and to aU the parts of the commoii-wBahh, is the vngratkms, vngodly, yea,
prophane, and hellish humor of mnrmnring : espedaUy against God, the king, or any their ordained magistxates,
in a Kingdorae : liar the cure wherof, what care is to be taken, your discreet oonsidentions can detemune : and
knowing in your honorable dispositions^ an assured hate vnto all such vnpleasing and mproAtable spirits, as no
doubt, but you wil weed out fiom the good hearbs in the ground of your duxge ; and again, how blessed a
thing, the vnioo of harts wil be to your honorable Spirits, whose contfamal care of the preseraation, both of our
king, and his whole kingdom, desemeth no Uttle honor : I bane presumed rather vpon your honorable paidons,
of vriiat may offend your padenoe, then your fimoraUe aooeptance of my vnworthy semloe, to present your Honors
with a little tract agahist Murmurers and munnuring, in which if I haue passed anie thing dispkasing to your
good patience, humblie craning pardon, I attend the sorow of my Imperfection, but if I haue in any thing ooatepted
the least of your good likings, I will leaoe murmurers to the fruite of their maHce, and pray to Ood, so to Uesse
your good minds, that you may find out such offenders, and giue them the due of their desert ; and in your sdues*
among your sehies, may be so lindced in your loues, that to God and his Maiestie, you may euer liue togither
in your seruioe, that when widcednes is weeded out, and Grace is planted in the place, Ood may be pleased, the
King best presemed, and the Common wealth best gouemed : So fearing with tediousnes, to be a trouble to your
good patience, beseedUng God to Uesse you al, with as much happines, as murmurers are worthy to want, I
humbly rest.
Your Honors in all Humblentit
NICHOLAS BRETON.
Co tl^e iBeaDev.
IT mi intnat you (by ikt kindms / hopt
in you J to bee perswadtd thai what I haue
written in this little Tract, is rather done
to reueale the fblUe of a malitious humor,
then to taxe amy person with the infictien : The labour
is not long, nor the sence obscure; the substance whereof.
leaning to the censure of your discretion, or correction of
your good patience, with my lone to your hind desert, 1
rest as Ifinde cause.
Your louing friend
NiCHO. Bbston.
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Against Murmurers,
and Murmuring.
|H Muimurer, what wonjdest thou b^ue? was
there euer any KiDgdome so.many yean*
and so many waies blessed ? and thou in it,
so little worthy of thy oomforts, and so
worthy of the oontiarie : is not thy Earth fertiU ? axe not
thy Riuers sweet? is not thy Aire temperate? are not
thy Citties iiaiie, thy people rich, thy men strong, thy
women fruitfiill, thy Magistrates wise and thy King
gratious? are not thy Seas as a wall to defend thee
from the assaults of thine enemies? and hath not thy
peace bred such a plentie, as maks thee admired in the.
whole world? hath thou not with all this, the richest
iewell in the world? yea» and more worthy then the
whole world ? which is the heauenly word of God, to
direct thee in his holy will ? and wil not al this suffice
thee to bring thee to the seruioe of thy God ? to adAiow-
ledge his goodnes, to admire his greatnes, and to
giue glory to his Maiestie? what shall I then say
vnto thee? but as I said in the beginning : oh
what wouldst thou haue? In the time of blindnes,
when the booke of life was shut irom thy reading,
when thy learned preachers, and zealous people
were put vnto the fire, when chiil wanes did breed thy
penury, and thy forraine enimies were readie to inuade
thee, when thy Gouemour was a Tyrant, thy life a bond-
age, and thy estate a miserie, then how glad wouldest
thou haue bio, to haue tasted the least of the blessings
that now thou ait full of? and then wouldest thou haue
prayed for deUuenmce from thy sorrowes, and ioyed in
the least hope, that might haue cheered thy heauy heart :
and art thou now so hard harted ? so ill natured, so void
of sence, or so lull of ingratitude ? that thou canst not
conceiue, thou wilt not acknowledge, thou dost not vnder-
stand, or wilt not bee thankiiill, for this great measure of
grace that God hath bestowed vponthee? what then will
become of thee? but let me aske thee, what doth aile
thee? is ease a griefe ? pleasure a paine? peace a Trifle ?
plentie a Toy? a good King, a small blessing? a graue
Counsaile, a me^ae oQmfort, and the word of God» a
slight leweU? leamed Preachers and profound Lawiers
little blessing? what shall I then say vnto thee? but
that they ate ill bestowed on thee. Doest thou murmure
at Rdigion? if it. not better to asnie God. then Man?
and tQ beleeue the IVath, then follow Error? to
worship God in the Heauens, then makea kind of God
on the Earth, , and to b^gge pardon of thy God at
home then to buy it of a man abroad? dost thou
murmure that the Saints are not worshiped? and wilt
thou forget to WQuihip God aboue? wilt thou murmure
at thy Loyalty and leame the witch-craft of Rebellion ?
wilt thou forget thy vocation, and ial into the sin of
presumption? are these the fhiites of thy deuotion? fie
vpon thy foUie, that hast no more taat of discretion :
wouldest thou rather hear the word? and vnderstand it
not, then vnderstand.it, and beleeue it? or trust rather
to the word of a Priest for thy comfort, then to thine ovne
faith for thy Saluation : oh pittiful imperfection I what
shall I say vnto thee ? but onely pray for thee ; that God
wU forgiue thee, and open the eyes of thy vnderstanding,
that by the light of his grace, thou maist get out of
.thy darknes, and beholding the greatnesae of his mercy,
giue glorie to his holy Maiestie. Leaue therefore thy
murmuring, and turne it to thanksgiuis^, that so great
a part of the world, being shut vp in the caue of Error,
thou walkest in the vnderstanding path, of the perfec-
tion of all truth : least if thou continue in thy arniwed
nature, thy gratious God, seeing thy vngratluhies ; either
depriue thee of thy comfort, or cast thee into vtter dark-
nes : while the Buls of Rowu shal breed too many calues
in BriUmii : Agahi, dost thou murmur at peace? hast
thou a Sfurit of discord? dost thou ddight in blood?
oh brood of Caiiu, looke on thy brother AbtU, and
heare the curse on thy condition : doest thou walke in
quiet? wocke in quiet? eat in quiet? sleep in quiet? is
thy wife in thy boacane? thy Children at thy Table ? thy
aeruants in thy busbies ? do thy friends come to see thee ?
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. A MURMURER.
thy ndgfabours salute thee ? and thine enemies liue from
thee ? doth Musicke fill thine Eares ? Beautie thine Eyes ?
Wisdome thy Heart? and Treasure thy mind? and are
aU these benefits to be despised, and this peace not to
bee applauded? God forbid : when Children with Drums
strike marches of mirth, and Trumpets sound dances
instead of deadly marches, when men may sing, women
dance, and children play, and altogether reioyce, and
giue praises vnto God ; is this peace to be murmured
at? fie vppon such wicked spirits, that can bee possest
with such hellish humors : kaue therefore thy murmuring
at this great blessing of peace, and giUe glory vnto God
for the comfort of so great a grace, for by it thou
possessest more then all the world without it : for though
by labour may wealth be gotten, and by wisedcMne
honor, yet without the blessings of peace, through the
malice of Ambition thou maiest soone loose all that
thou enioyest : pray then for the continuance of so great
a comfort, and murmure not at the ordinance of God, in
so gracious a shewing of so glorious a mercy : shew
not the dogged nature of such a deuilish spirit, to
drowne thy soule in the delight of bloud : Thinke on
the miserie of duill wanes, or what wanes soeuer : sub-
uersion of States, death of Princes, massacres of People,
teares of Widdowes, cries of Children, Citties burning.
Tyrants killing. Terror spoiling, and hearts dlspairing ;
when thou shalt see before thy fiaoe, thy wife dishonoured,
thy daughter deflowred, thine infiant slaine, and thyselfe
made a slaue to villanie, and if it possible might be, a
bell vpon earth, where deuUs like men, or men like
deuils, seeke the destruction of the whole world.
Murmure not then at the ioyfuU blessing of peace, but
imbrace it with such thankfulnes, as may contmue thy
happines, least when thou wouldest haue peace thou
canst not, because when thou haddest it, thou regardest
it not : Againe, dost thou murmmv at plentie ? pittie but
thou shouldest want that is necessarie, who had rather
see thy brother stanie then to releeue him out of thy
abundance : Oh vngratious wretch, so far finom the feeling
of Gods grace, that for a priuat gain wouldst wish a
general griefe, like a miser that pindiing his bdly to
spare his purse, wold see the death of a whole King-
dome, to fill vp one comer of his cofers : or doest thou
murmtire at the plentie of another, beholding thine own
penury? Why, remember thou broughtest nothing into
the worid, nor shalt carry any thing with thee out of it,
and what thou hast, is but lent thee, and shalbe taken
from thee, or thou finom it : canst thou not then content thy
selfe with thy portion ? and rather labour for thine own
good then enuy at the wehh of another? or dost thou
murmur at the wealth of many, and thine own pouerty ?
looke hito thy self, and see if there be not more poorer
then richer then thy selfe ; and if not, yet. that thou art
not alone to beare the burthen of thy crosse. But hadst
thou nither see a bare 'haruest, a naked tree, a thin
meadow, and a blasted vineyard ? then thy bames full
of com, thy stadcs full of hay, thy trees full of finite,
and thy vessels full of wine ? canst thou so much forget
God, to bee vnthankfiill for his blessings, and bee so
vnnaturall to thine owne heart, as to seeke the miserie
of thine owne Souk? What dogge would shew so
diuellish a nature? Haddest thou rather gnaw vpon a
crust, then haue a whole loafe ? sippe of a little cruse,
then drinke of a full cup? weare a peeoe of a ragge.
then a whole suite of apparrell? and a penny in thy
purse, rather then thy chest full of gold? then art thou
either a foole, that vnderstandest not what is good for
thee ; or a dogge. that despisest that is giuen thee ; or a-
deuill, in not acknowledgeiug the goodnes of thy God
towards thee : hadst thou rather see a table without
meat, a stable without horses, a pasture without Catt^,
and a purse without a pennie ; then good meate. fiure
horses, fiit cattle, and a full purse ? oh monster of nature^
what dost thou then among men? leaue therefore thy
murmuring, and let me thus forre aduise thee : what thou
hast, spend not vainly ; idiat thou galnest, get not
vilely, what thou wantest, beare patiently ; and what
thou giuest, giue frankely, and murmure not to part
with thy plenty, nor at the plentie of another ; for plentie
is a blessing of God, which taken thankfully, breeds
many comforts, while penury is a plague, either inflicted
vpon sinne, or sent for a triall of vertue, where patience
possessing the soule, the bodie may be the better
seruanL Murmur not therefore at the blessing ot
plentj(e, either vpon thy selfe. or others. Againe, dost
thou murmur at ease? oh what madnes doth possesse
thee? hadst thou rather tire out thy body, then giue
rest to thy mind? and labor out thy heart, then giue
comfort to thy spirit? hadst thou rather mourn then
sing? cry then laugh ? mn then waike? and be beaten
of thine enemie. then be kissed of thy friend? hadst
thou rather watch two nights, then sleep one? worke
ten dayes, then play one ? and Hsx ten weekes then fiare
wel one ? I do not beleeue thee, or els beleeue thee to
be mad. Hadst thou rather ride a hard trotter, then
an ambler? sit on a Pitchforke then a pillow? lie on a
board then a bed? if thy wil so much exceed thy wit. I
shall neuer take thee for a reasonable Creature : and
therefore murmure not at ease, which to nature is so
comfortable, and to reason so acceptable : but doest
thou murmur at ease in others, and pain in thy self?
others may haue the ease thou wantest. and thou the
ease they cannot haue : they must sit while thou walkest,
but perhaps walke when thou sleepest. they may haue
health, and thou sicknesse. yet thy conscience may be
at better quiet : they may fare delitiktely. and thou
hardly, yet thy stomacke may digest better : they may
possesse more, yet thou be better contented. Murmure
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A MURMURER.
not therefore at eaae, either hi thy seMe, or other, for it
is a blessing sooner lost then gotten ; and murmuring is
the worke of malioe, wliicfa once setled in the minde,
ooerthiowcs more then bodie. when many kinds of
diseases robbe the heart of all ease. Again, dar'st thou
murmure at thy king, that hee is not in all thinges to thy
mtnde : Traitor vnto God and man, how canst thou excuse
thy villany ? when if thou canst consider his worth, and
oonfesse his worthynesse, thou wilt hate thine owne sonle,
to ooncdue one discontentiue thought of his Maiestie,
or the least thought of hurt to his sacred person : but,
base wretdi that thou art, to grudge at that which thou
canst not iudge oif , or to inioy that thou art not worthy
oif : for, if thy King were vnleamed, it might be a sor-
rowe to thy heart ; if irreligious, a torment to thy soule,
if of base linage, it might haue bin a wound to thyne
Honor, if Tiranously minded, a woe to thy comfort ; if
wickedly inclined, a plague to thy patience : but of a
Royall Lyne, from the Loynes of many Kinges, and
from one Kingdome to another, or rather by miting of
Kingdomes to make a MonarckU of peace, to the ad-
miration qS. the world, so profoundly read in the rules of
best learning, and so well Linguist in the most necessary
Languages, as are gratiousin his person, and Maiestiodl
in his place ; in Religion, so sdous ; in disposition, so
vertuous ; in merde, so gracious ; as both for his pre-
sence and his spirit, is worthy to be honored, honorably
loued, and louingly senied. How canst thou be so vile
of disposition, or senoeles of good, as to murmure at so
great a blessing, as God hath gluen thee in his gouem-
roent ? Doest thou murmure at his pleasures, and loue
the same thy selfe? Doeth he hunt and delight in
Dogges? better to nourish dogs, who shew but their
natures, and will bee at their Masters Serukse, then to
maintain those monsters of men, that contrary to the
nature of men, will murmure at the welfrue of their
Master. Again, hadst thou a King without a Queene.
thou mightst fear trouble throgh want of Issue, but so
gracious a Queene, and the mother of so blessed Chil-
dren, so Princely a Progenie, as may glad the hearts of
the whole Kingdome. Villain to thine owne Soule. that
wilt murmure at these Comforts, and not be thankefull
for these blessmgs? Did he hunt thine hdres from their
possessions? then' heads from their shoulders? thy
Preachers from their Churches ? or thy Cities fix>m their
Liberties ? then hadst thou cause to grieue. but hast no
warrant to murmure : but hee that seeketh thy safetie.
continueth thy peace, encreaseth thy plentie, and main-
tayneth thy pleasure, is louing to thee, rek>yceth fai thy
loue, and deserues to be loued of thee. What deuill can
posseise thee, that such a King cannot please thee?
wouldst thou haue him gouemed by thee, idio gouemes
the whole Kingdome besides thee ? thou art foolish, who
being a Subiect, wouldest bee a King ; and how canst
thou thinke to goueme, when thou hast not learned to
be gouemed? Againe, canst thou by thy polide vnite
Kingdoms, as he hath don by his person? art thou so wel
allied as to link such loue in royall lines? No, thou art
not ; and if thou wert. yet God hath made thee a Sub-
iect. and therefore make not thy selfe a rebdl. but rather
leame how to obey his win. then to murmure at his
gouemment : be thankefoU to God for the much good in
him, and murmure not at the euill that thou mis-con-
oduest in him ; least God seeing thy vilenesse, bring
thy viOany to light, and with a shamefull death giue thee
the due of thy desert : leane then to murmure at him,
and be thankfrill frwhim, nrarmure not at his greatnesse,
considering his goodnesse ; nor at his ease, for thou
knowest not his care ; nor at his wealth, considering his
worthinesse ; nor at his power, considering his wisdom :
but loue him, seme him, honour him, and obey him,
and be thankful! to the maiesty of the heauens, that thou
mayest behold such a Maiesty on Earth : Murmure not
at the tribute thou payest him, for all thou hast is too
little for his seruice : Murmure not at the Seruice thou
dost him, for thou canst neuer do hfan ynough for his
worthines : Murmure not at thy want of his bonntie,
least he see more thy greedinesse then good wiL In
summe, murmure not at him, nor anything that may
dislike thee in him, least God making him see thy
wfekednes, thy life make answer for thy folly, while con-
tinuing in thy murmuring till thy death, it carry thee
headlong to the deuiU. Againe, dost thou murmure at
the Counad. either for the power of their authoritie, the
honour of their place, or the state of their possessions ?
Looke badce into thy sdfe, and bee ashamed of thy
sinne : Is not the care of the Commonwealth, the
course of lustioe, the quiet of the State, and the pre-
seruation of the whole Kingdome vnder God and his
Maiestie, in the hands of those Magistrats whose wis-
dome deseraeth honour, whose care deseraeth praise,
whose labour deserueth wealth, and whose wil deserueth
obedience ; and canst thou (senoelesse wretch) fretting
in melancholy, nor able to disoeme the least part of their
perfectfons, offend thy God, thy King, thy State, yea,
thy selfe, and thine owne Soule, with the wicked humor
of Ingratitude ? which growne out of Ignorance, bred in
Enuie, growes Tp in Ambition, and shall die in Igno-
minie : Fie vpon thy inhumane Nature, that, abiding
nothnig that is good, doest ondy feede vpon Euill :
who being carelesse of order wouldest haue no Law ;
dissolute in thy will, wilt endure no Counsaile ; fond In
thy wit, makest no reckoning of Wlsedome : and not
knowing the labour of Studie, wouldest allow nothing
for the Studient Oh what a common woe would be in
that conunonwealth, where thou shouldest haue power
to appoint Gouemours? but leaue thy murmurteg at
them, reuerenoe them in their places, honor them in
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A MURMURER,
their wisedomes, kme them in their vertoes, acme them
in their worthinesae, and obey them in their conmnunds :
least finding thy condition, they take order with thy dis-
portion, when to weede out such a TsnemoiiB Serpcntj
is necessary for the preseming of better spirits: for
Mnnnurers are like to Mutincrs, where one cursed
viibune may be the mine of a whole Camp ; for which,
if there were not MartiaU Lawe» thore were no Ufe for
the Souldior, nor honour in Aimes. Againe, doest thoa
murmure at the Lawyer? oh vritlesse creature, how
W9iildest thou keepe thy Laades, Goods, or Houses?
if there were no Law to maintalne thy right? How
wouldest thou haue thy wrongs redretBed, if there were
no power of lustioe ? How sbouki the King gooeme,
and the Subiect bee gouemedr but by the course of
Lawe ? And are not the Iudgcs» Counsellors, and true
Administers of the Law, rather to bee honoured for their
learning, and rewarded for their labouvSrthen to bee
murmured at for their seruioe': But liue thou within the
limits of the Law, and thou wilt not murmure at their
Lawes : For wha hateth the ludge but the Theefe, the
Tkaytor, theCosener, or the Consumer? and therefore
murmure at thy seUe, and leaue murmuiing at Lawyers.
Againe, doest thou murmure at the woid of God? oh,
child of the diuell? is it not the key of Grace^ that
openeth the gate of heauen ? and the lamp of Looe
that giues light vnto the way of life ? Is it not the com-
fort of the heart? and the food of the Soule? and being
a lewell of such price, as aU the world cannot purchase :
a Treasure of that worth, that all the worid cannot
value : a ioy of that Nature, that.dooth rauish thesoules
of the Elect : What shaM I say tothee? But thou ait
a.Deuill incarnate, that so farrefiromthe Spirit of Grace,
canst bee vngratcfnll for so gmoious a blessing, .or mur-
mure at so glorious a gift of Mtrtit-: for to soome the
tidings of Saluation, is to hasten the way vmo Damna-
tion ? Note, what it is to murmure, and the estate of
Murmurers. C^ram^ Datkan^ 9xA AHtam^ murmured
at AAtMi.* what became 4if them? The eaith swiOtowed
them. /VbxniMi murmured at the Israelites: What was
his reward? Drowned with aU his hoast in the red Sea.
iMt^ brethren murmured at him : what becameof them?
They became aU his Seruants* SmuU murmured at
Damids tenne thousands : What was- his end ? Hee
kiBed himsdfe. luOas murmured at the Boxe of Oyle,
that was poured on Quists head : What was his reward?
Hee hanged himselfe. Take heed therefore, murmure
not ai the Wordr nor at the will of God. least thy reward
bee with the reprobate : For if thou murmure at God,
the DeuiU will meete with thee : if thou scome the Word
of .God, wiekednesM will follow thee ; if thou munnure
at .the grace of God, Hell will gape to receiue thee;
Leaue therefore thy murmuring at God his Word,
his Gmce, or his .WiU^ least with Lmcif^r, thou bee
thiowne out of Heauen, with Caitu bee accursed, or
with Msau kx>se thy blessings on the Earth ; and karae
with AMi to sane God, with Abrakam to bdeeue fai
God, with Daatid to loue God, with M to iieare God,
with Masfsu to honour God, and with Christ to obey
God ; and then shall the Denill faaue no power to make
thee murmure at God. But let me come to particulars.
Doest thou murmure at this man, or that man, for
this eanre, or that cause? Oh vnhappie wretch, how
doest thou trouMe thy sdfe? Call thy wits a little
better together, and weigh thy thoughts m a euen
BaUanoe: If thou bee wiser then another, that is
prefaned before thee, it may bee hee is more Honour-
able : If thou bee more Noble, hee may bee fliore wise :
If thou more learned, hee more valiant : If tbou more
valiant, hee more wealthie : If thou more wealthy, hee
more honest : If thou hast a good foce, hee may bane
a better body ; if thou a good body, he a better fooe :
if thou a good fooe and body, he a better wit ; if thou a
better wit, he a better heart ; if thou an honest heart,
yet hee a more gracious Soule : and therefore, if another
be aduaunoed, and thou displaced, haue patience, and
murmur^ not ; for, what knowest thou iriiether God
will blesse his humilitie, and correct thy pride, or make
him swell till hee burst, and make a triaU of thy loue in
the troth of thy patience. But let me see with thy
murmuring what manner of man hee should bee, whom
thou wouldest haue moulded to thy minde; if thou
be tall of stature, then lease then thou are dwaxfes ; if
low of stature, then tall men are Gyants ; if of a meane
stature, then that is the best proportion : So that
except all be as thou art. thou wilt find fianlt with God
in his Creation, or Nature in her Generation, or (throu{^
ladce of wit) with fortune in her Indiscretion, hi prefer-
ring such before thee, as thou fondly thinkest should
come bdiind thee : when, if thou haddest thine owne
eyes, thou shouklest see in the glasae of Truth so many
imperfections hi thyaelfe, as in the conceit of vnworthi-
ness, might make thee rather come behind many, then
goe before any, and rather griue at thy sdfe, then
murmure at another : art thou finical and fontasticall?
and wottldst haue a man to thine owne mind? what
manner of man shall he be? shaped like a picture?
countenanced like a Bride? and taike like a Player? oh
fine fode how thou wouldest haue the signe of a man
stand for a man? and if thou be such a oue, wouldest
thou haue all like thyselfe? alas, the world is so full of
fooles alreadie, that there is no need of any more of
them : and therefore leaue thy murmuring, and &1 to
some better reckoning, least thy account come to worse
then nothing, and ^iriiile thou art wise in thine own
conceit, there may be more hope of a foole then of thee :
doest thou murmure to see a Tmueller aduanoed for his
vertue, while thou art foigotten for thy aemice? pertu^
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Ms knowledge is more worth then thy toQe, and he hath
taken paines, while thou hast Uued at ease : ait thoa
a Timuailer, and mumraiest at the home seniant ? perhaps
hee hath gotten more wealth at home, then thou abroad,
and taken paines at home, while thou hast had pleasure
abroad, and what knowest thou, whether the wisedome
of State, or rather the will of God, thinke it necessarie,
to make a Trjrall of thy condition, ere they rewarde thy
deserts : for aduanoement may bee a hurt to Ambition,
while humilitie begins her heauen in this world. Mur-
mure not therefore at the good of another, nor grieue at
the nature of thine own Crosse : for, when patience doth
kindly cany it, it is the best badge of a Christian ; and
doest thou murmure to see one of base Linage come to
honour, while thou finest hi disgrace? Take heed that
hee bee not the first, and thou the last of a Noble
House, and rather leame to thiine by his vertue, then
oootinae thy decay by thme owne folly. In summe,
leaue thy murmuring at the wHl of God, or the welfiue
of any man, or at thine owne woe ; for God hath his
wooridng in all things, and if thou wilt be one of his
children, thou must louingly allow of what hee doth.
But now, as to men, let me a little speake to women.
Doest thou being &ire, murmure at the prefement of a
foole one, and in thy rage call her foole dowde? Alas,
thinke Fortune hath neede to doe somewhat for her,
when Nature is so little her friend. Againe, it may be
her inward vertue might be of more worth then thy
forced Beautie. Art thou a foule one? and murmurest
at the aduancementof a &ire creature? and in distemper
of thy braine, call her Picture ? Fie vpon thee, so shalt
thou be no mans meate, foule without and within : for
the euill mind is more foule, then the blackest faot ; and
if shoe bee vertuous with her beauty, is shoe not then
worthie of Honour? Againe, dost thou murmure at
the wealth of another, whOe thou art in pouertie? why,
it may bee thou knowest not how she gets it, and perhaps,
thy selfe wouldest not so haue it : doest thou murmure
that she is more sued to by Louers? why, it may be she
is loued for change, and thou for choise : doest thou
murmure at her that hath more children then thou?
perhaps thou deseruest them not, or it may be God doth
not blesse thee to thy desire. Rather pray therefore
then murmure, least a worst plague befiidl thee : doest
thou murmure to see a wicked wench put thee down in
preferment? what doest thou know whether she bane
her heauen in this world, whldi thou seekest not, or
begin her hell, ere she come at it ? againe, it may be,
her repentance may be gratious, when thy pride may be
ocUous : And therefore be she fair or foule. wise, or
fond, wealthie or*poore ; godly or wicked, Murmure not
at any whatsoeuer she bee, in what state soeuer thou thy
selfe be: least, in fretting at others fortune, thou
consume thy selfe with follie, while he that hateth the
14
grudging heart, plague home the Spirite of maUkse. But
leaning women as the weaker vessels, let mee come againe
to men, that should haue the stronger spiriu, to with-
stand the power of Impatience. Note, I say, first of
murmuring, how many inoonuenienoes doe grow to the
Muimurer himselfe, and then, to other, by his meanes ;
and againe, how great are the comforts of the contrary :
Murmuring troubleth the minde, disquiets the heart,
distempereth the bodie, and sometime breedes the
consumption of the purse ; it forgetteth reason, abuaeth
nature, sheweth disfoialty, displeaaeth a friend, and
doth purchase an enemie : it carrieth wit from reason.
Reason fixnn Grace, and Nature from her selfe; yea
and sometime, man, euen fixnn God to the Deuill : while
patience enduring those perpleiities, that put reason to
his best power ; nature is not distempered, reason not
abused, grace is embraced, and God is truly honoured,
the league of amitie is continued, the hiw of nature is
not broken ; lYuth is gratious, and the soule is blessed,
where the body is not distempered, nor the mind
disturiied, the creature is most able to giue glory to his
Creator: Note then the differences of these two
natures: Murmuring a horrible vice, and patience
a heauenly vertue : doe but think on the firuit of mar-
muring, and the condition and end of murmurers, rages,
firettings, wars, death, pouertie, sicknes. and sorrow,
while the child is skJEC of the fether, the wife of the
husband, the brother of the sister, and one firiend of
another ; what massacre, or murther hath there growne,
but through the inuention of murmuring, and the
malice of munnurers? looke a little, if thou bee a
murmurer, of what kind thou art, and who thou art,
and so note the condition of thy nature, or nature of
thy condition. If thou be a man, and murmurest
against God, thou art a Deuill. if thou bee a Subiect,
and murmure against thy King, thou art a Rebell ; if
thou bee a Sonne and murmure against thy fether,
thou shewest a bastards nature: If thou murmure
against thy Brother, an vnkind nature ; if agafaist thy
friend, an vnthankfiill nature ; if against an honest man,
an vnhonest nature; if against a foole. an vnwise
nature ; if against a Christian, a hethenish nature ;
if against a man, a dogged nature. Thus thou seest
by murmuring what thou shalt bee esteemed of God and
man, yea, and in thine owne conscience, of thy sdfe,
either a Foole, a Knaue, a Heathen, a Bastard, a
TYaytor. a Dogge, or a Deuill : and doest thou then see
the villanous nature and condition of this qualltie, and
wih not leaue it? take heed least if thou continue in it.
that God who wH hate thee for it. do not send thee
to the deuill with it. who was the first Author and is
the continual nourisher of it. Againe thmke with
thy selfe, -when another man shall find thee in thy
murmuring, either by thy disoontentiue countenance,
B
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lO
4 MURMURER.
or soUtarie ddi^t, sequestring thy selfe from men,
to oonucne with the Aire, how great wiU be thy shame
to heare the skoflBngs, that will fitU vpon thy follie?
Some will say thou art mad. other, thou ait foolisht
another, thou art dogged, but noe man, that thou art
either wise, kind, or well in thy wits : Againe, when
thoa hast reoealed thy foUy to the woild, and fretted
thy sdfe to the heart, with the humor of an euill spirit,
and yet art neuer the better any way, but manie way
a greate deale the wone, what canst thou thinke of thy
sdfe? but fret that thou didest fret? blush at thy shame?
grieue at thy follie, and murmure at thy selfe, that thou
didst murmure at thy selfe or any other, while repentance
which bringeth sorrow, is the best fruit of such a frensie :
Agafaie, when thou shalt see the patience of another
Uessed, and thy murmuiing accursed, and others
patience enriched, and thy impatience impouerished,
anothers patience aduanced, and thy murmuring dis-
grnoed, what canst thou thinke of it: ^t a Canker eating
into thy Sottle worse then any Fistula in thy fleshe : pray
then to the heauenly Surgeon for a^tosterof patience, with
the o]^ of true repentance to cure thee of this disease,
wfakA hi the woride, at least, by aU the Arte of the
Worlde is Incurable : wih thou see a murmurer truely
disciibed? that thou maiest the better hate to bee his
image : Behold his Eyes, like a hogge, euer bent downo-
wards as if be were looking into Hell : his cheekes like
an Anathomie, wliere the fleshe from the bones doth
fiall, with fretting : hisfarowes euerwrinckled withfrownes,
to shew the distemper of his vnquiet Braine ; his lippes
euer puld inward, as if Enuie would speake, and durst
not ; his Tongue, like the sting of a Serpent, which
Tttereth nothing but poison, his voice, like the hissing
of an Adder, which maketh muskiue but for hell ; his
necke like a weake piller, whereon his head stands
tottering, and readie to fiUl; his breast like an
impostumei that is ready to burst with corruption ; and
his heart, the Anuile wheron the deuiU frames his
fireworke ; his body a Trunk where Sinne hath layed
Tp her store ; his handes like dawes, that catch at the
world 1 and his feete like winges, that make hast vnto
beD: Now, doest thou behold this ougly sight? and
doest not feare to bee such a monster? what shall I
then say vnto thee, but if God bane given thee ouer to
a reprobate senoe, there is no reason to be had with
thee, nor hope of reoouery to bee bad of thee ; but,
hoping a little better in thee, let me goe a little further
with thee. The worde of God saith BtaH pacifici,
Uessed are the peace makers : thinke then it is a worke
of the Deuill to sow sedition, and being at war with
thy selfe, how canst thou be at peace with the world,
except it bee the good warre betwixt the spirite and
the flesh, where the peace of conscience oue^comes the
trouble of oonodt ; by patience is the Soule possest.
which is more worth then the whole world, and by
murmuring is the soule lost, which gon, what is the
gaineof theworki? Is it not sUsnge that all the parts
and the members of the bodiOi can so wdl agree
togither, and one doe seruice to another, and men, the
parts and members of a common-wealth, should be so
at variance among themaelues ? In the body of man,
if the head ake, the heart is not well, if the Eye be hurt,
the head is distempered, the heart is diseased, 4uid all
the body is the worse, if the finger bee hurt, the bead
will seeke to helpe it, the heart hath a feeling of it, the
Eye wil pittie it, and the fieete will goe for ease for it ;
if the foote bee hurt, the Head, Heart and Hands
will seeke for cure of it, while the Eye will be carcfrill
to look to the dressing of it ; If the body bee diseased,
the head with all the members will labour for the
he^ of it, that all parts being in their perfisct state,
the mind or Soule may be at rest : and if in this prinate
body of man, aU things bee brought vnto this good
order, what shame is it for a common-wealth, that men
should bee so out of order? and while all parts off
the bodie are at the seruice of the head, to the gieat
peace of the heart, why should not all Sublects ioyne
togither in vnity of seruice to their King* to the greate
and blessed peace of the whole Kingdome? God
made all the parts of the bodie for the Soule, and
with the Soule to seme him, and all the Subieots in a
Kingdome to seme their King, and with their King
to seme him. If the head of the bodie ake, will not the
heart bee greatly greened? and euerie port feele his part
of the pafaie of it? and shall a Khig in his wiU bee
displeased, and the hearte of his Kingdome, the heartes
of his SubiecU, not hane a feeling of it? Canne the Eye
of the bodie be hurt, or greened, and neither the head,
heart, nor any other member bee touched with the
paineofit? No more can the Counsel], the Eye of the
common wealth bee disturbed ; but the King will find
it, and the Commonrwealth will fisele it ; can the band,
the Artificer, bee hurt? but the common-wealth wQl
find the lacke of it, the Eye with pittie wU bdioUl
it, and the head with the eye, the Kk^ with the
CounseU take care for the help of it? Can the kibourer,
the foote bee wounded? but the body of the State will
ficele it, the head be carefuU, the eye searchfull, and the
hand bee painfull in the cure of it? and can the common-
wealth the body bee diseased? but the King, his
CounseU, and euerie true Sutaleot, will put to his hand
for the helpe of it? how then growes this murmur-
ing at the will of God in men? while there is such
an agreement of the parts in man, but only by the
woike of the deuiU in man, to bring him from God
and the woride, to worice against himseifie, his seruice
in the world, and as bee taught it first our parenu,
to bring them out of paradise, so he wil as many as he
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A MURMURER,
II
oBti of their pofUrity, to kad tbon into Hdl: But lei
mee tell thee, it is better that a fsw nraminren perish
with tlieir mnnmiring, then a whole kingvloaie perish
with their mallioe : In the holy word I find written ;
If thine eye oliend thee, pull it out ; if thy hand ofiend
thee, cut it off : better to enter into beanen with one
hand, or one eye, then with both into helL But all
this while, there is nothing spoken of the head, that
nmst still bee kept on : so if a great man, or a meane
man do otaid, cut him off, or cut hun short, that he
may do no hurt ; ior better a member perish, then the
bead or the hart should ake, then either the King, or
the oommonweatth should bee diseased : but for the
King howsoener bee bee disposed, bee must not bee
distnbed : lor it is written, Tcmdi moi ming ammaimiedt
tmd d9 my Propkits nokarmt: againe, transgression is
as the sin of witchoait, and what greater transgresskm,
then Rebdhon? which chiefly hath her breeding fai
mvnnuring. If thou hast a cruell and wicked King,
take hfan for a punishment, and^pray for his amendment ;
but murmure not at his power : but if thou hast a good
King, take him as a blessing; and hauing a good
King, be thankful to God for him, and for his prosperity,
seme hbn, loue him, and obey him, and hate thy selle
to bane a thought of murmming against him, or any
thfaig commanded by him : looke a little more faito tl^
glasse of murmuring, and see (if at last thou hast the
least sparice of Gods grace) what thou beboldest : God
in the heauena frowning vpon thee, his angels either
mourning for thee, or leadie to plagoe thee, his
semantt on the Earth hatfaig thee, and the deuffl with
his angeOs readie to distroy thee ; thy Soule made a
Reoeptade of smne, thy mind made a torment to thy
Soule, thy heart made a greefe to thy bodie, and euerie
part of thy bodie out of temper : while being driuen out
of the gnmnd of aU goodnesse, Thou sfaalt be left in
the mase of al wickednesse, where,^ kx>sbig the hope of
an comfort, thou shah Uue in the hdl of aU miserie ;
yet. a little look further faito thy sdfe, and into the
vilenesse of thy nature. If it be touched with that in^
feettoh: If the weather please thee not, thou wilt
murmure at the heauens : if the workl goe not with
thee, thou wilt murmure at the worlde ; if thy friend
rebuke thee, thou wilt murmure at his care of thee : If
tUne enemy ouereome thee, thou wilt murmure at his
fortune ; If thy Father bee aged, thou wilt murmure at
his life ; If thy brother be thine elder, thou wilt mur-
mure at his Inheritance ; If thy neighbour grow rich,
thou wilt murmure at his prosperitie ; If a Stranger bee
fauored, thou wilt murmure at his grace ; if a Begger
be releeued, thou wilt murmure at his Ahnes ; and if
a godly man bee beloued, thou wHt murmure at Gods
blessing ; If thou bee a woman, or a womanish man,
«hen how many things will trouble thee? thou wilt
murmure at fashions, coulon, totes* tricks, words,
gestures, and a worid of kUe fancies, when alwaies the
other is the best, and nothing pleaseth but variety :
bee, or shee hath the best fece, the best eye, the best
band, the best Icggs, the best body, or the best foote,
speakes best, bath the best countenance, sings best,
dances best, rides best, feeds fineliest, goes gaiest, hath
apparrell the best made, and weares it best, and thus
all is best wher there is none good, while, that, whicb
should be best, semes God best, is not spoken of: for
indeed, who serueth God best, will not let his spirit be
led away with these idle humors : dost thou then see
the folUe of this murmuring, and the hurt of so grrat a
poyson? sede the core of it by pmyer, and keep it from
thee by patience ; least if it once get hold of thy
heart, it breeds a coreles wound in thy Soule. If thou
be a king, keepe thy feare ; If a Courtier, know thy
place ; if a Scholler plie thy booke ; if a Souldier, k>ok
to thine honor ; if a merchant, take thy fortune ; if a
fermer foDow thy plough ; if a beggar, fid to prayer ;
but murmur not, oh Kftig, if thou be not an
Emperor ; nor courtier if thou haue not grace ; nor
Scholler if thou want preferment ; nor Souldier if thou
toose thy day ; nor Marcfaant, if thou loose goods ;
nor fiumer, if thou lose thy labor ; nor beggsr if thou
get bare alms : but murmuring at Gods wU ; take heede
that thou loose not thine owne soule, more precious to
thee, then the whole world : Is it not strange to see
the insensible Creatures, what a concord there is, and
among the Creatures of best sence, so great a disagree-'
ment : In musiqne the Treble is the highest, and the
base the lowest ; the Tenor and Counter-Tenor be
tween them : yet though eueiy one hath his place,
w^en they are in their iiill concord, they make the
sweetest harmony : so in a Kingdorae : a Kiog is the
highest, and the labourer the lowest : (I leaue out the
Bcggur as an vnnecessary member, but only for the
exercise of Charity) but, twizt the King and the
labourer, there are Counsailers, Preachers, Lawyers,
Souldiars, Merchants, and Artificers, and when aU
these togither in due all^ieance to their King, doe tme
seruice vnto God, how ezcellant a musique is the sound
of peace in such a kingdom : If the strings be out of
tune, the musique will be harsh, and if the people bee
out of order, the State cannot be hi peace : Thinke
then if among these insensible Creatures be such an
▼nity as is most pleasmg, why should not among men
bee so great an vnion? that may bee as well pleasing
as profitable ? wee canne bee contented with the
gold of Jndiat the Sugar of Bar^ary, the oyle of
Candii, the Spices of Spaing^ the wine of Ftanu^
and so, of other things, of other Countries to mingle
with our owne, to make a medicine for the com-
fort or preseruatiue of our bodies, and can we not
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13
A MURMURER.
vnite vnto our setnes a people so like our sdues and so
neer vnto oar adues, as might be to vs as onr sehies ;
if we would looke with the eye of Charity, what blessing
doth grow of loue : nothiog did part our land, but a
little water, and nothing can part our knie, but a little
win : but, as it may be said, of a more wiHull then
wise man, who haoing a coat made all of one peeoe,
was perswaded by a Tailor to haue it cut in pe^Mses,
and weare guardes vpon the seames ; onely to set him-
selfe on worke, and make a gaine of the shreds, giuing
that part another name, then before it had, that was
new set pn agalne. So, I may say, this Land, onoe all
one, and by what perswasion, I know not cut off, was
so long guarded, that it seemed to bee of some other
stuffe, then the whole peeoe, till it pleased God by the
great power of his Grace, in the Maiestie of our King
to bring both Landes againe into one : which done, it
now resteth, that the guards taken away, no seame of
disseuering be to be seen ; but, the Lands, as one
peeoe of Earth, enlarging the bounds of one Kingdom,
the people be vnited in that vnion, that, to auoide
ambition, there be no dissention, and to main-
taine an vnitie, there be no Rebellion : for, as there is
one God, one King, and one Idngdome: so, there
should bee one law, one k>ue, and one life, one voice,
one heart, and one people : to the contradiction wherof,
when aU reasons are aUeadged, it is only lacke of loue»
that hindereth the heauen of such a happines : But,
what euer thou bee, that murmurest at this motion, let
me say vnto thee, as the poore woman of Ireland sayes
to her dead husband cdi man, man, why didst thou
die ? Thou hadst Cowes, and tboohadst a horse ; thou
hadst a sword, and a shirt of male, and why wouldest
thou die ? so thou hast a good King, a sweet Country,
a kind people, and a Messed peace, and why doest thou
murmure? doest thou feare to haue many friends? then
get thee among enemies, art thou vnwiUing to haue many
neighbours? then line among strangers : dost thou loue
no Christians, then dwell among Turkes ; or doest thou
loiie no men ? then line amoi^ Deuills ; or dost thou
loue no house but home ? make thy graue in thy bed ;
wilt thou eate no meate but milke? Baby, sucke thy
dambe, till thou bee a disard ; wilt thou abide no com-
pany, but thine one kindred ? lap thy selfe in thy mothers
apron ; or doert thou doubt thy neighbour will ouer-
throw thee? oh let not lacke of witte so deoeiue thee :
for if God hath not so blest thee, as to make thee know
what is good for thee, thou needest nothing more then
thy selfe to vndoe thee : consider therefore of euery
thing, if thou canst in the best kind, and make thy con-
struction with that care, that God first may be pleased,
thy King obeyicd, thy Country benefited, and thy sdfe
contented : That when the murmuring of malice is put
away, and patience hath brought peace into thy bosome.
thy hart may find the happines of that blessing, that thy
Scale may be ioyfiiU to behcdd where, thepeople vnited,
God is serued. the Kingdome pceserued and the State
most blessed, where such a peace is appkmded. The
Seas are a wall vnto oar Earth, to keep it from the
enemies, and shall we within our land be at waires
within our sdues? or shall wee make a shew of kme in
our words, and harbour hatred In our hearu? or shall
we be borne neighbours, and Ifaie as strangers? God
forbid : let not the Deuil so woike among the seraantes
of God, to crosse the course of such glory: Oar
heuenly master Christ lesus king of kings, ware his
coat without a seame, and our King would hane his
Kingdom without a Seuerance : It u the worde of
Christ, that when a kingdom is deuided in it seSfe, it
cannot stand : If therefore we will bee duistians ; we
nmst foUow Christ ; if we will be subiects, we must obey
our King, if wee will stand, wee must not bee deuided :
For example, to alleadge andent histories of forrain
Princes, at least a&rre of is needles, wfaen[there arejneere
handbeforeour Eyes that cannot deoeine our ludgements :
how grew the wars in the Low Countries? but, by the
malice of murmurers? how grew the massacres in />aiK» f
but. by the deuision of the Princes, and noble houses ;
and how many broyles haue beene betwixt Scotiamd and
vs, while wee were in the State of deuision? Againe.
how strong are the States where they are vnited in the
Low Countries, how is France inridied by his peace?
and how are we ; or at least may be with GODS bless-
ing strengthened by this vnion ? Escpe tdleth a prettie
tale to this purpose: That a Father hauing many
somies often disagreeing and as it were at iarre one
with another, called them before him, and caused euery
one to bring vnto him, a little rod, or wand, which taken
of them, he bound them vp altogither in one bundd
whidi made fiut with a band, he gaue to euery one of
his sons, one after another to breake ; whidi th^ found
impossible : whereupon the Father tooke out euerie rod,
and gaue one to each one of his sonnes to breake, which
was quicklie performed : Now quoth the fiither, ye see
my sonnes of what a strength is loue, wher heartes are
vnited togither ; for as these wandes, so are yee ; strong
when yee are knit togither in the band of brotherly loue,
and weake and to be broken, when you are diuided one
from another. Surdie so it may be said of vs : If wee
be vnited, and knitte together in the band of brotherlie
loue, our strength will be great to withstand oor en-
imies : but if we faJl at variance, what peace can con-
tinue betwixt vs? nay what hurt shal we do vnto our
sdues, while the enemie will be ready to inuade vs ? It
is written. O quam bonum tt iucuudmm f fratres comcor*
dare in vntim 9 Oh how blessed a thing it is bretheren
to agree in vnitie? Are we not all bretheren in Christ ?
bretheren in respect of our neere birth? bretheren in our
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n
laqguage? and is it not possible for our Uues to make vs
bcetlieren inlones? Let vs see, wfaer is the fiuilt, what
is the cause ? and why it should take place? In God?
no, hee loneth vnity : In the King? no, hee would haue
anVnion: In the SubJeetes?noe, they would bee obed-
ient to their King : In theGodlie? noe. they would bee
obedient to GODS will : In wfaome then ? Surdy in
none, except in somiB priuate persons for some priuate
canses, to some priuate endes : oh then those priuate
parsons are not for the publique weale : those priuate
causes for no common good, and those priuate ends are
for no godly end. But hoping there are none such : I
speake to none, but wish all well, that all may be wdl :
Is not our Religion all one? and shall wee differ in Cere-
monies? and if our Lawes were all one, should we differ
in the execution ? our earth all as one, and shall we then
diilisr in nature? what should bee the cause? but this ;
while God is working* and the King is willing, the
DeuiU is stirring, and man is striuing, but, God is aboue
the Deuil, and a King is aboue his kh^gdome : and
while God is God, and the King gntdous, though the
Deuill bee wicked, let not man bee wilfulL Atnieloues
knot is long in knittiog, when both endes must meete in
the middest : but once well put togither, it b both fiure
and fost : So, an vnion of people is long a working, but
once last lincked in loue, where foire and neere meet in
the middest of a good mhid, how beautiful is such a
peace, where the people are so blessed? let then al mur-
muren be shut out from the sound of such a Parlee^
where wisedome may shew her grace in the worke of
such a worth : for it must be that our King, and theirs,
is, and must be (and euer I pray God be) al one : our
Religion and theirs one : and our faiwes and theirs all
one : els how can there be loue in our lines? or vnion in
our hearts? but I hope, that God who did create our
hearts by his will, will so wofke our hearts to his will,
that wee shall not swarue from his will : but as hee hath
made all into one kingdome ; so we shall bee all as one
people, with one votoe praisfaig God, with one heart
seruing one King, and with one loue, embrasing one
another : Many little birdes flie togither in one ilocke,
many kindes of cattell feed in one field : many kinde of
sbeepe lie togither in one fold, and shall two neighbour
borne Children, not line togitherin one toue ? God for-
bid : It is an okl saying, and euer true, Concordia famm
rucreseumt, diseordia maxima dHabuntur : by Concord
small things proue greate, by discord the greatest doe
decay : Two little Landes haue made a great King-
dome, and shall one great people bee little in lone?
God forbid : The Landes were deuided, and are
vnited ; and if the people may bee vnited, let them not
be deuided: Diuision breckis Ambition, Emulation,
and faction, and what are the fruiu of these frenzies?
how many kingdomes to their great misery haue tasted ?
but vnion breeds loue Charitie, and faith, of which
blessings what are the benefits, what kingdome may
not be glad to tast ? A King of a deuided people may
haue power in his sword, but a king of vnion may
reioice in his Scepter : a people deuided may be grieuous
to themsdues, but a people vnited may be pleasing
to God : dhiision is the cause of distniction, and vnfon
of Comfort : compare them togither, and see wliich
is to be aooepted : deuision breeds feare, and ielousie ;
vnion breeds resohition and trust : diuision breeds warre
and hatred; vnion breeds peace and kme: diuision
breeds dearth, and danger ; vnion plentie, and safety ;
diuision breeds malice and murther : vnion breeds loue,
and life; diuiston breeds greefe and sorrow, vnion
breeds mirth and Comfort: Thtnke then vpon the
venom of the one, and the vertue of the other ; and if
thou bee not senceless of thine owne good, runne not
headlong vpon thine own ill : desire not rather to
line in the hatefoll nature of diuisicm, then to bee lincked
in the liuely knot of vnion ; least the God of loue that
offers it, and thy kMiing King, that desireth it, both
hate thee for refusing it, and deny thee it when thou
wouMest haue it : The Tower of Babell could not be
builded, when the languages were diuided : JtmsaUm
went to nxine when the Princes were diuided, Rome hath
beene shaken since Religion hath beene diuided :
Aniwafe hath beene decayed, since the States were
diuided. France was impouerished, when the nobles
were diuided, and England 'Wds di5turt>ed, when Scotland
was diuided : but now the Landes all bearing one name,
the Sobiects allone, vnder one King, the laws all tending
to one ende ; why should not the Nations bee all one
people? Flowers growe sweetdy together, Trees beara
fruite naturally together, fishes swim friendly togither,
birdes sing merrily together, and beasts feede quietly
together ; and is it not then a shame for men, that wee
cannot liue louingly togither? a drop of water is
weake, but many droppes of water will driue a mill :
a spaxke of fire is little, but many sparkes together,
will make a fire to consume a whole Countrie ; a come
of powder is little, but a great many together will
disdiarge a great shot : a her^ng is a smal fish, but
a skull of them together will ouerthrowe a prettie ship :
a pike is a small weapon, yet a stande of them bdng
together will ouerthrowe a greate Troupe : and a man
is a small Creature ; but when men hold togither, what
monster can hurt them? So these Landes bdng
one land, and the people one people ; wtiat kingdome
can annoy vs? no let vs say, and if wee bee our sdues,
to our selues, and in peace among our sdues, and that
our God be with vs ; ndther the world nor the Deuill
can hurt vs : But if there bee a breach in a banke,
the Sea breaks in, and ouerflowes the Land : If there
be a breach in a fiimace, the fire will burst out and
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14
A MURMURER.
bume the whole house : If there be a breach in a wall,
the Bore will breake in, and spoile the whole vineyard :
If there be a breach in a hedge, the cattel will breake
in and eate yp the grasse : if there be a breach
in a Fort, the enemie will enter and sacke the Towne :
if there bee a breadi among pikes, the horsemen will
breake in, and mine the Campe : If there bee a breach
in a oonsctenoe, Corruption will get fai, and kil the
whole man : and if ther be a breach of loue in the hearts
of a people, the enemie will take aduantage for the
inuask>n of the kingdome. See then, and consider
how dangerous a thing is diuisk>n, and how safe an
assurance is vnitie ; and take the best, and leaue
the worst ; and so shall none of your pales bee broken,
oh heauens, what a hell is this in the world? that men
should liue so like Deuills one with another: It is
written that a man should bee as a God vnto man,
but it may bee writen, that man is, or at least many
men are, as Deuills vnto men : where there are so many
murmurers, that ther can be lew louers ; the ridi man
murmures at the poore man, that bee should dwdl
nigh him : the Vsurer murmures at the Broker, that
bee getetb any thing by him ; the Tradesman mm>
mures at his neighbour, that he should prosper or
thriue by him : the Lawyer murmtnres at the Teaime
that is so short a haruest for him ; The Bifardumt
murmures at the windes, that his Shippes come not
home to him: the Souldiour murmures at his pay-
maister, that hee keepes his money from him: The
Courtier murmures at his Taylor, that his clothes are
not fit for him : The Minister he murmures at the
Puson, because he hath the greatest profit from him :
and the Parson murmures at the parisbe, that they oome
not to Church to pay their duties to him ; and the
parishe murmures at the Parson, that they pay so mudi,
far so little paines from him : the Tenant murmures at
his Landk>rde for rackmg of his rent : the Landlotd
murmures at his Tenant to see him thriue by his
husbandry. In summe there is almost no profession or
condition wherin one doth not mnrmure at another ;
which murmuring while it oontinueth in the hearts of
people, it will suffer loue to haue no life among them :
but were the woride purged of that malkaous humor,
then would there bee as great a heauen, as there is now
a hell in the world ; wher loue should establish sudi
a Law as should nener bee broken : among men, doe
not two Eyes in one head, two hands, and two legges
to one bodie make one man : and shall not two lands
make one kingdome ; nay more ; doth not one Eye
the same that the other, the one hand, the same that the
odier, and shall not one people so nere another, as
one member is to another, bane one will, one law, and
one lone one with another? It is strange it should be
so, but I hope it will bee otherwise : God will bane
his will, and our good King his wil : in this woike
of GODS will, eueiy good Christian, and good SuUect
will giue his good will to Gods and our Ku^s will ;
against which, if any shall murmure. God will bee
displeased that the King is not obeyed ; the King wiU
bee displeased, that God is not obeyed : the Counsel
will be displeased, that God and the Kmg are not obded :
the court will be agreeued to see God, the kiog, and
Counsell displeased : and the Common-weahh will bane
a common woe, when all these are displeajed. Looke
therfore betimes to this busines, detract no time for
this dispatch, suppresse the power of the diuels pride ;
and plant in your hearts that grace of humilitie, that in
the life of true loue, may bring forth fruite to Gods
glorie. Breake an Angel, and you shall haue loese in
the mettaU ; breake a Cup, and you shall haue tosae
in the feshion ; breake a Glasse, you shall loose the
feshion and the Mettall; breake wedlocke, and you
loose your credit; breake the Lawe, and loose your
libertie ; breake Lone, and loose the joye of life : But
keepe your Coyne whole, and it will goe currant ; keepe
your Cup whole, and yon shall sane the feshion ; keepe
your Glasse whole, and you shall sane Mettall andfeshioa ;
keepe your wedlocke fiiom breaking, and sane your credit
fromcTRddng, keepe your Lawe from breaking and yoor
louewillbegreat ; keepeyour Louefirombreaking,andyo«ir
lines will be blessed : Dhiide the head, and the Braines
wH come out ; diulde the Body, and the Heart will come
out ; diuide the Minde, and the wlttes wiO come out ;
diuide the WHtes, and the wOles oome out; and
diuide the Willes, and the woes oome out : but keepe
the head whole, and the Braines will bee the better :
keepe the Body whole, the heart will bee the better ;
the mhxle quiet, the wiu will be the better ; keepe the
wits m temper, the willes be the better, and keepe the
wils togither, the oommon-weahh will bee the better.
Note therefore in al causes, and al courses, dinision
breeds losse, greefe, or sorrow : and vnion, gain, com-
fort, and ioy. But I doubt I haue onely spoken of that
which would quickly bee helped, if the right way were
once found : and therefore it is rather the manner, then
the matter, that the workeman cannot agree vpon : but
to helpe the ill hammrring of a peeoe of worke so worth
the framing, let meemake aoomparison twtwixt a house
and a kingdome : There is a greate Landlord will haue
a house builded, his will must bee obeyed, hee giues
command vnto the maister workeman that it bee speeddy
performed : The maister workeman calls his labourers,
and giues order for the worke, euery one in his place,
and accordfaig to his qualitie : Now when the worke is
in hand. Timber, Stone, Bridce, Lime, and Water,
Iron, Glasse, and Leade, and all is readie that fo
necessarie : If dther the workmen bee vnwilling to
worke, or cannot agree vpon their worke, there will no
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A MURMURER.
15
house bee built : But if thejr fiU to their buslnes, and
agree vpon the direction, the frame will soone vp : Euen
ao the Lord God, our Souiour lesus Christ, the great
Landlord, and Lord of Heanen and Earth, will haue a
oonunonwealth builded. and his wiO must be obeyed :
forperformance whereof, hee hath giuen oommaundement
to his semant, and our Soueraigne Lord King lama
in this world, vnder God ondy worke maister of this
vnion : where if either the people be vnwUling to yeeld
imto the course or order set downe by the workemaister,
or among themselues disagree vpon the manner of their
woridng, wfaatsoeuer fiure words be vsed, what soeuer
good reasons be aUeadged, or what soeuer shews of loue
be made, there will be no true league of friendship, nor
peace for the ground of a Common-wealth : but let the
labourers be willing to bee directed by their woike-maister,
and eoery one in his place, shew the best of his good
will ; and no doubt, but sudi a common-wealth will bee
buUt, as while God doth Uesse it, all the world shall not
hurt it. Consider therefore the inconueniences of diui-
sion, and the comforts and commodities of vnion, and
let not sdfe-wni carrie you away from the course of
wisedom : you see, if you will still murmure against this
so gratious an action, how many are against you? God
himselfe, who loues vnitie : the King, who would bane
an vnion : Subiects, that loue their King, and godly men
that lone God, for they wffl bee obedient to his will : the
flowers of the field are against you, for they will grow
togither ; the trees, for tbey will beare fniite togitber ;
the fishe, for they wil swim togither ; the birdes, for they
win sing togither : and is it not then a shame for men,
that vre cannot liue and loue togither. For Aame then
goe from your selues vnto God, and goe from the Deuill
vnto man : and in the name of God agree togither : liue
vnder one God, one King, one law, and one loue : so
shall God best bee pleased, the King best contented, the
kingdome best gouemed, and euery wise and honest
man best satisfied : where liuing in murmuring and
malecontent, God may be displeased, the King dis-
quieted, the State disturbed ; and few men but some way
discontented : wrhat shall I say, to conclude, but this?
Is not vnion a kind <^ marriage, wrought by the hands
of God? and peiformed in the hearts of his people? 1
say, a marriage where hearts ioyning hands, make two
bodies as one : and is not a kind atonement, better then
an vnkind diuorcement : let then these two Kingdomes
be one, marrie them in loue, and since our King is the
Father that glues them, while God himselfe doth vnite
them, what Subiect or Christian can be so vngratious, as
not to giue his consent to them ? yea let mee say with
the minister in the time of marriage : if any man know
any lawfull, or iust cause, why these two Landes, now
one kingdome, should not in marriage be lincked with
such a loue, as may make them liue vnder one law, and
dwell togither as one people ; let him now speake, or
euer hereafter hold his peace : But if there be any man,
that knowing no iust, nor lawfrill cause, will out of the
malicious humor of a wicked spirit, hating to see a
heauenly Action vpon earth, murmur at the blessed pro-
ceedhig of so gratious a worke, the God of peace make
him for euer hold his peace.
Amem.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
EpiSTLB-DiDiCATOav, L 4, 'dtsovti* s disMraing.
To TRB Rbasbr, col. X, I. 5, 'texv' as blame or centore.
So Sir John Davies, Epigxammes : I. Ad Musmm, L xo,
* chinlce I do to prinate taxing l«aae' (my edition of Davies,
VoL ii p. 7 (Chatto and Windos, x^j^ QL the Induction to
The Knigfat of the Bnining Pestle :
'Fly from heaee
AO private taxes r etc.
(Dyce^ BmtunoMt and FtetetUr, IL 136.)
ih., ooL a, 1. X, 'cMuwrv's judgment, verdict
P. 5, ooL X, last line, ' 7V = trifle.
P. 7. col, X, 1. S3, 'fsr// LuiguiMi*:s90 good a scholar:
coL a, L 47, 'fmd* =b foolish.
P. 8, col. X, 1. sa, ' Cosra/r' s= cheat : col. s, 1. 34, 'ItuUs-
crtii^'ss lade of discenunent : IL sx-s = Proverbs xxvL ta.
P. 9b ooL X, 1. 85, '/mUdffwdt* ss slattern.
P. xo^ col. X, L a8, 'AnaiAamu* = skeleton.
P. XX, ooL X, IL 5-7 : St. Matthew v. 09.30 : L 13, ^di$M»ed*
s disturbed : U. x5-x6 : s Psalm cv. 15.
P. xa, GoL X, L 9b *guardm* L X4, * guarded z* ftdng or
trimming: fikced or trimmed. See Halliwell, under 'gard:'
1. 43, 'dSoOT^'.sdam: ib, *diMnrd' = fool&th, stupid person:
col. a, IL x5-x6 : St Matthew xii as : IL 3-4 from bottom : =
PfealmcxzniL x.
P. X3, ooL a, L xs from bottom, 'came' = grain : L xa from
bottom, *skMU* s school.
P. X4, col. X, L X4, '/aZr#' = palings, fences, and defences :
coL a, 1. x5, ' AngtV ss coin so called.
P. X5, col. 9, L X4, 'a/tf«rMMw/*sat-one-ment.— G.
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Divine Considerations.
1608.
30
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NOTE.
The 'Divine Considerations' is extremely rare. Only a single copy
has been known for very many years. It is in the British Museum :
small i2mo, pp. i88. On its biographical importance see Memorial-
I ntroduction. — G.
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DIVINE
CONSI DE-
rations of the
Soule.
Concerning the excellen-
cie of God and the vile-
nesse of man.
Verie necessarie and profitable for
euerie true Christian se-
riousfy to looke
into.
By N. B. G.
LONDON
Printed by E. A. for lohn Tappe
and are to be solde at his shop
on the Tower- Hill, nere
the Bulwarke Gate.
1608.
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To the right wor-
shipfull and worthy
Knight, Sir Thomas Lake, one
of the Clarices of his Maie-
sties Signet : health, hap-
pinesse and Hea-
uen.
\On^ Knight, Thi hngi ag^iumaie duty,
wkerin I hau€ foUawed your vndeserued
/amour, katk madt mt study hew to prooue
somo farto of my protosUUion : hut finding
my spirits iy the crosses of fortune, vnabU to be it selfe,
in the best nature of thanhfulnesse, I haste yet, by Gods
grtate blessing, laboured in the vineyard of a vertuous
hue, where hauing gathered those fruites, that are both
pleasant and holsome, bounde vp this little handfull, I
presente them to your patience^ hnowing that your loue to
Uaming, your teale in Religion, and your wisdome in
iudgement (being able in diuine Considerations, to finds
comforU aboue the worlde) will vouchsafe to wtahe that
good vse of them, that maie giue me eom/brU in your
regarde of them : but least tediousnesse maie prooue
displeasing, yea in matter of utueh worth, twill leaue
my labour to your liking, and my seruiee to your imploi-
ment, in which I hmmblye rest in heartie prayer for your
Yours denoted astd obliged at commando :
NiCH. BtBTON.
Co tH^t iseanef*
HniBAnye reade they knowe not what, too many
mSn fl they care not mb2X, but how neoessarie is it
■M|M for all men before they reade, to consider
■BBB what they reade, and to what end they
bestowe both time and labour in that excerdse, I refer to
the iudgement of their discretions, who are able to finde
the difference betwixt good andeuiU : you then that reade
this little worke to your greate good, if you well digest
the considerations contained in the same, Let mee intreate
jTOU what you finde for your good, to esteem of as you hane
cause, and what maybe to your dislike to oonectin your
kinde patience ; in a little room is matter enough for the
good consideration of a contemplatiue spirit, which look-
ing towards heanen, and longing to bee there, shall finde
such comfort in these considerations, as I hope shalgiue
cause to gloriefie God the Author of all good, and not
thinke amisse of me, that by his goodnes haue set
them downe for the good of all his Seruants : of which
number, not doubting you to be one, I leaue you in this
and all your good labours,
to his onely gratious
blessing.
Your well wishing friend,
N. B.
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In praise of these Diuine
Considerations,
GOtlittUBooJu,
tkilnotllo/tUlighi:
The keauemfy orgoH
of true vertues glory :
Whieh liJu a christall mirror
setstM sight:
Thi truest tract
of high lehouahes story:
IVkich whoso readest
shall jindo within the same^
Gods pofwerfuU hue.
I reading of it
did much comfort jinde :
And so no doubts
may euery Christian doe :
That is to vertue
any whit inclind :
Such right directions
doth it lead him to.
Read then {dear friend)
for heere I dare well say :
To know God truely
is the ready way.
And more, witkin
this little volume heere.
Whoso doth reade
with due eonsiderationt
His owne estate
most vilely wiUafpeare:
If not reformed
by heauenly meditation.
Consider then,
and doe e^lamd kisfaine :
That thus directs
true knowledge to ohtaine.
And for my si^
cu hauing gained therby:
These few lines, of
n^ hue shall specifle :
Pleasure attend
the author that did write it:
Heauens hap^nesse
the heart that did imdiU it:
True comfort be to him,
that hues to read it.
And ioy betide his souh :
that truely treads it.
I. T.
j4 Diuine Poem.
OLord that knewst me
ere that I was knowne.
And sawst the doath
before the thred was spimne,
And framd'st the substance,
ere the tbongfat was growne
FVom which my being
in this world bc^gonne I
Oh glorious God,
that onely of thy grace :
Didst all and onely
to thy seruice make me :
and hailing giuen me heere
an earthly place :
Vnto the Guard
of thy Dure grace dist take me.
Oh all pure bright,
and euer^eeing eye :
That seest the secret thooghts
of eoerie heart,
Befoie whose presence
doth apparant lie,
Heauen, earth, Sea, Hell,
in all and enerie part
In wisdome more O then wit
can comprehend 1
That mak'st and iudgest,
gouem'st euerie thing,
power of all powers,
on wbome aU powers attend.
Spring of all grace
firom whence all ivories spring.
FVom that high, holy, heanenly
throane of thine :
Where mercy Ifaies
to giue thy gkvie grace.
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A DIUINE POEM,
Looke downe a little
on this soule of mine,
That vnto thee
oomplaines her beauie caoe.
Ob sweetest sweete
of my soules purest senoe.
That in thy mercie,
madst me first a creature I
And in the truth
of loues intdligenoe.
The neerest image
to thy heauenly Nature.
And ^^iiing firamde me
to thy fauours eye,
Didst ¥rith thy finger
fairely write me out»
In holy writ
of heauenly Misterie,
How I should bring
a blessM life about
Forbidding onely
what might be my harme,
Commaunding onely
what might doe me good :
preseruing me
by thy Ahnightie arme,
and feeding me
with a cdesiiall foode.
Thou madst the ayre
to feede the life of nature,
That I might see
how weake a thing it is ?
The earth, the labour
of the sinfiill creature,
Which beares no fruite
but onely by thy blisse.
Thou madst the water
but to dense or coole,
Or serue thy creatures
in their sundrie vae :
That carefull writ,
might reason not befoole.
In vsing nature
to the soules abuse.
The fire thou madst
to cheeie the chiUiaf colde.
With a reuiuing heate
of natures neede:
That reason migjit
in natures mine bolde,
How Cure that force
might stand the life instead.
l*hiis vnder heauen,
thou madst these Elemenu
To maintaine all
those creatures thou hast made.
But so. that nature
with her ornaments
shall haue a time to flourish,
or tofiule.
But that same heauenly fire
that doth enflame
The heart and soule
with a continuall heate :
Whose loue doth liue
but in thy holy name.
Where £uth doth mercy
but for grace intreate.
Where that did kindle
or that Cole to finde.
Or smallest peice
or sparckle of the same :
I found the eye of nature
was too blinde.
To finde the sence,
or whence the 86cret came.
Till by the inspiration
of that grace.
That to thy seruants
doth thy goodnesse showe :
I found thy loue
the euer-Uuing place,
FYom whence the substance
of this sweete doth flowe.
And when I saw
within this soule of mine.
How forre thy loue
exceedes the life of nature,
and natures life,
but in that loue of thine.
Which is the being
of each bkssM creative :
Then! began
to finde the foile of sinne.
And onely kmg'd
to liue in mercies grace,
and hate the world,
that doth tbdr bel b^gin.
That doe not long
to see thy heanenly fisce.
And thus perplezM
in that passions griefe :
That hath no ease
but in thy mercies eye
To thee that art
the faithful! soules reUefe
haue I laide open
all my misery.
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> THE
First part of considera-
tion concerning
God.
Consider:
lia word Comaidir, in a few kMen oontaiaeth
a laiige volume, wfaerdn the aies of indgement
may read what is necessarie for the mder-
standhig of humaiiie reason : yea, and the
best parte of the moste perfect and diohieeontemplatkm,
of the moste gradous and blessed spirites in the woride :
for if it i^ease the AhnightJe God of his infinite goodnes,
so feire to inspire the souk of man with the grace of his
holy spirits, as that being by the heauenly power thereof,
Drawen firom the woride to befaolde the courses of higher
comforts, when leaning the delighu of fading vanities,
he shall be radshed with the pleasures of eternal! Hfe.
Then may he saye with the Prophet Dtmid (entring
into the contempktiue consideration that may well be
caDed the admiration of the greatnes and goodnes of
Qod) as It is written, in the 8. Psalwu, vine 3. Lard
w/Um lamsuUrtke kianens, thi Moame €tmd tki Starra
that tkou Mast made, what is man (say I) that thou wilt
looke vpon him? yea let me saye vnto thee (Oh man) if
thou cooldest with an humble spirit looke into the great-
nes of the goodnes of God in the power of his creation,
in the wisdoms of his worlmnanshippe, in the presenia-
tion by his grace, and in the increase, by his blessing :
if with an this thou oouldest note thedifferenee of Heauen
and earth, the brigfatnesse of the heaoens, ft the dark-
nesse of the world : the porenesse of the Sunne and
Moone and Starres, and the dimnes of the obscured light
of earthly natures : the perfection of the Angells, and
the ooiTuption of man ; the glorie of the diuine, and the
disgrace of our humaine nature : well migfatest thou say
to thy selfe, oh what am I ? a worme, dust and ashes,
and a subsUmoe of all foule and filthy corruption, that
my GOD, the pore and bright, grations, holy, good, and
glorioQs essence of Ifae incomprehensible Deitie, wiU
▼ouchsaie to cast downe the least tooke of his merde
vppOQ me?
Since therefore there is nothing that can be so tmely
pleasing to the spirit of man, asknowiedge, neiAeris there
any thing well knowne bat by the true oonsideration of
the substanoe, nature or qualitie thereof : let me bogin to
entec hito this necessary come of considention, inirtiieh
we shall finde what is most aaseasary^ fitandoonuenicm,
for the vse, profit, pleasure, and honor of man ; that the
obitct of the eye, considered by the sence of the qiirit,
the suhstannn digested by the power of reason, nature
nay finde most comfort in the vertne of the application.
Tbuchifig CansideruHon
in generally
First, and aboue all things, weare to consider what is
aboue aU things to be considered : then for the ex-
ceUende of the goodnes in it sdfe ; and last, for the good
that from it wee recdue : for in the instinct of nature wee
haue planted in oursehies an insatiable desire of know-
ledge, whereby we finde in our seines, somewhat more
then our sehies, leading vs to a longing after somewhat
aboue our sdues, which if by a li|fht inlightning our
mindes we be led out of the daikenes of our blinded
sence of nature, to the deare beholding of the glorious
brightnes of Gods graces, wee shall see that in himonely
and altogether, is the infinite goodnes and incomprehens-
ible greatnes of all perfect knowledge, and knowledge of
all perfection ; and that so much neerer Cometh our nature
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
vnto the diuine : as by the light of grace wee feele in our
seines, an apprehension or participation of those graces,
that essentially doe oody dwell, and are inheritant in the
diuine nature. To come to a plainer explanation of the
first doe point of considention : eueiy thing is to be
desired for some good that it doth oontaioe in it selfe, and
may bring vnto other : the goodnes therefore of eoery
thing, must be considered before the thing it sdfe be
effected. Then if good be for the goodnes desired ;
the better that the good is, the more it is to be desired,
and so the best good for the best goodnes to ht best
and most desired.
Now who is so euill, that hath the least sparkle of
Gods grace, but by the light of the same, doth see in the
wonder of his works, the glory of his goodnes? but
leauing al doubts, titer is no doubt to be made, that
God is in himselfe the essence of all goodnes, the first
moouer, the oontinuaU actor, and the infinite furnisher
of all good, in thought, word ft deed ; where, when, and
in whatsoeuer : this first position then granted that God is
only good ft the onely essence of al goodnes, what ob-
iection can be made, why he should not be aboue all
things to be desired, humblie to be affseted, fidthlolly to
be loued, louingly to be serued, duly to be obeyed, and
infinitely to be glorified? for the Atheistt, whom the
Psalmist calleth /boies. Psalm* 53, vtrsi i, that said in
their hearu there is no God, because they knowe no good,
I say nothfaig to them, but their souks shal finde there
is a DeuDl that taught them, and will reward them for
their euil : but for them that knowe there is a God, and
bane a feeling of his goodnesse, in the comfort of his
grace : let me a little speake vnto them touching the
pointes that I meane to speake of in the oonskleratlon of
the greatnesse of God aboue all thinges, and for whkdi all
thinges in all, ft aboue all thinges bee is to be admired,
loued, and honoured : and first touching the greatnesse
of God.
The first amsideraiion touching
the grtatnessi
of God.
TO consider the greatnesse of God, at least that great-
nesse in wfaidi himsdfe only knoweth himselfe, is
incomprehensible, ft therefore aboue the power of con-
templation, meditation,ft conskieration of man or AngeDes
whatsoeuer : for in the maiestie of his power, hee is incom-
prehensible in his wisdome ; ▼nsearcfaable in his gnboes :
incomparable, and in his glorye infinite : in all which
he doth so far exoeedethecompasseof all consideration,
as in the humilitie of confessfon must be left only to ad-
miration; butfbrsomucfaasofhismerdehehathleftto
our contemplation, let vs with such humiUtie consider
thereof, as may be to his gkiry and our comfort. Touch-
ing therefore his greatnesse, let vs humbly lift vp theeyes
of our hearU to the behokling of those thinges, that in the
excellent great workmanship of the same, wee may finde
that there is a further greatnes then wee can euer finde
againe. Let vs consider in the Creation of al creatures,
his admirable power, who but spak the word ft they were
made : oh powerful! word, by which all thinges were
created ; and if his word was so powerfull, how much
more powerfull is he that gaue such power vnto his
word? loath I am to enter into particularities, to set
downe the greatenesse of his power, though the least of
his workes shewe not a little, and the greatest of his
workes, shew but a little of that greatnes wliich his glory
doth contain ; where such varieties as well of the formes
as natures of creatures, as well in their differences as
agreement, in number so innumerable, as piooue an in-
finitenes in the power of their creation, yet when the
greatest of all things vnder the heauens, yea the heanens
ihemsehies shall waxe olde as doth a garment, and (as a
vesture) shal be changed, how great is his power, who
shall loose no part of his grace, but increase infinitdy in
his glory? Who hath spond the heauens but the finger
of his hand? who hath settled the earth but the word of
his mouth ; iriio hath digged the greate deep, but the
wisdome of his wiU?
Looke vp to the heauens, they are the workes of his
hands : look downe to the earth, it is the woike of his
word : beholde the Seas how they are obedient to his
will : now to beholde in the Sunne the light of the daye,
the Moone and the Starres ; as it were the lampes of the
night ; yet these so keepe their courses in a oontinuaU
ordtf, that one is not hurtfull to another, but all and
euery one in their seruice to man, performe their dueties
to their Creator : Doth not the conskieration of these
obiectes to our eyes, strike an impression in our hearts of
an admirable power in the greatnesse of his worimian-
sbip? Again, to behold the thickeckiudes,v^ierdjy the
Sun is obscured, the boisterous ft tempe^ious windes,
wlierdiy the highest Caedars are shaken, and the terrible
lightning and thunden, that amase the hearts of the be-
holders : are not these great proofes of a great power?
But let vs looke downe a little lower vppon the earth,
and consider how it is possible that so great and huge a
Masse shold be canied in such a drcnmference ; Again,
the world of great and huge trees in the woods, with
great and strange wilde beastes in the wildemes ; the
one to beare firuit, the other to feede and breede, as it
were to an infinite increase ; & yet place and foode
enough for all. Again, to beholde the raging Seas how
they roare against the bankes of the earth, to whose
boundes they are limitted : ft to consider of the great
ft huge fishes that make their walks in these watry
pathes : are not all these spectacles, great aparant proofes,
of a rooste great and admirahlf power ? Again, to note
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
the great and stoat Fooks, that with the force of their
wiDges make their passage through the ayre, and yet
ndtber the U^^ts of the heauens, the creatures in the
earth, nor seas, nor birds in tlie ayre, shall longer retain
their places, then standeth with the pleasure of the
Almighty : Oh how admirable is that greatnes to whom
all things are in such obedience, which in him onely hao-
ing their being, are onelj at his will in their disposing?
But let me come a httle lower to thee : Ob man,
compounded of the wcnrst matter, the very slyme of the
Earth, how great a power is in thy God that hath created
thee, not by his wordeonely (as he did all other creatures
in the Earth) but aboue them all in a Dinine nature of
grace ; so neere vnto himselfe, as that he woulde in the
greatnes of his loue, cal thee his Image, and to this
Image of himselfe, glue so great a power ouer all his
creatures, that both Sunne, Moone, and Starres in the
heauens, the beastt in the fielde, the birdes in the aire,
the fishes in the Sea, the Trees in the woods, and the
mineraUes in the earth, shoulde all be subiect to the dis-
posing of thy discretion and obedient to thy oommaund.
Hath he no^ made the great horae to cary thee, the
great Lyon to be led by thee, the Beare, the Wolfe, the
Tygre, and the Dogge, yea with all other beastes, to
stand affiraid at the frowne of thy countenance ? yea doth
he not coward their spirits to become seniiceable to thy
commaund? doth not the Fauloon stoope her pitch to
oome down to thy fist, and make her flight at the Fowle,
to feede thy hunger or pleasure? doth not the Dog leaue
his kennell, and make his course at the Deere for thy
food or thy sport ? doth not the fish come out of the
deepe waters and hang vppon thy baite, for thy profit or
thy pleasures? and what a greatnesse isthis to haue this
commaund oner so many creatures? but againe, con-
sider withall how much greater is that infinite great-
nesse, in thy Creator, that hath giuen sodi greatnesse to
his Creature.
Againe, consider withall, the greatnesse of his glorie,
and glorye of his greatnesse, that his AngeUes tremble
at his brightnesse : if bee touch the hilles they shall
^^smoake, and the Mountaines shall melt at his presence,
and no man can see him and liue : so greate is his Bright-
nesse, as no eye can bebolde : so pure his essence, as
ezceedes the aence of nature : so deepe his wisdome, as
is vnsearcfaable in reason : and so Infinit his perfection,
as surpasseth the power of consideration ; and therefore
let vs consider, that in regarde of that Ahnightie power,
in his greatnesse the greatest : yea, and all power with-
out him is so greate a smalnesse as nothing can be less&
Againe, let vs in admiration of his greatnes, and
knowledge of his goodnes, consider whom we are to
thinke on, how we are to thinke of him, what we are to
thinke of our selues without him, and what we are only
in him : For the first, whom we are to thinkeon, is the
30
incomprehensible Maiestie of aU powers, the biginner of
all times, the Creator of all thinges, the Commaunder of
al natures, the disposer of al properties, the life of all
beings, and the endles glory of al graces : absolute in
his power, resolute in his will, incomparable in his wis-
dome, and admirable in his worke : thus I saye, let vs
consider whome wee are to thinke of, not a Creature but a
Creator : notaking, buta Kingof Kinges ; notapower,
but a power of powers : and not an Angell but GOD ;
now howe shall wee thinke of him? with feare and
trembUng, and remember the sayings of Mathew, Chap-
ter 10, verse 98, Fion noi kim that earn destroy Mtf
Mie, hU fian kim thai can dtsireyt Mk My and
SPttlt.
And therefore when wee fidl into sinne, let vs feare the
greatnesse of his wrath, and the greate power in his fiirie :
for though hee fedde EUas in the Wildemesse by the
Rauens, and preserued Daniel in the Den from the Lyons,
made the Dogges licke the sores of Lasarus, and made
the Sunne to stay his coarse at the prayer of losuah, yet,
with the wicked he maketh his Creature in the vengeance
of his vmtth, to take another course, for the Lyons de-
uoured the fidse Prophets : TheBearescameout of the
wood to destroy the children that mocked the Pftyphet :
and the dogs fed vppon lesabdl, and the darkmiwie
blinded the Sodomites, till fire came downe from Heaiiea
to consume them.
Consider therfore (I say) whom wee are to thinke on?
in one word which condndeth all that can be spoken,
Ood and not man : for hi God is aU greatnesse, without
whome the greatest of all powers, is but the power of all
smallneiie : but since so great is his greatnesse euerie
way, as is no way to be comprehended, let vs onely
know and acknowledge his infinitenes therin to be
such, as we must humbly leaue to admiration, and say
with the Prophet Danid, Psalme. 136. vers. 96, J*ruise
yu thi Gad af JUaman /or Mis mareU smduroik for
tuer.
Now let vs see what wee are without him ; as babbles
of water that breake in an instant : or a blasted flower
ere it bee out of the bud : the shame of nature : meate
for DoggQS : fudl for fire : out-lawes from Heanen, and
Prisonen for HdL Oh fearefull state of such as feare
not God : ficare therefore the greatnes of his vmtth,
least you be consumed in the greatnes of his
fury.
Now what are wee to thinke of our selues in him, the
chosen vessels of grace, the comaunders of all earthly
powers, the oompagnions of his Saims. co-heires in the
heaneidy Kiogdixne, ft brethren with his blessed Sonne
and our Sauiour lesns Christ : thus greate doth his
greatnes make his, both in this world & in the woilde
to come: and thus mocfa for the first pointe of consldenb-
tion of the greatnes of God.
B
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lO
DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
Touching the goodnesse of God^ the
second Consideration.
IT is a pootion in&Uible, that of goodn^ oaa come
nothing but good: God then being the onety & euer
true and pure essence of al goodnes, of him what can be
spoken but all good? is it not written, that whatsoeuer
he created, hee sawe that it was good? and having made
man to his owne Image, the beat good, how did he shew
to him his exceeding goodnes, in giuing him dominion
ouer al his good creatines ? only the Ttee 9f life:excepted»
which though in it seUe it was good, yet in that.he knew
it was not good for man to meddle with, hee forbad him
to taste of the ihdte therof ; & this good warning his
good God gane him, diat there might nothing but good
come to him: but we may wdl say there is nothing good
but God ; it is the worde of truth spoken by the Lord of
life. Our Sauiour leaus Christ, when the Pharises called
him good MaisUr^ his answer waa. v>ky call you nugoodt
then is notugoodkut God: And if the only begotten Son
of God wold not be called good, how can this title of
good, be properly giuea to any of his creatures? though it
pleasedhim tosay that he sawe euery thing was good that
hee created, yet it was good onely respeotiudy asitcame
from his goodnes, and imely dfiKtittely as might seme to
his glory : for though the spirite of man by the gxaoe of
the holy Ghost doe par«idpato/wiCfa the great blessing of
good, which from his goodnes proceodiag, cannot be but
good ; yet ooety and altogether in God dodi abide and
dwell that pure essence & Etemall goodne^ which may
ondy make him be iustly and properly called good.
Now all goodnes being in him and of hhn, and what-
soeuer is or may be in any part tfaovight, or called good,
must be onely in respect of God, the ooely giner of the
Same : and whatsoeuer good we jeodue, is things good,
& all. the good that he seated for the good vse of man,
that good knowledge, knowledge of goodnes, and good-
nes of knowledge, the perfection whereof is ondLy in
himsdfe, and the partidpatioo wfaerof shoid be hi none
but the {mage of himadfe : this Image did hee cbinete
make in ma^, and this good onely to.bestoweTpon man:
now howsoeuer the Deuill by conuptkm of temptation,
hath dcaven away the hearts of- those outward men
which retaine in thefar soules snoall or no parte of the
Image of God, vnto the delight of euill, yet those.mea
(hat are touched with the least parte of Gods grace, haue
not poely a hatefeU loathing of the nature of euillr bat a
longing desire after good,, and a deUght In the good of
the desire of that good that ibey. long after: M|m being
therefore by the goodnes of God etocted for hie beat
creature, his best- seroant and oo*heire ^tb.hlS'Oady
bdoued Sonne in his hsanenly K1ngdanM> 'hee halh also
elected him to that knowledgeof God, thai by the good
thereof, may breede in him the greefe of sinne, vmo
which t>y corruption be is a subiect, and a neoer satisfied
desire to enioye the good that by faith he is assured
to come Tnto : now as he hath elected man onely, and
aboue all his creatures, to this knowledge of good, which
he did as h were chuse out of all his blessings, to bestow
ondy vpon man, so did he withall giue him knowledge
how to come to the possession of that good, to whk^
ondy he is dected : Oh fiow infinit a goodnes is this in
God towards <vs, in this gmtious benefit of our deetkm'l
oh what heart can (without the rauishing ioy of the soule)
think vpon this goodnes of God towards man, that (as I
aforesaid) hailing chosen him for his best creature, his
best seruant and co-hdre, with his best and ondy bdoued
Son, be did not only inspire his soule with an espedall
knowledge-aboiie aU other cssatures, but with (his know-
ledge of good, a knowledge likewise of a direct way to
come mto it ; which waie isnot to be sought in a strange
country, nor among the Saints or Angells, but eoen here
at home, and hi his holy word, and that waie to be ondy
founde, by the fidth of that grace, that in the good
creatures of God doth OAdy woHte to his glorie : in
eomme, when hee hlmsdfo Is both the wafe to life, and
the life of the foithiiill. What an excdlent comfort b
this in orfe worde, one truth, and one Christe ; to seeke
and finde the waie to our g<k)d is from the aboundance
of his merde, and for the whidi wee are bound in all
humilitle to ghie him glory : let Vs acknowledge all
goodnes to be ondy in him, and himsdfe the glorious
Essence of the same : consider with thahkeftilnes the
good that ^mworthylye wee recdue from him.
First let TS thinke on the goodnes of God, in our
election, that befog the worst matter to worke vpon, hee
would show the best of his woridng, in framing a sub-
stmoe to the Image of himsdfe : c6n there be any thing
so good vnto man as to be made the Image of God? and
when In the righteousnes of the soule, which is the best
gootees In man, wee be most like vnto God? what glory
are we to glue vnto him, who Ingrafteth in our hearts
such a looe vnto righteousnes, and sudi a righteous lone
vnto Ms grace, as that by the vertue thereof we become
as it were members of his sacred body, ft brandies of
the Tifee of life : Condder I say thus, first the goodnes
of God in ottf dectlon from the slhne of the earth, the
#ol^ matter in the world to weike vpon, to be the best
and fairest of his works fh the woild : and all earthly
dringaf to endure but thdr time, in the course of thdr liues,
man' onely In his grace to line for euer : In himsdfe, he
is onely a& goodnesse, and from whbme onefy bdng ondy
good, we reoehie this first good of our dectlon : how
gfeeat a proofe of ttie glorious essence of the goodnesse
of God'hi ttis? that not by penwasion of Angdles, nor
the URtTHe of any pow^ of ndtu^, this free dection of
maa'abc^ all creatmes; ft vnder hhn to be Lord ouer
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS,
II
them, fell vnto ts by the ondy gmtioiis wofUng of his hotj
wil to his ondy infinite glory & our vnspeakable bontfoK :
Now let vs againe oonaic^ a further goodnes, that firom
hisgracewereoeiiieinoarelectioii, notoiielytobemadA
the best of his aeatures, but to serae him with such loue
that wee male line with him in glory : be hath not onely
chosen vs for his best creatures, bat aUo for his best
senianu ; yrahis beloued soimes, and not ondy sonnes,
but coheires with his blessed Sonne ia the heanenly king-
dome : he hath dioeen ts before the woride, to praseiue
vs in the worlde, and to take vs out of the worlde to
etenuUl ioyes abone the worlde: Oh what tongue can
ezpresse die grtatnes of this tab goodnes towards vs,
besides the Infiniee eomfortB, graces and blessings, that
euer b this Uf« he bestoweth vpon vs? hee created aU
tilings, could gioe hUa nothing to peitwade or aBure him
to make vs to his Image, being oveated : we were so
poore, that wee had nothing but what be gave vs ftthere-
fore could giue him nothing for our creatloa : when hee
had giuen vs dominion ouer his creatures^ what <jou]d
wee giue him but what was his owne, and whereof he
had no neede, but might commaunde at his wiB 7 naie
more, what did man giue hhn but vnthankiulnesfte ia
being disobedient to his commanndement? and lastly
being fiUlen through slnne so farre from the state of
grace that there was no meaaes but the death of Us
dearest Sonne and our Sauiour, for our redemtion :
what could wee grae htm hauing nothing ? and if we had
had al the worlde, It was but his owne, and as nothing to
reoompenoe this admirable point of his goodnes la our
redemption: Consider then for our election we could
giue him nothtog, and therefore it was only of his'graoe :
for our creation we had nothing to giue him, for we had
nothing but what he gaue vs: forouT redemtioti ijut least
drop of the pretious Blond of his deere bekmed Sonne,
was more worth then the whole worlde : Ob then thinke
wee coulde giue him nothing wordiy of so greate a lone
as to dye for vs t with the grace of his holysplrite hee
doth sanctifie vs, and who can thinke or dare presume to
buy that glorious blestiag of himi «han with Symon
Magus perish in the honor of sudi a ^nne, the least
sparke of his giaoe, bdng more worth then the whole
worlde ; and the woilde all his, and man but a creature
in the* worlde* Agafaie, for our hxstificatiOn, lib ondy
righteousnetoe in his life and death, his {Mienee, and
his Puskm, Js tt^ ondy substaaoe of our iustifioation :
for as wee are instifled by fUth \A Ms Blond, ah dl^ of
grace fat the faispitatloa of his holy spirite : so b that
pretkMS Bfottd of Us, the gkirkms gftMmd of our bddfe,
whefdiy oidy wee are inscified : our dectSon then fi«m
grace, our creation to grace, our redemption by grace,
our siincdfication bf gnet, our lustiUcktfon l^ gmce,
and our glorification by grace : what hath the world, or
man, if he had the ivliole woilde to purdiase the least
parte of the glory that the ondy goodnesse of God hath
in his merde ordained and reserued for the good of man?
Let then no man be so bliade or blinded with the mist
of arrogande, as to runne into merite in himsdfe, or to
mini^ our saktaticn. Oh lei vs a Utde consider, how
many are the soadry, yea andiafinite varieties of tSod,
that by the goodaes of our dectfon wee recdue from the
merde of the Abnightie : first to be oeated to Us owne
Image, to be Inspired with a Dioine Knowledge aboue
all Us creatures, to bane dominion ouer so many creatures,
to be-feardes of damnation by the assurance of our deo-
tkm to sahmtian, to vse the things of the world, as
If wee had themnot, to aooompt the woride with all the
ponpa and pride thereof, bat as vaaide, to haue a loath-
ing of same, and a loue %o -vertuc, to be furnished of
udmt Is neoessarie to be deffended firom euill^ preserued
from hurt, to dread no danger, to be weary of the worlde,
and longe to be with Christ : To speake of the goodnes
of Us bountie dayly bestowed vpon his creatures, as
beantie to aone, strength to other, to other wealth, to
other wisdome, to other honour, to other dkdne inspira-
tions ; these I say are no small causes to make vs oon-
sklerof his goodiiesse towavds vs : but aboue all, to giue
vs himsdfe, in hb loue to bee with vs, with Us grace to
guide vs, with Us power to defend vs, with his word to
Ustruct vs, & with Us holy spirit to inspire vs: to finde
the way made for vs to our eternal ioyes that none shall
take from vs, to wUch bdore the worldes and world
without end, he hath only deeted vs : oh man'bow canst
thou thinke faumbile enough, thankfully enough, and
toyfnlly enough of the goodnes of thy Ood, in thb good
of thy deetioa ? In summe, what goodnes can be greater
vnto us, then to know yt God to }u» dearest loue through
Us bekned onlydearly Son lesus Cfarbt, hath deeted
v% ft as' it were chosen hbloue abone al hb creatures,
in Idt Son lesns Christ our Lord and Sauiour, to be
bestoswed vpon vs ; in that loue to Hue with vs, and that
euer-liuing lone aeuerto leaue vs here on earth ; with hit
faifinite UessUgi tai Us gretlous goodnes to comfort vs,
and in heaueato resenie a Crowne of Glory for vs, to
create vs whea we were not, to redeeme vs befaig lost, to
preseme vs-fimm destruction, to giue his deerest Sonne
to death for oor sfames, to assure vs of saluatfcm, and
to reodue vs to glory.
AU thb dkl hee, and all good that euer was, is, or
euer will or can be,- for vs, to shew and make vs consider
of Us goodnes towards vs : for let vs in breefe a little
condddir how fredy, and ondy of Ida grace hee hath
thus made manifest his vnspeakable goodnes in thb our
election, when wee were not : who could mingle Us
corrupt actiooa with the pure merite of Chrbte lesus for
Us saluation ? but say with lob aUwr rigkU^msmetteisas
ajliakiechih, and with the PlO|rfiet Dauid, Ptelme it6.
fcrsev XI. z& meditating vppon the greatnesse of Us
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
goodnes towards him, wkai shall I giue HU Lord for all
thai hee hath done tmto me f I will iahe the Cu^e of
Saluatum, and be thamh/ull to the Lord: aee here all
that vree are, and all that wee can gine him for all the
good that wee reoehie fix>m him, bare thanks : and yet
as much as hee requireth, and more then from a great
many (the more their shame) hee recdueth. Bat let
those that fede these great effects of grace in the good-
nes of the lining Ood, say with the holy Prophet, Psalme
Z36. verse i. he thanh/uU to thoLord^ and speahe good of
his namet for his mercie endwrethfor euer: but since so
infinite is his goodnes in all things and to al things, and
specially to man aboue all things, let me ondy wish al
men for their own good, to acknowledge all goodnes
onely to bee in the Lord, the onely Author and substance
thereof; and whatsoeuer is good in heauen or earth,
is onely a free guifte of his grace, that must ondy work
to his glory ; the election of man to be an effect of loue
in the grace of his goodnes, and not to dreame of merite,
but to ghie glory vnto merde, for the benefit of sudi a
blessing, as being fi^dygiuen to man, through our Lord
lesus Christ by his merite, is ondy confirmed to the
etemitie of his glory : and thus much toudiing the good-
nes of God.
Touching the wisdame of God^ the
third Consideration.
TO speake of the wisdome of God, is so ftrre aboue
the capadtie of man, that it is rather with all
humble reuerenoe to be honored and admired, then
dther to be spoken of or considered: yet for so much as
the creature doth giue glorye to his Creator, in praising
and with admiration bdiolding the excellent woriunan-
shippe in the varietie of his workes, and finding it 90
farre aboue the reach of reason, as must needes proeeede
from a vertue of diuine grace, hee doth in oontempktion
acknowledge a wisdome of that ezcdlende, that maketh
him sale with the Prophet Dauid, in the Z04 Psabne, 24
verse, Oh how wonderful! are thy workes? in wisdome
hast thou made them : but thou^ the wisdome of God
as it is in it sdfe, is another himsdfe, and not to be
comprehended of any but himsdfe yet the effectes there-
of in all things, doe giue him so greate a praise, as
make him aboue all thii^, to recdue the highest of all
glory : for to enter hito particulers, let vs b^ginne to looke
into his creation, in the power whereof hee sheweth no
small parte of wisdome: as in the brightnes of the Sun,
Moon, and Stars, and the deemesse of the skie, the
courses of the Planets and the motions of the Cdestiall
powers : in the oppemtkms of the dements, in the per-
flection of proportions, in the diuersity of creatures, in
the wonder of arte, and quidmesse in working : what
excellent arte hath he tanght nature, in paintii^ all the
TVees, fruits, and flowres of the earth ? yea and aU the
haires, skinnes, feathers, and scales of beasts, fowles,
and fishes ? the eeoenes and purenes of cuery one of
whome bdng truly considered, wil startle the best wltts
in the due oonsidenuion of that ondy podnt of wisdome.
Againe, what a further secret cunning hath he taught
nature, in perfumfaig so many TYees, hearbs, and flowres,
all growing out of this darice and dusky earth : by what
wisdome he doth vnite the peof^, and hauing deukied
the languages, how hee giues the meanes of vnderstand-
ing : how hee makes the fishes paths, and the shippes
passages through the seas, the birds walkes through the
ayre, and the Salamanders dwelling in the fire, and the
wonnes howses in the earth : how admirable is this
wisdome that so worketh all things by it sdfe? To
speake of the excellency of Arts, in the secrede of thdr
working, what can it finally approoue but an admfaation
of knowledge in the maisler of them? But hauing with
Salomon found by the light of grace, and experience of
labor, that al things are vanity, except ondy the vertue
of that grace that enricheth the soule with inestimable
treasure : what a pointe in wisdome is this, not ondy to
instruct the soule of man in knowledge of natures, with
their qualities and effects, but through the power of it
selfe to breede a kinde of spirituall knowleidge in the
apprdiension of Faith, that in contemplation of heauenly
treasure, maketh trash of the whole worlde.
Oh superexceUent excdlencie in wisdome, that frameth
the heart vnto the soule, to sedce out the wale of Ufie,
and in the prison of the flesh, preserues It from the peifll
of infection: that man bdng created the Image of perfiao-
tion, can neuer be destroyed by the venome of corrup-
tion, but in the dales of iniquitie, betaig guided by grace,
the snares of bd, shall fly to the ioyes of
Consider that if man by the wisdome of God attaine
to this exodlent knowledge, how to walke through the
passages of nature, to make vse of them for his seruice,
to withstand the temptation of sinne, to reoeiue the in-
structions of grace, to dispise the ddi^u of the woride,
to bridle the affections of the flesh, and oueroommhigthe
power of death, to finde the path vnto life ; if this I say,
and more then can be said, by the instruction of the
diuine wisdome, man hath power to attaine vnto, thinke
how infinite is that wisdome fix^m v^ome only oommeth
the essence of this, and all knowledge : in ^ome it
ondy liueth, and without ondy whome all is but meere
ignorance : And since it is written, that the beginning
of wisdome, is the feare of God; leame ondy that lesson,
and feare to be otherwise learned : Panle thought he
knew enough in Christ, and him cndfied : and enoqgh
wise Shalt thou be, if thou canst appUe his knowledge to
thy comfort.
But to retnne breifdy to speake of the wisdome of
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God, it is in the beauens so highe, in the earth so large,
in the water so deep, in the aier so secret, and in the
fire so powerful! ; in all things so exquisite, and in per-
fections so infinite, that I will onely in the admiration
thereof, giue glory to the same, and laie with the
Apostle I. Corin. chapter 3. verse 19. Tht wisdowu of
tki worltU isfooKskntsu h^on God; And againe, with
the ProphetDauid, Psalme 104. verse 34. OhLord kow
txtelUmtart tkyworktSt in wisdowu hast tkau madt thtm
all. Psalme 139. verse 6. SuchkmamledgtistootxcdUnt
/orwue: O allyt worka of Hu Lordo, praist Mim and
wtagmi^ him for nur : but since so many and so in-
finite are the praises that may worthyly bee giuen vnto
it : I cannot so leaue off, but I must speake a little
more of the consideration of it, for the power of it : It
maketh all things for the knowledge of it, it knoweth all
things for the direction of it, it ordereth all thinges for
the goodnesse of it, it oomprehendeth all things for the
grace of it, it is gratious fai all good things, and for the
maiestie of it, it is glorious aboue all things : for in the
power of it is the life of vertue ; in the life of it is the
merde of loue ; in the kmeof it is the blessing of grace ;
and in the grace of it, is the eternitie of Glorie: who
seeketh it shall finde it, who findeth it shall k>ue it, who
loueth it, shall liue in it, who liueth fai it, shall ioy in it,
and who so ioyeth in it, shall be blessed by it. It is
brighter then the Sunne, purer then Golde, sweeter then
the honie and the honie combe, and for the worth of it,
it is more worth then the ^ole worUe : it beautifies
nature, it rectifieth reason, it magnifies grace, and glori-
fieth loue : it loueth humilitie, it aduanoeth vertue, it
enricheth knowledge, and maintalneth honour : it
laboureth in heanen for such as from heauen are pre-
serued for heauen, to bring them to heauen : in somme,
it is where it is the blisse of nature, the honour of reason,
the light of life, and the ioye of loue.
The elect loue her, the SainU honour her, and God
ondy halh her : in summe, so much may be said of her,
and so much more good then can be said or thought is
in her. that fearing with the dimme light of my praise,
to obscure the glory of her worthynesse, I will ondy
wish the workle to seeke her, the godly to finde her, the
gratious to loue her, the vertuous to seme her, the feith-
Itill to honour her, and all the creatures in heauen and
earth to praise her : and so much, touching the con-
sideration of the wisdome of God.
The fourth Consideration tour
cMng the Ume of God.
OH 1 who ooulde with the eyes of wisdome in the
humilitie of the hearte, looke into the vertue of
that grace that liueth in the loue of the Almightie, should
finde thai sence of sweetnes, thai should rauish thesoule
of vnderstanding : but though it beefai itselfe so gradons,
and in grace so gknious as exceedeth the fiKWwding of
all praise, yet as a mole-hiU to a mountaine, a File to an
Eagle or an Ante to an Elephant, let me with the poore
widdow put in my myte into the treasurie, in humilitie
of my heart to speake of the life of mysoule, which bemg
ondy in the loue of the lining God, let me speake a little
in the consideration of the same, that the vngratdull world
seeing thdr lacke of grace, may blush at thdr blindnes,
ft be ioyftil of a better light, where bdiolding the beautie
that rauisheth the soules of the bdoued, they shall find
the loue that is the ioy of the blessed : touching the which»
let me by degrees speake of such points as I find most
necessarie in this consideration : let vs first I say con-
sider this first point of the loue of God, that before we
were created for his seruice, wee were dected in his Ume,
then to make an Image to it selfe, yea ft as it were
another it sdfe, for the first, Romans 8. lacob kmu i
lomed, omen beftn k* had douo good or mtiU: There is
election prooued in loue.
When the Angdl saluted Elisabeth, with the message
of her oonceptkm, was it not of lohn the biq>tist, who
was sent to pronounce the word of the Lord, to make
streight his way before him? and what greater pioofe of
loue, then to decte him to such amessage? agaiue, doth
not Christ the Sonne of God praye to his Father, that
as hee is one with his Father, so his maye be one with
him ? Oh how can there be so greate a proofe of the
dection of loue in Christe, as by his loue to be made one
with him : Looke I sale into the ezcdlende of this in-
comparable loue in God towards man : first to make him
to his Image, and not ondy by his worde (as by ^ich
he made aU other creatures) but as it were by a consent
or oonsulution of the Trinitie about an espedall worke,
to the pleasing of the Ddtie, as it is written : IM vs
make mam in our owno Imago aeeordimg to omr likemosse.
But will it be salde that Nullum simiU est idem, for
though he were perfect in respect of our conuption, yet
by his fell, it appeareth that the creature was ferre shorte
of the perfection of the Creator : but bdng felne fix>m
that porfectiott, by the venome of temptation, into the
state of damnation, how greate was the loue of God, to
effect againe by himsdfe the blessed worke of his salua-
tion? for as it is written :
GOD so loued the worlde, that hee gaue his ondy be-
gotten Sonne to death, that all that bderae in him shal
be saued: againe, looke into the admirable lofie of
Christe to his bdoued, to come finom the bosome of his
Father in heanen, to his graue in the earth : to leaue the
seruice of Angdles, to be skofled of diudish creatures ;
to leaue the kiyes of Piaradise for the sorrowes of the
worlde ; to leaue his Throane in heauen, for a mannger
on the earth : to leaue his seate of iudgemente, to suffer
death vpon the crosse : well might hee say as in respect
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
of his sorrowes for the sinhesr of the woilde, with the
punishement that hee was to eadutre for the shines of
others, hunseife without sinne, when hee fdte the ex-
tremitie of those paines that in the inireate of Bloud and
water, prooued the passion of tmepatifente, and- the life
oftroeloue, —
Vt nom est dolor sicuH mius, sit ndH est am&r stent
mens; for indeeda ht knoweth not, bor ean he iudge,
what loue is that in his heart cannot saie fai lionour of
his loue, ntuer such loue : the frdnde to die for his ene-
mies ; the maister to die for his seruants ; the King: to
die for beggers ; the Sonne of God, to dye for the sonne
of man : well may it tie saide nhtit sUch lome: to leaue
ail pleasures to bringe thee to all pleasareft; to endure
aU crosses to worke thee ail comforts ; to leaue Heatien
for a time to bring thee to Heauen for euer.
What art thou that in the thought of such loue, canst not
sale ki thy heart, in the ioye of thy soule, as Nullus dolor
stout eius, sic Nulltu amor siatt Hus : asno aoitowe is like
to his, so no loue is like to his : doth not bee trudy sale
that oan say nothing but truth? 16ue 6n6 another as I haue
loued you : greater loue then this dfnnot be, for a man to
Uy downe lyfe for his beloued : Oh IM vs a little meditate
vpoB this excellent comforte that ii TiiSpeakable in God
towards man I through his loue was man created fhe good-
liest creature ; ft where al other creatures haue their feyes
bent downward (to thie earth, whiere they seeke thefar Ibode)
man hath a face, looking vpwards 'toward heauen, where
the soule seeketh foode aboue the flesh : Againe, through
the loue of God was man made the wisest creature, to
knew the varieties of natures; to glue names mto onea-
tures, to note the courses of the beauens, to tin the earth,
and make his pathes through the seas, to detnde the
times, to distinguish of doubts, to search Into knowledge,
and to know the giuer and glory' thereof : Againe, through
thekmeof God, man was made' Commaunder of aU crea-
tures vnder the Sunne, Lord of all the earth, foreseer of
after<4ime8, messenger of the wotde of God, student of
Diuine misteries, cheife seruant to the Lord of Lords,
freinde to the King of Kings, aiid coheire in the beauenly
Kingdome : through the loue of G6d. hee was made a
seruaate, but as a friend, a brothte', and a coheire : Now
bee that Uiinkes on these pbfntes of loue, is worthy of no
loue if he cannot say in his heart' there was neuer suck
loue :. hee loued man in himselifc, m^en there was none
to perawade him to loue him Bui himselfe ; he loued man
as himseUie, that be wold haue him 6tte with- hfanseilfe ;
yea he kmed man more if more could be then- hfanaelf ,
that for man to death wocJd ^u^ himselfe: h^ made man
louingly, hee blest man loumgly, hee came to man lou-
ingly, and dyed for man most lonhigly : in the beginning
hee shewed his loue without beginning, and in the end
will shew his loue without ending, he made him better
then his creatures, for hee made him Lord ouer them : hee
made them better then his AngeHs, for hee made them
to • seme him a Uttle lower then htansdfe» Psalme 8.
yerse 5. that himsdf might cAiefly loiie him : see ftirther
his I0U6 vnto man as it is wtiten, Isay 49. 15 : Can a
mother forget her chUdren, yet wil I neuer forget thee.
See heere loue more tender tiien of a mother, and more
carefiin then of any othief Father : O kme of loues, what
loue is like to this loue? a Kingly toue^ whk^ defendeth
his subjects ; a lordly' kme, which rewardetfa his seruants ;
a friendly loue, that is kind to bis friends ; a brotheriy
loue yt is kinde to his brothers ; a motheriy loue, that is
tender to her children t a &therly loue, that is carefull of
hii Sonnes ; and a Godly loue, that Is gratious to his
ereatures ; a fiuthftill loue that neuer faifiteth ; a bounti-
full loue that euer giu^ ; a merdfiill kme that neuer
grudgeth, a pitifuU loue that euer relieueth ; a mindefuli
loue, that neuer forgetteth : a graoefuU loue that euer
loueth.
Now who can enter into the true and due ooosideratfon
of loue. worthy louing, & in the thought of this lone,
wiU not euer confesse iJkere nras metier stick loue f which
rcgardeth nothing but loue : oh howdid God loue Abra-
ham for shewing hisioue In Isaack? where God regard-
ing more his will then his worke, would not suffer the
sacrifice of his Son, but so loued him, as besides many
6ther great fauours'that he did him, could say witiiin
himsdfie (Hrlien he had determined a destruction of his
enemies) shal T bide from my seruant Abraham what T
will doe ? as^thogfa he wold keep nothing from his bdoned
that he knew fit for hii knowledge : Agahie, bow toned
he Eliah that he wold neuer let him see death, how toned
he his servant Daidd ttiat he made hfm to his owne heart ?
how loued he the blessed Virgine to make her the mother
of his blessed Sonne? how toued hee lohn the Euangel-
iste, to let him leane in his bosome? how loued hee
Paule to bringe him firom idtilatry ? ft how loued he Peter
to forgive hhn when he had denyed him ? how loued hee
Lazarus when be wept ouer Inm? how loued he Mary
Magdalen when be dispossest her of fowle spirits, and
at his Resurrection let' her beholde him? and how loued
he the llieiie when hec^ carried him into heauen with him ?
To recite aU the pointes of his particular loue to a
woride of vnworOiy persbns, were more then a worlde
could set downed but for so mudi as 1 haue said, and
more then may -bee saide of his tone, I am perswaded,
that if wee consider the pow«r, the grace, the wisdome,
the bountie, the pittie, the maiestie, the merde, the
patience, the passion, the sorrow, the labour, the life,
and the torments of his tooe, for oortoiie ; he hath no
feeling of loue, or is worthie of no loue, that will not in
the ioye ofliis sdules loue, ghie all glory to this loue^
and say with the PKiphM Dauid. Psahn 31. vene 93 :
Loue kirn all ye kis Saints, praise kim andmagnijte kim
for euer. For as there was neuer such a sorrowe as he
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hath endured for ts, 90 is there ao such kwe as he hath
to vs. and m his merde dooth euer shew vs. When he
came first into the wcrid. he came as an in&nt, to shewe
vs the miM<>n#^ of his lone in further yeares : be came
as a doctor in the wisdom of his loue, to teach vs the
way vnto etemall fife, in the vertue of his kme : became
as a Phisition to cure vs of aU diseases : in the power of
his looe. he came like himselfe as aGod to driue out the
Deuils from vs : and in the meekenes of his loue, came
as a Lambe to be sacrifised for vs : ft in the care of his
loue, at the right hand of his father, is now a Mediator
for vs. & in theglorie of his loue, into the (iossession
of our inheritance, that hee hath purchased for vs ; will
recdue vs : oh milde I oh wise I oh vertuous I oh power-
full I oh meeke I oh careftill I oh gkuious louel who can
thinke of this loue, and in the true glorie of true loue,
cannot most trudy say, there was neuer such loue I no,
as Non «st dohr sunt tins, so Non est Amor sicut eius.
And thus much touching the consideration of the loue
of God.
Thefift consideration of the mercy
of God.
IN this admirable vertue of the loue of God, I finde
the greate and gratious worke of his merde towards
man, which Considtritig the wickednesse of our nature,
and the wofulnesse of our estate, is necessary to be con-
sidered : for so farre had the temtation oi the IMuiU
poysoned the heart of man, as through the sinne of pride,
sought not ondy to driue him out of Paradice, but (in
as much as he might) to throwe him downe into bdl,
when the Angdl of his wrath was sent to giue him
punishment, yet wrought bis merde so with his lustice,
as saued him from perdition : yea, though hee cursed the
earth for the sins of his creature, yet he blessed his
labour with the friiite of his patience, and reserued for
his beleefe a ioy in his merde ; Looke throi^[h the whole
course of the Scripture, how his merde euer wrought
with his lustice, yea & as it were had oftetimes the vpper
hand of it : as in the time oiNoak, when sinne had made
as it were the whole world hateful in his aight. that he
saide within himsdfe be repented that he had made man.
yet in his merde bee made an Arke to saue N^ah and
his Children, yea. and of all lluii^ creatures, leserued
some for generation : in Sodonu and Gomora he saued
Lot Sc his Daughters : ft yet. Adamdeserued nothfaig but
destruction for his disobedience. NoaJ^ descrued no
grace for his drunkeniies, nor Loi any fiuiour for bis
Incest ; ft yet mercy sq wrought with iustipe.that God
not ondy forgaue their sinii. but blessed their repentance :
such hath euer bene, is. and euer wiU be the mercye Ci
God vnto man, as so, Heut dot|i iqittigate the furie of hit
iustioe, as reserueth comfort for the penitent. Oh how
Sweete are the reports and pcoofes of the merde of God
vnto man in all the world! For is it not written by the
Prophet Dauidt Paa. 145. vtn. 9. His wurcy is tnter
at Ms maris f And again., speaking of his mercy, Ps.
tos. 19. As a fatktr piUisth Mis owns ChUdrtn, so is
tk§ Lord mtrdjul tnUo ail that Jkars kim, and in Psa,
X03, vtrs. za. As far as ihs Bast is pom the west, so
for hath he set our sins from vs : and in the 136 Psalme.
through euena verse, speaking to all his workes, both in
heauen ft eazth, he vseth these words. Biesxe him and
praise him, for his wtercie tndurethfor euer. In merde
bee turned his wrath from y« Isradits when Moyses
stood in the gap : in mercy he saued Moyses floating in
the reedes : in mercy he preserued the children in the
iiimaoe of fire : in. mereye hee preserued the Israelites
fixxn the hoste of Pharaoh: in mercy hee preserued
Vamid, and deliuered him fix>m all' his troubles : in
meroy he deliuered loseph from the pit and the prison :
in mercy he sent his Prophets to wame the world of their
wickednesse, and to pronounce comfort to the penitent :
in mercy be sent lohm Baptist, to deliuer the tydings of
salvation : and in merde he sem his onely Sonne /esus
Christ to be a Sauiour of all his people : Oh infinite
merde, worthy of infinite glorie I Consider againe how
powerfull is his merde in all his workes. to feede fine
thousand people with a few Loaues and Fishes, and with
the fragments to fill more baskets then the Loaues when
they were whole : to heale the disseased that touched but
the hem of his garment : to giue sight to the blinde,
knowledge to the simple, health to the sicke, soundnesse
to the lame, comfort to the penitent: to driue the DraeDs
fix>m the possessed : to giue lifie to the deade. and ioy to
tbefrdthfulL
These words of glorious mercy, doth the moste gratious
and gtorious word of truth plainely and truly lay before
vs, to make vs with the holy Prophets histly say : Oh
the infinite light and bottomles depth of the merdes of
our God 1 Glorie he to the Lord, ffr his mercie indureth
for emer, Againe. how absolute he is in his merde,
where he saith, / will home mereie, whore I will haue
mercie, and therefore be fi^ both in his power and will,
hath merqre for all that will humblye and faithfiillye call
vppon hhn :. and againe, all are vnder sinne, that all may
oome to mode : Oh how all-glorious is that merde whidi
is extended ouer alll
Let vs therefore looke a little into the blindnesse of
man, in the immagination of his owne menit. of the
mercy of the lining God, which is onefye a fruite or effect
of grace, or free guift of his ondy glorious loue. How
did Adam merit merde. when hee fled from his presence?
What meritedAf^^esMwhenbeeaogred the Lord? What
merritcd Noah when hee was drunken ? What merrited
Lot when hee commuted Incest ; What merited the
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JsraeHies with their goulden Calfe? What merited
Dauid when he oomitted murder and adulterie?
Againe, what merited Mary MagddUn that had seauen
Deuils within her? what merited Paul that persecuted
Christ in his people ? What merited PtUr that denyed
his Maister? & what merited the worid to work y« death
of the Son of God? all ft euerie one (in the Judgement
of lustioe) nothing but damnation. Look then into the
inexplicable gloiye of y« merde of God, which not only
forgaue all these, but saued all, and blessed all. and so
will euer, al those whom and whersoeuer, that ashamed
are of their sinnes, and confessing their merrit of nothing
but wrath and destruction, in the humble fiuth of repent-
ance, fljre onely to the merde of God in the merrit of
Christ lesus for theyr saluation. Oh the powcrfull mercy
in the loue of God, that will not suffer his lustioe to
execute his wrath vpon sinne I and though such be the
pure and glorious bri^tnes of his grace, as cannot endure
the foule and filthie obiect of sinne, yet doth his mercy
so rule the power of his wrath, as will not let him destroye
the sinner with his sinne : many are the afflictions that
hee layeth vppon his beloooed : many are the corrections
that hee vseth to his Children : manye are the soirowes
that bee inflicteth vppon his Elect, but all is for smne
(in the loue of a Father, in the care of a Maister, ft mercy
of a God) as onely meanes to purge them of those euiUs
that are hinderances to their good ; and being healed of
thdr corruption, to bring them to theh* first, and a far
better periection. For in the correction of mercy, is the
sinner saued from destruction ; ft by the regeneration of
grace, brought to etemall saluation : Oh the vertuous,
gratious, and glorious nature of mercye, viiich hath such
power vrith God in the preseruation of his people 1 It
keepeth the fire that it Call not from heauen to consume
vs : it keepeth the water that it riseth not to drown vs :
it keepeth the ayre that It doth not infect vs : ft keepeth
y* earth that it doth not swallow vs : it keepeth vs in
peace that disoention do not spoile vs : it keepeth vs in
plenty that want doe not pinch vs : it keepeth vs in loue
that mallice cannot hurt vs : and keepeth vs to God that
the Deuill cannot confound vs.
In summe, it is a gift of grace, a worke of glorie, a
bountie in God, ft a blessing to man, to speake of these
dales wherin we line and of the late times which we can-
not forget. Let vs a little consider the merdes of God
towards vs, how often were we preserued from forraine
enemies by Sea, and duill or vnduil enemies at home ;
when not the pollicy of man, but the only mercy of God
did break the forces of the one, and reueale the deuises
of the other? And while our Neighbor Countries by
continuall wanes haue shed a world of blood, we haue
beene preserued in increase of people : and while they
haue bin mourning in the punnishment of sinne, wee
haue bcene sioghig in the ifly of grace : oh how are wee
bound to giue glorye vnto God for the aboundance ol
his merde, and say Mrith the Prophet Dauid, PsaL 136.
verst 96, Grtat is the God of Heauen, far hi* merde
endureik for euer. But as I said of loue, the life of
mercy; so of mercy the glory of loue : since it is so
infinite in goodnesses as exceedeth in worthinesse the
hdght of all praise that the heart of man can think, or
the tongue of man can expresse, I will ondy say with
the Prophet Psalme xo6. verse i. to aU powers whatso>
euer. Blesse ye the Lord atuLpraiu him, for Mis merde
endureik for euer.
And thus much touching the consideration of the
mercy of God.
The sixt amsidemtum of the grace
of God.
IN the mercy of God, finding so great a measure of
his grace as in the bountie of his goodnes deserueth
no little glory, I cannot but with admiration speake of
that grace, that through his loue made him haue such a
fauour vnto man, as to elect him to his loue, to frame
him to his image, to inspire him with his spirit, to in-
struct him in his word, to defend him with his power,
to preserue him in his merde, to dye iw him in his
loue, and to rccdue him to glorie : all these and what
euer other good wee reodue, either through the loue or
mercye of God, are free guifts of his grace, and not for
any merrit in man. How can this beame of glorious
brightnes bee behdd with the des of humilitie, but that
the soule wold be rauished with the contemplation
thereof? and say with the Psalmist, Psalme X03. verse
8, Graiious is the Lord, and merdfuU, hug suffering,
and of great goodnesse. Furthennore of so great effisct
in the working of comfort in the hearts of the fiEdthfull,
is this vertue of grace in God, that wee finde the writ-
ings of the Apostles in their Epistles, commoiilye to be-
gin with this word Grace: Grace, merde and feace from
our Lord and Sauiour lesus Christ: As if from grace
came merde, and from merde peace. Oh consider the
works of grace, our election out of a spedall ftuiour :
our creation out of a gratious wisdome : our vocation
out of a gradous kindenes : our sanctification out of a
gratious holines: our iustification out of a gratious
merit : our redemption out of a gratious loue, and our
glorification out of a gratious mercy. So that stil we
see that grace worketh m all thinges to the oodye glorie
of God. in wfaome it woiketh to the good of man. Oh
how sweet a salutation was deliuered to the blessed
Vhgui Maty by the Angell GaMeU, Haile Mary fuU
of grace, God is with thee. So that if God be widi any
soule, it is ftdl of grace, ft where the fulnes of grace is,
there is surdy God : but as it is written of Christ lesus,
Psalme. 45. vers. 7. That bee was annointed with the
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Oyle of Grua abooe his feUowes, So may wee well nj
of the Gnoe of God, it is so esoeUent in woiUng to the
Olocie of God, thai as it is infinite in goodnes, so most it
haiie the same measure in glorie, I say, to be glorified
aboue all things. Note a little the varieties of the
guiftes of this grace of God vnto his semaats : Mcyta
hee made a leader of his people, and gaue him the tables
ofthelaw: to /(imAaM he gaue the blessing that shoold
follow in his seede : in Isaack shall the seede be called :
at the pcayer of BUaht hee sent nune after a long
drought : to Damid hee gaue a kingdome, and a trear
sure more worth then many kingdomes, the enllghtning
knowledge <tf his holy lone, the spirit of propbesie, the
confession of sfame^ the repentance of cfiienoe, the pas-
sion of tme patience, the constande of &ith, and the
humility of lone. To StUamam he gaue espedall wis-
dome to sit in the Thioane of indgement with the great-
est makstie and wealth of any earthlye creature in the
world. To the blessed ^^rgin Marie hee gaue thefal-
nesse of grace, in the conception of his only Sonne ; but
to him he gaue that grace that filled heanen and earth
with his glorie.
Let vs then consider not only the vertue, goodnease,
and i^ory of grace, but with all, the height and gtorie
therof ; wfaidi being only in lesus Oirist our ondy Lord
and Saniour, let vs in him onely beholde the summe
and substance, the beanUeft brightnesse, the goodnesse
and glorie thereof, & forsaking our sefaies In the shame
of our sinnes, only file to Us merde for the comfbrte of
those blessings, that reoehiing ondye finom him, may
make vs giue all honour and ^orie to him.
And so mudi for conddeiation vpon the grace of God.
The seauenih amsideration qftJu
gbrUof God,
HAuing thus considered of the greatnes, the good-
nes, the wisdom, the loue, the mercy ft grace
of God towards man, I cannot but finde In this good
God, an admhuWe glory, who containing all these ex-
oeUendes in himsrlfe, and beefaig Indeede the verie
essence of the same, doth in the vertue of his bountie,
appeare so gratious vnto this people : But since to
speake or thinke of the glory of God, or the least part
thereof, is so forre aboue the reach of the power of
reason, as in all confession must be onely left to admira-
tion : Let me ondy say with the Apostle, Giory <mly
MamgM vmio tk§ Lord, im kispntnue soglorwut is JUs
brigkin4ts€ as noiking can sa kim and Hut : and there-
fore in a bush of fire hee spake, but not apeared vnto
Moyses : vpon the mount in a doud and a piller went
before Us people in the wHdemesse : was as It were in-
dosed in the Aike ; \a an Angell did appeare vnto his
30
Ptophets, and in his Sonne lesus Christ, so fane as he
would and might be scene to his Apostles and Disdples,
but for his glory, Us dhiine essence cannot be scene of any
but him sdfe, verified by his own word, lohn z dbxp.
verse 18. No mam katk stau tks Faiktr, but kte that
cams from ths Father, turn tki Somtu tf mam thai katk
nuMled kim .■ and againe, verse 98, / cams from tke
Fatktr, and I got to tks Fatksr^fir Uu Fatksr 6* / art
ons, witk kis giary ks JUIitk kotk ksansn 6* eartk, as it
is written, Hsausn and cartk artful oftkt Maitstit of
tkyglory: and againe in the Psalme 19. verse i. Tht
ktautns dtclart tkt ^tory of God, and tkt Jirmamtnt
his Salutes write of bis gloiye, his Angdles sing of Us
glorie, and all powers doe acknowledge his glorie.
It is higher then the Heauens, larger then the Earth,
deeper then the Sea, purer then the fire, deerer then the
skye, brighter then the Sunne : The power of strength,
the life of Loue, the vertue of merde, the beautie of
grace, the honour of Wisdome, and the Essence of
Maiestie : The Angdles tremble before it, the Salutes
fidl at the feete of it, the PropheU beholde it a£Emre off,
and the soules of the dected doe adore it : and bdng
then so forre aboue the power of man, to come neerer
the thought of it : How can the heart of man but in
admiradon speake of it ? it lines In the wisdome of the
wise, in the vertue of the valyant, in the liberalitie of
the Charitable, In the patience dT the Temperate, in
the virginitie of the chaste, in the constancye of the
foithfoU, in the humllityeof the louing, ft in the truth
of the Rdiglous : it dyrecU the will of the Trinitie in
the vnitie of the Ddtie: it commaundes the seruice of
the Angdis, it blesseth the pcayeis of the Saints, it par-
doneth the sinnes of the repentant, it prospereth the
labours of the vertuous, and louedi the soules of the
righteous : in summe. It is the Maiestie of Maiesties, the
power of powers, the vertue of vertues, the grace of
graces, the honour of honors, the Treasure of treasures,
the Blessing of blessings, and the bdng of bdngs : and
In all eflects so neere vnto God hlmsdfe, that as he is in
Us i^ory Incomprdwasible, so is the same for the in-
finite perfoctkm of all wortUnes faiezpllcable ; It drone
otttof Fszadisethedlsobedientetothecoinaundofit; It
made the earth swallowe the murmurers against the will
of it ; It sent fire fix>m heauen, to consume the Captaines
that came against the seruant of it ; it deUded the Sea
to make a waike for the chosen of it -, it made the same
Sea to drowne the hoast of the enemies of it ; it sent
destmctkm vpon the Cities that wrought afahomination
inthesightof It ; drowned the worid for sinning against
it ; and hath cursed the lewes for the death of the be-
kroed of it : In summe, It is in all so fiuie beyond all
that can be said or thought of It, in the Infinitenes of
exceUenoe^ that in humilitie of adoration I win leaue H
C
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to the seruioe of the wise, the lone of the vertuous, the
honour of the blessed, and the admiration of alL
And thus much for oonstderation of the glorie of God.
Ths second part of consideration
concerning man : and first touch-
ing the weahenesse or
smaffnesseof
man.
HAuing now set downe a few notes tonchSng the
neoessarie consideration of the greatnesse, good-
nesse, wisdom, lone, merde, grace and gloiy of God.
Let mee a little speake of the contrarieties in man, in
mine opinion not ynneoessarie to be considered : and
first, of the weaknesse or smallnrsse of man : First of
his fmnii<^*«i» touching the substance of his creation,
it was of the slime of the earth ; then what could bee
lesse, or of lesse force, quantitye or esteeme ? Next for
the substance of generation, what was man befiore the
meeting of his Puents ? not so mudi as a thought, then
which nothing could be lesse, then by the effect of con-
sent. What was his substance? as in his creation a
matter of like moment, the quantitie not greate, and the
force little, contained in a little roome : bred vp in
darkenes with paine and sorrowe, fed by the nauil with-
out vse of sence or member. Then come into the
world. Is in quantitie little, in strength meere weaknes,
naked and feeble like a nowne adiectiue that cannot
stand alone, cryeth for it knoweth not what, either paine
that it cannot expresse, or for want of that it cannot aske
for : Now continuing long time m this weaknes, being
come to further yeares, what doth it finde but itsowne
Imbedllitie, desiihig that it cannot hane, behokling that
it cannot oomprdiend, and enduring that it cannot
hdpe.
Subiect to dnne, by the oonrnption of nature, by
temptation of the flesh, t^ the enchantment of the worlde,
andtheielousnesseoftheDeuiU: subiect to the burning
of the fire, to the drowning of the water, to the infection
of the abe, to the swallowing of the earth : subiect to
steknesse, subiect to care, tosorrow, to want, to wronge.
to oppresskm, to penuiye, to ignorance, to presumption,
to iyranye, to death : so vnable to defend himselfft, that
a flea will byte him, a fly wiU blinde him, a worme will
wound htm, and a gnat will choake him.
And for his senoes, his hearing may greeue him, his
sight may annoye him, his speeche may hurt him, his
feeling may distemper him, his smelling may infect him,
and his tasting may kill him : in summe, poore thing
proud of nothii^, come of little better then nothingi
and shall retuine to (atanoste) as little a nothing : must
hunger, must thirst, must labour, must sleepe^ must
loose the vse of his senoes, and committe himselfe to
trust : must waze olde, must die. cannot chuse, hath no
power to withstand any of these : and though bee haas
the commannd of creatures, is but himselfe a creature^
and can no longer line then to the will of the Oeator :
sees the Sunne, cannot behold the brightnesse : beares
the windes, knowes not whence they blowe : feeles the
ayre, knowes not how to laye holde of it : sees the fire,
dares not touch it : sees a worid of earth, but possessetfa
little of it, peihappes none of it : kwkes at Heanen, but
cannot come at it : and in summe, as a substance of
nothing, or if anye thing, like a C3ocke. that no kmgor
mooueth then by the wiU of the Ck)dDemaker : so no
longer man then in the wfl of his maker : what shall this
little, weake, small creature think, when he shal in the
glasse of true sence beholde the obiect of himsdfe, and
then think vpon the greatnes of his God, in whome not
onely himselfe but all creatures in heanen ft earth haue
their being, and without him haue no being? in how
little a compasse himselfe, with all his is contained, while
such is the greatnesse of his God, as fiUeth heanen and
earth with his glory ; who comprehendeth all things not
comprehended in any, nor all ; but aboueall in himself,
in the infinitenes of himsdfe. Oh poore man wliat canst
thou doe, but with 16b lay thy finger on thy month, and
say: IkoMgspokm cmci and iwiu, but I vrill sptake no
more: I tkonght I was sownHUng, dnt Isu lam noUdngt
at Uast so little a thing, as in it selfe is nothing: My
righteousnesse is as a Jllthy cloth, my strength is Weah-
enes, w^ dayes as a shaddowe, my life but a sfattne, and
my substance so smal, as but in thee my God is as nothing
or worse then nothing at al: thus I say wilt thou say
when beholding the least of God's creatures, thou shalt
consider thyne owne smalnftwie ; and looking on the one
and the other with die Prophet Dauid, say in admiratipn
of his glorious goodnes. PsahneS. ▼erse4. O Gocf fldAo/
is man that thou doest vouchsa/e to loohe vpon Jdmf
And thus much toudiing the smalnftsse or weaknes of
The second Consideration^ touching
the viienes or wiAednes
if man.
f Ow I hane a little spoken of this smalnesse or small
strength of man, a thing doubtles most necessary
for euery man to thmke vppon, least finding Us greatnes
in oommaund ouer the creatures of the earth, he forget
the Creator both of heauen and earth, ft al things in the
same : so let me tell him, that finding hissmalnes to bee
80 great, and his greatnes to be so smal, as maketh him
N^
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nothing more then in the wil of the Almightie, hee must
withal looke into the vOenes of his nature, in y wilfiill
olEending of liis moste good and glorious God : for in his
first offence, how much did he shew the vile wickednes
or wicked vilenesse of his condition, hi foigeting the
goodnes of his God in fi«ning hfan of so vile a matter
as y< shme of the earth, a lining cretore to his own
glorious unage? then, to plant him hi Puradioe, a place
of so much pleasure, to gine him so large a possession,
as of al his ground, his fruit, yea & commaund of al his
creatures vpon the earth : thus not like a Lord, bat like
himself Lord of Lotds, to glue him a world of earth, &
there ondy to eroept one Tree, with as sharpe warning
of death in the touching of the same, when neither his
loue hi his creation, his bonntie in his possession, nor
his care in his commaund regarded, but either carelesfy
forgotten, or wilfully disobeyed : Oh what greater vilenes
could be shewed then in soch vnthankfiilnes? and what
grauer wickednesses then to shake handes with the
Deuill, to offend the God of so much goodnesse? but
more to make him blush at Yii^i owne shame, hi behold*
ing the foulenesse of \!ia abhominable filthynesse, let man
in the glasse of truth see the leprosie of his soule, by the
infection of sinne.
Piyde hath defiled humilitie, oouetousnesse charitie,
lecherie chastitie, wrath patience, doath labour, enuie
loue, and murther pity : so that whereas man was before
fas these Tertnes a oreature of Gods loue, and m whose
presence hee tooke pleasure, now throus^ these vices is
hee become a most vglye and hateful! creature in the
sifl^t of the Creator : what Peacock more proude of his
taile Uicn man is of his tnimpei^? what Tyger is more
craell to any beaste, then one man to another? what
Goate move lecherous then the licentious Liberthis? what
Dogge more oouetons in hiding of meate, then the dogged
miser in hoarding vp of money? what Snake more
venemous then the tonge of the enuious? and what
Dormouse so sleepie as the slouthfiill Epicure?
Consider then if there bee a Tile nature hi any of these,
how mndi more vile is man, that hath the condition ctf
all these?
Oh sbouldea man haue his Image or proportion diawne
aooorduig to his condition, how monstrous would he
finde hunsdfe? with a Tygers head, a Goates bearde, a
Snakes tong, a hogs belly, a Dormouse eie, andaBeares
hand : But let the Image goe. and looke hito the ▼ilenes
of man, and see if it bee not sndi as passeth the power
of discriptkm : when God is forgotten, the Deuill shalbe
remetoibered ; when grace is forsaken, smne shalbe enter-
tafaied ; and when Christ shalbe crucified, ludas shalbe
monyed.
A Dpgge will &wne on his maister, Oh how much
worse dien a Dogg was man that was the death of his
maister? an Elephantb a monstrous beast, and yet is
pitifiin to man, ft wil lead him out of the wHdemes : but
man more monstrous then any beast, will leade man into
wickednes : the Goate hath his tfane, wherin to shew the
heate of his nature, but man spareth no thne to follow
the filthhiene of his hist : the Dogge will bee satisfied
with a little that hee hath hidden, but the vsurer is neuer
satisfied till hee bee choaked with his Golde : the Lyon
will not prsie vpon the blond of a Lambe, when the
murtherer will not spare the blond of the infimte : the
Ante will worke for prooision for his foode^ while the
Epicure wiU burst hi the bed of his ease.
See then (oh man) the vile substance of thy condition,
whereby, of the best creature in thy creation thou art
become the worst fan thy corruption : ft therfore looking
on the goodnes of thy God, and the vilenesse of thy
selfe, thou maiest well sale with Peter : Luke chapb 5.
verse 8. Lord comt mci nan ma, for I am a fohtUd
crtahtrit and with the Prophet Dauid, Psa. 44. ver. z6.
Skamg kaih couind w^ fitu, yea and beholding the
leprosie of thy soule by the spottes of thy shme, stand
without the gates of gmce, that the Angells may not
abhorre thee, nor the Safaits be hifected by thee, tiU thy
heanenly Phisitian with the Bloude of the Lambe haue
cured thee of thy oomiption : Look I say (oh vile man)
vpon the wickednesse of thy will, to offend thy good God,
to bee a seruant to shme, the mine of thy selfe, and the
plague of thy posteritie.
In thy riciies see the rust of coueteonsnesse ; in thy
pryde see the &11 of Lucifer ; in thy lechery see the fire
of lust ; in thy wrath see the bloud of muither ; in thy
sloath see the filth of drosse : and thus beholdmg thy
besmeered soule, see if thou canst see so vile a creature?
vile hi vnthankfiilnes, vile m haughtines, vile in coueteous-
nes, vile in skMthiulnes, vile in furiousnes. vile hi filthi-
nes, and so vile, in all vilenes.
Thus I say looke hito thy selfe, and see what thou arte,
and if such thou be not. thhik of the greatnes of thef
goodnes hi thy God, that by the venue of his power hi
the mercie of his kme. hath healed thee of thy shine, ft
made thee fit for his seruice, which tiU thou findest in
thy sdfe, thhike there is not so vile a creature as tiiy
selfe.
And thus much touching the vilenes or wickednes of
T/u third CofisideraHon touching
the folly or Ignoranu of
man.
THe smalnesse or vilenes of man thus considered, we
are now to looke a little vpon the folly or ignorance
of man, not a little needfiill with the precedents ft what
shall foUow to be considered : First, to the first pofait of
folly ; could there bee a greater folly thought vpon. then
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
to kMe the benefit of Pttradiae, for the bit of an Apple,
for touching one tree to loose all. to loose the ptesure
of ease, to labor for food, to forget God. to listen to
woman, to distrust God and to beleioe the DeuOl ; to
loose the beantie of perfection for the fouhiesse of
ooRuption ; and as mndi as in him lay. to leaue heaoen
for hen : are not these (without comparison) so high
pointes of ignorance, as make a fill pohit fai folly? But
leaning the first foUy of the first offender. Oh what a
swBime of foUyes hath this ignonmoe begotten in the
worlde? which like Snakesin a BefrUue. stuig the takers
of mistaken hony 1 what a foUy is it in man to worship a
golden calfe, which at the home of his death, can giue
his body no bceath, but in the tfane of his life, may hasten
his soule Into heU? For eiample reade. the history, of
Diues, and see the firuite of such a folly.
Againe, what a follye is it for man to make an IdoU of
his fancie. when Sampson with his Daiila may shew the
firuite of wantonnesse? Againe. what a foUy it is to exe-
cute the vengeance of wrath. Let the mnrther of Cairn
speake in the bloud of his brother AMI: what a folly is
enuie. let the swaUowiogof Conm, Daikam, and Abiram
speake in their murmering against Moais: what a fc^y
is pride, looke in the fiiU of Lxidfer : But as there are
many great foUyes in the world, so there are many and
great fooles ; but aboue all, one most great foole which
wee may iustly call foole by the word of God. Psabne 53.
verse i : The foole hath said in his heart, there is no
God. This foole doe I holde the foole of al fooles. who
hath ben so long with the Deull that he hath forgotten
God. for he is more foole then the Deuil. who will ac-
knowledge God. tremble at his Maiestie, and be obedient
to his commaund ; & therefore I may well say. that he
is not only a deuilish foole, but worse then a Deuill foole,
and so the foole of al fooles : Now to speake of follyes
in particular, or of a number of Idle fooles. such as
when they are gay. thinke they are rich, or when they
can prate they are wise, or when they are pronde they
are noble, or when they are prodigall they are Itberall,
or when they are miserable they are thriftie, or when
they can swagger they are valiant, and when they are
rich they are honest
These and a work! of such Idle fiioles. least I should
be thought too much a foole. for standing too much
vpon the foole. I leaue fiirther to talke of, ft hophig that
the wise will confesse. that all thewisdomeof the worlde
is foolishnesse before God. and therefore man finding in
himself so little touch of true wisdome. as may make him
then confesse all the wit hee hath to be but meere fooUsh-
nesse without the gntoe of God. in the direction thereof.
I will leaue what I hane written vnfaistly. to the correction
of the wise and for the vnvrise, to the amendement of
their indiscretion : and thus much touching the consid-
eration of the folly of man.
N^
Tfu fourth Consideration^
touching mallia or
hate in man*
[Ow honing spoken myne oppinion, toodiing the
foolishnes of man, I iinde that follye or ignorance
of better iudgement. to haue begotten In him a Unde of
malice or hate, as it were opposite or contrary to the
loue of God, or at the least contrary to that loue which
God commaundeth to be in man. where hee saith : lohn
cfaap^ 13. verse 34. Lomt ome anoHUr as Ikaue louklytm :
for in some wicked people, it is too apparant, which I
may rather terme DeuiUs then men, diose AtkeisHeall
villafais, that if they haue not thdr wills, will not onely
murmure against God, but with lobs wife seeme to curse
God. and with the DeuDl blaspheme God : may not
these iustly be called the reprobate, that but looUng to-
wards heauen, dare sthre vp a thought against the gkiry
thereof: and being themsehies but earth, dare mooue
against the Creator of heauen and earth.
Oh how hath the Deuill had power with man, so to
poyson his soule with the venome of temptation, as by
the power of the oormption. to bring him to etemall
confusion? but as the Deuill through his malice at the
greatnes of God, was cast downe firom Heauen, so hath
hee euer shioe and during his time will, by the same
poison, in as mudi as he can. keepe man fixim Heauen :
but leaning to speake of the vngratious, vngmtefiill and
malicious nature in some man towards God, most grieu-
ons to be sp<Aen of : let me come to y malice or hate
of man to man, when there vrere but two brethren in the
worfcl, Cttim and Ai*l, one so maliced another, that he
sought his death, ft not for the hurt he did him, but for
that God was pleased in his brother, and not in him :
Oh pestiferous poison, to wound the soule vnto etemall
death f Gen. chap. 4. ver. 8. what need I to aOeage ex-
amples, either fai the booke of God, or wordes of bookes
in the woilde, touching that vile and hellish nature or
humor of malice in the corrupted nature of man, when
it is dayly seene euen almost in al Kingdomes, Countries,
Cyties, and Townes, to be an occasion of duill disoorde,
yea and sometime of greate and long warres. to the vtter
spoile of many a cohimon wealth : doe not wee see euen
sometime before our eyes, how many are hated euen for
the good that is in them? and for the good that they
intend to them that hate them ? ^en a wise man re-
proueth a foole of his fdOj, will not the foole hate him
for being wiser then himselfe, or for telUqg him of hia
folly? yea, will he not carry it in minde many a day, and
worke him a mischeefe if hee can for his good, and as the
lewes did with Christ, put him to death for teaching
them the wale of life, hate him for his knie, and kill him
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
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Hot his ooonfbrte? Oh maUdoos nature in the hearte of
man I if the lawe gioe land to the right hejve, will not
the wrong ponessor hate both the heyxe for his right,
and the lawe for giuing it him, though himselfe would
be glad if the case were his own to haue it so? if two
friendes bea suiters for one fortune, if the one carry it, is
it not often seene, that the other will hate him for it?
yea, of a fticnd become a foe, for enioyning that he
should euer haue had iftheother had missed it? is it not
often seene that vpon a humor of ielonsie a man wU
hate his wife, and the wife her husband,'the sonne the
fether, and the mother the daughter, brother and sister,
neighbor and neighbor, and al one another sometimes
for a tryfle, & that with such a .fire of maUce^ as is
almost Tuquenchable. OhhowtoofollantheChron&cles
of the worlde; of the horrible and misenUe Tkagedies,
that hane proceeded out of that hellish spirite of malice,
that hath spit her poyson throgh the hearts of a great
part of the wlKde worlde, to the destruction of a worlde
of the inhabitanu therin ?
Let me a litle speake of this widmd spirite, and how
it wrought the fen of Ludfer from Heauen (through his
malice) at the Maiestie of the Ahnightie : againe, being
felne fiom Heauen, how it wrought in him the fell of
Adam, enuyhig his blessed happines in Parsdise, and
therefore by temptation, sought in as much as bee could,
his destruction : In Cain it wrought an vnnatuzall hatred
to the death oiAbell: in Bsawe it wrought an ▼nbrotherly
hatred to the great feare of laeob: in Pharaoh it wrought
an vnkindly hatred to the poore IsraUtes^ because
they throue by their labors vnder him ft increased in his
kingdome : it wrought a hate m the children of lacoh
to their brother loseph, because their fether loued him,
in breife, yon shall finde hi the whole Scripture the hate
of the wicked vttto the godly, because God blesseth them :
and as in the diuine writ, euen in these our dales, do we
not see the good hated of the euiU? which being the
spirite of so much wickednesse, as worketh of so mudi
mischeefe, what doth it differ fiom the Deuill? Thily I
thinke I may well say, that as it is written, God is charity,
and hot that dmelUth in charity dweUcth in God, and
God in him: so contrarily the DeuOl is malice and hee
that dwelleth in maUce dwcUeth in the DeuQl, ft the
DeuiU in him : But where God entereth with jiis grace,
the Deuill hath no powre with his malice, and though hee
drone Adam out of ParadMse, yet hee could not keepe
him out of Heauen : and therefore of greater power is
the mercy of God, then tlie maUce of the Deuill : but
seeing such is the vile nature of malice, as doth figure
nothing more truly than the DeuiU, let no man thai can
truly iudge of it, but hate it as the DeuOl, which maketh
a man, in whom it is hatefoU vnto God, wicked vnto
man, throwen downe out of Heauen, and cast intoheU,
from which God of his merde b&esse all his seniants for
enermore : and thus mudi touching the oonsidention of
the hate or malice in man.
J%c fifth QmsideraHon^ of ike
crueUUin num.
NOw as it iseuidentby toomanyproofes, that one euiil
begetteth another, so in this it appeareth that fimn
the hate or maHce of man, procedeth the crueltie or tyr-
annye executed vpon man : lior what beast in the workl
was euer found so tyrannous vnto another as one man hath
ben to another? yea such a power hath tyrsnnye in the
hearts of some men, as hath bene the spoile and death of
many a thousand : what tyrannye did the lewes shewe in
the crudfing of our blessed Sauiour lesns C3irist, which did
proceed, not out of any desert in hhn(whodeserued allloue
and honour of all peoj^le) but out of a malidous humour in-
fused into their soules by the power of the widied finde ?
examples of this vile and pestilent humour, not ondy the
books of God, as well in the olde as the new Testament,
as hi many lamentable histories extant to the whole
worlde, is too iiil of the persecution of the Prophets and
the chosen people of God, by the wicked^and vnbeleeuing
Princes, and people of the worlde ; some thdr eyes put
out, other thdr tongues cut out, some broyled vpon hott
Iron, other boyled in skalding lead: some tome in peeces
with horses, some flead quicke, some starued to death,
other tortured with vnspeakable torments : in some for
the displeasure ooncehied of someone, how many thous>
ands haue suffered dther death, or vndoing, or both :
when whole bowses, whole Cities, yea and almost whole
kingdomes, by the Uoody execution of tyrany, hane
been brought almost to vtter confusion : a Lyon when
hee hath Ucfced his lippes after warme btoud, retumes to
his den and takes his rest : the Dog if he fight with his
match, if hee runne away fimn him, and cry, he sddome
pursues him, and if he UU him, he leanes hhn, and as it
were mourning, goeth firom him, that hee hath bene the
death of Urn : and so of many other beasts, Wolues,
Tygres, and such like, death or flight satisfies thdr
cradtie : But man morefeiroe than the Lyon, more bloudie
then the Wolfe, more tyianous then the Tygre, and
more dogged then the Dogge, will neuer be satisfied, till
be see the death and seeke the ruhie of the fether, diilde,
wife, and seruant, kinred and generation, and neuer
taketh rest through feare of reuenge, so that he is not
ondy tyianous vnto other, but through the vexation of
bis spirit, is beoomeeuen a torment vnto him-edfe, wfayle
feare and wrath keepe him in continuall perplexities: Oh
how vnaturall, how monstrous in this horrible dispodtion
hane many bene in the world, some murtheiing thdr
own chUdren, yea hi the timeof thdr infency, sometlidr
parents, some thdr bretheren, some thdr Princes, some
thdr Ptopheu, some thdr maisters, some thdr aemants?
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DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
what cnieltie, yea more then in any beast, will many such
a one shew to another in pride, malice, or reuenge? the
examples wherof the world is euery day too fall of:
what Batcher can more cruelly tearem peeces the limmes
of a beast, then one man in his malice will the very heart
of another? whatscoorges, what terrors, what tortures and
what vnhumaine Idnde of mortall punishments hath man
deuised for man no lesse intolerable then inexplicable ?
in some the cryes, the blood, the sonowes, the miseries
of the mnithered, the imprisoned, the afflicted, and the
distressed, through the oppression of pryde, and the
tyiannye of wrath, may very well eaen from Abell to
Christ, and from him to the worlds end, sufficiently
conclude the condemnation of man, for the greatest
tyrant in the worlde.
And thus much touching the consideration of the
cruelty or tyranny in man.
The sixt Cansideratum^ cftfu
basenes of man.
HAuing now spoken of the smalnesse, the vilenease,
the foolishnesse, the hate, and the crueltie hi maa,
let me a litle shew him the basenesse of his condition, in
going from that nature of grace wherin he wascreated,vnto
that horror of sinne by which hee is confounded. God
in his gracious nature made him like vnto himselie in hoU-
nesse, porenesse, and rigfateousnesse, and through these
graces, amiable in his sight, sociable for his AngeDs, and
coheire with hisblessedSonne hi the paradise of thesoole :
what greater title of honour then to weare a Crowne?
what Crowne so rich as of grace? what grace so high as
in Heauen ? and what glory so great as to bee gradous
hi the sight of God? all which was man (through grace)
assured of, and through the lacke, carlesse, vdieiof,
hath not only lost all, but through smne is become vgly
in the sight of God, banished the courte of Heauen, and
through the drossy loue of the worlde become a slaue to
the DeuiU in hell. What basenesse can be more then
man by sinne hath thus drawne vpon himselfe? who
while hee should looke towards Heauen, Is digging in the
earth, while hee shoulde thinke vpon Heauen is pasted in
the world, and while he should be soaring towards
Heanen, is sinking into hell : Oh base wretch, that see-
ing the shamefoll nature of sinne, will yet so besmeire Us
soule with the filth thereof, that of the best and noblest
creature, hee beoometh the worst and most base of all
other. WiU the Spaniels leaue their raaister to carry the
tinkers budget? wUl the horse leane the warlike rider to
drawe in a carte? and will manleaaethe king of Heauen
to serue a slaue in hell?
Oh basenes of all basenes t in Heauen is man a com-
panion for the Samtes, the vfagins, the martyrs and the
Angells : In hell for the fiends, ougly spirits, and horrible
Deuills.
And is not hee of a base spirit, that wiU leane the
heauenly for the hellish company? fie vponthebasenesK
of man, that by shme will bee brought vnto so base a
nature : there is no place so base as hdl, wlddi is called
the bottomlesse pit, the receptacle of all filthinesie, the
caue of the accursed, the denne of the desperate, the
habitation of the reprobate, the horror of natuTB, the
terror of reason, the torment of sinne, the misery of timob
the night of darkncsse, and the endtes torture, where
Serpents, Dragons, Nigfatpranens, and Sfaricfa-owle%
make the best muslque in the eares of the damned ;
where all oUecU are so ou^, all substances so filthy, aU
voyoes so frightfuU, aU torments so continuall, all paines
so pitiles, all care so comfortles, and all hurte so hdptesse,
that if a man through sfai were not worse then a beast,
he would not shew more basenesse then in the most
beastly nature of the most beastly creature: wbatshalll
say ? such is the basenesse of sinne in the unbasing of
our spirits, and so base are our spirits in the yedding to
the basenesse of smne, that I must oondnde with the
Prophet Dauid (thinUng of the glory of God, and the
basenesse of man) OAwAtf/ir MM Hda/ /Am O Godwin
vouehsaft to looke ypom him f And so much in breife
touching the consideration of the basenesse of i
The seauenth CcnHderation^ touching
the ignanUnU or drfame
of man.
IT is an olde prouerbe (and too often true) that bee
who hath an euQl name is haUe hanged; and surely'
that man that delighteth hi smne, by the name of a re-
probate, is more then halfe damned before hee come in
h^ : to hee called a vilkdne is a name of great Infiuny,
and doth not sinne make a man a villaine to God? to
be called a Dogge is most hatefull to man, and is not
man called a heU-hound by the hate of his sinne? would
not man bee loath to be tearmed a Serpent, and hath
not sfaine made man become of a Serpent4ike nature ?
Oh 1 the filth of sinne, how hath It fouled, and defiled
the nature of man ? [oh 1] the vtter in&my of his name^
the dectiott of loue, the Image of God, the Lord of the
best of creatures, to become the hated of grace, the
substance of drosse, the worste of creatures, and the
slaue of hdl ? what a shame is this to man (by sfaine) to
fiUl into so foule an infiuny ?
Is it not a name of great disgrace to be called a dis-
obedient Sonne or a faithlesse seruant? a rebellious
subiect, or vnthanklull freinde? an vnUnde brother, and
an vnnaturall diilde? and is not man by sinne become
all this vnto God ? to bee stubbome to so lonfaog a
Father, fiedse to so good a maister, rebellious to so
gratious a King, vnUnde to so Idnde a brother, and
vnthankfull to so bountifiill a Lorde ? it is a shame to
line to beare the iust blotts of such blames : one of
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n
Iheie ludts woe enough, bat ftltogether, are too too
The Dogg will fioDov his maister, the Hone will
caiy his mister, and win maa lunne from his maister?
the Oze kaowes his stall, and the Asse his cribbe, and
shall not nan know his plaoeof rest after his labours?
then more Tile then the Dogg, more ynkinde then the
Hone> more foolish then either Oxe or Asse.
Fie what an infiuo^ is this vnto man? a seruant to
enfwtahie his maister trnkindly, to vae him villanonsly,
and to kill him shamelully, were not this a horrible in^
funy. and did not the lewes so with Christ? to foiget a
Undnesw, to distmste a truth, and to abuse a blessing?
is not he iniamoos that doth so, and what sinner bnt
doth so? so that stUl I see in&my vpon iniamy, one
IbOoweth another by the ▼enome of sinne to the shame
of man : to leane robes of silke for rotten raggs, sweele
wine far paddle water, and a pleasant walke for a filthy
hole : what foole would doe this, and doth not sinnefal
man doe this? leane the rich graces (the oomly Yesturei
of the soule) for the poore faOmg pleasuras of the flesh ?
the sweete water of life for the puddle watter of death ?
the filthy pleasuras of this world, and the comfortable
way to Heanen, for the miserable way to hdl?
Oh wreidied, blinded, senoelesse, ft bewitched foole,
that doost sufhr sinne so much to be-foole thy vnder-
standingl
Looke I say, what a name thoa histly gettest, by
yeeldiog thy seruice vnto sinne : a skuie, a foole, a
beast, a serpent, a monster, and of the bat, the wotm
creature in the wodde.
Loose die beantip wherefai thou wert created, the
honour wherwith thou wert intitled, the riches whereof
thou wert possessed, the Ubertie that thou enioyedst,
the loue wherein thou liuedst, and the life wherin thou
reioyoedst ; to put ou deformitle in nature, basenes hi
dnilitie, beggery in wante of grace, bondage in sktuery,
hate wherin thou diest. and death wherin thou arte euer
accursed ; and all this through sfai : who now could in
the glasse of truth, beholde this Yglye oblecte of sinne,
and would gaine himselfe so foule an hi&my, as to be
called an obieot? through the loue thereof, hath not
Cairn from the bq^faiing, bene histly called a murtherer?
Lakm a cosener, Sam/scm a foole, AekitopM a knaue,
Saiomam an Idolator, Symom Magms a sorcerer. Dints
an Epicure, and Indas a traytor, and the DeuOl a lyar?
and wih thou (Oh man) that readest and bdeeuest all
this, bee hifected, nay delighted in all these sinnes? to
reoeiue the name of a murtherer, a cosener, a foole, a
knaue, an Idohitor, a sorcerer, a traytor, and a lyar?
Oh most hdlish titles to set out the flagge of faifiuDDye I
which to aooyde, seefaig thy vOdenes, and knowing thy
weaknesse, praye to thy God. the God of goodnesse, to
drawe thee from the delight of wickednesse, vnto thai
delight of goodnesse, that may reoouer thy credit fost,
blot out the spou of thy shame hi thy sinne, and through
the dropps of the pretious Blood of his deere beloued
Somie lesus : to wash thee deane from thyne iniquities,
make thee capable of his graces, thankfiill for his bless-
ings, and ioyfiill in receiuing the gratious name of his
fiuthfull seruant : Andso mudi touching the considera-
tion of the infemye or ignominy of man.
FINIS. V
Condusian.
TO conclude, as a Chirurgian, that hath reodued a
wound, hath many medidnes ft salues, which
well applyed might giue him ease, and restore him to
health (though he haue knowledge how to make vse of
them) yet if he put not his knowledge in practise, shall
dther ia«||riit«h or perish thiou|^ want of hdpe, so in
this wound of the soule made by none, whereas euery
man must be vuder God, his owne Chiruigian and
hdper. Though bee heare, reade, bdeeue and fede the
goodnes of God many wayes, in his power, wisdome,
loue, grace, and glorious mercy towards him, yet if hee
do not meditate vpon the same thankfiilly, condder and
trudy confesse his vnworthhiesse of the least part thereof
hee may dther '•"g"'«>» or penish in the coosumiiig
peine of smne, or dispaire of grace or mercy : Lodw
then Tpon the greatnes of God and the smalnesse of
man ; the goodnes of God, and the vilenesse of man ;
the wisdome of God, and the folly of man ; the knie of
God, and the hate of man ; the grace of God, and the
disgrace of man ; the mercy of God, and the tyranny of
man ; and the i^ory of God, and the infiuny of man :
and fixing the eye of the heart vpon the one and the
other, how canst thou but to the gloiy of God, and
shame of thy sdfe, with a blushing fruse, ft trembUng
spfrit, frdlhig prostrate at the feete of his mercy, hi
admiration of the greatnesse, kindnes, and goodnes,
that the Lord in his mercy hath extended vnto thee, bnt
cry with the Prophet Danid, Oh Lord wkai is mam thai
tkoM doest visit kim f
Which comfortable vidtotion, when thou findest in
thy soule, acknowledge in the greatnesse of his good-
nesse, the wisdome of his loue, and glory of his mercy,
that of so small,' so vUe, so foolish, so hateftil, so tyra-
nous, so disgracefiill, so infiunous a creature, by the
infection of sinne. his glorious maiestle out of his mere
mercy, wiU vouchsafe in the pretious Bloud of his deare
and ondy beloued Sonne lesus Christ, to wash thee
deane from thy filthinesse, admit thee mto his presence,
take thee into Yii^i seruice, loue thee as his Sonne, and
make thee co-hdre in that Heanenly inheritance, which
no power shall take from thee : but in ioyes euerlasting
with his SainU and Angels, thou shalt oontmually sbig
the true and doe Hailduiah^ to his holy Maiestle.
Thus I say, apply these spfrituall condderations, to
thy spirituall comforts, that God may the better blesse
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24
DIUINE CONSIDERATIONS.
thee, thy reading well considered may the better profit
thee, and my labour may bee the better .bestowed vpon
thee : whidi with praier for thy good, leaning to thy
best consideration, wishing the acknowledging the good-
aes of God in all things, abooe all things to giue him all
glory, I end with the Prophet Dauid : O dl ye works of
ths Lord, biisn yg tkt Lord, prtrisi kim 6* magmi/U
kHUfOT tM€r»
FINIS.
A Prayer.
I Most gratious, almighty, most merdfull and
^lye, glorious and euer-louing GOD, who
from the highest Throne of thy heauenly
merde, doost vouchsafe to bdiolde the
meanest creature on the earth 1 & aboue all, with a
comfortable eye of a &therly kindenesse, doost beholde
man as the chiefe matter of thy worionanship I and con-
sidering since his first &11 by temptation, his weaknes in
resisting the like assault, doost by the li^t of thy grace,
make him see the difference betwixt good and euill, and
by the inspiration of thy holye spirit, doost leade him
from the tiaine of sinne, the true way to etemall happl-
nesae: gkirious God, that knowest whereof we are
made, that our dales are but as a shadow, and we are
as nothhig without thee, who hath reuealed to the
simple, and hid from the wise the secret wisdome of thy
• wii, ft to me thy most vnworthy seruant hast so often
shewed those fruits of thy loue, that makes mee asham'd
to think of my vnthankfulnesse to thy holy Maiestie, my
forgetfrdnesse of thy grace, and vnworthinesse of thy
mercy : Oh my Lord, when I consider these things,
with all other the manifolde blessings that from time to
time I haue reodned fixmi the ondye boimtie of thy
blessed hand, what can I doe but in admiration of thy
greatnesse and contemplation of thy goodnesse, giue
S^ory to thy holy Maiesty, ft with thy chosen seruant
Dauid in the griefe and shame of my sinne, and only
hope of thy merde, in true contrition of heart, iall pro-
strate at thy feete and flie only to thy merde for my
comfort : beseeching thee so to direct me in the waies
of thy holy wHl, that sedng thygreames in thygoodnes,
ft thy wisdom in thy k)ue, thy grace in thy merde,
and thy glory in thy gnce ; and confessing my weake-
nesse, vflenesse, folly, malice, skxtth, and basenes,
attend the woAs of thy wiU, in working mee to thy
holye will : giue me power to consider, that although I
read neuer so much, bdeeue all I reade, and remember
all I bdeeue, yet without one drop of the deawe of thy
grace it will take no root hi my heart : but good Lord
consider the oomiptfon of nature through the infiection
of sinne, in which I accuse not eaecuse my sdfe vnto
thee : make me to know thy will, let me rather crie
before thee Hosanna, with the little Babes, then with the
Pharisies make boast of my rigfateousnesse, and as it
hath pleased thy holy Maiestie to make mee consider of
thy merdes, so let these oonddemtions (by takfaig root
in my hart) be so comfortable to my soule, that loathing
the worid with all the vanities therof, I may in the teares
of true penitence, shewe the sorrow of my shi, and in
the ioy of thy merde, I may sing to thy glory. Amen.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Pagb 4, BpiHUHbdieuimy U Sir Tkommt LaAe: He was
Sir ThoflBU Lake, Knight of Qimiont, co. lliddleaw, mi of
Thomas Lake of Aston Qintoo, ca Bucks : bora at Soutfaamp-
ton. He was Clerk of the Signet (as stated in the Epistle) to
King James L, and Secretary of State under Sir Robert Cadi's
administratioa. He married Mary, daughter and heir of Sir
IVQliam Ryther, Knig^ht, Lord Uxyat of London. He died
J7th September 1690^ and was buried at Whitediurch, 00.
Middlesex. He was ancestor of the late Viaoounts Lake,
col. 8, L s, 'y»»' » even.
P. s, /n^ndu, etc, cd. i, 1. 7> 'tract* s trade: the L T.
of these Venes (sorry enough) is unknown. A Dimme Potm,
cd. I, L 17, *Oh* is misprinted 'Of' in the origind— one of a
numher of similar errata 0°duding the Authoi's own three)
whidi hare been silently oomcted. Cd. a. L 7, '/awiM^mw
man O ihm wii,* etc.— the 'O' here is not the inteijectioa,
but s complete or perfect— like the Italian proverb, 'Round
as the Oof Giotto.'
P. 8, Thb Fikst Past, etc., cd. x, 1. 3, * imktriiami'^
transition-fonn of inherent : I. aj, 'afftcUd' — chosen.
P. x6k od. X, L XX (from bottomX *dmM» wlurrim am Um,
oHdiftkt latf Hmtt wkidk w* cm$moi/frgii:* (x) The great
reign of Eliiahcth ; (s) The Refonnation.
P. ax, ooL s, L ^i, 'JleMlftticAi*sitby^ alive.
P. aa, coL X, L a7, 'McAsMr' s associates : I. 7 (from bottom),
'^Mfprtf's leathern bag. See 'The SpendmgoftheMoney of
Robert Kowell' (187^ edited by me, *.v., for curious example
of this word, since strangely dumged in its meaning;
P. e3, od. X, L X, 'too too:' every example of the Shake-
spearean 'loo loo' ii to be noted : see Glossarid Index to
Davies of Hereford.
P. 84, col. X, L aa, ' iramt* = treachery, stratagem. This
is an excellent example of the noun. It is used repeatedly
as a verb by Samud Nicholson m his 'Acdastus His After-
Witle'(x&wX#X'-
•Thb srid. I MdaM bar fttandly from the lest
IMo a sweet aad soliisifle pkoe.' etc (p. 49 1
I have this note : "'/m^<f" s enticed— ** train"
implying a stratagem. Even in p. ay, L 380^ there is a sub-
thought of "stratagem." Shakespeare has it {(Comedy ^
Btrtrt, iH a, 4s)b "/mM me not with thy note, to drown me,"
— #tf mSbL Pitret Pmniletu alao nves this: "Ah worth-
lesae wit to iraitu me to this woe."'— (My edition of Acolastus,
1876, p. 73.)— G.
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Wits
Private Wealth.
I612-I639.
22
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NOTE.
Our exemplar of * Wit's Private Wealth' is the edition of 1639.
On that of 161 2, and various others, see our Memorial- Introduc-
tion.— G.
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WITS
PRIVATE
WEALTH
STORED
WITH CHOISE OF
Commodities to content
the Minde.
LONDON
Printed by B. Alsop and T. Favvcet, for George
HvRLOCK, and are to be sold at his Shop neere
S*- MagnuS'Qomex. 1639.
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April Eo, 1639.
Fiat nwa Editio juxta hoc
Exemplar. ' *
SA: BAKER.
To the right Worshipfull, my mtich and
much worthy beloved friend lohn Crooke
Son and Heire to Sir lohn Crooke Knight
aU prosperity on Earthy and the toy
of Heaven.
|0 present you vrith a long Discourse, might perhaps weaiy you in the Reading : and to write obscurely,
might bee a trouble to your understanding : To avoyd therefore inconveniences, I have chosen this little
piece of Labour to fit the patience of idle leasure ; hoping that as in for&ages, men of great Titles would
patronise the writing of good Studies, not regarding the Estate or quality of the person, so your true spirits that can
rightly judge of the nature of well-deserving, will not altogether shut my Booke (with my better service) out of your
good fovour : The Subjects are many, and of divers natures, but (as many Flowers in one Nose-gay) they are heere
put together in a little Vohune, which perused with that good patience that may make profit of Experience. I hope
shan give you some way contentment, and no way the contrary : But lest I make too great an Entry to a little House,
I will shut the doore to my speech, and onely rest in some better service.
Youn affecHonatly at command
N. Britton.
/Hccoia i la stella cki dt Lumgrande.
Co tl^e HeaDev.
YOU that shall happen to light on this piece of a
Booke, how you will or can judge of what you
reade, I know not : If it be well, I am glad you axe
pleased, if otherwise, it is past the Print, and too late
to bee mended: many things are comprehended in
a little roome, and hee that reades all, and takes good
by none at all, I am perswaded, is either vncapaMe or
cardesse : To be short, such as they be, I send them to
you, set downe with the dayes of the yeere : in halfe
one day you may reade them, and ever after thinke on
them as you can conceive, digest, or remember them :
some of them were written by wiser men than my sdfe,
and for the rest (tike Ware in a Shop) the good must
helpe away with the bad : To conchide, I commend
them with my further Love and service, to the fovour of
those spirits, that iudging the best, will not say the
worst : Among whom, hoping you are one to fill vp the
number of honest men, I rest.
Your fiiend as I may,
N. a
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W4»i4»T4»wTw4M<W4»f4»lMif4>T4»f4»l4»l4»l<»f4»l
JVits private fVealth.
|E that takes much, and gives nothing shall
haye more wealth than love.
He that gives much, and takes nothing,
shall have many thanks and few friends.
Hee that spends his youth in Whooring and Dyeing,
may curse the bones, and cry out upon the flesh.
He that builds Castles in the Aire, in hope of a new
World may breake his necke ere be come to halfe his
age.
He that meetes an iU-fitvoured Woman in the morn-
ing fiisting 'tb oddes hee shall not see a worse sight be-
fore dinner.
He that telleth a lye. and binds it with an Oath, is
eyther weake in vrit, or vile in conscience.
He that braggeth much of a little worth, hath made
his tongue an overthrow of his wit.
He that mairieth a rich wife, and abuseth his patri-
mony, will either begge among Rogues, or hang for
good company.
He that cryes before he is hurt, hath learned wit to
avoide paine, and he that ciyeth after a hurt, must
leame patience for ease.
He that oweth money, and cannot pay it, is agent for
sorrow, but he that hath it, and will not pay it, is a
Steward for the DiveU.
He that sooffeth at God, is already with the Divell,
9nd though he walke the world, he hath a Hell in his
Conscience.
He that selleth his doathes to be drunke with the
money. wUl begge for age, and starve for food.
Hee that riseth early, and maketh light meales, keepes
his body in health, and his stomacke in temper.
Hee that makes Religion a doake for villany, deviseth
with the Divell to cozen his Soule of her comfort.
If you see a faire Wench leere alter yon when you are
past, lay your hand on your heart for feare of your
purse.
If a stranger scrape acquaintance with you in some
private place, thinke he wants wealth, or his honesty is
out of tune.
22
He that selleth his ware, and liues by the k)sse, must
give over his trade, or die in poore case.
A kindhearted man is easily abused, and a high
spirited woman must be warily observed.
If you offend God. repentance will have pardon,
but if you offend the Law, take heed of execution.
If you marry a Whore, make much of the Home, but
if you marry a Scold, fiitll to your prayers.
If you have a friend, and cannot use him, you lacke
wit, but if you abuse his love, you want honesty.
He that tyeth his love to beauty, may bring his heart
to trouble and he that marrieth a foule woman, doth
wrong to his eye sight.
He that will never lend, is vnworthy to borrow, but
he that comes into suretiship. is in the way of undoing.
If you see an offenders punishment, pray for amend-
ment : but if a Horse-courser be hanged, it is happy for
Travailers.
To give a Woman her will, may be hurt to her wit :
and to bridle her nature, may move passion beyond reason.
To build a house without money, is but a dreame of
folly, and to travell among Theeves Is danger of life.
He that spends more than he gets will hardly be rich,
and he that speakes more then he knowes, will never be
counted wise.
He that least sinneth, is the best man, and he that
never repenteth is the worst.
A prodigall spender will keepe ooyne from cankering,
and a greedy Usurer will gnaw out the heart of a purse.
He that travaileth a strange way. had need of a guide,
and if he want money he must fare hard.
A Mouse in a cupbord will marre a whole Cheese, and
an ill-tongued Woman will trouble a whole Towne.
He that is given to sleepe. is borne to much trouble,
and to over-watch nature, may be a hurt to wit.
He that leaveth the learned to live with the ignorant,
may happen upon some wealth, but he shaU never be
wise.
An untrusty servant may rob a man of his goods, but
a dogged wife will vexe his heart.
A 2
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WITS PRIVATE WEALTH.
If yoa see a Thill, acaroe give her a nod, but follow
her not least yoa prove a Noddy.
A courteous Physitian will make much of his Patient,
and time-pleasers are no true Divines.
Strong Deere hath two contrary vertues, it wiQ quench
a thirst, and warme a stomacke.
He that offends God to please a creature, is like him
that killeth himselfe to avoid a hurt.
Shee that loves to make Faces, may have an Ape for
her Schoole-master, and he that feeds her humours,
puts his wits to much trouble.
He that loveth many can hardly please all, and he
that loveth none, is either dogged or foolish.
A Foole that is ridi shall be foUowed with Beggers,
but the vertuous and wise are truely honourable.
He that feasteth the rich, makes a friendship vrith
Mammon, but he that relieveth the poore, is blessed of
God.
A Whores teares are a Fooles poyson, and a Thieves
watch is a Ttavailers woe.
The shot of a Cannon makes a terrible report, but hee
that surts at the noise of it, will hardly prove a Souldier.
The sound of a Trumpet, stirs up the sphit for a
Souldier, but if his heart ftiles him. he will not fight
Womens Tyres is an idle commodity, and to live by
Pandarisme is a roguish profession.
Swearing and lying is much among wicked men, and
yet being so little believed, I wonder they doe not leave
it.
A proud spirit Is hatefnil to nature, and he that is
unthankfull for little, is worthy of nothing.
The hopes of the vertuous makes harvest in Heaven,
and the despaire of the wicked brings their Soules to
Hdl.
The Spider's web is a net for a Fly, and a flattering
tongue is a tiap for a Foole.
The sight of a Sword vrill afifright a Coward, while a
seasoned Souldier makes a Flea4>ite of a wound.
A partiall ludge makes a pittUull Law, and a dumbe
Preacher a pittifiill Parish.
A bloody Souldier makes a pittiiull warre, and hee
that trusteth an Enemy, may be betrayed ere hee be
aware.
The Souldier's honour is got with great travdl, while
the Vsurer tumbleth in the ease of his wealth.
The true Spirit regards no drosse. and he that makes
a God of his Gold, will goe to the Devill like a begger.
He that leaves his spuries in his horses belly, may sit
downe and sigh when he is weaiy vrith walking.
He that will passe quietly thorow a Common-wealth,
must avoyd the Foole, and take heed of the Knave.
An Usurper of a Crowne wQl breed murmures in a
Kingdome, but a wise Gouemour is worthy of his
place.
Hee that doyeth his stomadc, is an enemy to natnre
and to over-charge wit, is an abuse to reason.
Vanity and Pride make a Fooles paradise, while love
and beauty are the Nurses of Idlenesse.
Blessed Children are the Parents joyes, while the
barren wombe is the curse of nature.
A wise Generall and a valiant Leader, are very requi-
site in a Campe, but tyrannie in a conquest disgraceth
the Souldier.
The Glowotines belly is the candle of the Earth, and
the Phoenu nest is too high for the worid.
The longest day wiU have night at last, and age will
wither the smoothest skin in the world.
The dearth of Come makes Farmers rich, but to starve
the people is the shame of a State.
No treadling in the world will make a lew a Chris-
tian and a Cutpurse wiU be at his worke, when the
Thiefe is at the Gallowes.
He that hath lost his eyes, may bid his friends good
night, and he that is going to the Grave, hath made an
end with the worid.
A*£edre man is like Curds and creame, and a fonle
woman the griefe of the eyes.
A witty wanton is a pleading Mistris, but an honest
huswife is the best to breed on.
He that is given to drinking, is subject to the dropsie,
and a liquorish Grocer win eate out his gaine.
A Garden is pleasant if it be full of iiaire flowers, so is
a faire woman indued with good qualities.
A fjoire flower without scent, is like a Cure woman
without grace.
Hearbes are wholsome gathered in their time, and
money well-used is an excellent MetaU.
If Christmas lasted all the yeere, what would become
of Lent ? and if every day were Good-friday, the Worid
would be weary of fiuting.
The griefe of the heart is a weakning of the body,
but the worme of consdenoe eates into the very
A jest is never wdl broken, but when it hurteth not
the hearers, and profiteth the speaker.
Hope is comfortable in absence, but possesdon is the
true pleasure.
Words out of time are k)st, and service unrewarded is
miserable.
To follow Fooles is the annoyance of wit, and to serve
a Churle is a miserable slavery.
Variety of anqnaintance is good for observation, and
to make use of knowledge, proves the sence of under-
standing.
Eariy rishig galnes the morning, and a darice night is
a Theeve's watch.
A fJEmtasticall Traveller is the figure of an Ape, and a
proud woman is a fooles Idoll.
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ly/TS PRIVATE WEALTH.
The eye is anall, jet h aeech mnch, end the heart but
Uttle. end yet it is the tife of the body.
The hope of profit makes labour easie, and the hand
of bounty winnes the hean of vertoe.
A Candle gives a dimme Ugfat m the Son, and where
Duma keepes her Court, Ci^id is out of countenance.
A man is dead when he sleepeth, and daifaiesse is the
sorrow of time.
There is no true rich man bat the contented, nor truely
pooce bat the covetoos.
A weal[e body is not for travel, nor a simple wit for a
Scepter.
No man liveth that doth not sometfanes amisse, bat he
that delii^teth in sfame is a Divett incarnate.
They that love their beds, are great Flea-lieeders, and
bee that qiends his spirits, cannot have a strong body.
The nob mans goods make him fearefnll to dye, and
the poore mans want makes him weary of his lile
The file of anger bometh the soole, and the cokl of
iieaie cfailleth the heart.
Snoffie a Candle, and it win borne deare, and cut off
dead flesh and the wound will heale the sooner.
The heart-acfae brings the body hito sicknesse, bat the
Worme of conscience breeds the soules torment.
Tfanes alter nature, and honours manners, bat a ver-
tnoos heart will never yedd to villany.
Miseries are the tryall of patience, but Love is the
MattfT of passions.
Thought is a swift Thtveiler, and the soule is in
Heaven in an instant
A kind nature winneth Love, but a stabbome spirit is
a plague to reason.
The disease of opinion doth beguile us in the test of
happines, while the vanity of delighu is but the super-
fluity of desiieSi
Auience at the point of death, sets a scale to the per^
fections of life.
How vaine is the love of ridics, which may be lost, or
left in an instant?
In the tiyall of truth, excuse will not bdpe dishonesty.
Try wiu by their wisdome, and love them for their
vertne.
Rc^oyoe not in any man's misery, but be pittiiull to
thy very Enemy, and comfort the afllicted, in what is fit
for charity.
Follow not the amoroos, for they are humorous, nor
the hmnorous, for they are idle.
Give wtiat thoo doest fiankly, and be master of thine
owne purse, least base scurrility make abridgement of
thy bounty.
Be not jeaknu vrithout just cause, and doe no wrong
for any cause.
If thou dost ill, doe not eicuse it : if weU, doe not
boast of it.
Nature inclined to evin, must by correction be brought
to good, for discretion by instruction, finds the way to
perfection.
The key of wantonnes, openeth the doore unto
widbednes.
The cares of busines, and the variety of pleasures, are
the soules hinderance to her highest happinesse.
Sin comes with conception, but giaoe only by inspira-
tion.
In the repentance of sinne sorrow bringeth comfort.
Where Pride is poyson to power, and Will an enemy
to patience, there Envie can endure no equality, till
death puts an end to desire.
Greater is the griefo to lose then never to have, and to
see the fall of vertue, then the death of nature.
Irrevocable is the losse of time, and incomparable the
griefo of mgratitude, but the abuse of love, is abhorred
innature.
When a Dog howles, an Owle sings, a Woman scolds,
and a Pigge cryes, whether for a penny is the best
Pull hearts cannot weepe, and swallowed sighes make
swolne bresu, while wisdome covereth woes, till death
cover wretchednesse.
Who laboureth for knowledge, makes a benefit of
time, but be that loveth vertue, lookes after eternity.
The faistruction of truth makes the wit gracious, while
the practice of craft makes the heart impious.
Hee that makes beauty a Starre, studies afolse Astro-
nomy, and he that is soundty in love, needs no other
purgatory.
The depth of passion, tryeth the height of patience,
where if wit bridle not the sences, nature will reveale her
The remembianoe of vaJnities, is a rerivfaig of miseries,
where the Looldug-glasse of life, becomes an houre-
Tbe exercise of venevy, is the Cow-path to beggery,
and he that diminisheth his stock, maygoe to the hedge
for a stake.
The Land-lords prodigality makes the Tenanu profit,
and a proud bagger is a dogged RascalL
A Cat may lose a Mouse and catdi her againe, but he
that loseth time can never recover it*
When rich men die, they are buried with pompe, but
when good men dye, they are buried with teares.
Bk>ody actions makes fcarefull visions, while the joy of
peace is the spirits paradise.
Whenall vnder the Sunne ia vanity, where hath vertue
her dwelling in the Worid? But ondy in the heart of
the Elect, whose love is ondy in the Heavens.
An intemperate qfxrit spoiles the body, and a proud
heart gives a wound to the soule.
The shame of wit is folly, and the shame of nature sinne.
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8
IV/rS PRIVATE WEALTH.
Who travdleth out of the World to seeke the truth
of Heavens History, if he be not atsored of Grace will
make but an mhappy journey.
Comfoftable is the Grave wliere death is the end of
griefe, but joyftill is that Faith, that findes the life of
Eternity.
A Knight that dares not fight, hath honour in jest,
and a Merchant without money, may adventure for no-
thfaig.
The pinching of the body makes a stinkmg breath
and strait Shooes fill the feet fiill of comes.
Women with child long for many things, but all the
world longs for money.
A great wit may haueaweake body, and a great head
but little wit.
The Dolphhi is held the swiftest Fish fai the Sea, but
the thought of a man hath no comparison in the world.
The Tyger is said to be the cruellest beast in the
World, but an Vsurer vpon a bond will goe to the
DiveU for money.
A lifayden-blush is an excellent cc^ur, and a vertuous
wit makes a Virgin honouraUe.
A constant Lover is an admirable creature, but the
man of wealth goes thorow the World.
Offices are sweet in the nature of gahie, but the abuse
of an Oath is a burden of Consdenoe.
A sore eye is euer running, and a Gossips tongue is
everbabling.
Crosse paths many times put a man out of his way,
and crosse fortunes many wayes put a man out of his wits.
Great winds are dangerous at Sea, so is a ludges
breath to an offender.
The Phylosopbers stone hath mockt a number of
Students, and Love hath troubled a world of idle people.
Vliginity is predons while it is purely kept, but if it
catch a cracke, the beauty is gone.
The eyes grow dimme when they come to Spectacles,
and it is oold hi the VaOeyes, when snow lyeth on the
Mountaine^.
The sting of a Scorpion is onely healed with his blood,
and where beauty wounds, love makes the cure.
Imprisonment and death are the miseries of nature,
and the Sergeants Mace is a hellish weapon.
A child that fears not the rod will hardly prove
gracious, and a man that feares not God, will be in hell
ere he be aware.
Elixars are great restoratives, but much Physicke is
offensive to nature.
A pen without Inke writes a very blanck letter, and a
purse without money make^ many a oold heart
Stolne venison is sweet, so the stealer can soqw, but
if he be catdit, he will pay for his hunting.
The Anj^ers sport [is] of patience, and if he k>se his
hooke, he makes a £Eure fishing.
A Shower of raine doth wdl in a drought, but when
dust tumesto dht, the houseis better than the highway.
A little salt seasons a great Pot, and a little poyson
kils a World of people.
lewels are as they are esteemed, and there Is nothing
forced that is welcome.
A little seed will sow a great ground and a snufife of a
Candle will set a whole house on fire.
The want of necessaries breaks the heart of an honest
man, and to be beholding to a Churle, is death toa good
When the rich prey on the poore, and the poore piay
fior the rich, there is great difference in piaying.
A Scold and a foole must be answered with silence,
while Wlsdomes words are worth the writmg in gold.
Philosophy u a sweet study, and Histories are some<
time worth the readfaig. but the Bible in all wrfleHance.
puts downe all the Bookes hi the World.
Much reading makes a ready SchoUer, but the gift of
nature doth much m Art.
A Foole and a Knave cannot. take thought, while an
honest heart is full of sorrow.
A £wrre Traveller seeth much, but he that goes to
Heaven makes a happy journey.
The Kings of the earth are rich hi Gold : but blessed
are the Soules that are rich in Grace.
The Ayre is often densed by Ughtnhig, but till the
World change, men wHl never be deane from sinne.
An escape from danger is comfortable, but to keepe
out of it is wisdome.
He that makes an Epicure of his Mmde, makes a gull
of his wit : for tune is predous to the understanding
l^irit.
A Diamond may be little, and yet of a great price,
but the Grace of God is more worth than the whole
World.
Fancy and Fashion trouble many idle people, but the
study of Divmity ravisheth the soules of the Elect
Codecs of the Game will by nature fight, and a heart
of Oake wlU burst ere it bend.
The sight of the Sea will fright a fidnt heart, while the
Saylers care but a little for the Land.
The ciyes of Fooles make a foule noise while the
hearts of the honest bleed inwardly.
May-games and jests fill the world full of mirth, but
the feeling of Grace fills the Soule full of joy.
A Fly feeds a Swallow that will cfaoake a Man, and
which kils a Spider, will comfort a man.
The Stone and Gowte doe follow the rich, but Death
where he commeth, makes a swoope with all persons.
A poore man hi his Cottage is menrier with his pit-
tance then many a Lord with all his Living.
Great nUndes and small meanes, are the overthrow of
numy good wits.
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H^irS PRIVATE WEALTH,
A broken heart is Gods cure, whose oyie of grace is a
salveCor aU sores.
He that hath forsworne a Beard, hath a stnmge fiuse,
and she that hath no teeth may learn to sudce.
A friend is best tryed at a need, and a fowning foe is
not to be trusted.
fieefe and Mutton are strong food, and hunger is the
best sauce to any meate in the world.
Sicknesse is the bodies cnrbe, and sorrow the mindes ;
but unUndnessein a friend, is the break-heart of a good
spirit.
Necessity will break tborow stone walks, but to make
aa exercise of Beggery, is the condition of a RascelL
A painted Sword is for a bragging Coward, but the
Sottldiers iron makes way where he goes.
The rarenesse of a toy will set up the price, but the
goodnesse of any thing is best esteemed with the wise.
A Bird without feathera. vrill flye ill-frivoaredly, and a
man without money, is out of heart with ail mirth.
To be delivered of a Child is a joy to a Woman, and
to bee delivered from Prison is comfort to a man, but to
be delivered from sinne is the truest joy of the soule.
A forward Childe is seldome long lived, and to b^et a
foole is a griefe to the Parents.
He that cryeth without cause, is worthy of hurt, and
he that feeles no hurt, is full of dead flesh.
Tkavaile is good isx stayed wits, and a strong body is
best for labour.
The rich man to iiU the tother bag, win pare a poore
man to his very bones, but the goodman wUl rdieve his
poove neighbour at his need.
An unskilful Rider may quickly be out of the Saddle,
and a poore Horse can goe but softly.
Some say Tobacco is good to purge the head, but he
that foUoweth it well, will finde it a shrewd purge to his
purse.
No eye can see the brightnesse of the Sunne ; how
glorious is then that light from whence it hath light ?
Many are fortunate that are not wise, but there is no
man happy untiU he come into Heaven.
Fire and sword are the terrour of a Campe, but
thunder and lightning are the terrour of the World.
A fiure House is a comfortable lodging, but the sweet
ayre nviveth the sences>
A fidre Horse is comely to looke on, but if he prove
heany, be is nought for travile.
The fires of afflictions refine the Spirits of the fiuthfull,
and happie is the heart that endures to the end.
Many foctions breede seditions, but unity and peace
are the joyes of a Kingdome.
An Asses bray is an unpleasant noyse, but the knell of
a passing Bell, kills the heart of the wicked.
A man wiU fort>eare many things for feare of the Law,
but fow Ibrbeare any sinne for feare of Gods ludgement
Delicate meats are no strong food, but the Spring
water is deere drinke.
Great assemblies are markets for the Cut-purse, but a
bare purse kills his heart.
Envie among great men, makes misery of poore men,
and when Women breed the quarrels, they are not
easily ended.
A discreet ludge makes a blessed Law, and a peni-
tent Offender is worthy of pardon.
Great boast and small roast, makes a cold kitchen,
and shrugging of shoulders is no paying of debts.
He that may live well and will not, is of a wicked
nature, but he that would live well and cannot, hath his
heart fiill of griefe.
The Flies and the Bees live in swarmes, and the Ants
and Wormes live in heapes, but Men can hardly make
a Company to live in quiet.
Poysoned drinke may be in a silver C*up, and he that
plucketh a rose, may pricke his hand in gathering of it.
The Porposes in the Sea will play against a storme,
and many make a Banquet to be ridde of their
guests.
The Marchant and the 'Arades-man are upholders of
a Common-wealth, but if they leave out the Fanner, they
may fast for their supper.
A discreet woman is worthy of honour, and a foolish
man is the disgrace of Nature.
Burnt Children dread the fire, while old Fooles will
play with the coales.
A ravening Curre is not good for a house, and a
Hawke that feeds foule will never be a high flyer.
He that removes a land marke, is a very bad neigh-
bour, and he that sets a Travailcr out of his way, is a
wicked villaine.
A dela]ring hope is grievous to the heart, but to de-
spaire is the greatest torment to the soule.
To lye in bed and not sleepe, to see meate and have
no stomacke, to serve long and get no wages, are three
great miseries in the lifo of man.
No man knowes a griefe so well as he that hath it, and
no man more joyfull than he that is rid of it.
It is a griefe to a man to lacke wit, but more griefe to
some to lacke grace to governe it.
An aged man is a Kalender of experience, and a
spruce Youth is like a picture.
A deadly wound makes a quicke despatch, but a
lingring hope breeds a long griefe.
To meddle with State matters may be more trouble
than profit, but to part man and wife is a wicked prac-
tice.
At a little hole a man may see day, but if he shut his
eyes, the light will doe him little good.
Har9e4ead)ere will burst with sucking of bfood, and a
swelling Toade is a venemous creature.
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IV/rS PRIVATE WEALTH.
A TortOyse shell will hanUy bicske, but at the ktst
touch she will pull in her head.
He that hath awife hath a charge, and he that hath a
good wife, hath a blessing, but he that hath a bad wife,
is in a pittifiiU taking.
She that loves not her Husband, lackes dther honesty
or wit, and she that loves not herselfewiUgoeneeretobe
sluttish.
The Winters night is for the Gossips Cup, and the
Summers heate makes the Brewers Harvest.
The Lambe and the Dove are two pretty creatures,
but the Dog and Hog are sullen beasts.
A FoKe by nature is fiill of craft, while a Foole wants
reason to make use of it.
The smooth grasae will hide a Snake, and a fiuned
smile a false heart.
To goe to Church for fashion, is an abuse of Religion,
and to pray without Devotion, is breath to no purpose.
Good Inkegracethaletter, butif thepaperbemnight,
the Pen will doe no good.
A long dyet kils the stomacke, and a desperate purge
may be a periU of life.
The Owle and the Swallow bring hi Whiter and Sum-
mer but the Nightingale and the Cuckow talke ondy of
the merry time.
light gaines make heavie purses, bat he that labours
for nothing may give over his worice.
He that will hold out the yere, must abide Winter
and Summer, and he that will goe into Heaven must
endure the miseries of the World.
To feed a Jester is but a jest of wit, but be that gives
not eare to a tale, it never troubles him.
When a Lyon roares, oome not in his way, and when
a Fox preacheth, beware the Geese.
A fiuthfull ftfand is a rich Jewell, aada sUent woman,
is a strange creature.
Nature is subject to unperfectk>n, but an Atheist b a
horrible creature.
He that lighu in a whbie-poole, is in danger of
drowning, and the loase of liberty la the sorrow of nature.
A rich Court is a goodly sight, but he that lookes up
to Heaven, will not care for the World.
When old men are wilfoll, their witt are out of tem-
per, and when yonqg men are wise, they are in the way
to honour.
An old sore tryea the skill of a Phyaitian, and if bee
get a name, he will quickly be rich.
The Fish in the River is not afiaid of drowning, and
if he play with a Baite, it wiU cost him his life.
An Asse hath long eares. and aFoz a long tayle, bnta
tongue will be so long, that it wiU overreach out of
A neighing Horse is not good [ibr a] Thiefe, nor a
questing Spaniell will not make a good Setter.
A dog wiU r^yee at the sight of his Master, when
perhaps his Mistiis will frowne at his ccwnming home.
The bones of the dead, breake the hearts of the living,
when a poore Gamester loseth his money.
The idlenesse of the heart is tryed hi adversity, and
the doggednesse of the minde, in the height of prosperity.
When the Hare is in chase, feare makes her nmne,
but when the hounds are at feult, she hath time to get
away.
He that playes the Rogue in the morning may be a
Villaine till night, but if he be sorry when he goes to
bed, he may rise an honest man.
He that is wounded in the Heart, hath made an end
of his dayes, but he that hath a wound in the Soule.
knowes not when to end his sorrow.
A Looking-glasse will make a Foole proud of his
beauty, but an Home-glasse will make a wise man
remember his end.
The variety of Flowers make the Spring beantifull.
but the fsire Harvest makes a fat Bame.
Tobacco smoke is ve^r costly, but the ashes of it are
good for a gaH'd Horse Backe.
A proud Mechankjne will looke over a Merchant, and
a rich Churle will looke like Bull beefe
The winde is weake, yet it blowes downe great Oakes,
and water is weake, yet it swallowes up great Ships.
A worme-eaten Nut is not worth the crnddngi and a
crackt Jewell not worth the wearing.
Money-masters are the pride of die market, but if
you pert without a pot, you are no good feUow.
A subtile Bowler wiU have a shrewd ayme, but if he
misse his byaoe, his Bowie may deceive him.
A dropping nose hath need of a handkerdier, and a
splay-footed woman is a beastly sight.
Time is never idle, but not ever wen imployed, when
wit without government fislls too fast upon folly.
He that hath many wounds, loseth much blood, and
he that hath many quarrels, wiU have little quiet
Unkindnesse isa cut to an honest heart, but a dogged
wife is the hearts torture.
He that salts his meate, will keepe it from stinking,
and he that mortifies his flesh, will keepe it from nracta
shine.
He that hath an ni face, had need of a good wit, bat
money oovereth many imperfections.
When the winds are downe, the Sea will be cahne,
but quarrds begun, are not easily ended.
Where there is much canion, there will be store of
Crowes, and at the buriall of a rich man, there will be a
store of Beggers.
Threescore years and ten an a mans feire age, but
after fouresoore his strength is gone.
To wrastle with a Begger man may get but a lowse,
and tobnbble with a scold, will but make albaleiipyte.
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IVITS PRIVATE WEALTH.
II
Many hukb make qidoke worke, but om it enough in
a purse.
Good hearbes make wholsome bfotb, but a filthy
weed among them may marre alL
A Winters Summer makes an unUndly Harvest, and
Summers Winter is not healthluU for man.
ACuckholdisthesconieofManrkige,butaWitto is
a beast in nature.
A finicall fellow is like an Usher of a Dancing Schoolep
and a demure Mistris like a picture of Hypocrisie.
Three other chiefe things a Thtvailcr had need to
have a care of : his tongue, his purse and his middle
finger.
Three other chiefe things had all men need to lodke
to : the soule, the body, and the state.
By converse with children is got little experience : but
to taDce with Fooles, is the abuse of wit.
Revenge is the viUany of nature, and tyrannie the
horror of reason.
What a jest it is in the nature of reveranoe, when men
must put off their Hats while their Blasters are pissing.
Use makes perfection in many things, else could not
the Hang-man be so nimble at the halter.
A skflfiill Fhysitian knowes how to use his Patient,
and a cunmng Lawyer to doe with his Clyent.
He that hath a mint of money, and an idle woman to
spend it, let hhn feed all her humours, and .he shall
soone see an end of it.
He that reckoneth his Chickens before they be hatdit,
may misse of his brood when the Hen leaves the
When Geese fly together, they are known by their
cackling, and when Gossips doe meet they will be
heard.
AU Earthly things must have an end, but the torments
of the wicked are endlesse.
In great ezuemities are tryed the greatest friendships,
but when mans helpe Caileth, God is a sweet comfort.
The miseries of the world are many, but Gods mercies
are infinite.
Hollow windes are a signe of rain and a long con*
sumption is incurable.
The Gowt and the Stone are two tickling diseases, but
the P6z is a slight cure.
Hell gates and a Whores apron, are ever open for
wicked guests.
To the fidthfun there is no damnation, and to the
damned no salvation.
A crafty knave needs no Broker, and a marling Cuire
wiU bite behind.
Vnder simplicity is hidden much subtilty, and the
Crocodiles teeres, are the death of the TravaHer.
The Camelion Uveth ondy in the ayre, and the Sala-
mander lives onely in the fire.
To trafikke with vanity, is to runne into misery, and
had-I-wist is an idle speech.
The world goes hard with pride, when a Lady lyes at
a red Lattice.
Thie Knigfatt make Ladies, and counterfidts marre
them.
Need makes a heavy shift, when a man pawnee his
doathes for his dinner.
When Taylors began to meele Lords Lands by the
yard, then began Gentility to goe downethe winde.
When vanity brings toyes to idlenesse let wit beware
of foolishnesse.
When a SokUers pay is most in pcovant, he will
hardly be led into a sharpe piece of service.
He that makes holiday of every day, makes an idle
weekes worke, and he that labours on the Sabbath, will
never have his worke to prosper.
A Sdiollers eommons makes a short dinner, and yet
he may be in more health then the Epicure.
An ill blast of wind wiU spoikagood plant, and a
bitter fix»st is bad for fruit
A poore man shuts his doore to keepe out the wind,
but a rich man shuts his doore to keepe out beggersu
A kindly Collier is often besmeared, and a Smith and
a Glasse-maker, are never out of the lire.
A Downe-bed is soft to lye on, but yet it soakes the
body more than a Mattiis.
Thith hath often much adoe to bee believed, and a
^ runs Cvre before it be staied.
To be busie with a muhitnde, is to inonre tioubk,
and t6 feare Sparrow4>laating. is a pittifiill folly.
When wit brings youth to beauty, and vanity brings
pride to beggery, then reason seeth natures misery.
A sorry baripgdne makes a hcavie Soule, when the
heart akes and cannot be helpt.
Evill words are the worst part of eloquence, and he
that breakes the peace, must answer the Law.
Affability breeds k»ve, but familiarity contempt
He that is carelesse of his estate, may quickly prove a
begger. and he that is fearelesse of GOD, will quickly
prove a DivelL
Witches and Sorcerers doe much hurt in a'Common-.
wealth, bm after the Gallowes they doe goe to the DiveU.
A Parrat well uught will talke straqgely in a Cage,
but the Nightingale sings most sweetly in the
Wood.
An unkind neighbour is iU to dwell by, and an un-.
wliolsome body is ill to lye fay.
A poysoned Sword Is a pestilent weapon, and be that
useth it. hath a murtherous heart.
A trotting Horse beates fore in a hard way, but a
restie Jade is a villanous Beast.
The wound of sorrow goes deepe into the heart, but a
Bullet in the braino is.a medidne for aU diseases.
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WITS PRIVATE WEALTH.
An ill weede giowes lut, bat a paire of shewes will
cut him downe.
Judas treuon was most abomimble, and Jobts
patience most admirable.
Sweet fresh water is comfortable in a City and the
want of it is a plague of the people.
Study is the exercise of the mind, but too much of it
may be a spoile of the braine.
When the Saddle pincheth. how can the Horse tiavaile?
and when the wise lacke money, their wite are in a poore
case.
Howling Dogs betoken death, and a Scritch-Owle
at a vrindow brings no good tydings to a house.
Babes will be stilled with hillaby, but an old Foole
win never be quiet.
The Sunne is the Labourers Dyall, and the Cocke the
Huswifes Watchman.
Di^tmu Tub was a poore house, and yet Alexander
would come thither to talke with him.
Many a Dog is hanged for his Skinne, and many a
man is killed for his purse.
He that loves not a Woman lackes a piece of a
man, and hoe that loves too many, may be weary of his
Wooing.
The favour of the Earth makes a Plough^nan hungry,
and after a Storme, the Saylers drinke merrily.
A Waxe-candle and a Watch are good for a Student
but if be want wit he will be no great Sdioller.
A private rebuke, is a sweet correction, but an open
punishment makes some men shamelesse.
When Shepheards &U to be Hunts-men, the WoUe
may be with their Flockes : and when the Warrener is
at the Ale-honse, his Coneyes may be stolne.
He that goeth softly, commonly goeth safely : but if
bee have hast of his way, he loseth much time.
Tis soone enough, that is wdl e&oni^ and never too
late that doth good at last.
The desire of doing well is accepted befiore God. but
the neglect of doing well deserveth his displeasure.
Sweet are the deceits of Love, but bitter is the tast of
repentance.
Who attendeth profit, is not sorry for patience, and
the fiuthfull with the patient, are t)est Thivailers to
Heaven.
A ftdre hand Is a vertuous ornament, but a veituous
spirit is a royall treasure.
A sharpe wit hath a quick invention, but a judicious
spirit hath the best understanding.
He that trusteth words, pioveth hope, and he that
serveth a foole loseth time.
Without valour. Men are shadowes: and mthout
love. Women tortures.
Delay is the giiefe of hope, but good never comes too
late.
That is not to-day may be to-morrow, but yesterday
will never come againe.
Itis a feareftill thing to fall into the hands of God. but
it is a foule thing to shake hands with the Devill.
The greatest proofe of folly is wilfulnesse. and the
greatest prode of vrit is patience.
Too much reading is ill for the eyesight, and too
little reading is ill for the in-sight
Time slipped is vnhappy, time lost is grievous, time
well taken shewes care, but to imploy it well is gzadous.
And so muck/hr this time.
Laus Deo.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
. P>«» 4. BnSTLB-DBOICATOKV^IOMN CaOOKB . . . SiK
lOHN Cmonm. Sir John Croke was the eldcM son of Sir John
Croke, Kl oTChihon, ca Bucks, by Eltabeth. d. of Sir Alex-
naderUaloo.KtorChe(|iMnaadorWMlky.co.B«tks. H«
iras bom in 1553, and became A banrisleror the Inner Temple.
He was afterwards Recorder of London, M.P. ibr Windsor,
and Speaker of the Hoose of Commons dwliig the teat Parliament
of Queen EHxabeth. He was knighted aed May 1603, became
the Kuiff's Seijcant at Law and a Welsh Judge, and was
created a Judge of the King's Bench 35th June 1607. whkh
office he held until his death. He died at his house in Hi
«v» w*wu \ww/ •Hm'vm bub;, ob naa lefeiju cmimen. nis
ekieat son and heir was this John Croke. who became after-
wards a baronet, but is said to have wasted his fortune in
every neaes of debauchery, and finally died, leaving a die.
w?«»«>«*,n«^ He was the only 'Uack sheep 'of tins other-
wise ejtoellent Gunily.
_/fid.,'^*»fidawmewiiAtk^dkjfa0f ike yt^rw*^ 365 \n mil
which IS just about the number of the whole.
P. 5- coL X. L 17, '/m/rtMomyr misprinted 'Matrimony:'
/^
P. & coL I, L
I. es, '7>r»t's«»«
iahisold«c«
1. • rruil'
eoL a, L 7. 'Nerme'
' Neddy z
I. a6^ *Pmmderieme*
^' h ^l- '.• *• * <^"* bottom) *Be not jealous without just
oHMir.' Shakespeare msts the sentiment into the month of
Caesar. See Bimnorad-Introduction : col. s. L aj. 'cwmiMm '
-note speUmg : I 3«, 'Cew-^iA' = omxtow pail
P. 8. col. 8, 1, xo^ 'be^UUng* s indebted : 11. ia-13 : an old
poB 00 ' pny ' aao ' piay.'
p. 10^ coL 9, L 3 (from bottomX * brabble* = wrangleL
P. XI, coL X, L 7. ' IVitieB* = forbearing cuckold : coL a.
1. 4. 'red LoHke^z^eX. an open cuxtamed woMtow: L xi^
ynmrnf * = provender : L 31. * Spmrrem-Umeimg* » ||m«oww
P. xa, coL I, 1. 3a, * Warrener* * keeper of the labbit-
G.
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mmm^mmmm
CHARACTERS VPON ESSAIES,
Morall and Diuine.
1615.
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NOTE.
These 'Essaies' are all the more interesting that they were
dedicated to Bacon. Our text is from the (it is believed) unique copy
(i3* : 46 leaves) in the British Museum (Jolley's). I am willing to
believe that the 'R. 6.' of the preliminary verses was Richard
Barnfield, the * sweet Singer* of 'As it fell upon a day,' etc (cf. my
collection of his Poems for the Roxburgh Club 1875) ^ Introduction,
§ II. Critical). See the Memorial- Introduction, and Notes and Illus-
trations at close. These * Essaies * were very carelessly reprinted in
ArcAaica.— G,
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Characters
VPON ESSAIES
MoRALL, And
Diuine,
Written
For those good Spirits,
that will take them
in good part,
And
Make vse of them to
good purpose.
London:
Printed by Edw. Griffin for lohn Gwillim,
and are to be sold at his shop in
BrUaines-Burse. (615.
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To the Honorable, and my much worthy honored,
truly learned, and ludicious Knight, S^ FRANCIS BACON,
his Ma**" Attoumey General!,
Increase of honor ^ healthy and etemall happinesse.
>RTHY Knight. 1 hftue read of many Essaies,
and a kinde of Chaiactering of them, by such,
as when I lookt vnto the forme, or nature of
their writing, I hane beene of the conceit,
that they were but Imitators of your breaking the ice to
their inuentions; which, how short they fall of your
worth, I had rather thinke then speake, though Truth
neede not blush at her blame : Now, for my selfe
vnworthy to touch neere the Rocke of those Diamonds,
or to speake in their praise, who so fiurre exceede the
power of my capadtie, vouchsafe me leaue yet, I beseech
you, among those Apes that would counterfet the actions
%^ t^e Reader.
IEAD what you list, and vnderstand what you
Characters are not euery mans con-
struction, though they be writ in our mother
tongue : and what 1 haue written, being of
no other nature, if they fit not your humor, they may
please a better : I make no comparison, because I know
you not, but if you will vouchsafe to kmke into them, it
may bee you may finde something in them ; their natures
are diners, as you may see, if your eyes bee open, and
if you can make vse of them to good purpose, your wits
may proue the better : In briefe, fearing the foole will
bee put vpon me, for being too busie with matters too
farre aboue my vnderstanding, I will leaue my imper-
fection to pardon, or correction, and my labour to their
liking, that will not thinke ill of a well meaning : and so
rest.
Your well-wiUing friend,
N. B.
AD AUTHOREM.
He that shall read thy characters [Nic Brettm)
And weigh them well ; must say they are well written.
They taste the lampe : much reading, obseruation.
Art, matter, wit, all worthy commendation.
Some weaue thefa- lines of such a slender thred,
They will not last so long, as to be read.
Thou hast so spunne. so weau'd ; thy words, thy lines
They please vs most being viewd a hundred times.
W. D.
IN LAUDEM OPERIS.
Words are the pensils, whereby drawne we finde
The picture of the inward man, the minde.
of men, to pkiy the like part with learning, and as a
Monkey, that would make a face like a Man, and cannot,
so to write like a SchoUer, and am not : and thus not
daring to aduenture the Print, vnder your Patronage,
without your fouoFable aUowance, in the denoted seruioe
of my bounden duty, I leaue these poore TraueUs of my
Spirit, to the perusing of your pleasfaig leasure, with the
further fniites of my humble afTection, to the happie
emplo3rment of your honorable pleasure.
At your seruice
in all humblenesse,
NICH : BRETON.
Su6h thoughts, such words ; such words, such is the man.
Say ; is this Spirit a Plebeyan?
That like the singing Larke doth mount so high.
We cannot reach them with an earthly eye.
W. P.
While I Essay to character this Booke.
And these charactered Essayes o'relooke :
I herein finde few words, great worth involue :
A Lipsian stile, terse Phrase : and so resolue,
That as a Stone's best vahi'd, and best prised.
When best tis knowne : So this, when best revised.
I. B.
Who reads this Booke with a iudldous eye.
Win in true ludgeroent, true discretkm try.
Where words and matter dose and sweetly ooucht.
Doe shew how truth, wit, art, and nature toucht.
What need more words these Characters to praise.
They are the true charactering of Essaies.
I. R.
In words of worth, to speake of these Essayes
Let this suffice, the worke it sdfe will prayse.
C. N.
Some haue an humor, ihax to discommend
They know themselues, they know not how to mend.
Other correct, what they doe thmke amisse :
While in their owne concdt the error is.
But true hidteious wits, and lionest mindes,
Will giue thdr censure in some better kindes :
And say but truth, that cannot be mistooke :
Wit hath well labourde learning hi this Booke.
R. a
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Characters vpon Essaies,
Morall and Diuine.
WISEDOME.
|ISEDOME is a working Grace in the Soules of
the Elect : by whom the Spirit is made cap-
able of those secrets, that neither Nature, nor
Reason, is able to comprehend: who, by
a powerful vertue, She hath from the diuine Essence,
worlceth in all things, according to the will of the Almighty :
and, being befcne beginning, shall exoeede Time, in an
eCemall proceeding : She is a Light in the Intellectuall
part, by which Reason is led to direct the Sences in
their due Course, and Nature is preserued from Subiectfaig
her selfe to Imperfection : in the Creation, Shee was of
Councell with the Trinitie, in the pleasing of the Deity,
in the Redemption, the Inuenter of Mercy, for the
preseruation of the Elect, and in the Glorification, the
Treasurer of life, for the reward of the fiEdthfuH, who,
hauing committed to her Care, the cariage of the whole
Motion, finding the disposition of earth in all the Chil-
dren of her Wombe, by such a measure, as she findes
fitting their qualitie, she giues them either the grace of
Nature, or the glory of Reason : While being the Mother
of the Graces, Shee giues them that holy Instruction,
that, in the knowledge of the highest Loue, through
the pathes of Vertue. makes a passage to Heauen:
Learning hath from her, that knowledge without the
whk:h, all knowledge is meere Ignorance : while ondy
in the Grace of Truth, is seene the Glorie of vnder-
standing : Knowledge hath from Her that Learning
whereby she is taught the direction of her Loue, in the
way of life : Vnderstanding hath fimn her that Know-
ledge that keepes Conceit alwaies in the Spirits comfort :
and Iudgementfit>m Vnderstanding, that Ruleof lustice,
that by the euen waight of Impartiality, sbewes the hand
of Heauen in the heart of Humanitie : in the Heauens,
She keepes the Angels in their orders, teacbeth them
the Natures of their Ofiices, and emploies them in the
senuoe of their Creator : in the Firmament, She walkes
among the Starres, sets, and keepes them, in their
places, courses, and operations, at her {Measure, She
edipseth the light, and, in a Moment, Icaues not a
Clowde in the Skie : in Her Thunders, and Lightenings
she shewes the Terror of the Highest Wrath, and in
Her temperate Cahnes, the patience of his Mercy : in
her frostie Winters, she shewes the weaknes of Nature,
and in her Sunny Springs, the Reoouery of Her health :
in the Louersof this workl lines no part of her purenesse,
but with Her bdoued She makes a Heauen vpon Earth :
in the King, she shewes Grace, in his Councell, her Care,
and in his State, her Strength: in the Souldior, she
shewes Vertue, the truest Valor, in the Lawier, Troth,
the Honor of his Plea, in the Merchant, Conscience, the
wealth of his Soule, and in the Church-man Charity, the
true fruit of his Deuotion : She lines in the Wortd, but
not the worlds Loue, for the Worldes vnworthinesse,
is not capable of her worth : Shee reoehieth Mammon,
as a gift from his Maker, and makes him serue her vse
to his Glory: She giues Honor, Grace in Bounty, and
manageth wit, by the Care of discretion : She shewes
the Necessity of difference, and wherein is the happinesse
of Vnitie : Shee puU her Labor, to prouidence, her hope,
to patience, her life, to her Loue and her Loue to her
Lord : with whom, as chiefe Secretary of his secrets, she
writes his will to the WorU, and as hfgh Steward of his
Courts, she keepes account of all his Tenaunts : in
Sum, so great is her Grace in the Heauens, as ghies her
Glory aboue the Earth, and so Infinite are her Excel-
lencies, in all the Course of her Action, and so Glorious
are the Notes of her Incomprdienstble Nature, that I
will thus ondy Condude, fane short of her Commenda^
tion : She is Gods Loue, and his Angdis Light, his
Seruants Grace, and His Beloueds Glory.
LEARNING.
Learning is the life of Reason and the Mgfat of
Nature, where Tfane, Order, and Measure square out
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CHARACTERS VPON ESSAIES,
the true Course of Knowledge ; where, Dtacretion, in
the Temper of Passion, brings experience to the best
fniite of Affection : while both the TJUoricke and the
PracHcke, labour in the life of ludgement, till the per-
fection of Art, shew the Honor of vnderstanding : She
is the keie of Knowledge, that vnlocketh the Cabinet
of Conceit, wherein are laide vp the Labours of Vertue,
for the vse of the Schollers of Wisedome : where euery
gratious Spirit may finde matter enough worthy of the
Record of the best Memory : She is the Nurse of Nature,
with that Milke of Reason that would make a Childe of
Grace, neuer lie from the Dugge : Shee is the Schoole
mistris of Witte, and the gentle Gouemor of Will,
when, the Delight of ▼nderstanding, giues the Comfort
of Study : She is vnpleasing to none that knowes her,
and vnprofitable to none that kiues her : She feares not
to Wet her feete, to Wade through the Waters of
Comfort, but ccHnes not neere the Seas of IniquHie,
where foUy drownes Affection, in the delight of Vanity :
She opens her Treasures to the TirauaOers in Vertue, but
keepes them close from the Eies of Idlenetse: She
makes the King Gratious, and his CounoeU ludidous,
his Qergie Deuout and his Kingdome prosperous : She
giues Honor to Vertue, Grace to Honor, ^Reward to
Labor, and Loue to Truth : She is the Messenger of
Wisedome to the mfaides of the Vertoous, and the Way
to Honor in the Spirits of the Gratious : She is the Store-
house of Vnderstanding, where the Affection of Grace
can not want Instruction of goodnesse, while, in the
Rules of her directions, Reason is neuer out of square :
She is the Exercise of Wit, in the application of Know-
ledge, and the preseruer of the Tnderstanding, in the
practise of Memory : In briefe, she makes Age honor-
able and youth Admirable, the vertuous wise and the
wise gracious: Hir Libraries are infinite, hir lessons
without number, hir instraction without comparison and
hir SchoDers without equalitie : In briefe, finding it a
laborinth, to go through the grounds of hir praise : Let
this suffice, that in all Ages shee hath been and euer will
bee, the Darling of wisedome, the delight of wit, the
study of vertue, and the stay of knowledge.
KNOWLEDGE.
KnowlbdgS is a Collection of Ynderstanding, gathered
in the grounds of Learning, by the instruction of
Wisdome: Shee is the exercise of Memory, in the
actions of the Minde, and the imployer of the Senses in
the will of the Spirit : shee is the Notary of Thne, and
the tryer of Truth, and the labour of the Spirit in the
loue of Vertue : shee is the pleasure of wit, and the
paradise of Reason, where Conceit gathereth the sweet
of Vnderstanding. She is the Kings oounceDor, and
the Councells grace. Youths guarde, and Ages glory : It
is free fi^)m doubts, and feares no danger, while the
care of Prouidenoe cuts off the cause of Repentance :
shee is the enemy of Idlenesse, and the maintayner of
Labour, in the care of credit, and pleasure of profit : shee
needs no aduioe in the Resolution of Action, while
Experience m obseruation, findes perfection infidliUe :
It deares Errors, and cannot be d^odued, corrects
Impuritie, and will not bee oonvpted : Shee hath a wide
eare and a dose mouth, a pure eye and a perfect
heart : It is begotten by Grace, bred by Vertue, brought
vp by Learning and maintainde by Loue : shee conuers-
eth with the best capadties and communicates with the
soundest ludgments, dwells with the diuinest Natures
and loues the most patient dispositions : Hir hope is a
kind of Assurance, hir faith a continual expectation, hir
loue an apprehension of loy, and hir life the light of
of Etemitie: Hir labours are infinite, hir wayes are
vnsearcfaable, hir Graces incomparable, and hir-ExoeL
lendes inexplicable.' and therefore, being so little act
quainted with hir worth as makes me blush at my
vnworthinesse to speake in the least of hir praise : I wiD
ondy leaue hir aduanoement to Vertue, hir honour to
Wisdome, hir grace to Truth and to Etemitie hir
glory.
PRACTISE.
Practise, is the Motion of the Spirit, where the
Sences are all set to worke in thdr Natures, where in the
fittest employment of Time, Reason maketh the best vse
of vnderstanding : Shee is the Continuance of knowledge
in the Ease of Memory and the Honor of Resohition in
the effect of ludgment Shee plants the Spring and
reapes the Haniest, makes labour sweet and patience
comfortable : Shee hath a foot on the earth but an eye
at heauen, where the prayer of feith findes the fdidtie
of the Soule : in the fruit of Charity, she shewes the
nature of Devotion, and in the Mercy ii lustioe the Glory
of gouemment. Shee giues Time honour, in the fruit of
Action, and Reason grace, in the application of know*
ledge : She takes the hdght of the Sumie, walkes about
the world, sounds the depth of the Sea, and makes her
passage through the waters. She is ready for all
occasions, attendeth all persons, works with all instru-
ments, and finisheth all actions : Shee takes Invention
for her teacher, makes time her seruant, method her
direction, and place her habitation : Shee hath a wake-
ful! eye and a working braine, which fits the members of
the body to the seruice of the spirit: Shee is the
Physitians agent, and the Apothecaries benefector,
the Chiruigions wealth and the Patients patience : Shee
brings time to labor and care to contentment : learning
to knowledge and vertue to honour : in Idlenesse shee
hath no pleasure, nor acquaintance with Ignorance but
in Industry is her ddigfat and in vnderstanding her grace :
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MORALL AND DIUINE.
Shae hath a pasng« through aU the Pitedkameats, ahee
hath a hand hi all the Aites, a property hi all pro-
fesskms and a qualitie m all oonditkMis : hi brfefe, to
many an the varieties of the mannenof her prooeedtngt
as makes me fearefull to follow her too fiure hi observa-
tion, lest being nener able to oome neere the height of
fiir commmdetion, I be mfofced as I am to leaoe hir
wholy to admifvtioa.
PATIENCE.
PATiSNCBisaldndof heauenlyTenure, wheKbythe
Soule is held in possession, and a sweet temper in the
Spirit, which restiaineth nature from exceeding reason in
passion. Hir hand keeps time m his right course, and
hir c)re passeth into the depth of vnderstaading. Shee
attendeth wisdome hi all hir works, and proporttoaeth
time, to the neoessitie of matter : Shee is the poyson of
Sorrow in the hope of Comfort, and the paradise of conceit
hi the toy of peace : Hir tongue speakes sddome but to
purpose, and hir foot goeth stowly but snrdy : Shee is
the imitator of the Incomprehensible hi his passage to
perfection and a seruant of his will hi the mappe of his
wcricmanshxp : in Conluston Shee hath no operation,
while she only arieth hir conceit with the consideration
of experience : Shee tianailes fiure and is neuer weary ;
and giues ouer no worke but to better a beginiung : Shee
makes the Khig merdfull, and the Subiect loysll.
Honour gracious and Wisdome glorious : Shee padfieth
wrath and puts off reuenge, and in the humilitie of
charitie sbewes the nature of Grace : Shee is bekmed of
the Highest and imbraced of the wisest, honoured with
the worthiest, and graced with the best : Shee makes
imprisonment Liberty, when the minde goeth thorough
the world, and in sicknesse findes health, where death is
the way to life : Shee is an Enemie to passion, and knowes
no Purgatory ; thmkes fortune a fiction, and builds onely
vp<m Prouidence : Shee is the side-mans salne, and the
whole mans preseruer : the Wise-mans staffe, and the
good mans guide: In summe, not to wade too fiure
in hir worthinesse, lest I be drownd in the depth of
wonder, I will thus end, in hir endlesse Honour : Sheets
the grace of Christ, and the Vertue of Christianitie, the
praise of Goodnesse, and the preseruer of the workL
LOUE.
LovK is the life of Nature, and the toy of Reason, in
the Spirit of Grace ; where vertue drawfaig affection, the
concord of Sense, makes an vnion vnseperable in the
diume apprehension of the ioy of Election ; it is a
rauishment of the Soule, in the delight of the Spirit :
which, bemg carried above it selfe into inexplicable com-
fort, feeles that heauenly sidmesse that is better than the
worlds health, when the wisest of men in the swound-
ing delight of his sacred Inspiration, could thus vttcr
the sweetnesse of his passion : Afy souk is sicki o/Lomt»
It is a healthfiill sicknesse hi the soule, a pleasing pa»-
ston hi the Heart, a oontcnthie labour m the Mmde» and
a peaoelall trouble of the Senses : it alters natures in
contrarieties, when difficultie is made easto, peine made
a pleasure, poucrty, riches, and hnprisomnent, liberty :
for the content of conceit, which regards not to be aa
abiect, hi being subiect but to an oblect : it reioyceth
in truth, and knowes no inoonstande, it b free from
Idousie, and feareth no fortune : it breakes the rule of
Arithmetidce by confounding of number, where the con-
iunction of thoughts make one minde in two bodies,
where ndther figure nor dpher can make diuision of
unton : it simpathises with life, and partidpates with
light, when the eye of the minde sees the ioy of the
heart : it is a predominant power which endures no
equalitie and yet Communicates with reason in the rules
of Concord : it breeds safety in a King, and peace hi a
kingdome, Nations vnitle, and Natures gladnesse : It
sbgs in labour, in the ioy of hope, and makes a para-
dise in reward of desert : it pleads but mercy in the
histice of the Almighty ; and but mutuall Amitie in the
nature of Humanitie : In summe, hauing no Eagles eye
to looke vpon the Sunne, and fearing to looke too high,
for feare of a chip in mine eye, I wUl in these few words,
speake in praise of this peerdesse vertue : Loue is the
grace of nature, and the glory of reason, the blessing of
God, and the comfort of the world.
PEACE.
Pbacb, is a Calme in Concdt, where the Senses take
pleasure in the rest of the Spirit : It is Natures holy-
day after Reasons labour, and Wisdoms musique in the
Concords of the minde : It is a blessing of Grace, a
bounty of Mercy, a proofe of Loue, and a preseruer of
life. It holds no Arguments, knowes no quarrdls, is an
enemie to seditton and a continuance of Amitie : It is
the root of plenty, the Tree of pleasure, the fruit of
Loue, and the sweetnesse of life : It is like the still
night, where all thmgs are at rest, and the quiet sleep,
where dreams are not^ troublesome : or the resolued
potot, in the perfecdon of knowledge, where no cares,
nor doubts make controuersies in opinion : it needs no
watch, where is no feare of Enemie, nor Sollidtor of
Causes, where Agreements are conduded : It is the
intent of Law, and the fruit of lustice : the end of
Warre, and the beghuung of Wealth : It is a grace in
a Court, and a glory hi a Kingdom, a blessing in a
Family, and a happinesse in a Commonwealth : It fills
the rich mans coffien, and feeds the poore mans labour :
It is the 'mse-mans study, and the Good-mans toy :
who loue it, are gradous, who make it, are blessed, who
keep it, are happy, and who breake it, are miserable :
It hath no dwdling with Idokitry, nor friendship with
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CHARACTERS VPON ESSAIES,
&l9elicK>d, for fiir life la in Truth and in fair, alt h
Amun. But Lest in the tusUce of P^aoe, I Ena^ rather be
repr<x>ued for my Ignorance of hir work* then thought
worthy to speake in hir prayse, with ^isoQlycoadusioa,
in the commendation of Peace, I will draw to an end,
and hold my peaoe : It was s message of loy at the
birth of Christ, a song of Ioy» at the imbracemerit of
Christy an assiimnce of loy, at the death of Christ, and
shaU be the fulsesac of loy, at the oi^mming of Christ,
WARRE,
Warre, [s a scourge of the wrath of God, which by
iamine, fire^ or sword, humbleth the spirits of the Re-
pentant, tryeth the patienoe of the Faithful], and
hardtieth the hearts of the vugodly : it b the misery
of Time, and the taror of Nature, the dispeopling of
the EATth, and the mine of hir Beauty : Hir life is,
Action, hir food, Bloud, hir honour. Valor, and hir ioy^
Cotiqucst. Shee is Valors exercise, and Honors aduen-
tore, Reasons trouble, and Peaces enemy : shee is the
stout mans laue, and the weake mans feaie, the poore
mans toile, and the nch mans plague v shee is the
Aimourers Benefactor, and the Chirurgions agent, the
Cowards ague, and the Desperais oucrthrow : she is the
wish of Enuy, the plague of them that wish hir, the
shipwracke of life, and the agent for death \ The best of
hir is, that shee Is the scasoner of the body, and the
manager of the mlnde, for the jnduring of labors m tlie
resolution of action : shee thunders in the Aire, rips vp
the Earth, cuts through the Seas, and consumes with
the fire : shee is Indeed the inuention of Malice* the
worke of Mischjefe^ the musiquc of HcLl, and the daunce
of the Dcuill : she makes the end of Youth vntimely,
and of Age wretched, the cities sacke, and the countries,
beggery : shee Is the Capiaines pride* and the Captiucs
sorrow, the throat of bloud, and the graue of Ae&b :
shee is the Mfoe of the world, the punishment of sinne,
the passage of danger, and the Messenger of destruction
she is the wise mans warning, and the foolcs pajment,
die godly mans gdefe, and the wicked majds game : In
lumme, so many ore hCT woundes. so mortall her cures,
so dangerous h^ course, and so deuilish her deuises,
that [ lAiU wade no further in her riucrs of bloud, but
O'niy thus conclude in her description : she is Gods curse>
and Mans misay* hdls Poetise, and carthcs belL
VALOR,
Valor is a Verme in the spirit, which keep^ the flesh
in iubicctioii : resolues without fear, and tfunalles with-
out fainting : she vowes no villainy nor breakes her
fidelity ; she is patient in captiuity and pittiful in con-
quest : Her gaine is Honor and desert her mcane^
fortune her skome and folly her hate : wisedome is her
guide and conquest her grace, demeocy her praise and
humihtie her Gk>ry : she is youthes onuunent and ages
honor ; natures blessing and Vertnes knie : Her Ii£e
is resolution and her lone victory, her triumph truth and
her fiune vertoe : Her armes are from antiquitie and
her cote full of honor, where the title of grace hath
her Heratildry from heauen : she makes a walke of warre
and a sport of danger, an ease of labour and a lest of
death : she makes famine but abstinence, want but a
patience, sicknesse but a puige and death a puffe : she
is the Mainteiner of wane, the Generall of an army, the
terror of an Enemy and the glory of a campe : she is
the NoUenesse of theminde and the strength of the Body,
the life of hope, and the death of feare : with a handfull
of men, she overthrowes a muldtude and with a sodaine
amasement. she discomfites a Campe : she is the reoenge
of wrong and the defence of right : Religions Champioa
and vertues choise : Inbriefe, let this suffice in her com-
mendation: she strengthened Davidand conquered Goliah,
she ouerthrowes her enemies and conquers her selfe.
RESOLUTION.
Resolution is the Honour of Valor, in the quarrdl
of Vertue, for the defence of Right and Redresse of
Wrong : She beates the March, pitcheth the Battaile,
plants the Ordhumce and Mabtaines the fight : Her
Eare is stopt for Disswasions, her Eie ahnes only at
Honor, her hand takes the Sword of Valor and her heart
thinkes of nothing but victory : Shee giues the Charge,
makes the Stand, Assaults the fort, and enters the
Breach: Shee breakes the Pikes, fiaceth the Shot,
dampes the Souldior, and defeates the Army : Shee
looseth no time, slippes no Occasion, dreads no danger,
and Cares for no force ; She is Valors life and Vertues
Loue, lusdce Honor and Mercies Gloire : Shee beates
downe Castles, fires Shippes, Wades through the Sea,
and Walkes through the worid : She makes >^sedome
her guide and \A^11 her Semant, Reason her Companion
and Honor her Mistris : She is a Blessing in Nature
and a Beauty in Reason, a Grace in Inuention and a
Glory in Action : She studies no plots, when her plat-
forme is set downe and defers no time when her houre
is prefixed : Shee standes vpon no hdpes, when she
knowes her own force, and in the Execution of her will,
she is a Rocke Inremoueable : She is the Kings >^11,
without Contradiction, and the ludges doome without
Exception, the SchoUers profession, without Alteration
and the Souldiers Honor without Comparison: In
Summe so many are the groundes of her Grace and the
iust Causes of her Commendadon, that leaning her worth
to the descriptk>n of better wits, I will, in these fewe
wordes, condude my conceit of her : She is the stout-
nesse of the heart, and the strength of the minde, a gift
of God and the glory of the World.
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MORALL AND DIUINE.
HONOIt
Honor is a Title or Grace, giueii by the spirit of Vertue
to the desert of Valor, in the defence of Truth : it is
wronged in basenesse, and abused in vnworthinetse, and
endangered in wantonnesse and lost in wickednes : It
nomisheth Art and crowneth Wit, graceth T«faming and
glorifieth Wisedome : in the Heranldiy of Heanen it
hath the richest Cote, being in Nature Allied vnto all the
houses of Grace, which in the Heanen of heauens,
attend the King of kings : Her Escudieon is a heart,
in which in the shield of fisuth, she beares on the Andcor
of Hope, the Hehnit of Saluadon : she quarters with
Wisedome in the Resolution of Valor, and in the Ihie of
Charitie, she is the House of lusdce : Her Supporters
are Time and Patience, her Mantle Ttuth and her crest
Christ treading vpon the Globe of the world : her Im-
presse, Carcna nua Ckristtu: In briefe, finding her
state so hi|^ that I am not able to climb vnto the praise
of her perfection, I will leaue her Royalty to the Register
of most Princely spirits, and in my humble heart thus
only deliuer my opmion of her : She b Vertues due and
Graces gift, Valois wealth and Reasons ioy.
TRUTH.
Truth is the Glory of time, and the daughter of
Eternity : a Title of the hi^^est Grace, and a Note of a
diuine Nature : she is the life of Religion, the light of
Loue, the Grace of Wit, and the crowne of Wisedome :
she is the Beauty of Valor, the brightnesse of honor, the
blessing of Reason and the ioy of fiuth : her truth is
pure goU, her Time is right pretious, her word is most
gratious and her will is most glorious : Her Essence is
in God and her dwelling with His semants, her wiQ in
His wisedome and her worke to His Glory : she is
honored in lOue, and graced in constande, in patience
admired and in charity beloued : she is the Angels wor-
shippe, the Virgins fame, the Saints blisse and the
Martirs crowne : she is the Kings greatnesse and his
Councels goodnesse, his subiects peace and his King-
domes Praise : she is the life of learning and the light of
the Law, the honor of Trade and the grace of labor :
she hath a pure Eye, a plaine hand, a piercing wit and
a perfect heart : she is wisedomes walke in the way of
holinesse, and takes vp her rest but in the resolution of
goodness : Her tongue neuer trippes, her heart neuer
faintes, her hand neuer fieules and her £uth neuer feares :
her Church is without schisme, her City without fraude,
her Court without Vanity, and her Kingdome without
VUlany : In summe, so infinite is her Excellence, in the
construction of all sence, that I will thus only conclude
in the wonder of her worth : she is the nature of perfeo-
tion, in the perfection of Nature, where God in Christ,
shewes the glory of Christianity.
TIME.
Time b a continuall Motion, whkh from the highest
Moouer, hath hb operation in all the subiects of Nature,
acoQfding to their qualitie, or disposition : He b in
proportion, like a Circle, wherein hee walketh with an
euen passage, to the point of his prefixed place : Hee
attendeth none and yet b a servant to all ; he b best
emploied by wisedome and most abused by folly : He
carrieth both the sword and the scepter, for the vse both
of lustice and Merde : He b present in all Inuentions
and can not be spared from Action : He b the Treasury
of Graces in the Memory of the wise and bringes them
forth to the world ypon necessity of thdr vse : He
openeth the windowes of Heauen to giue Light vnto the
Earth and spreades the doake of the night to couer the
Rest of labor: He doseth the Eie of Nature and waketh
the spirit of Reason, he traueUeth thorough the minde and
b visible but to the Eie of Vnderstanding: Hebswifter
then the winde and yet b still as a Stone, predous in hb
right vse, but perilous in the contrarie : He b soone
founde of the carefull Soule, and quickly mist in the want
of hb comfort, he b soone lost in the lacke of Emploi-
ment and not to be recouered without a world of Elide-
uonr : he b the true mans Peace and the Theeues perdi-
tion, the good mans blessing and the wicked mans
curse : He b knowne to be but his bemg vnknowne,
but only in his bdng in a bdng aboue Knowledge : he
b a Riddle not to be read but in the circumstance of
descripdon, hb name better knowne then hb nature,
and he that maketh best vse of him hath the best vnder-
standing of him : he b like the study of the Philosophers
stone, where a roan may see wonders and yet short of his
Expectadon : Hee b at the Inuention of warre, Armes
the Souldier, Maintaines the quarreU and makes the
Peace: Hee b the Courtiers Play-fellow and the
Souldiers Schole-master, the Lawyers Gaine and the
Merdiantes Hope : His life b Motion and hb loue
Action, Hb honor Puienoe and hb glory perfection :
He masketh Modestie and blusheth Viiginitie, honoreth
Humilitie and graceth Charitie : In Summe, finding it
a world to walke thorough the wonder of hb Worth, I
willthusbrefdydeUuerwhatlfindetrudyofhim: Hee
b the Agent of the Lining and the Register of the dead,
the direction of God and a great Worke-master in the
world.
DEATH.
Death b an ordinance of God, for the subiecting of
the world, which b limited his time for the correction of
Pride : in his substance, he b nothing, being but only a
depriuation, and in hb true description, a name without
a nature : He is seene but in a picture : heard, but in a
tale : feared but in a passion : and fdt but in a pinch :
B
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lO
CHARACTERS VPON ESSAIES, MORALL AND DIUINE,
He is a terror but to the wicked and a skar-crow but to
the foolish : but to the wise a way of comfort and to the
godly the gate to life : He is the ease of paine and the
ende of sonow, the liberty of the imprisoned and the ioy
of the fiedthlull : it is both the wound of siane aiid the
wages of sinne, the Sinners feare and the Sinners doom.
He is the Sextons agent and the Hangmons ieuenne« the
rich mans diige and the Mouniers merry-day. Hee
is a course of time but vnoertaine till he come andwel-
oome but to such as are wearie of their liues : It is a
message from the Physitian, when the patient is post cure
and if the writ be well made, it is a mpra stdtat for all
diseases : It is the heanens stroke and the earths
Steward, the follower of sicknesse and the forenmner to
Hell. In summe, hauing no pleasure to ponder too
much of the power of it, I will thus conclude my opinion
of it : It is a stfaige of sinne, and' the tenor of the
¥ricked, the crowne of the Godly, the staire of vengeance
and a stratagem of the Deuill.
FAITH.
Faith is the hand of the soul which layeth hold of
the promises of Christ in the mercy of the Almighty :
Shee hath a bright eye and a holy eare, a deaie heart
and sure foot : she is the strength of Hope, the trust of
Troth, the honour of Amitie and the ioy of Loue : shee
is rare among the soones of men and hardly found
among the daughters of woemen ; but among the sonnes
of God she is a conueyance of their inheritance and
among the dau^ters of Grace she is the assumnce of
their portions. Her dwelling is in the Church of God»
her oonnersation with the Saints of God, her ddlg^t with
thebeloued of God and her life is in the loue of God:
shee knowes no falshood, distrusts no Truth, breakes
no promise and coines no excuse, but as bri^t as the
Sunne, as swift as the winde, as sure as the rocke, and
as pure as the gokl, she lookes toward heauen, but liues
in the world, in the soules of theJBiect to the glory of
Election : she was wonnded in Piuadise by a dart of the
Deuill and healedJcf her hun by .the. death of Christ
lesus : she te thepooremaBs ctedit and the rich mans
praise, the wise manstare and the good mans cognisance;
In smnme, finding her worth,^ in words hardly to be
expressed, I wiH in these few- words, onely deliuer my
opinion of ber: Shee is Gods blessing and mans Uisse,
reasons comfort and vcrtuos c^oiy.
. FEARE.
FSABS is a fruit of sinne, which drove the first Father
of ottr flesh firom the presence of God and hath bred an im-
perfection in a number of the worse part of his posteritie :
It is the disgrtUx of nature, the foik of reason, the maime
of wit and the Star of Tnderstanding : It is the palsie of
the Spirit, Where the Soule wanteth £edth and the badge
of a Coward, that cannot abide the sight of a sword :
It is weaknesse in nature and a wound in patience, the
death of hope and the entmnoe into despaire : It is
dilldrens awe, and fooles amasement, a worme in con-
science and a curse to wickednesse. In briefe, it makes
the Coward stagger, the Lyer stammer, the Thiefe
stumUe, and Ae Tftdtor start : li is a blot in armes, a
blur in Honour,, the shame of a SoukUer and the defeat
of an Army:
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
To THE HONORABLB . . . SR FRANCIS BaCON, 1L X-6. It
is singular that none of the Editors of Bacon has given even
the bibliography of ' Eisaies ' contemporary with and imitadve
of Bacon's. It would be a smgularly suggesdve chapter in
the history of our literatoxe. There are some of a higher kind
than Breton's censure might lead us to suppose.
To THE Reader.— L i, '/«/' = choose: L xx, '/ocU* =
fool's cap.
Ad Authorem.— 11. x>a. As elsewhere, 'Breton' rhymes
with ' written,' and so his name is sometimes spelled ' Britten.'
1. 3, 'itut* the lamp/— as we say, 'smell' of the lamp, or =
prolonged study.
In laudem opbris, lines by R. B.— 16^ ' cetuurt ' = judgment
WisEDOME.— L 8, * proceedings = procession.
Learning. — L 3a, ' out qf tguare : ' Herbert later puts it :
' Man sad the present fit; if he provide
Hk brtaJks the sfuare.'
i.e. the reverse of going upon or acting on the square = acts
disloyally, breaks the- agreement that the present is his and the
future God's. So in Breton.
Practise.— 1. 29, * Predicamienis ,-' a logical terms cate-
gories.
Patience.— L 14, *arutAt' qu. carieth, i.e. oarryeth, or it
may be = aireth.
Loue.— L 8, ' jwMMufiJNsf' = swooning, ie, ecstatic: L is.
' fftie minde in two bodut :* so Spenser of Priamond, Diamond,
and Triamond :
"These three did love each other deardy wdl.
And with so finne affectioD were aUyde.
A* ifbMtonetonU in them aUdiddmeU*
{F, (?., B. IV. V. 43.
An early commonplace.
Resolution.— I. 34, *i£N?Mv' = judgment —G.
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THE GOOD and THE BADDE.
[1616.]
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NOTE.
'The Good and The Badde* (1616, 4^} is from the rare original in
the British Museum. It is among the least known of Breton's minor
writings. It consists of 23 leaves. See our Memorial-Introduction
for lovable Dr. Thoiias Fuller's indebtedness to Breton herein and
elsewhere, etc. Henry Huth, Esq., has a later edition, which is
entitled^' England's Selected daracters. Describing the good and
bad Worthies of this Age, etc. London, Printed for T. S. 1643 :' 4°.
8 leaves (Hazlitt, s. «i.).— G.
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THE GOOD
AND
THE BADDE,
OR
Descriptions of the
Worthies, and Vnworthies
0/ this Age.
WHERE
The Best may see their Graces, and
the Worst disceme their Basenesse.
London
Printed by George Purslowe for lohn Budge, and are to be
sold at the great South-dore of Paules,
And at Brittaines Bursse.
i6i6.
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To The Right Worshipfvll and Worthy, Sir Gilbert
Houghton, of Houghton Knight, the noble fauourer of all
vertuous spirits : the highest power of Heatien grant the
blessing of all happinesse to his worthy hearts desire.
WORTHY KNIGHT:
THE worthinesae of this subject, in which is set
downe, the diffdrenoe of light and darkmesBP, in
the nature of honour and disgrace, to the deseruers
of either, hath made me (vpon the note of the noble-
nesse of your spirit) like the eagle, still looking towards
the sunne ; to present to your patience the patron-
age of this little treatise of the Worthies and
Vnworthies of this Age : wherein, I hope, yon will finde
some things to your content, nothing to the contrary :
Which leaning to the acceptance of your good fauour,
with my further seruice to your command : I humbly
rest.
Your Worship's deuoted, to be commanded,
NICHOLAS BRETON.
Co tl^e ISeaDer.
I AM sure that if you read thorough this Booke,
you wHl finde your description in one place
or other : if among the Worthies, holde
you where you are, and change not your carde
for a worse : If among the other, mend that is
amisse and all will be welL I name you not, for I
know you not ; but I will wish the best, because the
worst is too bad : I hope there will nobody be angry,
except it be with himselfe for some-what that hee findes
out of order : if it bee so the hope is the greater the
bad will be no worse : yet the world being at such a
passe, that Ihiing creatures are scarcely knowne fix>m
pictures till they moue, nor wise men from fooles till
they speake, nor arteists from bunglers till they worke ;
I will ottdy wish the worthy their worth, and the contrary
what may mend their condition ; and for myaeUe, but
pardon for my presumption in writing vpon the nature
of more worth then I am worthy to write of, and
fiuiourable acceptation of no worthy intention of repre-
hension, by the least thought of malicious disposition.
So kauing my booke to your best like, with my better
labours to the like effect : In hope to finde you among
the Worthies: I rest
At your command, if worthy,
N. B.
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THE GOOD and THE BADDE:
Or,
Descriptions of the Worthies, and Vnworthies of this Age.
I. A Worthy King.
WORTHY King is a figure of God. in the
nature of government : he is the chiefe of
men, and the Churches champion, Natures
honoor, and Earths maiesty : is the direo-
tor of Law, and the strength of the same, the sword
of lustice, and the soeptcr of Mercy, the glasse of Grace,
and the eye of Honour, the terror of Ttcason, and the
life of Loyalty. His oommaund is general, and his
power absolute, his frowne a death, and his fanonr a
life, his charge is his snbiects, his care their safely^ his
pleasure their peace, and his ioy their loue : he is not
to be paraldd, because be is without equalitie, and the
prerogatiue of his crowne must not be contradicted :
hee is tlie Lords anointed, and therfoce most not be
touched, and tlie bead of a publiqde body, and therlbre
must bee prescnied : he is a seouige of shme and a
blessing of grace, Gods Tioegerent oner his people, and
vnder Him supreme gouemonr : his safety must bee
his Councds cars, his health, his subiects pra3rer, his
pleasure, his peeres comfort ; and his content, his king-
domes gladnesse : His presence must be reoerenced,
his person attended, his court adorned, and his state
maintamed ; his bosome must not be searched, his
will not disobeyed, his wants not vnsupplied, nor his
place vnregarded. In summe, he is more then a man,
though not a God, and next vnder God to be honoured
aboue man.
2. An Vnworthy King.
An ynwoithy King, is the vsorper of power, where
tyranny in authority loseth the glory of maiesty, while
the feare of terror frigbteth lone from obedience ; lor
when the lyon plaaes the wolfe, the lambe dies with
the ewe. Hee is a messenger of Worth to be the
scourge of shme, or the triall of patience, in the hearu
of the religious. He is a warrant of woe, m the execu-
tion of his fury, and in his best temper, a doubt of Grace.
Hee is a dispeopler of his Icingdome. and a prey to his
enemiest an vndellghtliill fnend, and a tormentor of
himselfe. He knowes no God, but makes an idoll of
Nature, and vseth reason but to the mine of sense. His
care is but bis will, his pleasure but his ease, his
exercise but sinne, and his ddight but Tnhumane. His
heauen is his pleasure, and his golde is his God. His
presence is terrible, his countenance horrible, his words
VDOomfortable and his actions intolerable. In summe.
be is the foyle of a oowne, the disgrace of a Court, the
trottUe of a Councell, and the plague of a Kingdome.
3. A Worthy Qiuene,
A worthy Queene is the figure of a King who.
vnder God hi his grace, hath a great power ouer his
people. She is the chiefe of women, the beauty of her
Court, and the grace of her sexe in the royalty of her
spirit. She is like themoone, thatgiueth lightamong
the starres, and but Yuto the sunne, giues none place in
her brightnesse. She is the pure diamond vpon the
King's finger and the orient pearle vnpriieable in his
eye, the toy of the Court in the comfort of the King, and
the wealth of the ki]]«dome in the fruit of her kMie.
Sbee is Reason's honour, in Nature's grace, and Wise-
dome's krae in Vcrtue's beantie. In summe, she is the
i»^i>An.t«M of God, and the King's second selfe, and in
Us grace, the beauty of a Khigdome.
A 2
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THE GOOD AND THE BADDE.
4» A Worthy Prince,
A worthy prince is the hope of a kingdom, the
richest iewell in a King's crowne, and the fairest flowre
in the Qoeene's garden. Hee is the ioy of Nature in the
hope of Honour, and the loue of Wisedome in the life
of Worthinesse. In the secret carriage of his heart's
intention, til liis dissignffs come to action, he is a
dumbe shew to the world's imagination. In his wise-
dome hee startles the spirits of expectation in his
valour, he subiects the hearts of ambition in his vertue,
hee winnes the lone of the noblest, and in his bounty
bindes the seniioe of the most sufiidenL He is the
crystall glasse, where Nature may see her comfort, and
the booke of Reason, where Vertue may reade her
honour. Hee is the moming-starre that hath light from
the sunne. and the blessed fruit of the Tree of Earth's
paradise. Hee is the studie of the wise in the state of
honour, and is the subiect of learning, the history of
admiration. In summe, he is the note of wisdome, the
aime of honour, and in the honour of Vertue the hope of
a Kingdome.
5. An Vnwartky Pritue.
An vnworthy Mnce is the feare of a Kingdome.
When wQl and power carrie pride in impatience, in the
close carriage of ambitious intention, he is like a feare-
full dreame to a troubled spirit In his passionate
humours he frigfateth the hearts of the prudent, in the
delight of vanities hee k>seth the loue of the wise, and
in the misery of auarioe is serued onely with the needy.
He is like a little mist before the rising of the sunne,
which, the mc»« it growes the lesse good it doth. Hee
is the King's griefe, and the Queene's sorrowe, the
Court's trouble, and the Kingdome's curse. In summe,
he is theseede of vnhapphiesse, the fruit of vngodlinesse,
the taste of bitteinesse and the digestion of heaidnesse.
6. A Worthie Priuy Counceller.
A worthy Priuie Counoeller is the pillar of a realme,
in whose wisedome and care vnder God and the
King, stands the safety of a kingdome. He is the
watch-towre to giue warning of the enemy, and a hand
of prouision for the preseruation of the State. Hee is
an oracle in the King's eare, and a sword in the King's
hand, an euen weight in the ballance of lusUoe, and a
light of grace in the loue of truth. He is an eye of
care in the course of Lawe, a heart of loue in his seruice
to his soneraigne, a mind of honour in the order of his
seruice, and a braine of inuention for the good of the
Commonwealth. His place is poweifull while his
seruice is fidthiiill, and his honour due in the desert
of his employment. In summe, hee is as a fisoed
planet mong the starres of the firmament, which through
the doudes in the ayre, shewes the nature of his li^t.
7. An Vnwarthie CounulUr,
An vnworthy Counceller is the hurt of a King
and the danger of a State, when the weaknes of hidge-
ment may commit an error, or the lacke of care may
giue way to vnhapinesse. He is a wicked cbarme m the
King's eare, a sword of terror in the aduice of tyranny.
His power is perillous in the partiality of will, and his
heart full of hollownesse in the protestation of lone.
Hypocrisie is the ooner of his oounterfeite rdigioo, and
traiterous inuention is the agent of his ambition. He
is the doud of darknesse, that threatneth foule weather ;
and if it growe to a storme, it is feareAill where it fells.
Hee is an enemy to God in the hate of grace, and
worthie of death in disloyalty to his souenugne. In
summe. he is an vniit person for the place of a Coonodkr
and an vnworthy subiect to looke a King in the feoe.
8. A NobU'Man.
A Nobleman is a marke of honour, where the eye
of wisedome in the obseruation of desert sees the fruit
of grace. Hee is the Orient pearle that Reason
polisheth for the beauty of Nature and the diamond
sparke where diuine grace ghws vertue honour. He is
the note4)ooke of moraU disdpline, where the conodt
of care may finde the true courtier. He b the nurse
of hospitality, the reliefe of neoessitie, the k>ae of
diarity and the life of bounty. Hee is Leamiqg's
grace and Valour's feme, ^^sedome's fruit and Kind-
nesse' lone. Hee is the true felcon that feedes on
no caiiion, the true horse that will bee no hackney, the
true dolphin that feares not the whale, and the true
man of God that feares not the diudl. In summe, he
is the darling of Nature, in Reason's philosophy, the
loadstaire of light in Loue's astronomic, the rauishing
sweet in the musique of Honour and the golden
number in Grace's arithmeticke.
9. An Vnnobie Man,
An vnnobie man is the griefe of Reason, when the title
of honour is put vpon the subiect of disgrace ; when
dther the imperfection of wit, or the foUy of will shewes
an vnfitnesse in Nature for the vertue of aduanoement.
He is the eye of basenesse and spirit of grossnesse and ,
in the drmfane of rudenesse the skome of noUenesse.
He is a snspidon of a right generation in the nature of
his disposition, and a miserable plague to a feminine
patience. Wisedome knowes him not. Leaning bred him
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THE GOOD AND THE BADDE.
not, Vertue loues him not and Honour fits him not.
Prodigality or auarice are the notes of his inclination,
and foUy or miscfaiefe are the fruits of his inuention. In
somme, he is the shame of his name, the disgrace of his
place, the blot of his title, and the mine of his house.
lo. A IVarthU Bishop.
A worthy Bishop is an ambassadour from God vnto
man, in the midst of warre to make a treaty of peace ;
who with a generall pardon ypon confession of sinne,
vpon the fhiit of repentance, giues assurance of comfort
Hee brings tidings fix)m beauen, of happinesse to the
world, where the patience of Merde calls Nature to
Grace. Hee is the siluer trumpet in the musicke of Loue,
where Faith hath a life that neuer fiules the beloued.
Hee is the director of life in the lawes of God, and the
chinngeon of the soule, in laundng the sores of sinne ;
the tenor of the reprobate, in pronoundng their danma-
tion ; and the ioy of the fiuthfull in the assurance of their
sahiation. In sunune, hee is in the nature of grace,
worthy of honour, and in the message of life, worthy of
loue ; a oontinuall agent betwixt God and man, in the
preaching of His Word and prayer for His people.
11, An Vnworthy Bishop,
An vnworthy Bishop is the disgrace of Learning, when
the want of reading or the abuse of vnderstanding, in the
speech of error may b^get idolatry. He is God's
enemy, in the hurt of His people, and his owne woe in
abuse of the Word of God. He is the shadow of a
candle that giues no light or, if it be any, it is but
to leade into daricenesse. The sheepe are vnhappy
that liue in his fold, when they shall either sttuiieor fisede
on ill ground. Hee breeds a warre in the wits of his
audience when his life is contrary to the nature of his
instruction. Hee liues in a roome where he troubles a
world and in the shadow of a saint, is little better then a
deuilL Hee makes Religion a doake of sinne and with
counterfeit humility oouereth incomparable pride. Hee
robs the rich to relieue the poore and makes fooks of
the wise with the imagination of his worth. Hee is all
for the Church but nothing for God, and for the ease of
Nature k)seth the ioy of Reason. In summe, he is the
picture of hypocrisie, the spirit of heresie, a wound in
the Church and a woe in the world.
12. A worthy Itidge.
A ludgeis a doome, whose breath is mortall vpon the
breadi of Law, where criminal! oflfences must bee cut off
from a commonwealth. Hee is a sword of lustioe in the
hand of a King ; and an eye of wisedome in the walke
of a kingdome. His study is a square for the keeping
of proportion, betwixt command and obedience, that the
King may keepe his crowne on his head, and the subiect
his head on his shoulders. Hee is feared but of the
foolish and cursed but of the wicked ; but of the wise
honoured and of the gradous beloued. Hee is a surueier
of rights and reuenger of wrongs, and in the iudgement
of IVuth, the honor of lustice. In summe. his word is
law, his power grace, his labour peace, and his desert
honour.
13. An vrtworthy Judge,
An vnworthy ludge is the griefe of lustioe in the error
of hidgement. when through ignorance, or will, the death
of innocency lies vpon the breath of opinion. Hee is
the disgrace of Law in the desert of Knowledge and the
plague of Power in the misery of Oppression. He is
more morall then dinine. in the nature of Policy and
more hididous then tust in the carriage of his concdt.
His charity is cokl, when partiality is resolued ; when the
doome of life lies on tlie verdict of a lury, with a steme
lookehee frjghteth an ofiender and ghws little comfort to
a poore man's cause. The goklen weight ouerwaies his
grace, when angeb play the dhuils in the hearts of his
people. In summe, where Christ is preadied hee hath
no place in His Church ; and in this Kingdome out of
doubt, God will not suffer any such diuell to beare sway.
14. A Worthie Kfi^ht,
A worthy Knjght is a spirit of proofe in the aduanoe*
ment of vertue, by the desert of honour, in the eye of
maiestie. In the field hee giues courage to his souldiers,
in the Court grace to his followers, in the dttie reimtation
to his person and in the country honour to his House.
His sword and his heme make his way to his House and
his armor of best proofe b an vndaunted spirit The
musicke of his del^ht is the trompet and the drumme
and the paradise of his eye is an army defeated ; the
reliefe of the oppressed makes his conquest honourable
and the pardon of the submissiue makes him fiunous in
mercy. Hee is in nature milde and in spirit stout, in
reason iudkdous and in all honourable. In summe, hee
is a yeoman's commander and a gentleman's superiour, a
nobleman's ccanpanion and a prince's worthy lauourite.
15. An Vnworthy Knight.
An vnworthy Knight is the defect of Nature hi the
title of honour, when to malntaine valor his spurres haue
no rowels nor his sword a pofait His appareU is of
proofe, that may weare like his armour, or like an olde
ensigne that hath his honour in ragges. It maybe he is
the taylor's trouble fai fittmg an ill shape, or a Mercdr's
wonder hi wearing of silke. In the Court he stands for
a dpher and among ladies like an owie among birds.
Hee is worshipt ondy for bis wealth, and tf hee be of the
first head, hee shall be vahied by his wit, when ff his
pride goe beyond his purse his title win be a trouble to
hfan. In summe, hee is the child of Folly, and the man
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of Qotham, the blind man of Pride and the foale of
Imagination. But in the Court of Honour, are no such
apes and I hope that this Idngdome will breed no so^
16. A Worthy Gentleman,
A worthy Gentleman isa branch of the tree of Honour;
whose fruites are the actions of Vertue ; as pleasing to
the eye of ludgement, as tastefuU to the spirit of Vnder-
staading. Whatsoeuer hee doth, it is not forced, except
it bee euiO, which either through ignorance vnwilllngly
or through compulsion vnwillingly, he ials vpon. Hee
is in nature kinde, in demeanour courteous, in allegianoe
loyall and in religion sealous ; in seruice Cedthfull and in
reward bountifulL Hee is made of no baggage stulTe,
nor for the wearing of base people ; but it is wouen by
the Spirit of Wisedome to adome the Court of Hotiotir.
His apparell is more comely then costly and his diet more
wholsome then excesskie ; his ezerdse more healthliitl
then painefuU, and his study more for knowledge thai
pride ; his kme not wanton nor common, his gifU not
niggardly nor prodigall, and his carriage neither apish
nor sullen. Insumme, heisanapprooerof hispedjgree
by the noblenesse of his passage and in the coarse of his
life an example to his posterity.
17. An Vnworthy Gentleman.
An vnworthy Gentleman b the scoffe of Wit and the
scome of Honour, where more wealth then wit is worsbipt
of Simplicity ; who spends more in idlenesse then vmuld
maintaine thrift, or hides more in misery then nught
purchase honour ; whose delights are vanides and whose
pleasures fopperies, whose studies fables and whose
eacerdse worse then follies. His conuersation b baje,
and hb conference ridiculous, his affections vngradous
and hb actions ignominious ; hb apparell out of fiashidn
and hb diet out of order, hb cariage out of square and
hb company out of request In summe, he b lilee a
roungrell dogge with a vehiet coller, a cart-horse with a
golden saddle, a busxard kite with a fitwloon's beb, or a
baboune with a pied ieridn.
x8. A Worthy Lawyer.
A worthy Lawyer b the studient of knowledgei how
to bring oontrouersies into a coodusioo of peace and oui
of ignorance to gaine vnderstanding. Hee diuides time
into vses and cases into constructiones. Hee layes open
obscurities and b praysed for the speech of troth, and
in the court of conscience pleads mudi mjorma^at^^ris^
for smaU fees. He b a meane for the preseniation of
titles and the holding of possessions and a great instni-
ment of peace in the iudgement of impartiality. Hee is
the dyent's hope, in hb case's pleading and hb heart t
comfort in a happy issue. Hee b the finder out of tricks
in the eraft of lU conscience and the ioy of the distressed
in the reliefe of lustice^ In aumme, bee is a m^er of
peaec among the spirtts of coniention and a contlfitier
of quiet in the execution of the Law,
19. An Vnworthy Lawyer
An vnlcamed fuid vn worthily cadled a Lawyer, is the
^gure of a foot^post, who cafries letters but knowes not
what is in them* only can r^id the superscriptions to direct
them to their right owners. So trudgeth this simple clarke,
thai can scarce read a case when It is written, vdxh. his
hand-full of papers from one Court 10 another and from
one counsellor's diamber to another, when by his good
payment for his paincs hee will bee so £awcy as to call
himsdfe a SoUicilOT. But what a taking are poore clients
in when this too much trusted cunning; companion^ better
redde in Pierce Plowman then in Ploydon and in the Play
of Richard the Third then in the P!eas of Edward the
Foiuth ; perswades them all is sure when hee is sure of
all I and in what a misery are the p>oore men when vpon
a Nihil didt because indeede this poore fellow, Nihil
p<^tiit dictrt, they are in danger of au execution before
they know wherefore (hey are condemned. But I Vfish
ali such more wicked then witty \^Ieamed in the Law
and abusers of the same, lo looke a little better into
their consdences and to leauc their crafty courses, lest
when the Law indecde laies them open, Snsteede of carry-
ing papers in their hands they weare not f^pers on their
heads and instead of giuing eare to thefi- clients' causes
or rather eies into their purses, they haue nere an eare
left to hc^re withal, nor good de to see withal! ; or at
least honesi face to looke out withtdli but as the grss>
hoppers of Egypt tiee counted the caterpillers of England
and not the foie that stole the goose but the great foie
that stole the fanne from the gander.
20. A Worthy Soulikr,
A wor^y Souldier is the childe of Valour, who
was bome for the seruice of necessitie, and to beare
the ensigne of Honour in the actions of Worth. He b
the dyer of the earth with blood, and the mine of (he
erections of pride. Hee is the wmich of Wit, the ad-
uanmge of Time and the executioner of Wrath vpon
the wilfuU ofiender. He disputes questions with the
point of a sword, and preferres death to ind^ities. Hee
is a lyoD to Ambition, and a lambe to Submission,
hee hath Hope fast by the hand and treads vpon the
head of Feare. Hee is the King's champion, and the
Kingdome's guard, P^eacc's presemcr, and Rebellion's
terror. He mokes the horse trample at the sound of
a trumpet, and leades on 10 a ^ttaiie as If hee were
going to a break-fast. Hee knowes not the nature of
cowardjse, for his rest is set vp vpon resolution ; bis
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strongest fortification b his mind, wUdi beatcs off the
asotults of idle humors, and his life is the passage of
danger, where an Yndannted spirit stoopes to no
fortmie. With his armes hee wins his armes, and by
his desert in the field his honour hi the Court. In
summe. in the truest man-hood hee is the true m^ui.
and in the creation of honour, a most worthy creature.
21. An Vniramed SouldUr.
An vntzuined soulcfier is like a young hound,
that when the first fidls to hunt, he knowes not how to
lay his nose to the earth ; who haning his name but
in a booke, and marched twise about a mari[et-pi3c»r
when he comes to a piece of seruioe knowes not how
to bestowe himsellie. He marches as if he were a.t
plough, carries his pike like a pike-sta£fe, and his
sword before him for feare of losing from his side. If
he be a shot, he will be rather ready to say a grace
ouer his peece, and so to dischaige his hands of it, then
to leame how to disdiaige it with a grace. He puts on
his armour ouer his cares, like a waste-coate, and
weares his murrian like a nightcap. When he is
quartered in the fiekl, he looks for his bed, and whesa
he sees his prouant he is readie to crie for his victuals ;
and ere hee knowe well where he is, wish heartily hee
¥rere at home againe, with hanging downe his head as
if his heart were in his hose. [He will] sleepe titl a
drumme or a deadly bullet awake him ; and so cartle
himselfe in all companies, that till martiall discipline
haue seasoned his vnderstandhig, he is like a dpher
among figures, an owle among birds, a wise man among
fooles and a shadow among men.
22. A Worthy Physician,
A worthy physician is the enemy of sicknesse, in
purging nature from oorraption. His acdon is most in
feeling of pulses, and his discourses chiefUy of the
natures of diseases. He is a great searcher out of
simples, and accordingly makes his composition. Hee
perswades abstinence and patience, for the benefit of
health, while puigeing and bleeding are the chiefe
courses of his counsaile. The Apothecarie and the
Chinngeon are his two chiefe attendants, with whom
conferring vpon tune, growes temperate in his cuns.
SurfeU and wantonnesse are great agents for his im-
ploiment, when by the secret of his skiU out of otl^a^*
weaknes hee gathers his owne strength. In summe,
hee is a necessary member for an vnnecessary malodyp
to find a disease and to cure the diseased.
23> An Vnworthy Physician*
AK viileamed ai^d so vnworthy PhysJmn, Is a klnde
of horse-lee^di, whose cure Ls taost in drawing c>f blood
and a desperate purge, eilher to eure or kill, as it bits.
His. discourse i^ most of the cures that bee haib done
and diem a&rre off ; and not a receipt vnder a hundreth
pounds, though it be not worth three h^fe-pence.
Vpon ihe market-day he is much haunted with vrinals,
where if he finde anything (though he knowe nothing)
yet hee will $ay somewhat, which if it bit to some
purpose, with a fewe fustian words hee wiU seeme a piece
of strange stu0e. Hee is neuer without old merry
tales and stale i^sts to make olde folkes laugh and cum-
fits or plummes in his pocket to please little children ;
yea and he will be talking of comple^ons though he
know nothing of their dispositions ; and if his medidne
doe a fcate he is a made man among fooles ; but being
wholly vnleamed, and oft-times vnhouest, let me thus
bnefly describe him. He is a plain e kinde of mountC'
banke, and a tme quadcje-saluer, a danger for the sicke
to deele withali, and a dizard in the world to talke
withaU.
24. j4 Worthy Merchatd,
A worthy marchant is the heire of aduenture,
whose hopes hang mtich vpon windc. Vpon a wodden
horse he rides through the world, and in a roerry gaJe»
makes a path through ihe seas. He is a discoua^
of ^iiuntries, and a finds' oui of commoditlj^, resolute
in his attempts, and ro^aJl in his expences. He is the
life of trofBck, and the maintalneT of trade, the sailer's
master, and the souldier's friend. Hee is the cxerdse
of the Exchange, the honor of credit, the obseruatjon
of Time and the vuderstanding of thrift. His studie
is number, hb care his accounts, his comfort his con-
science and his wealth his good name. He feares not
Silla, and sayles dose by Caribdis, and hauing beaten
out a stoTTO^ rides at rest in a harbour. By his sea^
gaine he makes his land-purchase, and by the know-
ledge of trade, findes the key of treasure. Out of his
trauailes he makes his discourses, and from his eye-
obseruations brings the moddels of architectures- He
ptanu Ihe earth n-itb forraine fruits and knowes at
home what is good abroad. He is neat in apparell,
modest In demeantsre, dainty in dyet, and ciuill in his
carriage. In summe, he is the pillar of a city, the
enricho' of a country, the furnisher of a Court, and the
WOTthy seruant of a King,
25, An Vnw&rthy Marchant,
An vnworthy merchant is a klnde of pedler, who
(with the heJpe of a Broker) gets more by hU wit
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THE GOOD AND THE BADDE.
then by his honestie. Hee doth sometime vse to glue
out money to gamesters, bee paide in post, vpon a
hand at dice. Sometime he gaines more by bawbles,
then better stuffes and rather then fidle wil aduenture
a &lse oath for a fraudulent gaine. Hee deales with no
whole sale but all his honesty is at one word ; as for
wares and weights he knowes how to hold the baDanoe,
and for his conscience he is not ignorant what to do
with it. His trauaile is most by land, for be fears to
be too busie vrith the water and whatsoener his ware
be hee will be sure of his money. The most of his
vrealth is in a packe of trifles, and for his honesty I dare
not passe my word for Imn. If be be rich tis tenne to
one of his pride, and if he be poore, be breakes with-
out his fast. In summe, hee is the disgrace of a
Marchant, the dishonour of a dtty, the discredit of his
parish, and the dislike of all.
26. ^ good man,
A good Man is an image of God, lord ooer all His
creatures, and created only for his seruioe. He is made
capable of reason, to know the properties of Nature,
and by the inspiration of Grace to know things super-
natuniu. He hath a iaoe alwayes to looke vpward and
a soule that giues life to all the senoes. Hee liues in
the world as a stranger, while heauen is the home of
his spirit. His life is but the labour of senoe, and his
death the way to his rest. His study is the word of
Truth and his delight is in the lawe of loue. His pro-
uision is but to seme necessity, and his care the ezerdse
of charitie. He is more oonuersant with the diuine
prophets, then the world's profits and makes the ioy of
his soule in the tidings of his saluation. He is wise in
the best wit and wealthy in the richest treasure. His
hope is but the comfort of mercy, and his feare but the
hurt of sinne. Pride is the hate of his soule and
patience the worker of his peace. His guide is the
wisedome of grace and his trauaile, but to the heauenly
lierusalem. In summe, hee is the elect of God, the
blessing of Grace, the seede of Loue and the fruite of
Life.
27. An Atheist or most badde man.
An Atheist is a figure of desperation, who dare do
anything euen to his soule's damnation. He is in
nature a dogge, in wit an asse, in passion a Bedlam,
and in action a diuelL Hee makes sinne a iest, grace
an humour truth a Cable, and peace a cowardice. His
horse is his pride, his sword is his Castle, his apparell
his riches and his punke his paradise, Hee makes
robberie his purchase, lechery his solace, mirth his
ezerdse, and drunkennesse his s^ory. Heeisthedaunger
of Society, the loue of Vanitie, the hate of Chaiitie and
the shame of Hnmanitie. Hee is God's enenie, his
parents griefe, his Countrie's plague and his owne con-
fusion. Hee spoiles that is neoessaiie, and spends that
is needlesse. He spightes at the gracious, and spumes
the godly. The taueme is his palace and his belly is
his god : a whore is his Mistris, and the dhiell is his
Master. Oathes are his graces, wounds his badges ;
shifts are his practices and beggery his paiments. Hee
knowes not God, nor thinkes of heauen but walkes
thorow the world as a diueU towards hell. Vertue
knowes him not. Honesty findes him not, Wisedome
lones him not and Honour regards him not. Hee is
but the Cutler's friend, and the Chirargeon's agent, the
Thiefe's companion, and the hangman's benefiurtor. He
was begotten vntimdy. and borne ▼nhappily. liues m-
gradously and dies vncfaristianly. Hee is of no religion,
nor good &shion ; hardly good completion and most
vile hi condition. In summe, he is a monster among
men, a lewe among Christians, a foole among wise
men and a diueU among saints.
28. A Wise Man.
A wise man is a docke that neuer strikes but at his
home, or rather like a diall that being set right with the
sunne, keepes his true course in his compasse. So the
heart of a wise man set in the course of yertue by the
Spirit of Grace runnes the course of life in the compasse
of eternall comfort Hee measureth time and tempreth
Nature, imployeth reason, and commandeth sense. Hee
hath a deafe eare to the charmer, a dose mouth to the
slaunderer, an open hand to d^ty, and an humble mind
to piety. Obseruation and experience are his Reason's
labours and patience with oonsdence are the lines of
his Loue's measure ; contemplation and mediution are
his q)irit's exerdse and God and His Word are the ioy
of his soule. Hee knowes not the pride of prosperity,
nor the misery of aduersitie, but takes the one as the
day the other as the night Hee knowes no fortune,
but builds an vpon prouidence and through the hope of
faith hath a fayre ayme at heauen. His words are
wdgfaed with iudgement and his actions are the examples
of honour. He is fit for the seat of Authority, and
deserues the reuerence of subiection. Hee is precious
in the oounsdl of a Idng and mighty in the sway of a
kingdome. In summe, hee is God's seruant and the
world's Master, a stmnger vpon earth, and a dtisen in
Heauen.
29. A Foole.
A Foole is the aborthie of \S^t where Nature had
more power then Reason hi bringing forth the fruit of
imperfection. His actions are most in extremes, and
the scope of his bndne is bat ignorance. Onely
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THE GOOD AND THE BADDE,
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Nature hath taught him to feede, and Vse to labour
without knowledge. Hee is a kind of a shadow of a
better substance, or like the vision of a dreame that
yedds nothing awake. He is commonly knowne by
one of two speciall names, deriued from their qualities,
as from wiliun Will-foole, and Hodge from Hodge-podge ;
all meates are alike, all are one to a Foole. His exercises
are oonmionly diuided into fouie parts, eating and
drinking, sleeping and laughing ; fouie things are his
chiefe loues, a bawble, and a bell, a ooa»combe and a
pide-coate. Hee was begotten in vnhappinesse. borne
to no goodnes, liues but in beastlinesse and dies but
in forgetiulnesse. In summe, he is the shame of Nature,
the trouble of Wit, the charge of Charity and the losse
of liberality. j
30. An Homst Man.
An honest man is like a plaine ooate, which without
wdt or gard, keepeth the body from winde and weather
and being well made fits him best that weares it ; and
where the stuffe is more regarded then the fiuhion, there
Ls not much adoe in the putting of it on. So, the mind
of an honest man without trick or complements,
keepes the credit of a good consdenoe from the scandal
of the Worid and the worme of Imquity ; which being
wrought by the Worke-man of Heauen, fits him best
that weares it to His seruioe ; and where Vertue is
more esteemed then Vanity, it is put on and wome with
that ease that showes the excellency of the Workeman.
His study is vertue, his word truth, his life the passage
of patience, and his death the rest of his spirit. His
trauaile is a pilgrimage, his way is plainnesse, his
pleasure peace, and his delight is loue. His care is his
consdenoe, his wealth is his credit, his charge is his
charity, and his content is his kingdome. In summe,
hee is a diamond among iewds, a phsenlz among
birds, an vnicome among beasts and a saint among men.
%\. A Knaue,
A Knaue is the scmnme of Wit and the soome of
Reason, the hate of V^sedome and the dishonour of
Humanity. He is the danger of Sodety and the hurt of
Amity, the infection of Youth and the corruption of Age.
He is a traytor to Affiance and abuse to Imployment and
a rule of Villany, in a plot of mischiefe. Hee hath a
cat's eye, and a beare's paw, a Siren's tongue and a
serpent's sdng. His words are lies, his oaths periuries. his
studies subtilties, and his pracdoes viUanies ; his wealth is
his wit, his honour is his wealth, his glory is his gaine and
his god is his gold. He is no man'sfriend and his owne
enemy ; cursed on Earth and banished from Heauen.
Hee was begotten vngiadously, borne vntimely, lines
dishonestly and dies shamefully. His heart is a puddle
of poyaon, his tongue a stiqg of iniquity, his braine a
distiller of decdt, and his consdence a compasse of Hell.
In summe hee is a dogge in disposition, a foxe in wit, a
wolfe in his prey and a diuell in his pride.
3 a. An Vsurer,
An Vsnrer is a figure of Misery, who hath made him-
selfe a slaue to his money. His eye is dos'd from pitty,
and his hand from charity, his eare from compassion and
his heart from piety. Whfle hee liues hee is the hate of
a Christian and when he dies, hee goes with horror to
hell. His study is sparing and his care is getting ; his
feare is wanting and his death is loosing. His diet is
either fosting or poore five, his doathing the hangmans
wardrobe, his house the receptacle of theeuery and his
musick the dinking of his money. Hee is a kind of
canker that with the teeth of Interest eates the hearts of
the poore. and a venimoos fly that sucks out the blood
ofanyflesh that hee lights on. In summe, hee is a ser-
uant of drosse, a slaue to misery, an agent for hdl, and
a dhiell in the world.
33. A Biggar.
A Beggar is the diilde of Idlenesse, whose life is a reso-
lution of ease. His trauaile is most in the high-wayes and
his randioaws is commonly in an ale-house. His study
is to counterfdt Impotency, and his pracdoe to cosen
simplidty of Charity. The iuice of the malt is the lioour
of his life, and at bed and at boord a louse is his com-
panion. Hee feares no sudi enemy, as a constable and
beefaig acquainted with the stocks must visite them as
hee goes by them. Hee is a drone that feedes vpon the
labours of the bee, and vnhappily begotten, that is borne
for no goodnesse. His staffe and his scrippe are his
walking fiimiture and what hee lackes fai meat hee will
haue out in drinke. He is a kinde of caterpiller that
spofles much good finite and an vnprofitable creature to
line in a common-wealth. Hee is sddome handsome
and often no3rsome, alwaies troublesome and neuer wel-
come. Hee prayes for all and preycs vpon all ; begins
with blessfaig but ends often with curshig. If hee haue
a licence hee shewes it with a grace but if hee haue none,
hee is submissiue to the ground. Sometime he is a
thdfe but alwaies a rogue, and in the nature of his pro-
fession the shame of Humanity. In sum. hee is com-
monly begot in a bush, borne in a bame, liues in ^
, high-way and dyes fai a ditch.
34. A Vir^n.
A Virgin is the beauty of Nature, where the Spirit
gradous makes the creature glorious. She is the loue
of Vertue, the honour of Reason, the grace of Youth,
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THE GOOD AND THE BADDE.
and the comfort of Age. Her studie is hoUnesie, her
exerdae goodnesse, her grace humility, and her loue is
charity* Her countenance is modesty* her speech is
truth* her wealth grace and her fiune constancy. Her
vertne continence, her labour patience, her dyet absti-
nence, and her care oonsdenoe. Her conuersation
heauenly, her meditations angel-like, her prayers deuout
and her hopes diuine ; her parents' ioy, her kindred's
honour, her countrey's fieune and her owne Ididty. She
is the blessed of the Highest, thepnuseof the Worthiest,
the loue of the Noblest and the neerestto the Best. Shee
is of creatures the rsrest, of women the chiefest, of
nature the purest, and of wisedome the choysest. Her
life is apilgrimage, her death but a passage, her descrip-
tion a wonder and her name an honour. In summe,
shee is the daughter of glory, the mother of grace, the
the sister of Lone and the bekraed of life.
35. A IVatUm Woman.
A Wanton Woman is the figure of Imperfection ; in
nature an ape, in quality a wagtaUe, in countenance a
witch and in condition a kinde of diuelL Her beck is a
net, her word a charme, her looke an illusion and her
companie a confesion. Her life is the play of idlenesse,
her diet the ezoesse of dainties, her loue the change of
vanities and her exercise the inuention of follies. Her
pleasures are fensies, her studies feshions, her delight
colours and her wealth her doathes. Her care is to
decehie, her comfort her company, her house is vanity
and her bed is mine. Her discourses are febles, her
vowes dissimulations, her conceits subtilties and her
contents varieties. She would she knowes not what and
spends she cares not what, she spcnks she sees not what,
and doth shee thinkes not what. She is Youth's plague
and Age's purgatory. Time's abuse and Reason's trouble.
In summe, shee is a spice of madnesse, a sparke of mis-
chiefe. a tutch of poyson and a feare of destruction.
36. A Quid Woman.
A Quiet WomaA is like a still winde, wfaidi neither
chils the body, nor blowes dust hi the fece. Her patience
is a vertue that winnes the heart of loue and her wise-
dome makes her will wdl worthy regarde. She feares
God and flyeth sinne, sbeweth kindnesse and loueth
peace. Her tongue is tied to discretioA and her heart is
the harbor of goodnesse. Shee is a contfort of calamity
and in prosperity a companion ; a physician in sicknesse
and a muskian in helpe. Her wayes are the walke
toward heauen and her guide is the grace of the Al-
mighty. She is her husband's downe4)ed, where his
heart lyes at rest, and her diiUren's gkose in the notes
of her grace ; her semants' honour in the keeping of her
house and her neighboon' enunple in the notes of a
good nature. She skoms fertune and loues vertne and
out of thrift gathereth diarity. She is a turtle in her
loue, alambeinhermeekenesse, a saint hi her heart and
an angell in her soule. In smnme, shee is a ieweO vn-
prixeable and a toy vnspeakable, a comfort in Nature
incomparable and a wife in the worid vnmatdiable.
37. An Vnqmei Woman.
An Vnquiet Woman is the misery of man, whose
demeanure is not to be described but in extremities.
Her voke is the skrieching of an owle, her eye the poison
of a cockatrice, her hand the dawe of a crocadile and
her heart a cabhiet of horrour. She is the griefe of
Nature, the wound of Wit, the trouble of Reason, and
the abuse of Time. Her pride is vnsnpportable, her
anger vnquenchable. her will vnsatiable, and her malice
vnmatduible. She feares no colours, she cares for no
counsaDe, she spares no persons, nor respects any time.
Her command is mmst, her reason wiii, her resohition
shall and her satirfaction So, She looks (at no
lawe and thinkes of no lord, admiu no commannd and
keepes no good order. She is a crosse but not of Christ
and a word but not of Qrace; a creature but not of wise-
dome, and a semant bat not of God. In summe, she is
the aeede of trouble, the fruit of treuaHe, the taste of
bittemesse, and the digestion of death.
38. A Good Wife.
A Good Wife is a world of wealth, where iust cause of
content makes a Ui^tdcme in conceit. She is the eye of
warinesse. the toqgue of silence, the hand of labour, and
the heart of kme ; a compankm of kindenesseb a nustris
of passkm, an exercise of patience, and an example of
experience. She is the kitchfai pbyskaan, the chamber
oooifert, the hall's care and the parlour's grace. She is
the dairie's neatnesse, the brae-house wholsomnesse,
the gamer's prouiskm and the garden's pkntation. Her
voice is muskike, her countenance meekenesse, herminde
vertuous and her soule gradous. She is her husband's
iewdl, her cfafldren's toy, her ndghbor's tone and her
seruants' honour. She is Pouertie's praier and Oiaritie's
pndse ; Religion's tone and Deuotion's seale. She is a
care of necessity and a course of thrift ; abookeof hus-
wifeiy and a mirror of modesOe. In summe. she is
God's blessing and man's happfaKSse, Earth's honour
and Heauen's creature.
39. An Effeminate Foole.
ANEfieminaieFooleistbefigm«ofababy. He tones
nothfaig hot gay, to looke hi a glasae, to keepe among
wenches, and to play with trifles ; to feed on sweet-
and to be dannoed in laps, to be unbiaced hi
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THE GOOD AND THE BADDE.
n
armes and to be kissed on the cheeke ; to talke idkly, to
kx>ke demurely, to goe niody, and to kuigfa continually ;
to be his mistresse' seruant and her mayds master, his
father's loue, and his mother's none^ild ; to play on a
fiddie and sing a loue-song, to weare sweet gloues and
looke on fine things ; to make purposes and write verses*
deuise riddles and tdl lies ; to foUow plaies and study
dannoes, to heare newesand buy trifles ; to sigh for loue
and weepe for kindnesse and moume for company and
bee sicke for fashion ; to ride in a coach and gaUop a
hackney, to watch all night and sleepe out the morning ;
to lie on a bed and take tobacco and to send his page of
an idle message to his mistresse ; to go vppon gigges, to
haue his ruffes set in print, to picke his teeth, and play
with a puppet In summe. hee is a man-cfaikle and a
woman's man, a gase of foUy, and wisedome's griefe.
40. A Parasite.
A Parisite is the image of Iniquity ; who for the
gaine of drosse is denoted to all villanie. He is a kinde
of thiefe in committing of burglarie. when hee breakes
into houses with his tongue and pickes pockets with his
flatterie. His &ce is braxed that he cannot blush and
his hands are luned to catch holde what hee can light on.
His tongue is a beU (but not of the Church, except it be
the diud's) to call his parish to his seruioe. Hee is some-
time a pander to carry messages of ill meetings and
perhaps hath some doquence to perswade sweetnesse
in sinne. He is like a dogge at a doore while the diuels
dance in the chamber, ot like a spider in the housetop
that lines on the poison bek>we. Hee is the hate of
Honesty and the abuse of Beauty, the spoOe of Youth
and the misery of Age. In summe he Is a danger in a
Court, a Cheater in a Citie, a lester in the oountrey and
a lacke-an-apes in alL
41. A Bawde.
A Bawde is a kinde of woman-beast ; who hauhig
lost the honour of her virginity in her youth, meanes to
go to hell in her age. She is dangerous among young
people, for feare of the infection of the foiling sicknesse
and not to teach children to spel 1^ she leame them too
soone to put together. Shee is partly a suigeon, but
most for the allaying of swellings in the lower parts and
hath ooomionly a charme to coniure the diueU mto hell.
She grieues at nothing more then at disability to sinne
and is neuer so merry as when she is perswaded to be
young. She feares nothing more then the cart and cares
for nothing but ease and loues a cup of sacke and a pot
of ale. ahnost as well as the hope of her saluation. Shee
is much subiect to sore eyes, and ill teeth, with sitting
up late and feeding on sweete things. She is a gossip at
a childe-birth, where her mirth is a bawdy tale and a
matrone in an hospitall to see young wenches wdl set to
worke. In smnme shee is the loathsomenesse of Nature,
the hate of Vertue, the spoile of wealth and the mine of
mayden-heads.
42. A Drunkard,
A Drunkard is a nowne adiectiue ; for he cannot
stand alone by himselfe ; yet in his greatest weaknesse a
great trier of strength, whether health or sicknesse will
haue the vpper hand in a surfet. He is a spectacle of
deformitie and a shame of humanity, a viewe of sinne
and a griefe of Nature. He is the anoiance of Modesty
and the trouble of Ciuility, the spoile of wealth and the
spight of reason. He is only the Bruer's agent and the
ale-house benefiictor, the bagger's companion and the
constable s trouble. He is his wife's woe, his children's
sorrow, his neighbours' scoffe and his owne shame. In
summe, hee is a tubbe of swiU, a spirit of sleepe, a pic-
ture of a beast and a monster of a man.
43. A Coufard.
A Coward is the childe of Feare. Hee was begotten
in colde bloud, when Nature had much adoe to make vp
a creature like a man. His life is a kinde of sicknesse,
which breeds a kinde of palsey in the ioynts and his
death the terror of his consdenoe, with the extreme
weakenesse of his fiuth. Hee loues peace as his life, for he
feares a sword in his soule. If he cut his finger hee
looketh presently for the signe and if his head ake, he is
ready to make his wiU. A report of a cannon strikes
him flat on his £eux and a dap of thunder makes him
a strange metamorphosis. Rather then he will fight he
will be beaten and if his legges will hdpe him, he will
put his aimes to no trouble. He makes loue conunonly
with his purse and brags most of his mayden-head.
He wiU not marry but into a quiet £unily and not too
&ire a wife to auoide quarrels. If his wife firowne vpon
him he sighes and if shee giue him an vnkinde word, he
weepes. Hee loues not the homes of a bull, nor the
pawes of a beare ; and if a dogge barke, he will not come
neere the house. If hee be rich he is afraide of theeues
and if he be poore he will be slaue to a begger. In
summe, hee is the shame of man-hood, the disgrace of
Nature, the skome of Reason and the hate of Honour.
44. An Honest Poore Man,
An honest poore man is the proofe of miserie ; where
patience is put to the trial of her strength to endure
griefe without passk>n in staniing with concealed neces-
sity, or standing in the aduentures of charitie. If he be
married. Want rings in his eares and Woe watreth his
eyes. If single, he droopeth with the shame of beggery.
or dies with the passion of penurie. Of the rich, he is
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H
THE GOOD AND THE BADDE.
shunned like infection and of the poore learnes but a
heart4ircaking profession. His bed is the earth and the
heauen is his canapy, the sunne is his Summer's comfort
and the moone is his Winter candle. His sighes are the
notes of his musidc and his song is like the swanne be-
fore her death. His study, his patience, and his exercise,
prayer ; his dyet, the herfoes of the earth and his drinke,
the water of the riuer. His traueU is the waike of the
wofiil and his horse Bayard of ten toes ; his appereU
but the clothing of nakednesse and his wealth but the
hope of heauen. He is a stranger in the world, for no
man craues his acquaintance and his funerall Is without
ceremony, when there is no mourning for the misse of
him ; yet may he be in the state of election and in the
life of loue and more rich in grace then the greatest of
the world. In sum, he is the griefe of Nature, the sor-
row of Reason, the pittie of wisedome and the diaige of
charity.
45. A lust Man.
A iust man is the child of Truth, begotten by
Vertue and Kindnesse ; when Nature in the temper of
the spirit madceuen the ballancr of Indiffercncy. His
eye is deere from blindnesse and his hand from bribery ;
his wni from wilfulnesse and his heart from wickednesse ;
his word and deed are all one ; his life showes the
nature of his loue, his care is the charge of his con-
science and his comfort the assurance of his saluation.
In the seat of lustice, he is the grace of the Lawe, and
in the iudgement of Right the honour of reason. He
feares not the power of Authority to equall lustice with
Merde, and ioyes but in the iudgement of Giaoe, to
see the execution of lustice. His iudgement is worthy
of honour, and his wisedome is gracious in truth. His
honour is famous in vertue, and his vertue is precious in
example. In summe, he is a spirit of vnderstandiog, a
braine of knowledge, a heart of wisedome, and a soule
of blessednesse.
46. A Repentant Sinner.
A Repentant sinner is the chfld of Grace ; who
being borne for the seruice of God makes no reckoning
of the mastershlppe of the world, yet doth he glorifie
God in the beholding of His creatures and in giuing
praise to His holy name in the admiration of His work-
manship. He is much of the nature of an angeH, who
being sent faito the world but to do the will of his
master, is euer longing to bee at home with his fellowes.
He desires nothing but that is necessary, and deUghteth
in nothing that is transitory, but oontemfdates more
then hee can conoeme, and meditates ondy vpon
the Word of the Ahnighty. His senses are the tyrers of
his spirit, while in the course of nature his soule can
find no rest He shakes off the ragges of sinne, and
is doathed with the robe of Vertue. He putsoff Adam,
and puts on Christ. His heart is the anuik of Thith.
where the braine of his wisedome beates the thougfau
of his minde till they be fitt for the seruice of his
Maker. His labour is the trauaHe of loue, by the rule
of grace to find the high-way to heauen. His feare is
greater then his loue of the world and his knie is
greater then his feare of God. In summe, he is in the
election of Loue. in the booke of life, an aogdl incar-
nate and a blessed creature.
47. A Reprobate.
A Reprobate is the childe of sinne, who bdng
borne for the seruice of the deuill, cares not what
viUany he does in the world. His wit is alwaies in a
mase, for his courses are euer out of order, and while
his will stands for his wisedome, the best that fids out
of him, is a foole. Hee betrayes the trust of the simple
and sucks out the blood of the innocent. His breath
is the fiune of blasphemy, and his tongue the fire^nand
of hdl. His desires are the destruction of the vertuous
and his delists are the traps to damnation. Hee bathes
in the bloud of murther and sups vp the broth of iniquity.
He frighteth the eyes of the godly, and disturbeth the
hearts of the religious. He marreth the wits of the wise
and is hatefiill to the soules of thegradoua. In summe,
he is an inhumane creature, a fearefuU companion, a
man-monster and a diudl incarnate.
48. An Old Man.
An old man is the declaration of Time in the defect
of Nature, and the imperfection of sense in the vse of
Reason. He is in the obseruation of Time, a kaJender
of experience, but in the power of Action. He is a
blanke among lots. He is the snbiect of weakenesse,
the agent of sicknesse, the displeasure of life and the
fore-runner of death. Hee is twise a child and halfe
a man, a liuing picture, and a dying creature. He is
a blowne bladder that is ondy stuffed with winde, and a
withered tree that hath lost the sappe of the roote, or
an old lute with stringsall broken, ora ruined castle that
is ready to fidl. Hee is the eye-sore of Youth, and the
iest of Loue, and in the fullnesse of infirmitie the mirror
of misery. Yet in the honour of Wisedome he may be
gradous in grauity, and in the government of lustice
deserue the honour of reuerenoe. Yea. his word maybe
notes for the vse of Reason, and his actions examples
for the imitation of discretion. In summe, in whatso-
euer estate he is, but as the snufife of a candle, that
pinke it neuer so long it will out at last
49. A Yang Man.
A yong man is the Spring of Time, when Nature
in her pride shewes her beauty to the workL He is the
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THE GOOD AND THE BADDE,
delight of the eye» and the study of the minde, the
labonr of iiwtnictton and the pupil of Reason. His
wit is in making or marring, his wealth in gaining or
losing, his honour in aduancing or declining, and
his life in abridging or increasing. He is a bloome
that either is blasted in the bud, or growes to a good
fruit, or a bird that dies in the nest, or liues to
make vse of her wings. Hee is a colt that must haue
a bridle, ere hee bee well managed, and a fauloon that
must be well man'd, or hee will neuer be redaimde.
Hee is the darling of Nature, and thecharge of Reason,
the ezerdse of Pstiettce and the hope of Charity. His
ezerdse is either study or action, and his study either
knowledge or pleasure. His disposition glues a great
note of his generation, and yet his breeding may eyther
better or worse him, though to wish a Black-Moore
white, bee the losse of labour, and what is bred in the
bone will neuer out of the flesh. In summe, tiU experi-
ence haue seasoned his vnderstanding, hee is rather a
childe then a man, a prey of Flattery or a praise of
prouidenoe, in the way of Grace to proue a saint, or in
the way of sinne to grow a deuill.
50. A Haly Man.
A holy man is the chiefest creature in the workeman-
ship of the world. HeJs the highest in the election of
Loue and the neeioAo the image of the humane
nature of his Maker. Hee is serued of all the creatures
in the Earth and created but for the seruice of his
Creator. Hee Is capable of the cowrse of Nature, and
by the rule of obseruation iinds the art of Reason. His
senses are but seruants to his spirit, which is guided by
a power aboue himselfe. His time is ondy knowne to
the eye of the Almighty, and what hee is in his most
greatnesse is as nothing but in His mercy. He makes
law by the direction of life, and liues but in the mercy
of Loue. He treads vpon the £aoe of the Earth til in
the same substftoe he be trod vpon. though his soule
that gaue life to his senses line in heauen till the resur-
rection of his flesh. Hee hath an eye to looke vpward
towards Grace, while labour is ondy the punishment of
sinne. His Csuth is the hand of his soule, which layeth
hold on the promise of Mercy. His patience, tlK
tenure of the possession of his soule, his charity, the
rule of his life, and his hope, the anchor of his saluation.
His study is the state of obedience and his exerdse the
continuance of prayer ; his life but a passage to a better
and his death, the rest of his labours. His heart is a
watch to his eye, his vrit a doore to his mouth, his soule
a guard to his spirit and his limmes but labourers for
his body. In sunmie, hee israuisht with Diuine Loue,
hatefuU to the nature of sinne, troubled with the vanities
of the world and longing for his ioy but in Heauen.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Epistle-dedicatokt.— This Sir Gilbert Houghton
was son of Sir Richard, and, with the Earl of Dert>y, a
royalist leader in Lancashire in the Civil War. He died
in 1647. For more on the Houghtons, and Breton's
relations to them, see our Memorial-Introduction.
To THE Readek.— p. 4, L 14,
spelling: 1. ai, 'likt" -
'arteists:* note the
1. A WOKTHY King.— Herein the original punctual
tion, etc., are literally preserved : thereafter the sign of
apostrophe is inserted, and numerous oonmias, eta.
removed. So throughout henoefOTward ; but the ortho-
graphy is strictly reproduced.
2. An Vnwoethy King.— p. 5, 1. 18, *JbyU' = foil,
i.e, here, one who by contrast sets ofihit superiority of
So George Herbert to the Queen of
the king.
Bohemia—
A fbile to ictt off worth and make it rare.'
(My edkioo orH«fbectfai Aldui* Poeta. p. aSa)
It is noticeable that there is no ' Vnworthy Queene,'--a
silent tribute to the great memory of Elizabeth. See
the Memorial-Introduction for an ' Vnworthy Queene '
foisted into a Utter edition.
4. A Worthy Prince, p. 6.— Probably Prince
Henry sat for this portrait. His premature death was
passionatdy lamented as the extinction of ' the hope of a
Kingdome.'
8. A Noble-Man.— p. 6, 1. la, • kaekmey ' = hack, or
hired horse.
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i6
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
9. An Vnnoblb Man.— p. 6, 1. 6.
demeanour, or qu. dominion or domain ?
11. An Vnworthy Bishop.— p. 7, 1. 8, * wits' ^
understandings : 1. 13, ' incomparabU^* t.e, nothing bad
enough with which he might be ' compared.'
12. A Worthy Iudge.— p. 7. 1. i, 'doowu'-s^s.
judgment-giver.
An Vnworthy Iudgb.— p. 7, 1. 7, ^iudicums* —
judicial or legal : L 13, ' angels ' = coins so called : here,
bribes.
15. An Vnworthib Knight.— p. 7, L 6, 'Mentif^s"
= Mercer, — note speUing; L 9, *worshiplt* misprinted
' worahipf :' p. 8, L 13, ' wtan. of Gotham ' ss one of the
wise men (f .«. foob) of the chap4x>ok story.
17. An Vnworthy Gentleman.— p. 8, 1. 14, *^ed*
= parti-coloured.
19. An Vnworthy Lawyer.- p. 8, 11. 11, la, ^htUer
redde in Fierce PIcwwum then in PUydon and in the
Play of Richard the Third,* etc These are noticeable
references to the popularity of ' Piers Plowman' and
Shakespeare's ' Richard III.' Ploydon, the great Law-
authority : 1. 23, ' weare . . . papers on their heads* =
fool's cap.
30. A Worthy Souldisr.— p. 8, 1. 16, 'rest is set
vp' = hope, technically used : p. 9, L 30, ' With his
armes [s weapons] hee vnns his armes' [s ennoble-
ment].
31. An Vntrainbd Souldibr.— p. 9, 1. 13,
rian ' as morion or helmet : 1. 15. *prouant' s provane,
provender.
33. An Vnworthy Physician.— p. 9, 1 19, ' quache-
saluer* s our quack, or impostor : 1. 30. 'disard' s
fool, light-headed.
35. An Vnworthy Merchant.— p. 10, 1. 4, * in a
post:' query— bill by post? or 'a post' or office?
97. An Atheist, etc— p. 10, L 7, *punhe' =■
strumpet or mistress: L 33, *Me Cutler^ sfriendt and
the Chimrgeon's agent:* Why? Quer]^-from leading
to the abundant use of 'steel,' as (often) a cut-throat?
and as by immorality bringing on diseases?
39. A FooLE.— p. II, I. 14, *pide* s pled. Cf.
on 17.
3a An Honest Man.— p. 11, L 3, ' welt' s fold.
39. An Efteminatb Foolb.— p. 13. L 14, '0
hachney* ss hired conveyance Cf. on 8 : L 16. *giggts'
ss light-wheded conveyances, — Cariyle's sign of (modern)
respectability I
44. An Honest poorb Man.— p. 14, L 16, 'iUr
herse Bayard of ten toes:* <*.#. Shank's-naig, or his own
Iqis-cmd-feet.
48. An Old Man.— p. 14, L 33, 'pisdu* = pinch or
prick.
49. A YONG Man.— p. 14, L II, ' man'd' s have a
man able to master and train.— G.
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^(tanc^t dJit^tB o3i of btSeve CoSn(xitB^
1622.
33
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NOTE.
'Strange N ewes' seems among the very rarest of Breton's minor
pieces. It exists apparently in the single exemplar in the British
Museum : small 4to, 25 leaves. On the reversed initials, as before, see
Memorial-Introduction. — G.
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j^^ ^^O Q^G ^^O 0^0 0^0 OAC oAp Q^O 0^0 0^0 O^^ q^O 0^0 O^O
STRANGE
N E W E S
OVT OF DIVERS
COVNTRIES
Neuer discouered till of late, by a strange Pil-
grime in those parts.
LONDON
Printed by W. lones for George Faybereard, and are
to be sold at his shop at the Royall
Exchange. 1622.
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TO THE READER.
09DB£«/^j' are more tolde then true, especially if they comefarre off; and if they be of State, they
RKlM are dangerous to meddle with; if of home-spunne threed, it is held little worth. State
"■*■"" newes are not worth the telling; but a new matter neuer heard of before, will be harkened
after, though they be not worth the hearing: but yet a new thing of small price may be euery mans
monie, especially if it take a liking in the humors of common people. Such ware I haue sent to the
Market, newes from a strange countrie, of strange matters and strange people, and among all, of
one chief e Ruler of the vnruly. What is to be read and vnderstood,followes in the leaues following :
which if your patience will giue you leaue to peruse, you may flnde more maUer to laugh at, then
imitate. Such as it is, I leaue it to your censure, and so rest
Your wel-wishing friend,
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\mmmi^mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm^mm^m^mmm.
STRANGE NEWES
OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES,
Neuer discouered till oflate^ by a strange Pil-
grime in those parts.
|N a strange Land, neuer foond oat till now of
late in this present time, there was a kind of
people that had great heads and litle wits,
& strong bodies, but weake hearts. The
men were onely knowne by their shapes from monsters,
and the women ondy by their tongues from pictures :
the aged spent their time most in wearinesse, and the
youthfiill in wantonnes : their Cities and Townes were of
ancient buildings ; their houses large within, and without
beautiliill, many roomes richly furnished, and with many
pictures but few people : their gardens and orchards so
full of flowers and fruites, and so finely dressed, planted
and pruned, and weeded, that it seemed they made then-
pallaoes their Paradise: for by their hellish courses it
seemed that they thought of no other heanen.
Nature being (as it were) the goddesse of their worship,
when supernatural was too high for their capacities :
their appeurd of diuers colours according to the varietie
of their humors, their Churches like shops, and their wares
babies ; their inuentions Apish, and their fashions foolish;
while their wisdome going no further then the world, kept
them fhim the wealth aboue the world. Their language
more full of eloquence then truth, and their actions of
more craft then conscience. Thefa: Priests reade a lan-
guage, that often gnudleth thefa: owne vnderstandings ;
and thefar Religion is without rule of grace. Their deuo-
tion is fun of daiknesse ; for they cannot see in the day-
time without a candle : and their prayers are by the
dozen, when if they miss-tell one, they thinke all the rest
lost And for Saints they haue so many to seme, that
the deuin wil not let them come at God.
Meetings they haue many, vpon small matters. Thefar
musicke is most in a lewes trumpe, and thefar dances are
all without measure. Feasts they make many times,
when their flesh is Gub, and their fish Gudgeons.
The rich are for the most part couetous, and the poore
patient : for punishment is much more common then
charitie. Cudcolds they haue in comnranitie ; for they
are not so wise as to account of honestie : and for wittals,
they haue growne to such a custome, that it neuer troubles
thefar conceit. Their wooing is like bargahung ; for their
purses make thefar matches : and iealousie so holds in
loue, as kils the comfort of kindnes ; when the agents for
flesh, breake the order of &sting dayes.
Warres they haue seldom, and their quards most vpon
the cup ; thefar great Ordinance are Pot-guns, and thefar
small shot halfe Cans. Their fields are commonly cdlers,
where they are so oueroome with kindnesse, that their
forces are all ouerthrowne. When they are to trauell,
they haue horses, but most of them Hobbies, which com-
monly they buy at Faires for small prices : and some fiew
Hackneys, that are such Tits, that they will start at eueiy
Butteiflie, and fall downe ere a man be well mounted.
Thefar riding is without spurres ; for their Nagges are
willing enough for their way.
Asses they haue many, which beare great burthens ;
and when they haue laboured them all day, they walke
them at night ; and they feed them poordy. Their dogs
are commonly little ones, and they are most of them called
Fandes, which when they grow olde they knocke them
on the heads. Cattdl they haue store, and most of them
Cowes ; for there is hardly a house without a Calfe : and
Swine a worid ; for eueiy Stie hath a Sow or two in her.
Bfards they haue many, but thdr diiefe pleasure is in
WagtaJles, that are pretie fowles, and euer pidling in
water plashes. Cuckoes they haue great store, but they
sing ondy in May ; and Parrots Tory many, that talke
strange things fan many languages : and Cock-Sperrowas
so many that they can scarce finde Hens for thdr treading.
Dnckes and Geese in abundance, and they breed oat of
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STRANGE NEWES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES.
Other birds they haue, as THtimoiues and
Robin Redbreasts, Larks, and Bantings, which were often
caried to the markeu, and bought for small prices.
Ringdoues they had many, but Tnitles very few. Exer-
cises they haue many, but chiefly wrestling, when they
haue more foiles then fidre &Us. Sometime they vae
riding of the wilde mare, shooing of the Goose, and
shooting at the Conie. Hunting they vse little, but to
findea Hareat squat, a Doe at laire, a Foxe in a snare, a
Mouse in a tn^, a Woodoooke ina springe, or a Black-
bird in a pitfall.
Some strange trickes they haue to get mony with, as
to make a B^;ger speake like a Lord, a Foole like a
wise man, a Cobler like a Captaine, and a boy like a
wench ; but that is but for a time ; for when the date of
the letter is past, the oounteifet is ooncdued, and the
Metamorphosis retnmeth to his owne shape. When there
are any burials, they m€nnrne much ; for the yonthfuU,
because they die so soone ; for the aged, because they
lined so king : for the wise, because there is so few left ;
and for the foolish, because they want oompanie : for the
rich, that they had no moce for them, and for the poore,
that they might haue prayed for them ; wiues for their
husbands, because they are vnprouided of new ; hus-
bands for their wiues, because aeldome comes the better :
parents for children, because of the losse of hope of their
goodnesse ,* children for their parents, for losse of hope
of the more goods. But their mournings were not long,
for they lasted not so loi^ as their appareU : for out of
sight, out of minde ; and they knew they must liue by
the lining, and not by the dead. The mony-men are very
conetous, for they will not lose the scraping of a kettle ;
and the women are very miserable, for when they make
broth though it be very thin, they will not lose the drop-
pbig of their noces. For the yong things, they are as
wanton as kitlings, for they will play with a mouse, till
they haue wearied her of her life : and for the aged, they
are so melandiolik, that the youthfiiU haue no pleasure
in them. For Loners, they are so foolish that they will
weepe if they haue not their wils; but if the Groome get
his Bride, be will so pranke it, and she so pcinke it, that
while it is hony Moone there wU be such foy» as if Sum-
mer should neuer heare of ^^^nter. Languages they
haue not many, and few that speake one wd : and for
learning, it is most in obseruation ; for as the Gander
goes, the Geese foUow. Their husbandrie is most in
turning vp of fet earth; and their oone is Rie and Gates,
which they sow in the Spriii^, and reape in the Fall.
Diseases they haue not many, for kdwur sweafees out iU
humors : but for their women, they are foil of qualmes,
especially when they haue declined with the masmlinp
gender. Their tiafficke is much for trumpery, and if they
sane theff stookes whole, they thinke they haue made a
good market Their Aduentures are fearftill, for they
endanger the body for the soule : and their mindes are
so fantasticke, that their wits are like weathercocks.'
Friendship they regard not, but take it as they iinde it :
and for loue, it is so light, that they know not how to
take hold of it. They haue among them oertalne Fortune
tellers, which vse commonly among fooles : and for
knaues, they are so cunning that they go vnder the
shadow of honest men. Some odde shauers they haue
among them, called Die Doppers, whose dining or dop-
ping sometimes proves deadly ; for they will dine so
closely into your pocket for your purse, that you can
hardly see them till they be vpon the gallowes. Other
kinde of dose mates there are, that cary Rings in their
mouthes, to keepe their tongues within thdr teeth ; and
they are called Squiers, but they are onely of the order
of the Apple: their names are often recorded in a Court
of Correction, where the Register of Rogues makes no
little gaine of Rascafailians. Other kind of subtiU oom-
panions there are, which are called Setters, whidi finding
yong heads that are too narrow in the browes, will feed
their humors with such foUies, as may either bring them
to beggery, or in the height of an idle braine, for wordes
aboue wit, breake the backs of their estates, or send
them to heauen in a string. Now these, they say, are
great with the Diuell, for they do a great deale of mis-
chiefe in the world : thdr names are ondy found in the
notes of destruction, for by their hellish courses they sell
themsdues to damnation. Other kind of knick-knackers
there are, which betwixt knaue and foole can make an
ilfeuourd passage through the world. Schollers they
haue many, that are perfect in the home-book, iriio when
they were yong, were taught their oroose^ow, and to
spell and put together, before they oould wdl reade.
They had moreouer a kinde of Rimers, and Ballad
penners, which were great profidents to the Players and
Pedlers, which are the fooles of Poets, for they taste little
of Poetry more then the last two letters : but for the pot,
they may wdl challenge the badge, for it is the mam-
tainer of their Muses. Now among all these, they haue
a kind of Naturals, which get the start of better wits, for
they are prouided for the backe and the belly, without
care or labour ; and sometime haue acoesse where better
braines are barred out : and if they be she-fooles, they
are kept fine and deanly, to come and play with children
and aged people. But among all these, it is set downe,
that there is one great foole of their owne chusing, that
for a oertaine time hath the oommandement of most part
of them, who during his time may do very much in little
matters ; who with his o^)esmates, hauiog in his hand
the staffe of smal strength, and willing to shew the great-
nesseofhislitUewit, for to make a Stable of his gouem-
ment, to the subiects of his Supemoditie, set downe
oertaine Articles to be obsemed and carefooly lookt vnto,
as they would answer it at their pleasure, and those scarce
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STRANGE NEJVES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES.
worth the printbtg ; yet were to be read in Markets,
Fuies, Wakes, and meine meetings Tpon such dayes as
should be thought fit for such a purpose.
First, that no sword should be caried before any of his
Magistrates, for all should be obeyed for good fellowship.
Secondly, that no man without Xtg^ should haue aimes,
lest a ooate with sleeoes should make a lacke an Apes
a Gentleman.
Thirdly, that no man should keep two men in one
Liuery. lest the ooate should not be fit when it came to
wearing.
Fourthly, that no man should blush at the telling of a
lie, because it was more common then truth.
5. No man must commit any secrets to a woman, lest
it burst her heart before she haue reuealed it.
6. No man must kneele to a dead hnage while there
is one aliue for the purpose.
7. No man must go on foote if he may ride, lest his
horse be founderd in the stable.
8. No Landlord must let his trees grow too long, lest
they proue dotards.
9b No widow must be afraid to marry, because one
man may be like another.
la No man must die for loue, lest a Goose giase on
hisgraue.
XI. No man must denie his neighbours Goose his
Gander, for feare of wanting Goslings at Goose Faire.
xa. No tradesman must be idle, for feare his wife be
ouer-busied in proulding for implements.
13. No Sea-man must keepe his frigot vntrimd, lest
she k>se the opportunitie of a good voyage.
14. No man must be iealous of his wife, for feare it
should not be without cause.
15. Eucry childe would know his own fiuber, if he
could,
x6. Euciy woman should know her husband from
another man, if she likt him.
17. No foule woman should weare any Mask, for feare
of abusing the hope of beautie.
x8. No feire woman should be painted, lest Art should
put downe Nature.
X9b Euery woman must keepe dose her husbands se-
creets, for feare of losing the comfort of her knowledge.
90. Women must be honored for their wit, when they
make fooles of the wisest men.
ax. Women must be pited for their traueU. for they
take more paines in bearing of one childe, than a man
doth in getting of twentie.
98. No man must be too learned, for feare he be
thought to ooniure.
93. No man must be too wise, lest he be troubled
with too many fooles.
94. No man must marry a scold, for feare he disquiet
his neighbottn, and be put to the height of his patieiioe.
95. No man must lend any mony to thinke eoer to
haue it againe.
96. No man must borrow more then he can pay, for
feare of the losse of libertie and credit
97. No man must meddle with an Vsurer, for feare
that interest eate out the whole stake.
98. No man must grow inward with a theefe, for feare
of execution after infection.
99. No man must build castles in the aire for feare
they breake his necke in the felling.
aa No man must Uy open his wines secrete, lest she
commit them rather to a wise friend then a foolish hus-
band.
3X. No man must leaue an old friend for a new, for
feare he lose by the exchange of his credit
39. No wise man must marry a foole, lest she waste
his goods, and coxrupt the perfection of his capadtie.
33. Beggers must keepe from the Alehouse for fieare
they diinke out the reuenue of charitie.
34. Rich men must not counterfet pouertie, lest the
thiefe discouer the truth of their dissembling.
35. No man must be wise in his owne conceit, lest he
proue a foole ere he be aware.
36. No man must talke to himsdfe as he walkes, lest
he be thought to be mad, or making verses.
37. No Bankerout must purehase land, lest hee be
thought to cosen his Creditors with his breaking.
38. No man must conuerse with a witch, for feare he
go to the diuell by Attumey.
39b No man must put his land into mony, lest the
Bankerout runne away with his inheritance.
40. No man must cary two faces hi a hood, for feare
that the diuell be in one of them.
41. No women must crie when she weepes, lest it be
thought more curst heart than any crther cause.
49. No man must haue two wines, lest one proue too
much to be weU managed.
43. No meetings but for meriment.
44. No baxgaines but for a bag-pudding.
45. Friends must not fall out.
46. Neighbours must be friends.
47. Patience was neuer angrie, and quietnesse was a
goodly hearing.
48. Fathers darling and mothers nowne childe, must
be brethren and sisters children ; and cousin Vannins re-
moued, must trust to the world as they finde it
These were the chiefe Artides agreed vpon among his
Ninnihammers, which bdng published among poore
fooles, were \upt as well as they could hit on it
Now to the purpose, such a commonwealth for a dog,
bdng gouemed hj Apes and Asses, the great Foole of
all must needs be a strange beast, and yet in the shape
of a man he walkes strangely throve the world : and
one thing among other he hit on strangely, to saae charges
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STRANGE NEWES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRTES.
in charitie, hee tooke this order for beggers, that lather
then they should lacke lodging^ they should sit in the
stockes, and in stead of ahnes perswade them to fastings
because abstinence is a fit preparation to prayer. Now
this little worshipfull Iok» a Nods, instead of a mistaken
gentleman, hath bin in his youth brought vp in learning
how to reade ilfauouredly, and to write worse, and yet
with much adoe. after his schoolmistiis an old woman
with spectacles had taught him his Primer and the Gierke
of a country Church had taught him to write a Copie or
two. and put his name to a bill Lobligatorie, he grew to
such a delight in reading of Ballads and hearing of olde
stories, that he bought at the second hand out of the
Librarie of little learning, some few bookes of his mothers
language, which hauing kept long in an old chest, did
now seme him for his Librarie : which bookes [this]
sometime asse [as] he was able to finde idle time, which
at the best is little better, he would now and then take
out his course cabbinet, and reade by peeoe-meales, as
it came into his addle braine : the names whereof, as I
found them set downe, were these, I meane chiefly those
whom his little vnderstanding tooke most pleasure in :
PrtsidiHis of Im^erftctums, Newts of no in^oriatue,
and Lahotir in Vaine,
And first for Presidents of ImperfteHons :
He that would put out his eyes, because he would see
no vanities, would be a blind man. and so an fanperfect
He that would cut out his tongue, because he would
teU no vntmths, should be u dumbe man, and so an im-
perfect man.
He that would cut oif his bands, because he would take
no bribes, should be a lame man, and so an imperfect
And as of men so off
A maide is no perfect woman, because without the
hdpe of man, she is ondy called a Maide, and not a
A widow is an imperfect woman, because with the
losse of her man, she loseth the title of a woman, and is
onely called a widow, but not a woman.
A barren woman is no perfect woman ; for a woman
was created to increase and multiply : till therefore she
haue brought forth chiUren, she is an imperfect woman,
except the fault be in the man, and then he is an
imperfect man. to put such imperfection vpon a woman.
A whore is no perfect woman ; for eueiy woman is
either a maide, a wife, or a widow ; and being neither
of these, she must needs be a monster, and so an
A painted woman is no perfect woman, for aU women
by nature are either fisire or foule : but if an artificalfiure
be set vpon a foule complexion, it makes but a speaUng
picture, and a picture is no perfect woman.
These and such like were his Presidents oftn^erfec-
iions, which for his poore instruction he would take some
idle humors to bestow his blind sight vpon.
The next booke was intituled, Newestfno importance,
which I found set downe as followeth.
First, in the Gulfe of small grace, neare to the coast of
Comgligrande, vpon the fourteenth day of the fifteenth
moneth. in the strange yeare of foule weather, it is said,
that in the passage boate betweene Verola and GoeUria,
two dangerous places for infection, the boate entring into
the Lake of Lasduiousnes, a very vnwholsome harbor,
with ouer charging the vessell, perished a great number
of poore people, who bringing but common ware to the
market, and then* greatest losses being Asses and gaUed
Hackneys, it seemed there was no great misse of them,
for I find nothing worthy noting written of them, and
therefore being newes of no importance, they serued
ondy for a tale of a tub, to exerdse the braines of such
a Hogshead.
Secondly, firom the land of Vnlockinesse, in the dtie
of Sinftilnesse. it was reported that Sir Henrie had land.
Sb Lawrence litle wit, and Sir Ninny nothing worth,
three Knights of the Order of Saint Asse. men of in-
famous memorie, after that they had ranne through the
courses of expenoes. without euer hope of reoouerie ol
dther coine or credit, going in the Gulfe of Canavery. to
see a Beare hunt a wilde ducke. fell by chance into a But
of Malligo. where they were drowned horse and foot :
what became of thdr Funerals, or Epitaphs vpon their
deaths, hauing no matter in thdr liues to be recorded,
I can say nothing, but that the Newes being of no great
importance, it is no matter for thdr passages out of life,
but for feare of their passage to no better ; and so let
them go. and as many fooles as will follow them.
Thirdly, in the Hand of Saint Rise, the great Ladle of
little worth, which was no lesse kinde to her ndghbonrs.
then readie to entertaine strangers, and for her recreation
had set vp many may-poles hi diners places neare to her
dwelling place. Now for her diet, she vsed most to
feede vpon such morsds as most fitted her appetite,
especially such nourishing meates as best agreed with
the constitution of her complexion ; when in an idie
humour one euening she was so busie with a Lobstart.
that with a surfet vpon the same, she fdl querie stomackt.
and so inflam'd her blood, that she grew fentasticke.
and in a few nights after set many of her May poles on
fire, and in a little time after, with the extremitie of
passion, fell mto the Falling dcknesse, whidi in a short
time brought her carkas hito a consumption, and so in a
few dayes after into her last lodging in the earth : but
for any great memoiiall of her. I reade nothing, but
that in her life time she had the breaking vp of youth,
iriio since her death had continued thdr course to their
vtter condemnation ; but since that for any matter of
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STRANGE NEWES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES.
great note, more then that shee was a notorious peece of
pedkrs stnffe, the newes being of no importanoe, it is no
matter what became of her.
4. In the valley of Saint Grineums, the great Lord of
Lowsie bush, venturing to ride late in the night, and not
seeing his way, fell into a deepe bog, where he was so
bemir'd. that with a cold after a heate, he caufl^t such a
relapse, as that many of his copartners in his passages
were greatly afiraid that he would fell into a consumption
both of bodie and goods : a great infirmitie, and hardly
to be helped. But hearing no matter of worth in the
man, nor anything but that he lined in all vnworthinesse,
and died nothing worth ; the newes bemg of no import-
ance, it is no matter what became of him, ondy as a
Lord of Langdebiete, let him be well boiled and serued in
a messe of Bruesse at a beggers Uble, and so let him go.
5. Ftom the coast of Careaway neare the cape of ill
Hope, there came newes of a little Knight of great
valour. Sir Walter whet whistle, who was of that force,
that whosoeuer encountred with him, if he stood long with
him, in the end he was ouerthrowne. Now there dwelt
neare him one Sir Dogbolt Driebread, who did often-
times make a roade into his countrey, and vpon a time
set vpon him with all his Forces, thinking at unawares
to surprise with him ; of which an euill neighbour to them
both. Sir Swines head Great swallow hauing intelligence,
with his armie came vpon them both, and so stoutly
followed his fortune, that he took them both prisoners in
the field, and made them both Tributaries to his great-
nesse. Whether the newes be true or no, it b of no
importance, and therefore ondy fit for the great Foole to
feede his humour withalL
6. In the vnknowne Iland, some twehie thousand
miles firom the great Bay of Port di Pamtro, where the
watrie monsters keepe their Court vnder water, it is
reported, that in that Land were great store erf flesh, but
little wholesome for the vse of man, sauing ondy Hares
and Conies, which wdl dressed woukL now and then
seme the tume for a strong stomacke : For most of their
other beasts were Foxes, Wolues, and Badgers and
Polcats, which were the spoile of many yong Lambs and
suddng Rabbets, yea and sometime of dder Game. They
had also in that country great store of Foule and birds
of diners fetbers, but few of them wholesome, or tooth-
some, as Dawes, Rookes, Crowes, Night ranens, Shrich
Owles, Cormorants and Guls, which feed vpon Lambs,
Rabbeu, Mice. Wonnes, Fish, Carionand Qari^dge but
few of them whose flesh was fit to be seraed at any Table
of aooount ; but among many other Fetherd creatures,
they had many bakl Bussards which fed much vpon
Tittimottses and hedge sparrowes, which were no sooner
out of the hedge, but tliey would be vpon them, and
sometime so oueigofge themselnes with them, that with
foule feeding and outr feeding thcj would fell flat on
33
thdr backes, with their heeles vpward. so weake and
faint, that eueiy Crow might haue a picke at them.
Now the Traueller into that country, who brought the
newes fiom thence, being vnhappily by ill weather cast
vpon that coast, and finding little or nothing to trade
for. that might giue him hope of any gaine, hauing vpon
a cold ni^t lien watching at a Coniborough, and scarce
wdl. and wearie, in the morning making haste to get on
boord, with a fit gale for his purpose, put out of an ill
harbour, and gate roundly to sea, and safdy returned
home againe, sauing that he gat such a numnesse in his
toyants and stiffiiesse in his dbowes, that he couM scarce
put his hand to his head, to take off his hat at the
deliuery of his traudL Of which hearing nothing worth
any thing, bdng of no great importance. I found it
serued ondy for an idle Foole, to fit the great humour
ofhisUttlewit.
7. In the Iland of A Merricait vnder the Equinoctial
line, in the Straits of Margerian, in a swift current be-
tween the Lake MamtUHna and the mouth of the riuer of
AlHHat by reason of certaine vnwholesome vapors that
arose out of certaine Sulphurous mines neare vnto the
sea, diners passage-boau perished, or grew so rotten,
that if any of the passengers made shift to get home
again, though with losse of thdr ware, and danger of
thdr lines, yet ndther they nor the vessels were euer fit
for any good emptoiment, or to any sendee of worth ;
but bdng likely that either they were olde vessels that
coukle abide no foule weather, or some small Barkes
that were swallowed vp in some swelling billowes, since
the oertaintie thereof b not yet knowne, and bdng
doubted that some of them haue bin hotly shot at be-
twixt wind and water, till the retume of the next GoMeita,
there is little to be said to it ; and bdng newes of no
importanoe. it may passe for a Fable among the like
fendes to fit the fende of such a Foole.
8. Fkom the Desert of ^mMtf it was reported that the
people of that country line strangdy, ndther by trade
nor traificke. fishing nor fowling, nor yet by cheating
nor cosenfaig, but by plaine theeuing ; so that betwixt
them audi the Turkes there is such hauocke with
killing and spoiling, that the poore Friers in diners
places among them or neare vnto them are in pitiftin
feare of thdr lines ; a great deal of land they bane, but
ill inhabited, and Fhiit trees but few. and the Friiit very
watrie and of little or no good nourishment They are
commonly wdl horsed, and weaponed for Bowes and
arrowes, dartsand swords, but Peeoes few or none : and
therefore being no matter of fanportanoe, the newes are
not worth the noting, more then that it is a wonder that
they should haue a King among them, that may be
called the King of tbeenes : For bdng aU ontlawes.
they must haue a strange Idnd of gouenmient. which it
should aeeme is but during pleasure.
B
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STRANGE NEWES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRTES.
Now to these and such other toyes, hee had some
odde discourses of Labour in vaine, which were not
many, but as they came into my hands I haue set them
downe, which were as foUoweth.
z. In time out of minde when Beasts and Birds could
speake* and windes could whistle wondrous things, there
was in a strange country a great bird like an Eagle, that
flying vp and downe in diners places of the world espied
by chance a £ir off a fisure bird like a Pheniz, vpon«a
high rocke, sitting among a number of fnire Foules and
sweete singing birds, round about her» but she sat in a
great maiestie aboue them all : now this other great
bird in his pride scorning all birds but himselfe, and
enuying the greatnesse of this faire blessed bird, called a
conncell of his kites together, to find out some deuice or
other, wfaerby to seeke the death and ouerthrow, not
onely of her, but of all the goodly Foules and sweete
birds about her. Much talke there was how to bring
this matter to effect, and the better lo set it on work,
before the enterprise was attenq>ted, the great Bird sent
out certaine Boscards as spies to flicker about the coast
of the conntiy, where the iust Bird kept her high flight,
who being returned with matter of sudi maiestie, as
bred increase of malice in the heart of the pcood bird, he
standing so much vpon his strength, that he thought no
bird should be able to beare a fether In his frowne, com-
manded forthwith a number of cages to be made, in
which he put a number of Peacocks, woodcocks, Dawes,
Raiiens and Oowes, Guls and Kites, to make warre
with this 6ure Bird and her Fowles : whfcfa were no
sooner put lo sea. but a diattrring Pie in all places
where she flew, cried, Victorie, rictorie: but hauing
passed along the Seas, neare the coast, they were
enoountred with such a flight of bcaue birds, as put the
cages with all their foroes to such a flight, as so diane
them Tpon the rocks and Sands, that few of them were
able to get bone,wUh the hard neves of their beany for-
tune : but iriien the great Birde behdd the wofiiH qiee-
tade of his drouplng flight, he foil into such an agonie,
through a passioa of his diagrsoed pride^ finding Us
labor all in Tain, stonpt his traiae, hung downe his
head, and shordy after tamed vp Us heeles. And thus
ended Us diaoouEse of Labour in vaine ; atakofatub,
witfaont head or foote : and therefore Uke a Fable of the
Foae and the Goose, I leasK it to the Gander with
whom I found IL
a. In the Hand of Ttrra Lorida, a plaoe of great
merchandise of saudl wares, near the cfaiefe Otie of
NuWH, in an ntfaenahtie, instead of an Vnuersitie.
where scfaoUers were as ill read as taught, there was a
deepe studient in die secrets of Mature, whidi kdMUcfaig
mnoh to faring all to nothing; wrought day and night
for the Moonesfaine in the water, when haaing spent bodi
time and meanes, to wodoe wooden out of iaaaginations,
finding Nature not so subiect to Art, but to keep her
owne power in all properties, when his fire lacked fuell.
Us eyes were ouer matched, and a long hope of great
substance went all away in smoke ; and while he
laboured to marry the Sunne and the Moone together,
there was such a doud betweene his wit and the light of
wisedome, that he could effect nothing to his purpose,
and that with the stone of PhilosopUe, many braines
had bin beaten long and the head nere the better, with
a great deale of griefe, and little hope of amends, walk*
ing one day to the Sea side, and studying how to finde
out the cause of the ebbing and flowing of the sea, but
neuer able to finde it out, saw as it were a vision, or
rather some conodted apparition of a man lading of
water into a pot, wUch though it were foil and nume
ouer, yet he still bded in water : when tUs little well
learned SchoUer wondering at his worke, asked him
what he meant to do ? quoth he. As you doe. Labour in
vaine; and so vpon the sudden vanished out of Us
sight, and left Um so perplexed, that with very jnttie to
see the passion of the poore man, I awaked.
3. In the old time when Hobgoblin and Robin good
Fellow made country wenches keepe their houses deane
ouemight, for feare of walking spirits should get imo
their chambers, and ere they were aware slip into their
beds, and get them with child before morning. In a
country village called Lobkin the large, there dwdt a
plaine dealing man, who with his wife a good breeding
creature, with eating of Mummada pudding and the in*
ward of a beast, with the bdpe of a pot of Ale and
Ginger, found means to fill the world with beggcrs :
the poore man hauing passed many dayes in no small
puigatorie with her intoIleraUe tongue, wUch would call
Um by many more names then beloQged to a Christian,
sought all the meanes to bring that vnquiet creature into
some more peaceable course, pleasd her humor in all he
oonld, but all would not si^oe, but an Eios-hawlce
would euer be prating, but when she wasdther at iacka
or at feeding : so this tatUng gossip that todce a oon-
thmall pleasure to heare her seUe speake, thou^ sddome
to any good purpose : the poore man so tired out with
trying all meanes he oould to stay the ringing of this
house bdl, and finding \i!i labour all in vaine, resohmd
to put on such a patience as was past all vaderstanding,
and so let her talke till she was weary, wUdi oould be
neuer while she had breath, and lettfaig her haue her
swinge till he oonkl no longer suffer it, knowing a day
appointed when they siionld ride to a Wake, or a was-^
seU, a meny flMetiag of gosdps and their Assebands»
her Mare that she vsde to ride to market on, being then
in the Stable and fedwidi thebatt hey and oata«, to
please Us Dame, but little to her knowledge, kqst her
firamwater a day and anight before die was to ride:
bat when the day cease, gad she was monted and vpon
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STRANGE NERVES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES.
II
her way, it fell out that they were to go through a deepe
riuer, where the Mare greedy of water to quench her
thirtt. as ahnost or rather wronger headed then her
Dame« ranne into the deepe, and stumbling in a hole,
floundring out with much ado, threw her into the poole,
and with much ado saued her selfe. When the poore
man looking badce, and not hearing her spealce, who aU
the way before neuer held her peace, but was euer find-
ing fiuih with the ill setting of her pannell, or the ndnes
of her Inidle, or the shooing of her neere foote, because
she wotdd now and then trip somewhat low, and so with
one thing or other be euer finding fiault to keepe her
tongue wagging; but when he could not heare her
speake, and seeing onely her clothes appeare a little in
the water, after he had got oat his Mare, called for
helpe to get out his Dame, in a maner dead, wfakh being
layed on the bank and the water powred out of her beUy
by her mouth, she gaue three or foure gasps, and opened
her mouth as if she would haue spoken : whereat the
poore oaa affilglited, started, and fidling backward, me
thought fell vpon me, and therewithal! I awaked. And
thus ended the dreame of the Labour in vaine, to quiet an
vnquiet and an hitollerable Scold.
Now this great Foole had also in his Librsiie; hi the
bottome of his olde chest, oertaine Poeticall, or ather
potticott Droames put into rime, but for reason, mora
then for naturall capacities, I find little : yet such as
they were, and fitted the humour of his noddle pate, as
I found them after his death, left for a L^gvae to his
cousins TijMollifB^ I dKmght good to set them downe in
maner and forme following.
And first, A Dreame of a Monkey and a
Bee.
A kind of Bu (aw iAov^) dU gti imio a MonHts
tart,
Wkowatwun^Ju^fkMrmwiMdtakmwitiirUmdqfkMm'
mewdt amdcritdt
At tfkis vigfy MasUnkip womUpnstmify Amw ditd.
But at tkt Btt tamt ere^ng omt. At caught htr by the
witig.
Who for kit lahomr in kit hand did itant a crutU tHng :
Wktrmnik tnrag'd, kt §aU Avvpi htU yti didftth
tnckpainp
Ht-mritki kitkatidwtmtaiil»mtd tkgwtmin kitktad
aguint:
Wkm tnck afauikt Vrtkin wtadt, wiik tuck a n^/kl/
Tkat witk a Jaaigktir at tkt ittt, i smddtnfy awoke.
A Dreame of An Oister and a Crab.
VPon tkt tkort ntart to tkt Sta, an Oisttr gapit^;
widtt
Lay looking for a Uitltfbod to eomt in witk tke Tidt :
But kard iy i^^ a cranling Crab, wko wateki kit timt
btfort.
And tkrtw a ttont betwttnt tkt tktlt. Oat tkty could
Tkt Oisttr cridtt Ho ntigkhours, tkttuts: but trt tkt
nt^gkbonrt camtt
Tkt Crab kad murtktrtd tkt poortflsk, andftdvpon tkt
Wktn wondering tkat suck craft did Hue witk creatures
Wiik troubling of my braines witkall, I waki out of my
sUtpe.
A Dreame of a Foxe and a Goose.
APoxicatne to a Gooses pen, wkere ske all brooding
sat.
And Uke a Gossip somgki witk ker to kane some friendly
ckai:
And askt ker kow ske did, and kow ker swelling grew so
And ke would keeker if tkat kemigkt but ker temples
tuck.
I pray, quotk ske, put in your kead, tkat / may kearyon
sptakt:
Yea, tkougkt tke Foxe, lie teack tke Goou and Gandor
kowtokeake,
IVken putting in kis kead, a dog tkat closely-kidden lay,
ZHd quickly catcke kim by tke snout, and pluckt a peece
away.
Wktn komt ran Rainard to kis bitck tkat lurkid in kis
dm.
And told ker tkat tke Goose kad bit kis nose oj' in tke
pen /
Out slaue, quotk ske, get out of doores, doat tkou come
And say a Goose bit offtky uose, and bring kome mrt a
fetkerf
Wktn laugking at tkis mad conceit, my tkougkts so ran
ypon,
I wakt and saw nor Foxe nor Goose, but all werefUd and
gone.
A Dreame of a lack an Ape8» Buls, Beares
and Dogs.
MB tkouikt witkin a BoaraHs ckarge, among tkt
dogs and Bearts,
A sudden Mastige set tkem all tt^tktr by tke tares :
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STRANGE NEWES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES.
The Beares vnmUMMld, dogs vnchaind, they Jought and
roared 6* cride.
Some ran atoay, and some to death the bloody quartll
. tride.
The Bearards seared to heare the noise, cawte out with
clubs and staues .*
The Master came out after them, and calld them carelesse
slaues :
When in among them brahe the Bull, in midst of all the
And as he met them, with his horns he tost them emery
way.
The master Berard gat him home, away the Bearards
ran.
And lach an Apes came onefy in, to play the gentleman.
Who shipping vp vpon the Bull, so bit him by the eares.
That he had more ado with him, then either Dogs or
Beares:
For, to their house the Beares gai heme, the dogs in hen-
nell croucht.
And neither dog, nor hill, nor beare, that one another
touchi
But lach an Apes vpon the Bull, did so bestir himselfe.
That I awaht with latching at the hnauery of the B(/e.
A Dreame of a Chough, a Pie, and a Parrot.
ME thought I saw a Cornish Chough stand chat-
tring with a Pie,
Disputing on their coloured coates, which had the purest
die;
The Pie she spake ofiet and snow, and pitch, and milie
and chalh,
Ofblacke as inhe, and lilly white, and thus her tongue
did walhe.
To whom the Chough replide, who hnew what stufi what
best to hold;
What lest would staine, and what would best abide
both heate and cold;
Spake only for the Russet codte, which country maidens
ware.
Good huswiues and good husbandmen, and such as
thriftie are :
A9mI how it mahes the souldiers clothes, and Courtiers
winter weed.
At lest such as vpon their clothes will spend no more then
need.
But as they thus did chattring stand, a Parrot in a tree,
Cride, Hah, hah, hah, ye foolish Hrds, be sHll, and
looheon me:
Behold the colours of my coate, how gay I am and fine;
Your Russet, and your blacke and white, are Liueries
vnto mine.
With that the Chough cride. Haw, away and Magpie
chattring cride.
Let vs away, this is some witch, or wanton child of
pride;
Or else some stranger, that so much vpon his eoiourt
stands.
And brings in gastdes for giddie heads, to make them
sell their lands.
With that the Parrot spide a /bole, andjUw downe to his
fist;
Who stroht her feathers, called her lone, and hermost
hindfy kist.
Wkereat tke Ckougk in feare or ekafe, aw^ did take
his flight:
And with their ftuttring I awakt, and all were out of
eight.
A Dreame of three Cocks and a Hen.
MB thought I saw two dunghill Cocks were JSgkHng
for a Hen,
And by tkem stood a right bred Cocke, put vp witkin a
pen:
Their gils were both as red as blood, their heads were
both bent downe.
And neither of them but did beare a cochs combe on his
crowne ;
But as they spurd, it seemd their spight was nothing
neare to death.
They struck so seldome, andtwixt blowes tkey took so long
a breatk :
The Hen did cackle {as it seemd to laugk) to see tke fight :
When Chaunticleere in chafe to see so base a coward fight.
Put ope tke pen doore, andjlew out and beate tkem both
away.
And trod the Hen, and crow'd to shew how he did end
the fray;
And with his Hen he walhes and erowes with such a
lustie cheere.
That not a crauen Cocke durst crow, at least, ifke were
neere,
Witk tkat the Cock-master came in, or he that hept the
pen,
Toohe vp the Coche and put him vp and shought away the
Hen
When to her came the dunghill Cochs, when ChaunH-
cleere was gone.
Who chuchling taught within his pen his sport to thinke
vpon.
And avw'd so loud, tkat witk tke sound, tke Cruuens
were afrigkt:
And I awakt out of my sleepe, and all were eut ofsigki.
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STRANGE NEWES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES.
13
A Dreame of a Ducke and a Goose.
MB tkoMgki I saw a littii Ducke into a hvoke Ut
iO0S€,
Who in kis pride did offtr to swim wagers with a Goose:
The matehe was made, the Gander heaht to see the Duche
socatcht.
And thought it but a simple thing to be so ouermatcht ;
And on they went, but in their way, the Duche with
diuing skill t
When that the Goose did hoke for her, would be afore
her still:
The Goose was strong, the Ducke was quiche and nimble
in her art.
So much that many a Foule didfeare to take the Gooses
part:
But ere they came vnto the place to win or lose the
matehe,
Forfeare the Duche with some odde craft, the Goose might
ouercatch.
The Gander ran vnto the Cranes and Cormorants, and
praid,
Btfore the match was won and lost, the wager might be
staied:
Who being sent for, quichly came before the greater birds.
Who bad them on their loues and Hues, to listen to their
words:
And that all quarels might haue end, that had bin
brought in thither.
It was agreed the Duhe and Goose should hindly swim
With that the Gander hecht for icy, the Duche so fast
did quache.
And I with laughing at the sport, out of m^ dreame did
wahe,
A Dreame of a Swan and a Goose.
MB thought I saw afaire coeh Swan that had a hen
Swan such.
As if a Swan hnew how to lone, he could not lone too
much:
For she wasfhire and smoothe and white, and to her
coche as true.
As any creature of her kinde, or any birde that flue :
He trod her oft, and had by her afaire and kindly breed.
And in the streame they hindly did together swim and
feed:
But in a mistie day by chance a Goose came swimming by
And at the swan did seeme to cast full many a wanton
eye:
He trod her, and along the streame away with her went
he,
And left his Hen, a thousand times a goodlier bird
then she.
But when the owners of the Swans did come their birds
tomarhe.
And Uhe good birders hindly hnew a Bunting from a
Larke:
Seeing the Goose swim with the Swan, they tooke her by
theneche,
Andgaue her such a twinge that she scarce able was to
kecke:
Th^plucht her bare, and cut her wings, and a/ier let
hergo.
And let her Gander ashe the cause why she was handled
so:
But as she swam a busatard hits did beate at her so sore.
That with her heahing I awaht, and saw the Goose no
more.
A Dreame of a Bucke casting of his homes.
MB thought I saw a gallasU Buche had newly cast a
home.
Which made him seem a goodly beast when it was brattely
borne:
And rubbing of the other home which did disgrace
him so.
That tf afaire and goodly beast, he did ilfauourd grow :
He lost the beautie of his head and his defensiue armes.
Which both did grace him and oft times preserue him
from great harms.
Now as I weU beheld the Beast, methoughi a Ketper
came.
And said, unfriend, now may you su how nature hath
her shame,
Of beautie and of armes at once to leaue him nahed so.
That now among his gallant mates he hath no heart
logo:
But if it be such valour be and beautie in a home.
Why should they blush that beare the hornet and haue
it so in scome t
When smiling at the sudden ierhe, and closing of the
itst,
I wakt, and found it but to be a vision of a BeasL
A Dreame of a Peacocke and an Asse.
MB thought I saw within a field, when I along did
passe.
Two creatures that each other fdc't, a Peacocke and an
Asse:
The Peacocke spred abroad his tails, the Asm set vp his
eares;
The Peacocke Uerd vpon his traine, the Asse did liche
his heares:
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STRANGE NEWES OVT OF DIVERS COVNTRIES.
But as tk^ ikms iach vUur hwi'd, 4hi Asm h^an to
bray,
WJuremiik Hk fieaeocke son afiri^tdid ttJu ktrjtigkt
away;
WkarnaUh tk€ Asn did smiU that ke Mis val&ur did so
trio.
Thai with a word itU of kis tmmtk Mo mado tMo Pta-
eoekejiie:
But wMou tMt PoaeocMo samg Mis stmg. Mo scared so the
Asso,
TMat Mo to go as aHamao'dt Mo Mmsw not wMert Me was :
But wMat witM tone and fotMors noise, tMey did such
TMat I ataoMt out of my drtamo, and glad I was awaho.
A Dreatne of a wilde Boare and a
Hnotsoian*
MB thought witMM a Forrest wide / saw a great
wikUBore,
WMo as tMo oommon foopto said, astnaid tMo'Oountry sore :
He broMo into tMoirJtelds of corns, and spoild tMeir
WMoateandMe,
And rooted tf iMotrpaOwv grotntds, and on tMeir Pease
VHe,
Tore vp tMeir hedges, rend tMeir pales, and spoild tMeir
garden grounds :
AndwMen tMey sot tMeir dogs at Mim, womld Mitt tMeir
littU Mounds:
WMtmfrom a MigM w>od issued out MM men and dogs
apace.
And witM a crie of mastiffe curres did taMe tMe Bore in
cMase,
WMo scouUng set Mis Msttes vp, and eMampid witM Mis
cMaps,
And WitM Mis tusks upon tMe riMs,/kil many a curre Me
claps,
And ouer Modge and ditch hi goes, and all the chase
withstood
And fumes and /bam and snupks, as he were master of
the wood:
But Hose behind a tru there stood a Huntsman with a
dart,
iVhotwisettheshonUersand the rib did strihe him to
the heart:
Whm vp the Bare tamed both his hoeles, the Huntsmen
all came in.
And ail the mastiues and the cunts did such a crie
begin.
And such a shout the poopie made, as if the aire had rent,
Wherewith / waht, and mameid what this hind of
hunting meant.
FINIS.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS,
Page 5, col. i, 1. ao, 'babies* ^ tntfbles : 1. 3 {from
bottom). ' a 'towes frttmp^ » a Jew's harp : see Glos-
sarial Index, f.v. .- col. a, 1. 4, ' wittals ' i.e, wiftols or
cackolds: L 15, * Hobbies* ^'% small poor kind of
horse.
P. 6, col. I, 1. X, ' 7V///«iMa«'s tit-mice: L 9,
' Buntings* s^wood-Uulfi : 1. 6, 'foiUs '» ddeats? : 1 7,
' shooing of the Goose'^-aot Glossarial Index for a nole
on this : apparently a game : L 10, 'springe* = snare—
see Glossarial Index, j.v. .- 1. 7 (from bottom), ' the Fall*
ss Autumn— used now only in America, but not an
Americanism : see Glossarial Index, s.v. .• ooL a, L 8,
* odde shauers*''^Ji eariy use of this slangy phrase : L 9,
*Die Deppers'-^qau Dive Dippers? see Glossarial
Index, s.v. : 1. 13, 'rings in their mouthes'^-^tt Glosr
sarial Index, under ' rings,' for a note on this : 1. x6, ' of
thoAppte'^-^qaieryaLTtSeKmatto^tiBt 's(pple'<lq|eDdfleiy|
the eating wherrof 'brought death into our world and
sil ov woe'? aad so ss deneBdam of Adam?: 1. x8,
' Rascabilians = rascals— a jesting term : L 31. ' Aptim-
^mA* as child's 9chool-bo6k: L 3a, 'rfmiir^w*s alpha-
bet—see Glossarial Index, i.v. : I. 7 <fi»m bottom),
'copejourtes* « aaaodoies : I. 4, *5^icpcnsiRf»^' a supers
lative noodle.
P. 7, col a, L 7, 'grow inward' as be friendly or
intimate: L a6» '^«iiflnMi/'« bankrupt: i zz (from
bottom), ' nowne ' a own — see Glossarial Index, j.v. .*
1. 10 {ibid.), ' cousin Varmins '—play on oousiB»german :
L 7 {ibid,), * NifutiMammers' x simpletons.
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NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
15
P. 8, coL I, L 5, * lohn a Nods' ^]oYak a Noodle :
L zz, * LodU^atorit' = obUgsdory with equivoque on
• Lob,' or blockhead : 1. z8, ' £(mru '= coarse : col. a, 1. 7,
' C^wtgitgramdt'— On this and other quitrical names in
the sequel, see our Introduction and Glossarial Index,
s,v. : L z8, 'Uile of a tub' — see Glossarial Index, i.v. .•
1. 28, 'Mailigo' s Malaga
P. 9, coL z, L z6, '^nMtfj^'ssbrose— ('broos'); L zz
(from bottom), ' tootksomi ' = tasty, relishing : L zo
(Md,), • Shruk ' =s screech : col. a, 1. 7, ' Comibortmgk '
s rabbet warren.
P. zo, ooL z, 1. za (from bottom), * tale of a tub*-
Glossarial Index, as before : col. a, 1. z8 (from bottom),
' Eios-hawke '—see Glossarial Index, s,v, : L Z7 {ibid. ),
' iVi^itf ' s Jakes, water-closet; L 7 {ibid.), *wassei' =
wassail : L 6, ' Assebamds ' — see Gtossarial Index for
another example of this word, and note.
P. zz, coL z, 1. 9, ' ^itiM/ ' = pannier, with an
equivoque on ' panel ' = an unchaste woman : ibid.
*raiius' s reins : 1. 30, * Loblollies* = simpletons and
slatterns : Verse— L s, ' half kom ' — see Glossarial
Index, s.v. : coL 9, 1. z6, ' keake ' » cackle : 1. Z9,
*Jlainard' = reynard : I a (from bottom), 'Bearards'
= bear-herds.
P. za, coL z, 1. z6, 'CA^w^'sa kind of crow:
1. az, * Ust' — least : 1. 34, ' weed* s dress : ooL a, 1. 5
(fit>m bottom), ' skoughi ' s shouted with ' shoo shoo.'
P. Z3, coL z, 1. Z7, ' Duke ' a duck — on which see
Glossarial Index for a good story : ooL a, 1. aa, ' ierJke '
= hit.— G.
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FANTASTICKS.
1626.
rzx JTv^ nvn rrv^ii jtvti /rvn rrvn rrv^ ^rvii £rv^ rr/ii g\
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NOTE.
The 'Fantasticks' is among the very rarest of Breton's books.
Malone wrote in his copy, 'Has any one ever seen another?' This
reproduction is from a fine exemplar in my own Library : 4to, 26 leaves.
In Mr. Huth's copy there is inserted a set of copper-plates, iUustra-
tive of the successive months of the year, with English verses beneath
them. They do not seem ever to have belonged to the work
(HazHtt, s.n.) They should find more fitting insertion in Matthew
Stevenson's * Twelve Moneths' (1661), — from whence, indeed, it seems
likely they have been taken. A few Selections from the ' Fantasticks '
are given in Books of Characters (1857). See our Memorial-Introduc-
tion, and Notes and Illustrations at the close. — G.
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FANT ASTICKS:
Seruing for
A PERPETVALL
Prognostication.
Descants of \
I. THE WORLD.
13. SUMMER.
a. THE EARTH,
14. HARUEST.
3. WATER.
15. WINTER.
4. AYRE.
16. THE 13 MONETHS.
5. FIRE.
17. CHRISTMAS.
6. FISH.
18. LENT.
7. BEASTS.
19. GOOD FRIDAY.
8. MAN.
aa EASTER DAY.
9. WOMAN.
31. MORNING.
la LOUE.
aa. THE la HOURES.
11. MONEY.
33. MIDNIGHT.
la. THE SPRING.
34. THE CONCLUSION
LONDON:
Printed far Francis Williams,
1626.
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To the worshipful! and worthy Knight,
Sir MARKE IVE of Riuers Hall in Essex,
N. B. wisheth on earth hearfs ease, and heauen lureafter.
HIR. — Your many fauon and my small deserts,
make mee study how to dischaige my aelfe
of ingratitude ; which not knowing better
how to doe then by the labour of my spirit to shew the
nature of my loue. I haue thought good to present your
patienoe with this little volume of varieties ; in whidi
though the title promise no matter of great worth, yet it
may be if you peruse it, you shall finde somewhat that
you may like in it : howsoeuer it be, it may seme you in
the Winter to keep you from sleep by the fire-side, and
in the Summer in shady walkes^ to pasee away idle time.
In briefe, wishing it of that nature, that might come
neere the worthinesse of your acceptation, I leaue it with
my better seruke to the firaor of your good discretion ;
and so in aU humlHtie rest,
Yours aifectionately to command,
N. B.
Co t^e Beaner.
|T was my hap of late, walking thorcyw the
fields, to light vpon a peece of paper ;
in which I found a kind of discourse set
down vpon an imagination of midnight. By whom it
was written, I know not, but by whomsoeoer, I liked it
so well, that wishing mysdfe able to do halfe soe well, I
fell into an humor of imitating the veyne, so neer as I
could, in description of the twelue hottres, the tweloe
moneths, and some spedall dayes in the yere : how wel
to your liking I know not, but my labour herein hath
not bin Httle and my desire much, I meane, to doe weO ;
which If I have not I can be but sory that my dull wit
hath not bin fed with a more pleasing humour : but if
yon be able to iudge of the woik of it and like it, I shall
be more glad then proud of it : howsoeuer it be, hoping
your kindnes* I leaoe it to your like censure ; and so loth
to entertaJne your patience with a long tale to little pur-
pose, I thus conclude, and in aJBTectuxi and diacretioii, I
rest,
YooriHend, N. a
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FANTASTICKS.
Descants of the Quarters, Moneths, and houres
of the yeere, with other matters.
The World.
|OUCHING my opinion of the world. I will
tdl 70a as briefly as I can, ^tttaX I thinke of
it : a place wherein are contained the variety
of things : men thinke, women talk, beasts
feed, birds flye, fishes swim, and wonnes creep : ayre
pearaetfa, windes blow, cold nippeth, fire heateth, grasse
groweth, and time withereth. Wealth is a JewcU, and
pooerty is a plague : Conscience is a charge, and care is
a borden. Pride is a Lord of misnile, and beauty is
painted. Mars mnst yedd to Mercury, and Diana is a
stnmge woman : Cupid is an idle invention, and all is as
good as nothixtg. Loue is more talked of then pcooed.
Couetoosnesse the key of wit. Nature the trouble of
Reason, and >^H the master of the Senses. Beauty is
an eye sore. Learning a taske. Valour a heat, and
reason a study. A Kiiig, a great man : a Souldier, a
stout man : a Courtier, a fine man : a Lawyer, a wise
man : a Merchant, a rich man : a Bqsger a poore man :
and an honest man, an honest man.
Fayre weather, is dieariuU : foule weather is mdan-
cholicke. The day is li|^tsome> and the night is daik-
som. Meate is necessary, and sleepe is easelull, and
drinke doth well, and exercise doth not amisse. Law is
good, and punishment is meet, and reward would be
thoo^t on: and fooles would be pityed, and so
Opinions difier, andjudgementsvary, and Tfane tnmailes,
and Tnieth is a vcrtue, and wisedome an honor : and
honor is a title, and Grace a gift, and Patie&oe a
blessuig, and Content a Kmgdome : and so fimn one
thing to another, a trouble in alL A kingdome, iuU of
care : wit liill of trouble : power full of charge : youth
full of action : Age full of griefe : and none content with
his condition : wishing in one, willing in another : think-
ing hi one, doing m another : working in one, crossing
in another : thoughts, words, and deeds, so different in
their effects, that for ought I can see m it, v^en I haue
wcH considered of it, I can say thus much of it, He is
happy that hath not to doe with it. And not to dwell
too long upon it, to condude my opinion briefly of it, I
hold it the Labyrinth of wit, and the toyle of vnder-
standing, the pilgrimage of patience, and the purgatory
of reason. Ftarewell.
Loue.
TOUCHING my Judgement of Loue, it is, if it bee
any thing, such a thug to speake of, that to tell
truly, I know not well what to say of it : but yet what I
fanagine of it, I will tell you : at the first. I ghesse, it was
an old nothing, to ezerdse wit in idlenes, and now, is a
kind of new-nothing to feed folly with imagination : but
be it what it will be, or may be, this wanton Loue that
this world is too fiill of, whatsoeuer it is, thus much I
find of it: Itisbq^tenbytheeyes, bredhithebcaines,
walkes in the tdogue. growes with the flesh, and dyes in
an humour : and tUs ill commonly doth trouble wit,
hinder Arte, hurt Nature, disgrace Reason, lose time,
and spoile substance: It crosseth wisedome, serueth
Beautie, andsottethfoDy : weakneth strength, and baseth
Honour : It is only WiUes darlmg. FMienoe triall, and
Fusions torture, the pleasure of melancholy, and the
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FANTASTICKES,
play of madjiesse, the ddight csf varieties^ and ihe deujaer
of ranilLcs ; The Virgins cracke, and the Widowes cros% :
The Batchelors bane nnd the moried mans Ptirgntory :
Ihe Yong mam misery and the Ageds consumption : The
abuse of Leamiagp the ground of Enuy, the stirrer of
wrath, and the cause of mischiefe : The disquiet of the
mind, the dktractor of the Wit, the disturber of the
Senses, and the destrucitoa of the whole body. A ftdncd
god, an idle fancy, a kind of fury, and in some kind a
frenzy. To conclude, I hold it an Inuention of idlenesse,
and an Imagiitation of Indlscretioii : the plagoje of
people, and ihe mocke of the Word. Farewell-
l^^^S^
Money.
To tell you mine opinion of money, I thii^e it the
Monarch of the world i the roaintainei of Pride,
the Nurse of Couetoosnesse'i the Steward of Lechery, the
sower of Sedition, the cause of war, the sacke of a Qty,
and the ouerihrow of a Campe : The Gluttons Puruey-
our, and the Drunkards Cupbcai*cf : the Thief es tempter,
and the Hangmaas Master : The raisguider of Wit, the
corrupier of Conscience* the blinder of Reason, and the
oucTthrow of Honour : the Usurers God, the poorc mans
oppression, the Lawyers hopcg and the Laborers hire :
doth good to few. but hurt lo many : puis downe the
Churches, and builds the faire houses, makes the Pro-
digall an Apw, and the miser dogged t makes Bridges
ouer the Sea, and fire in mens braines : fetchcih. the
Beasts from the Wildemesse, and the Birds from the
Ayre : it drawcs fansles out of fine Wits, and eloqtMmoe
from l^med mouths : t| makes friends foes, and enranies
friends : It semes all professions, elU qualities, aad coti-
ditions, from the King to the Begger.
In summe, not to talke too much of it, hauing so little
of it : I thus conclude my opinion of it : I Ihinke it a
necessary drosse, and a dangerous mcltall, the reliefe of
the bonesl, and the mine of the wicked, FarewelL
The Spring.
IT is now Spritig : a Time blest of the Hcatiens for the
comfort of the Earth ; now begitis the Sunne to glue
%ht vnto the Ayrc, and with the repledon of his beames
to wanue the cold earth : the Beasts of the woods looke
out into the plaines. and the fislies out of the deepe run
vp into the shallow wafers, the breeding fowtes full to
tmilding of thdr nests, and the senselesse cfcatures gather
life into their bodies, the Birds tune thdr thra&ti to
eatertaine the Stinne rising, and the little flies begm to
flocke in the ayre: now Cupid begins to nocke his
AjTowes and sharpe their heads : and Venus, if she be,
will be knowne what she b : Now Pallas and her Muses
try the Pdets in their Pkunphlets, and Diana, if sbee bee
to bee seene, is a grace to her fayrest Nymph : Tfane is
tvow gracious in Nature, and Nature in time : the Ayre
wholesome, and the earth pleasant, and the sea not
vncomfortable : the Aged feele a kind of youth, and
Youth, the Spirit ful of life : it is the messenger of many
pleasures: the Courtiers progresie, and the Farmers
protit : the Labourers Haruest, and the Beggers Pilgrim-
age. In sonome, there b much good to be spoken of
this time : but to auoyd tediousnes, I will thus conclude
of !l : I hold it hi all that I can see in it, the Jewell of
time, and the Joy of Nature. FarewdL
Summer.
IT is now Sununer, and ZepUrus with his sweet breath
oooles the parching beames of Titan : the leaues of
the trees are in vrhisper talkes of theblessfaigs of the aire,
while the Nightingale is tuning her throat to refresh the
weajy spirit of the Ttauayler : Flora now brings out her
Wardrop, and ridily embroydreth her greene Apron :
the Nymphe^ of the Woodes in consort with the Muses
^ng an Aue to the Morning, and a Vale to the Sunnes
setting : the Lambes and the Rabbettes nm at base hi
the sandy Warrens, and the Plow landes are cooered
with ocme : the stately Hart is at Layre in the high wood,
while the Hare in a funow sits washing of her fieu» : The
Bull makes his walke like a Master of the field, and the
broad-headed Oxe beares the Garland of the market :
the Angler ¥rith a fly takes his pleasure with the fish,
while the little Merlme hath the Partridge in the foot :
ilie Hony-dewes perfume the Ayre, and the Sunny-showers
ar« the earths comfort : the Greyhound on the plaine
makes the &ire course : and the wel-mouthed Hound
makes the Musicke of the woods : the Battaile of the
field is now stoutly fought, and the proud Rye must
stoype to the Sickle : The Carters whistle dieeres his
fbrehorse, and drinke and sweat b the life of the Labourer :
Idle spirits are banished the limits of Honour, while the
studious braine brings forth his wonder : the Asore Sky
shewes the Heauen b gracious, fmd the glorious Sunne
glads the spirit of Nature : The ripened fruits shew the
beauty of the earth, and the brightnesse of the aire the
glory of the heauens : In stmune, for the worid of worth
I ^nd fai it, I thus condude of it : I hold it a most sweet
reason, the variety of pleascnes, and the P&zadise of loue.
Farewell.
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FANTASTICKES,
Haruest
IT is now Haruest, and the Laike must lead her jrong
out of the nest : for the Sithe and the Sickle wil
down writh the gmsse and the come : Now are the hedges
fill of Berries, and the higfawayes full of Rogues, and the
lazy Limmes must sleepe out thdr dinner : The Ant and
the Bee worke for their winter prouision, and after a frost,
the Grashopper is not seene : Butter, mllke, and cheese,
are the Labourers dyet. and a pot of good Deere,
quickens his spirit. If there be no plague, the people are
healthy, for continuance of motion b a preseiuation of
nature : The fresh of the morning, and the ooole of the
Euening are the times of Court walkes ; but the poore
traueller treads out the whole day : Malt is now aboue
wheat with a number of mad people, and a fine shirt is
better then a Frise Jerkin : Peares and Plummes now
ripen apace, and being of a watry substance, are cause
of much sicknesse : The pipe and the taber now follow
the Fayres, and they that haue any money, make a gaine
of their markets. Bucks now are in season, and Part-
ridges are Rowen-taild, and a good Retriuer is a SpanieU
worth the keeping. In sum, it is a time of mudi worth,
iriien, if God bee well pleased, the world will thriue the
better. And to conchide, this is all that I will say of it ;
I hold it the Heauens Bounty, the Earths Beauty, and
the Worids Benefit. FarewelL
Winter.
IT b now Tenter, and Boreas beginnes to fill his
cheekes with breath, shaketh the tops of the high
Cedars, andhoyseththewanesof the Sea, to the danger of
the Saylers comfort : Now is the Earth nipt at the heart
with a cold, and her Tree» are disrobed of their rich
apparell : there is a glasse set vpon the Dace of the Waters,
and the Fishes are driuen to the bottomes of the deepe :
The Usurer now sits lapt in his frirres, and the poore
makes his breath, a fire to his fingers ends : Beautie b
maskt for leare of the ayre, and youth runnes to Physidce
for Restoratiues of Nature : The Stagge roares for losse
of his strength, and the Flea makes his Castle in the wooll
of a blanket : Cards and Dkse now begin their haruest,
and good Ale and Sack are the cause of duffl warres :
Machianil and the Deuill are in oounsell vpon destruction,
and the wicked of the worid make hast to hell : Money
is such a Monopoly, that hee is not to be spoken of, and
the dday of suits is the death of hope. In it selfe it is
a wofiill Season, the punishment of natures pride, and the
play of misery. FarewelL
January.
IT is now lanuary, and Time beginnes to tume the
wheel of his Reuolution. the Woods begin to lose
the beauty of their spreading boughes, and the proud
Oke must stoop to the Axe : the Squiirell now sunieyeth
the Nut and the Maple, and the Hedgefaogge rowles vp
bimselfe like a football : an Apple and a Nutmeg make a
Gossips cup : and the Ale and the Fagot are the Viau-
aUers merchandise: the Nortbeme blade Dust is the
during Fueil, and the fruit of the Qtacpt heats the storoake
of the Aged : Downe beds and quilted Cappes are now
in the pride of their seruioe, and the Cooke and the
Pantler are men of no meane oflSoe : the Oxe and the fax
Weather now fiimish the market, and the Coney is so
ferreted, that she cannot keepe in her borough: the
Currier and the Lime-rod are the death of the fowle, and
the Faulcons bels ring the death of the Mallard : the
trotting geldipg makes a way through the miie, and the
Hare and the Hound put the Huntsman to his home :
the barren Doe subscribes to the dish, and the smallest
seed makes sauce to the greatest flesh : the dryed giasse
is the horses ordinary, and the meale of the beanes
makes him goe through with his trauell : Fishermen now
haue a cold trade, and traueDersa foule ioumey : the Cook
room now b not the worst place in the Ship, and the
Shepheard hath a bleake seat on the Mountaine : the
Blackbird leaueth not a berry on the thome, and the
garden earth u turned vp for her roou : the water floods
runne ouer the proud bankes, and the gaping Oister
leaues hb shell in the streets, while the proud Peaoocke
leaps into the pye : Musoouia commodities are now much
in request, and the water Spaniell b a necessary seruant :
the Lode horse to the mill hath hb ftUl backe burthen ;
and the Thresher in the bame tiyes the strength of hb
flayle : the Woodoocke and the Pheasant pay their liues
for their feed, and the Hare after a course makes his
hearse in a pye : the shoulder of a hog ba shooing home
to good drink, and a cold almes makes a begger shrug.
To conclude, I hold it a time of little comfort, the rich
mans charge, and the poore mans misery. FarewelL.
February.
IT b now February, and the Sun b gotten up a Cocko*
stride of hb climbing, the Valleyes now are painted
white, and the brookes are full of water : the Frog goes
to seeke out the Paddocke, and the Crow and the Rooke
begin to mislike their old Makes : forward Connies be-
gm now to kindle, and the frit grounds are not without
the Gardiner fiUs to sorting of hb seeds, and
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FANTASTICKES.
the Husbandman fidls afresh to aoowiing of hia Plough-
share : the Terme traueOen make the Shooemakers
Haniest, and the Chaundlers cheese makes the chalke
waike apooe : The Fishmonger sorts his ware against
Lent : and a Lambe-skinne is good for a lame arme :
the waters now alter the nature of their softnes, and
the soft earth is made stony hard : The Ayre is sharp
and plerdngp and the winds blow cold : the Tauemes
and the Innes seldome lack Guests, and the Ostler knows
how to gaine by his Hay : the hunting Horse is at the
heeles of the Hound, while the ambling Nagge carrieth
the Physttian and his footdoth : the blood of Youth be-
gfaxs to spring, and the honour of Art is gotten by Ex-
ercise : The trees a little begin to bud, and the sap be-
gins to rise vp out of the root : PhysidE now hath work
among weake bodies, and the Apotiiecaries drugges are
very gainful! : There is hope of a better time not fiatfre
off, for this in it selfe is little comfortable : and for the
small pleasure that I find fai it, I will thus briefly con-
clude of it : It is the poor mans pkk-purse, and the
misers cut-throat, the enemy to pleasure, and the time of
patience. FareweU.
March.
IT is now March, and the Northeme wind dryeth vp
the Southecne durt : The tender Lippes are now
maskt for feare of chopping, and the fiure hands must
not be yn^oued : now riseth the Sunne a pretty step
to his fidre height, and Saint Valentine calls the birds to-
gether, where Nature is pleased in the varietie of loue :
the Fishes and the Fkogs &11 to their manner of gene-
ration, and the Adder dyes to bring forth her young :
the Ayre is sharpe, but the Sunne is comfortable, and the
hay beginnes to lengthen : The forward Gardens giue
the fine Sallets, and a Nosegay of VioleU is a present
for a Lady : Now beginneth Nature (as it were) to wake
out of her deepe, and sende the TraueUer to suruey the
walkes of the World : the suddng Rabbit is good for
weake stomackes, and the dyet for the Rhume doth many
a great Cure : The Farrier now is the horses Fhysitian,
and the fat Dog feeds the Fonlcon in the Mew : The
Ttee begins to bud, and the grasse to peepe abroad,
while the Thrush with the Black-bird make a cfaarme in
the young Springs : the MQke-mayd with her best be-
loued, talke away wearinesse to the Market, and in an
honest meaning, kind words doe no hurt : the Foot-ball
now tryeth the legges of strength, and merry matches
continue good fellowship : It is a tune of much worke,
and tedious to discourse of : but in all I find of it, I thus
oondude in it : I hokl it the Sonant of Nature, and
the Schoolemaster of Art : the hope of labour, and the
Subiect of Reason. FarewdL
Aprill.
IT is now April, and the Nightingale begins to tune
her throat a|pdnst May : the Sunny showers per-
fume the aire, and the Bees begin to goe abroad for
honey : the Dewe, as in Pearles, hangs vpon the tope of
the grasse, while the Thirties sit billing vpon the little
greene boughes : the Thywt begins to play in the Brookes,
and the Sammon leaues the Sea, to fday in the ficsfa
waters : The Gardcn4Mnkes are fiill of gay flowers, and
the Thome and the Plumme send forth their Cure Bloa-
somes : the March Colt begins to play, and the Cosset
Lamb is learned to botL The Poets now make their
studies in the woods, and the Youth of the Country
make ready for the Morris-dance ; the little Fishes tye
nibling at a bait, and the Porpas playes in the pride of the
tide : the Shepheards pipe enteitaines the Princesae of
Arcadia, and the healthfiill Souldier hath a. pleasant
march. The Laike and the Lambe k>oke vp at the Sun,
and the labourer is abroad by the dawning of the day :
Sheepes eyes in Lambs heads, tell kind hearts strange
tales, while fidth and troth make the true Looers knot :
the aged haires find a fresh life, and the yonthfuU cfaedes
are as red as a cherry : It were a world to set downe
the worth of this moneth : But in summe, I thus oon-
dude, I hold it the Heauens blessiiig, and the Earths
comfort. Farewell.
May.
IT is now May, and the sweetnesse of the Aire re-
fiesheth euery spirit : the sunny beames bring forth
Dure Bkissomes, and the dripping Ck>uds water Flones
great garden : the male Deere puts out the Vduet head,
and the pagged Doe is neere her fowning : The Spar-
hawke now is drawne out of the mew, and the Fowler
makes ready his whistle for the Quaile : the Larke sets
the morning watch, and the euening, the Nightingale :
the Barges, like Bowers, keep the streams of the sweet
Riuers, and the Mackrdl with the Shad are taken
prisoners in the Sea : the tall young Oke is cut downe
for the Maypole: the Sithe and the Skkle are the
Mowers frffniture, and fayre weather makes the
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FANTASTICKES.
Labounr merry : the Physituai now prescribes the oold
Whey, and the Apothecary gathers the dew for a medi-
cine : Batter and Sage make the whobome breakfiut.
bat fresh cheese and creame are meat for a dainty mouth :
and the Stiawbery and the Pesood want no price in the
market : the Chicken and the Ducke are fatned for the
market, and many a GosUnneuer lines to be a Goose. It
is the moneth wherein Nature hath her fiiU of mirth,
and the Senses are filled with delights. I conclude. It is
from the Heauens a Grace, and to the Earth a Gladnesse.
FarewelL
lune.
IT is now lune and the Hay-makers are mustered to
make an army for the field, where not ahvayes in
order, they march vnder the Bagge and the Bottle,
when betwixt the Forke and the Rake, there is seene
great force of armes : Now doth the broad Oke com-
fort the weary Laborer, while vnder his shady Boughes
he sits singing to his bread and cheese : the Hay-oocke
is the Poore mans Lodging, and the fresh Riuer is bis
gracious Neighbour : Now the Faulcon and the Tassell
try their wings at the Partridge, and the fax Budce fils
the great pasty : the trees are all in their rich aray : but
the seely Sheep is turned out of hte coat : the Roses and
sweet Heibes put the Distiller to his canning, while the
greene apples on the tree are ready for the great bellied
wiues: Now begins the Hare to gather vp her
heeles. and the Foze lookes about hhn, for feare of the
Hound : the Hooke and the Sickle are making ready for
haruest : the Medow grounds gape for raine, and the
Come in the eare begins to harden : the little Lads make
Pipes of the straw, and they that cannot dance, will jret
bee hopping : the Ayre now groweth somewhat warme,
and the coole winds are very comfortable : the Sayler
now makes merry passage, and the nimble Foot-man
runnes with pleasure : In briefe, I thus conclude, I hold
it a sweet season, the senses perfome. and the spirits
comfort. FareweD.
(^SSSI^^^
luly.
IT is now luly and the Sunne is gotten vp to his
height, whose heat parcheth the earth, and bumes
vp the grasse on the mountaines. Now begins the
Canon of heauen to rattle, and when the fire is put to the
charge, it breaketh out among the Cloudes : the stones
of congealed water cut off the eares of the Come : and
the blacke stormes affiigfat the £gJnt4ieaited : the Stag
and the Bucke are now in pride of their time, and the
hardnesse of their heads makes them fit for the Homer :
Now hath the Sparhawke the P&rtridge in the foot, and
the Ferret doth tickle the Cony in the borough. Now
doeth the Farmer make ready his teame, and the Carter
With his whip, hath no small pride in his Whistle : Now
doe the Reapers try their backs and their Armes, and the
lusty Youthes pitch the sheafes into the Cart. The old
Partridge calles her Couey in the morning, and in the
euening, the Shepheard fali to folding of his flocke : the
SpaiTowes makes a cfaarme upon the greene Bushes, till
the Fowler come and take them by the dozens : the
Smelt now begins to be in season, and the Lamprey out
of the Riuer leapes into a Pye : the Souldier now hath a
hot March, and the Lawyer sweats in his lyned Gowne ;
The Ptedler now makes a long walke, and the Aqua vitae
Bottle sets his &oe on a fiery heat : In summe, I thus
conclude of it, I hokl it a profitable season, the Labourers
gaine, and the rich mans wealth. FarewelL
August
IT is now August, and the Sunne is some what to-
wards his declination, yet such is his heat as harde-
neth the soft clay, dries vp the standing ponds, W3rthe-
reth the sappy leaues and aooicheth the skin of the
naked : now beginne the Gleaners to follow the Come
Cart, and a little bread to a great deale of drinke makes
the Thmaiiers dinner : the Mdowne and the Cncom-
ber is now in request : and Ojie and vineger giue atten-
dance on the Sallet heazbes : the Alehouse is more fre-
quented then the Taueme, and a fresh Rhier is more
comfortable then a fiery Furnace : the Bathe is now
much visited by diseased bodies, and in the fityre Riners,
swimming is a sweet exercise : the Bow and the Bowie
picke many a purse, and the Cockes with their heeles
spume away many a mans wealth : The Pipe and the
Taber is now lustily set on worice, and the Lad and the
Lasse will haue no lead on their hedes : the new Wheat
makes the Gossips Cake, and the Bride Cup is caiied
aboue the heads of the whole Parish : the Furmenty pot
wekomes home the Haruest cart, and the Garland of
flowers crownes the Captaine of the Reapos. C%» 'tis
the merry time, wherein honest Neighboms make good
cheere, and God is glorified in his blessings on the earth.
In summe, for that I find, .1 thus conclude, I hold it the
worlds wd£ue, and the earths WazmiDg-pan. FarewelL
B
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FANTASTICKES,
September.
IT is now September, and the Stmne begins to fall
much from his height, the medowes are left bare, by
the mouthes of hungry Cattell, and the Hogges are
turned into the Come fields : the windes begin to knocke
the Apples heads together on the trees, and the fellings
are gathered to fill the Pyes for the Hoosbold : the
Saylers fidl to worke to get afore the winde. and if they
spy a storme, it puts them to prayer : the Sonklier now
bN^ns to shrug at the weather, and the Campe dis-
solued, the Companies are put to Garison : the Lawyer
^ow begins his Haruest, and the Client payes for words
by waight : the Innes now begin to prouide for ghests,
and the night-eaters in the stable, pinch the Tlrauailer in
his bed : Paper, pen, and inke are much in request, and
the quarter Sessions take order with the way-layers :
Coales and wood make toward the Chimney, and Ale
and Sacke are in account with good fellowes : the But-
cher now knocks downe the great Beeues, and the Poul-
ters feathers make toward the Upholster : Walflet
Oysters are the Fish wiues wealth, and Pippins fine are
the Costennongers rich merchandise : the flayle and the
fan Call to woike in the Bame, and the Come maiket is
full of the Bakers : the Porkets now are driuen to the
Woods, and the home-fed Pigges make porke for the
market In briefe, I thus conclude of it, I hold it the
Winters forewarning, and the Summers fiurewelL
Adieu.
f*^ff^w»?I^S»^^«
October.
IT is now October, and the k>fty windes make bare the
trees of thdr leaues, while the hogs in the Woods
grow &t with the falne Aooras : the forward Deere be-
gin to goe to rat, and the barren Doe groweth good
meat : the Basket-makers now gather then* rods, and the
fishers lay their leapes in the deepe : the loade horses
goe apace to the Mill, and the Meal-market is seklome
without people : the Hare on the hill makes the Grey-
hound a fidre oouise, and the Foze in the woods cals the
Hounds to a full cry : the multitude of people ralseth the
pike of wares, and the smoothe tongue will sell much :
the Saylor now bestirreth his stumps, while the Merchant
Uueth in feare of the weather : the great feasts are now
at hand for the City, but the poore must not beg for
feare of the stockes : a fire and a paire of Cards keepe
the ghests in the Ordinary, and Tobacco is held very
preck>us for the Rhewme : The Coaches now begin to
rattle in the Street : but the cry of the poore is vnpleasing
to the rich : Muffes and Cufies are now in request, and
the shuttel-Cocke with the Battel-doore is a pretty house-
exerdse : Tennis and Bakwne are sporu of somediarge*
and a quidce bandy is the CourtJceepers commodity :
dandng and fiencing are now in some Tse, and kind
hearts and true Loners lye ck>se, to keepe off cold : the
Titmouse now keepes in the hollow tree, and the black
bird sits ck>se in the bottome of a hedge : In brioiB, lor
the little pleasure I find in it. I thus conchide of it : I
hold it a Messenger of ill newes, and a lecood Mniioe to
a cold dinner. FareweU.
Nouember.
IT is now Nouember, and according to the old Pto-
uerbe.
Let the Thresher take hisHayk,
And the ship no more sayle :
for the high winds and the rough seas will try the
ribs of the Shippe. and the hearts of the Sailers :
Now come the Countrey people all wet to the Market.
and the toyling Carriers are pittifiilly moyled : The
yong Heme and the Shoulerd are now fiu for the
great Feast, and the Woodcocke begins to make toward
the Cockeshoot : the Warriners now beginne to plie
their haruest, and the Butcher, after a good baigaine
drinks a health to the Grasier : the Cooke and the Com-
fitmaker, make ready for Christmas, and the Minstrds
in the Countrey, beat theb boyes for fiilse fingring :
Schollers before breakefiut hauea oold stomacke to their
bookes, and a Master without Art is fit for an A. R C.
A red herring and a cup of Sadce, make waire in %
weake stomacke. and the poore mans Cast, is better then
tlie Gluttons surfet : Trenchers and dishes are now
necessary seruante, and a locke to the Cubboord keepes
a bit for a neede : Now beginnes the Goshauke to weede
the wood of the Phesant and the Mallard loues not to
heare the belles of the Fanloon : The winds now are
oold, and the Ayre chill, and the poore die through want
of Charitie : Butter and Cheese beginne to myse their
prices, and Kitchen stuffe is a oommoditie, that euery
man is not acquainted with. In summe, with a conceit
of the chilling cold of it, I thus conclude in it : I hold
it the discomfort of Nature, and Reasons patience.
FareweU.
December.
IT is now December, and hee that walkes the streets,
shall find durt on his shooes, Eacoept hee goe all fai
booles : Now doth the Lawyer make an end of his
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hanest. and the Clienc ot his pone : Now Capons and
HanneSp beside Turides, Qeese and Duckes, besides
Beefe and MnttoDp must aU die for the great feast, for in
twehie dafes a mnltitade of people will not bee led with
a little : Now plmnmes and sj^. Sugar and Honej,
iqaare it among pies and broth, and Gossip I drinke to
you, and 3rou are welcome, and I thanke yon, and how
doe yoo, and I pray you bee menie : Now are the
Taylors and the Tiremakers ftill of woike against the
Holidayes, and Musicke now must bee in tune, or else
neoer : the youth must dance and sing, and the aged sit
by the fire. It is the Law of Nature, and no Contradic-
tioB in reason : The Asse that hath borne aU the yeaie,
must now take a little rest, and the leane Oxe must feed
tiD hee bee fet : the Footman now shall haue many a
foule step, and the Ostler shall haue woike enough about
the heeles of the HorKS, while the Tapster, if hee take
not heed, win lie drunke in the Sdkr : The prices of
meat will rise apace, and the appareQ of the proud will
make the Taylor rich : Dice and Gardes, will benefit the
Butler : And if the Cooke doe not lacke wit, hee will
sweetly Ucke his fingers : Starchers and Launderers will
haue their hands foil of woike, and Periwigs and paint-
ing wQ not bee a little set by.
Strange stuffes will bee well told.
Strange tales well told.
Strange sights much sought.
Strange things much bought,
And what else as fels out.
To conclude, I hold it the costly Purueyonr of Excesse,
and the after breeder of necessitie, the practice of Folly,
and the Pmgatory of Reason. FarewdL
Christmas day.
I
T is now Christmas, and not a Cup of drinke must
passe without a Carol!, the Beasts, Fowle, and Fish,
eome to a general! ezecutfon, and the Come is ground
to dust for the Bakehouse, and the Pastry : Cards and
Dice purge many a purse, and the Youth shew their
agility in shooing of the wild lyfare : now good cheere
and weloome, and God be with you, and I tlianlce you,
and against the new years, prouide for the presents : the
Lord of Mis-nde is no meane man for his time, and the
gfaests of the high Table must lacke no Wine : the histy
bloods must looke about them like men, and piping and
daunring puts away much melancholy : stolne Venison
is sweet, and a iat Coney is worth money : Pit-fisUes are
now set for small Birdes, and a Woodoocke hangs him-
selfe in a gynne : a good fins heats all the house, and a
foU Almes^Msket makes the Baggers Prayers: the
Maskers and the Mummers make the merry sport : but
if they lose their money, their Drumme goes dead :
Swearers and Swaggerers are sent away to the Ale^iouae.
and vnruly Wenches goe in daitger of Judgement : Musi-
cians now make their Instruments speake out, anda good
song is worth the hearing. In summe, it is a holy time,
a duty in Christians, for the remembrance of Christ, and
custome among fiiends, for the maintenance of good
feOowship : In briefe, I thus conclude of it. I hold it
a memory of the Heauens Loue, and the worlds peace,
the myrth of the honest, and the meeting of the friendly.
FareweO.
Lent
IT is now Lent, and the poore Stockfish is sore beaten
for his stubbomesse : the Herring dominicKB like
a Lord of great Seruice, and the fiuit of the Dairy makes
a hungry Feast : Fasting and mourning is the life of the
poore, and the Dogges grow leane, with the ladke of
bones, while the Prisoners heart is nipt with penury : the
Beasts of the Forests haue a bare feed, and the hard
crusts try the teeth of the Begger : The ^rd hath a little
shelter in the Bush, and a bitter fix)st makes a back^
ward Spring : The Sunne giues but little warmth, and
the March wind makes the Ayre cold : The Fisher-men
now are the Rakers of the Sea, and the Oyster gapes
to catch hold of the Crab : Sohtarinesseand Mdandioly
breed the hurt of Nature, and the nakednesse of the
Earth is the eyes discomfort : Idle people sit piddog of
Sallets, and necessity of ezerdse is an enemy to study :
the winds grow dangerous to the Sayler and the Rockes
are the mine of the merchant ': the Sentinell now keeps
a cold watch, and the Sconce is nothing comfortable to
the Souldier : the Shepheard hath Uttle pleasure in his
Pipe, and Age hath but a dead feeling in loue : the
Colt hath a ragged coat, and the halfe mewed head
disgraoeth the Deere : the Fauloons wing is but young
feathered, and the deepe fellow wearies the Huntsman :
there is nothing pleasing but hope, that the dayes will
lengthen and time will be more comfortable. I conclude,
in it selfe, it is an vncomfortable season, the Hcaneas
fitiwn, and the Earths punishment. FarewelL
Good Friday.
IT is now Good Friday, and a geneni Fast must be
kept among all Christians, in remembrance of
Christs Pusfon : Flesh and Fish must bee vanished
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FANTASTICKES.
aQ stomaclcM, strong or weake: Now beginnes the
Farewdl to thin hxtt and the Flahmongen may shut vp
their shops till the Holy-dayes be past : the Bntchen
now must wash their Boords, make deane their Aprons,
sharpen their kniues, and sort their prickes, and cut out
their meat for Easter Eue market : Now must the Poul-
ters make ready tlieir Rabbets and their Fowie, the
Cookes have their Ouens deane, and all for Pies and
Tarts against the meny Feast : Now the Maids bestir
them about their houses, the Launders about their
Unen, the Taylors about Apparell. and all for this holy
time : Now young Lambs, young Rabbets, and young
Chidcens dye for fine appetites, and now the Minstrel!
tunes his Instruments, to liaue them ready for tlie yong
people : but with the aged and the religious, there is
nothing but sorrow and mourning, confession, contri-
tion, and absolution, and I know not what : few that
are merry, but diUdren that breake vp sdMX>le, and
wendies tliat are vpon the mariage. In summe, it is
sudi an odde day by it sdfe, that I will ondy make this
condusion of it : It is the Bridle of Nature, and the Ex-
aminer of Reason. FarewdL
Easter day.
IT is now Easter, and Jadce of Lent is turned out of
doores : the Fishermen now hang vp their nets
to dry, while the CaUe and the Lambe walke toward
the Kitdun and the Pastry : the vdnet heads of the
Forrests fiJl at the loose of the Crosse-bow : the Sam-
man Trowt playes with the Fly, and the Mardi Rabbit
xunnes dead into the dish : the Indian commodities pay
the Meidianu aduenture: and Barbery Sugar puts
Honey out of countenance : the holy feast is kept for
the feithfull, and a knowne Jew hath no place among
Ouistians : the Earth now beginnes to paint her vpper
garment, and the trees pat out their young buds, the
little Kids chew thdr Cuds, and the Swallow feeds on
the Flyes in the Ayre : the Storke denseth the Brookes
of the Fkogges, and the Sparhawke prepares her wing
for the Partridge : the little Fawne is stolne finom the
Doe, and the male Deere beginne to heard : the spirit
of Youth is indined to mirth, and the conadonable
Scholler will not breake a holy-day : the Minstrell cals
the Maid from her dinner, and the Louers eyes doe
troule like Tennis balls. There is mirth and ioy, when
there is health and liberty : and he that hath money,
will be no meane man in his mansion : the Ayre is
wholsome, and the Skye comfortable, the Flowers odo-
riferous, and the Fruits pleasant : I oondude, it is a day
of much delightfubiesse : the Sunnes dancing day, and
the Earths Holy-day. Farewell.
Morning.
IT is now Morning, and Time hath woond vp the
Whedes of his day Watdi, while the Lute, the
Sunnes Thmpet. caSs the Labourer to bis worke:
there is ioy and comfort through the vdiole world, that
the spirito of life are awaked out of their dead sieepe: Itis
the blessed time of reason, in which the best things are
b^gunne, while Nature goes to experience for the better
perfection of her businesse : The Sunne now bq[inne8
to draw open the Curtatne of his Pauilion, and with the
heat of his Beames drawea vp the vnwholesonie mists
in the Ayre : the Mother-Earth is recooered of her cold
sicknesse, and sends forth her feyre flowers to perfome
the infected ayre : now the Soroeresse with her magirkr
Art puU her charmes to silence, and the Birds of the
woods make musidce to the poore trandler. Now
bq[in the wits of the wise, and the limbes of strength to
oompasse the world, and make Art honourable : Theeues
now are dther caued or imprisoned, and knowledge of
comfort puts care to a Nou phu. The beasts of the
forrests vse the silence of feare, and the Wolfe like a
Dog dares not looke out of his denne : the Womes
into die earth, and the Toades hito the Waters, flye for
feare of their heads : This is a time that I ioy fai, for I
think no time lost, but in sieepe : and now hane imagina-
tions their best meanes to attfae themsdues in the golden
liuerie of their best graces ; to which the night is at no
time by depriuation of action. I conclude, it is in it sdfe
a blessed season, a dispersing of the first darknesse, and
the Diall of Alexander. FarewelL
One of the Clocke.
IT is now the first houre and Time is, as it were,
stepping out of daiknesse, and stealing towards the
day : the Codec cals to his Henne, and bids her beware
of the Foxe ; and the Watdi hanfaig waUct the streets,
take a nap vpon a stall : the Bett-man cals to the maids
to looke to their lodces, thdr fire, and thdr Ught, and
the child in the cradle cals to the Nurse for a Dug :
the Cat sits watdiing bdiind the Cupboord for a Mouse,
and the Flea sucks on sweet flesh, till he is ready to
burst with the blood : the spirits of the studious start
out of thefa- dreames, and if they cannot fell adeepe
againe, then to the Booke and the waxe Candle : the
Dog at the doore finyes the Theefe firom the house, and
the Theefe within the house may hap to be about his
businesse. In some places Bels are rung to certaine
orders : but the quiet sleeper neuer tds the Clodce : not
to dwdl too long vpon h, I hold it the ferewdl of the
night, and the forerunner to the day, the spiriu watch
and Reasons workemaster. FarewdL
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Two of the Clocke.
IT is now the second hooie. and the point of the Diall
hath stept ouer the first stroake, and now Time
beginnes to <baw backe the Curtaine of the night : the
Cocke againe cals to his Henne* and the Watch beginne
to tussle toward their dischaxge : The Bell-man hath
made a great part of his walke, and the Nurse beginnes
to hugg^ the child to the Dugge : the Cat sits playing
with the Mouse which she hath catcbed, and the Dog
with his barking wakes the semants of the house : the
studious now are neere vpon wakings and the theefe will
be gone, for feare of being taken : The Fonesters now
be about their walkes, and yet stealers sometime cosen
the Keepers : Warreners now beginne to draw homeward,
and Car dwellers fipom the towne, will be on the way
to the market ; The Souldier now kx>kes towards the
Court de Garde, and the Corporall takes care for the
reliefe of the Watch : the earnest SchoUer will be now at
his booke, and the thrifty Husbandman will rowse
towards his rising : the Seaman will now looke out for
U^t, and if the wind be &ire, hee cals for a Can of
Beere : the fishennen now take the benefit of the tyde,
and he that bobs for Eeles, will not be without Worms.
In summe, I hold it much of the nature of the iirst
houre, but somewhat better. And to conclude, I thinke
it the enemy of Sleepe, and the entrance to Ezerdse.
Farewell.
^ftSSS^
Three of the Clocke.
IT is now the third home, and the Windowes of Heap
uen beginne to open, and the Sunne beginnes to
colour the Clouds in the Sky. before he shew his fiuse to
the World : Now are the spirits of life, as it were, risen
out of death : the Cocke cals the seruants to their dayes
work, and the grasse horses are fetcfat from the Pastures :
the Milke-maids begin to looke toward their dayiy, and
the good Huswife beginnes to looke about the house :
the Ponage pot is on for the seruants breakfikst, and
hungry stomackes will soone be ready for their victuall :
the Sparrow beginnes to chirpe about the house, and the
Birds in the bushes will bid them welcome to the fidd :
the Shepheard sets on his Pitch on the fire, and fills
his Tar-pot ready for his fiocke : the Whede and the
Rede b^nne to be set ready, and a merry song makes
the worke seeme easie : the Plough-man £alls to hamesse
his horses, and the Thrasher beginnes to looke toward
the bame : the SchoUer that k>ues learning, will be hard
at his Booke, and the Labourer by great, will be
walking toward his worke. In briefe, it is a paroell of
time, to good purpose, the exercise of Nature, and the
entrance into AxL FarewdL
Foure of the Clocke.
IT b now the fourth boure, and the Sunne beginnes
to send her beames abroad, whose glimmering
bri^tnesse no eye can bdiold : Now crowes the Cocke
lustily, and daps his wings fior ioy of the light, and vrith
his Hennes leaps lightly from his Roust : Now are the
Horses at thdr Chaffs and Prouender : the seruants at
break&st, the Milk-maid gone to the fidd, and the
Spanner at the Whede: and the Shepheard with his
Eiog are going toward the Fokl : Now the Beggers rouse
them out of the Hedges, and begin their morning craft ;
but if the Constable come, beware the stocks: The
Birds now beginne to flocke, and the Sparhawke
beginnes to prey for his Ayiy : The Thresher beginnes
to stretch his k>ng armes, and the thriuing Labourer will
ftJl hard to his wcnrke: the quidoe witted braine will be
quoting of places, and the cunning workman wiU bee
tzying of his skill : the Hounds begin to bee coupled for
the diase, and the Spaniels foUow the Faulconer to the
fidd : TraueDers beginne to looke toward the Stable,
where an honest Hostler is worthy his reward: the
Souldier how is vpon diacfaaige of his Watch, and the
Captaine with his company may take as good rest as
they can: Insumme, Ithuscoodndeof it: I hold it the
Messenger of Action, and the Watch of Reason. Fare-
wdL
Fiue of the Clocke.
IT is now fiue of the Clocke, and the Sunne is going
apace vpon. his ioumey : and fie sluggards, who
would be asleepe: the Bds ring to Prayer, and the
streets are full of people, and the high-wayes are stored
with Trauellers: the Schollers are vp and going to
schoole, and the Rods are ready for the Truants correc-
tion: the Maids are at milking, and the seruants at
Plough, and the Whede goes merrily, while the
Mistresse is by : the Capons and the Chickens must bee
serued without doore, and the Hogges cry UU they haue
their swill : the Shepheard is almost gotten to his Fold,
and the Heard beginnes to blow his home through the
Towne. The blind Fidler is vp with his dance and his
song, and the Alehouse doore is vnlocked for good
fellowes : the hounds begin to find after the Hare, and
horse and foot follow after the cry : the Traudler now
is well on his way, and if the weather be fiure, he walkes
with the better cheere : the Carter merrily whistles to his
horse, and the Boy with his Sling casts stones at the
Crowes : the Lawyer now begins to look on his Case,
and if he giue good counsel, he is worthy of his Fee :
In briefe, not to stay too long vpon it, I hold it the
necesnty of Labour, and the note of Ptafit. Farewell.
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FANTASTICKES.
Sixe of the Clocke.
IT is now tbe first hoore, the sweet time of the Mor-
ning, and the Sunne at euery window caUs the
Sleepers finom their beds: the Mazjgold b^ginnes to open
her leaues, and the Dew on the ground doth sweeten the
A]rre : the Faulooners now meet with many a £Edre flight,
and the Hare and the Hounds hane made the Huntsman
good sport : the shoppes in the City begin to shew their
wares, and the market people haue taken their places :
The SchoUers now haue their Fourmes, and whosoeuer
cannot say his Lesson, must presently looke for
Absolution : The Forester now is drawing home to his
Lodge, and if his Deere be gone, hee may draw after
cold scent : Now begins the curst Mistresse to put her
Girles to their taskes, and a laxy Hylding win doe hurt
among good Woricera: Now the Mower fidks to
whetting of his Sythe, and the Beaters of Hempe giue a
hoh to euery blow : The Ale Knight is at his Cup ere
hee can well see his drinke, and the begger is as nimble
toung'd, as if he had beene at it all day : the Fishennen
now are at the Oaier for their Oysters, and they will
neuer lyn crying, whOe they haue one in their basket :
In summe, not to be tedious, I hold it, the Sluggards
shame, and the Labourers praise. FareweU.
9i^SSii
Seuen of the Clocke.
IT is now the seuenth houre, and Time begnis to set
the world hard to worke : The MUke-maides in their
Dayry to their Butter and their Cheese, the Ploughmen to
their Pknighes and their Barrowes in the field: the
SchoUers to their Lessons, the Lawyers to their Cases,
the MercfaanU to their accounts, the Shop-men to What
lacke you? and euery Tmde to his business : Oh tis a
world to see how life leapes about the luns of the health-
full : none but findes something to doe : the Wise, to study,
the strong, to labour : the Fantastidce to make loue :
the Poet, to make Verses : the Player, to oonne his part :
and the Musitian to try his note: euery one in his
qualitie, and according to his condition, sets himself to
some exercise, either of the body, or the minde : And
therefore since it is a time of much labour, and great vse,
I will thus briefly conchide of it : I hold it the enemy of
Idlenesse, and imployer of Industry. Farewell
Eight of the Clocke.
IT is now the eight houre, and good stomackes are
ready for a breakfast : The Huntsman now calls in
bis Houndes. and at the fiUl of the Deere the Homes
gee apaoe : Now bq;inne the Honet to fateathe, and
the Labourer to sweat, and with quicke hands, worke
rids apace : Now the SchoUers make a cfaarme in the
Schooles and Rrg» keepes a stirre in many a Cidae Aigu-
ment : Now the Chapmen faU to famish tbe shoppes,
the market people make away with their ware: The
Taueme hunters taste of the toUier Whie, and the nappy
Ale makes many a drunken NoU : Now tbe ThradMr
beginnes to fisU to his breakfiut, and eate apace, and
woike apace, riddes the Come quickly away : Now the
Piper lookes what hee hath gotten ^oe day, and the
Bagger, if hee haue hit weU, wiU haue a pot of the best :
The TkttueUer now begins to water his horse, and if be
were earleyvp, perhaps a bait wiU doe weU. TheOstder
now makes deane his stables, and if Ghestes come in,
hee is not without \Aa wdcome. In conclusion, for aU I
finde in it, I hold it the Mindes trauafle, and the Bodies
tqyle. FareweU.
Nine of the Clocke.
IT is now the nynth houie, and the Sunne is gotten vp
weU toward his height, and the sweating TkaneUer
beginnes to feele the burthen of bis way : The Scholkr
now folles to conning of \Aa Lesson, and the Lawyer at
the Barre £dls to pleading of his Case : the Soldier now
makes many a weary steppe in his march, and the
amorous Courtier is almost ready to goe out of his
Chamber : The market now growes to bee fuU of people,
and the Shopmen now are in the heat of the market :
the Faulconers now finde it too bote flying, and the
Huntsmen begin to grow weary of their sport : The
Bjrrders now take in their Nets and their Roddes, and
the Fishennen send their Fish to the Maiicet: The
Taueme and the Ale-house are ahnost fiiU of Goestet,
and Westminster and Gufld Hall are not without a woid
or two on both sides : The Carriers now are kwding out
of Towne, and not a Letter but must bee payd for ere It
passe : The Cryer now tiyes the strength of his throat,
and the Beareward leades his Beare home after his
challenge : The Players BOles are almost aU set vp, and
the Clarke of the Market begins to shew his Oflfee : In
summe, in this houre there is much to doe, as weU in
tbe City, as the Countrey : And therefore to be short, I
wUl thus make myconchision : I hold itthetoyleof Wit.
and tbe tryaU of Reason. FareweU.
Ten of the Clocke.
IT is now the tenth houre, and now preparation is to
bee made for dinner: The Tfoichers must be
scraped, and tbe Napkins folded, the Salt oouered. and
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the Knlues sooured* and the doth laTed, the Stooles set
ready, and all for the Table : there must bee haste in the
KHcfain for the Boyld and the Roste, prouision in the
aeOar for Wyne, Ale, and Beere : The Pantkr and the
Butkr most bee ready in theb Oflhse, and the Usher of
the Hall must marahall the Seriungmen : The Hawlce
must bee set on the Pearch, and the Dogges pat into the
Kennen, and the Guests that oome to Dinner, must bee
inuited against the houre : The Schollers now &11 to
oonstnie and paroe, and the Lawyer makes his Qyent
either a Man or a Mouse : The Chapmen now draw
home to their Innes, and the Shopmen fiUl to folding
up their Wares : The Ploughman now bqfmnes to grow
towards home, and the Dayry mayd, after her woriw,
falls to densing of her Vesseb : The Cooke is cutting
soppes for Broth, and the Butler is diipping of loaues for
the Table : The Minstrels beginne to goe towards the
Tanemes, and the Cursed Crue visit the vyle places : In
summe, I thus condude of it : I hold it the Messenger
to the stomadce, and the spiriu recreation. FarewelL
Eleuen of the Clocke.
IT is now the deuenth houre, diildren must breake vp
Sdioole, Lawyers must make home to their houses,
Merdiants to the Exchange, and Gallants to the Ordin-
ary : The Dishes set ready for the meat, and the Glasses
halfe fun of Cure water : Now the market people make
towards tlieir Horses, and the Beggers bqgin to draw
neere the Townes : the Fomge put off the fire, is set
a coolmg for the Plough foDce, and the great Loafe. and
the Cheese are set ready on the Table : CoUedges and
Halles ring to Dmner, and a Schollers Commons is soone
disgested : The Rich mans Guests are at Courtsey, and
I thanke you : and the poore mans Feast is Wdcome,
and God be with you : The Page is ready with his Knife
and his Trencher, and the meat will bee halfe cold, ere
the Guests can agree on their places : The Cooke voides
the Kitchin, and the Butler, the Buttery, and the Seruing
men stand all ready at the Dresser : the Children are
called to say Grace before Dinner, and the nice people
rather Vsoke then eate : the gates be lockt for feare of
the Beggers, and the Minstrds called in, to bee ready
with their Musicke : The pleasant wit is now breaking
a Jest, and the hungry man puts his Jawes to their
proofe : In summe, to oondude my opinion of it, I hold
it the Epicures loy, and the Labourers ease. FarewelL
Twelue of the Clocke,
IT is now the twelfth Houre, the Sunne is at his hdght,
and the middle of the day, the first course is serued
in, and the second ready to follow : the dishes hane been
red ouer, and the reuertion set by : the wine b^ginnes to be
called for, and who waiti not is chidden : talke passeth
away thne, and when stomadws are full, discourses
grow dun and heauy : But after Fruit and Cheese, say
Grace and take away : Now the Markets are done, the
Exchange broke vp, and the Lawyers at Dinner, and
Duke Humphreys seruants make their walkes in PauUs,
the Shop men keepe their shops, and their seruants goe
to dinner : the trandler begins to call for a reckoning, and
goes into the stable to see his Horse eate his prouender :
The Plough man now is in the bottom of his Dish, and
the Laborer drawes out his Dinner out of his Bagge :
The Beasts of the fidd take rest after their Used, and the
Birds of the Ayreare at Juke in the Bushes : The Lambe
lies suddng, while the Ewe diewes the Cud, and the
Rabbet will scarce peepe out of her Borough : the Hare
sits dose asleepe in her muse, while the Dogges sit
waiting for a bone from the Trencher : In briefe, Ux all
I find of it, I thus oonchide in it : I hold it the stomacks
pleasure, and the spirits wearines. FarewelL
N*
Midnight
f O W Is the Sunne withdrawne into his Beddiamber,
the Windowes of Heauen are shut vp, and
silence with darknesse haue made a waike over the
whole Earth, and Time is tasked to worke vpon the
worst Actions: yet Vertue bdng her sdfe, is neuer
weary of well doing, while the best spirits are studying
for the bodies rest: Dreames and Visions are the
Haunters of troubled spirits, while Nature is most
comforted in the hope of the morning : the body now
lyes as a dead lump, while sleepe, the pride of ease, lulls
the Senses of the Sloathfiill : the tired Limbs now cease
from their labours, and the studious bnunes giue ouer
thdr businesse : the Bed is now an image of the Graue,
and the Prayer of the Faithful makes the Pathway to
Heauen : Louers now endose a mutuall content, while
giadous minds haue no wicked imaginations : Theeues,
Wolues, and Foxes, now faSi to thdr pray, but, a strong
locke, and a good wit, will aware much mischiefe : and
he that trusteth in God will be safe from the Deuill.
FarewdL
The Conclusion.
AND thus to condude, for that it growes hue, and
a nod or two with an heauy e]re, makes me £eare
to proue a pkune Noddy, entreating your patience till
to morrow, and hoping you will censure mildly of this
my Fantasticke Labour, wishing I may hereafter please
your senses with a better subiect then this ; I will in the
meane time pray for your prosperity, and end with the
Eoglish Phrase, God giue you good ni^t
FINIS.
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i6
FANTASTICKES.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIO^NS.
ErisTLV-DiDiCATOKT.— ^ Muke Its was tAoag the Uis«
botch of knightt created ejd July 1603, befbce the coreoation
of Kiog James i. : he was son of John Ive and Fiances, his
wife,— ^le ktter, buried at Boxted, Essex, having died 6th
August 1597. Riuen Hall was alienated to the Baynings. See
our Memorial-Introduction.
Lous.— (i: 14) *batetk* = debaseth : (/. 18) *cracke*:= flaw.
So Shakespeare, yVvfMnilWr.
' Ths Spsing.— </. 3) ' refUxwm * s reflection : (/. 10) ' nochg '
=s knock.
SuimSR.^/. 4) *k*r:* usually die singing nightingale is
called aule : but in Banifield, and elsewhere, both male and
female : (/. 7) 'cMUffrt* = concert : (I g) 'run at Aow' = the
game of prisoner's'bars. See Strutt, t. v. : (/. 16) ' merUtu* ss
a small hawk. Cf. J vlt (/. 10) : (/. as) '/orekant ' = foremost
horse in a team.
Harubst.— </. 90) * Rffw^H'taild* s sprouting, or short.
' Rowen ' u a field kqpt up till after Michaelmas, that the com
left in the ground nay sprout CTusser) : (/. ao) 'J?/lrxaiirr'ssa
kind of dog that recovers game sprung or shot.
: Machiavelli,^kmg a vfOr
WiNTBK.-</. is) 'Mmckiamr^
onym for (almost} Satan himself.
Ianuaky.— </. 9) 'lAirvVy' =s enduring, lasting: (/. la)
' Pantler*^ panterer (jM$etur, Ft.), the officer who has charge
of the bread in a great house. So Shakespeare: 'call me
pantler and bread-chipps' (3 Henry iv. ii. 4) : r/ aUbi. (/. 14)
'A^fVM^A' = burrow : {JL 15) * Currur* = quarier,— a light
formed by sticking a wick into a lump of wax (or tallow), and
the reference to snaring birds by lanthom lights and nets (see
Brome, etc) : ' Zimmtm/' =s twig with bird-lime on it to catch
birds : {L 30) *Mmc9$aa' =■ Russia, as in Milton : (/. 36)
* tkooin^-ktiriu* = a horn for more eanly drawing on shoes :
here a preparative for drinking, Le. after the salt bacon.
Fbbkuasy.— <A a) ' CockfttritU* = short step or measure
toward the zenith : (il 4) ' Paddocke'^ a large toad or frog, the
' frog-paddock ' of Isaac Walton, htter : (il 5) ' Makes * s mates :
/. ro) * make* ike ckaike walke a^ace ' = increases the score or
debt marked with * chalk' on the back of the ale-house door.
March. -<iL 8) < Mr AtUer dyes; an old superstitious belief
often found in the poets on to Herbert : (/. 17) ' mew* = coop
or cage.
April.— </. a) 'her* Cf. Summer {L 4) and relative note :
(/. 7) ' Sammcm * = salmon : Fr. Mtumen, Cf. ' samman ' in
Eastbr Day (U. 5, d): (U. 10, 11) 'Cosset hunb' = a Iamb
brought up by hand instead of by its dam : </. 14) ' Peffaa* ss
porpoise: (il 19) *Skeepes <|vir* = wanton locks
May.— (il 4) ' Veluet head* ss incipient horns of a stag :
(/. 5) * Ragged* =s young-friU,— friom pag, to carry, if it be not
a misprint for bagged, which b a common coUoquhdism for the
eflPecdve result of interoourM: {I. Q 'mww.' See March
(L 17) : (/. a9) ' Petced* s= pea-shell, or peas in the pod.
luMC— </. 4) *F9rke and ike ^oJlv'ssmale and female
reapers : (/. ^*Fas$lean and tke Tassett* s the frdcon wear-
ing its ornaments: (il 14) *greem applet,* etc. » maternal
longings for, while enceinU.
IULY.--(iL 9> * Homer* ^ ^aakts in hens: (/. 10) 'Spa^
'etc. Cf. Eastbr Day / xs)** (^- xx) * barottek* ^
. See January {L 14)1
AxjcusT.-<iL 14) 'Ceckes; vis., in betting at oock-fighu:
(/. 19) * Fmrmemtyt* also 'frumenty* and ' fiirmety ' ss hulled
t boiled in milk and a
Sbptbmber.— </. 18) 'Peuliert* =s poulterers : (/1 19) ' U^aU
ftet:* evidently some locally frunous oyster: {,L sa) * Perkets*
s young hogs.
OcTOBBR.— (/. 6) 'leapes* =s weals to catch fish: {f, ai)
* Bainau* = baUoon-phiy. See Strutt, s. v., and to too (/. aa)
' bandy,'— both gaaies.
NouBMBBR.-</. 6) *mayled* s toOed: {L 7) 'Henu*^
heron : <A 7) *Sk9uUrd; or ' sboulere,'-^ bird, the shofveUer :
(£ 9) ' Cockeskcet* = net to shut in and catch woodcocks :
\JL 9) * TVarriners '= keepers of warrens : (/. xx) ' Ccn^tmaker*
s confectioner, or sweet-meats maker : (/. ao) ' Geskamke* s a
kind of hawk used in hunting : (/. ai) * Maiiard* = wild drake.
Dbcbmbbr.— (/. la) 'Tiremakers* = head-dress makers:
(L ao) '7>^/Srr'ss drawer of beer m an ale-house: (/. as)
'Starckers and LamuUrers* = females of the laundry.
Christmas Day.— <il 13) *Pit-faUes* s snares : (L tj)
* Mummers* = fantastically dressed peifarmers, as at Christ-
mas,—wearers of masks, etc.
Lbnt.— (/• T)*SUcJ^/gsk,*'-a. kind of salted and dried fish :
(/. X9) * Scmtce* ^ tort, or block-house, or defence: (/. aa)
' mewed* = moulting.
Good Friday.— </. 8) * prickes* ^ tkewen : (/. 9) *Pemiters.*
See Sbptbmbbr (/. z8): (/. 13) 'XmHw^rry'sslauiidererB or
laundresses. See Dbcbmbbr (/. a$).
Eabtbr Day.— (/. i) facke e/Lent*sspappt»* thrown nt-
during Lent: (L 4^ * ve/mt keads.* See May (/. 4): {l ts)
'Sparkawke.* So Humphrey Gifford in his ' Posie of Gillo-
flowers ' (p. 59) : — * One of them demanded of him what bird it
was he carried on his fist T He answered, a Sparhawke. And
to what end (quoth he) doe yee keepe her? Quotfi the gentle>
man, shoe is a birde greedy at her pray, and I keepe her to kill
Paroidge with, which is a great bird and deliGste in tast'
(1580): (A ax) *trouU* = roll, or wander.
Morning.— <il ag) *DiaU 0/ Alexander ;* unknown to the
Editor.
Two or thb Clockb.— (il 7) *knggle* sz diminutive of hug.
Thrbb op thb Clockb.— (iL 19) ' by great* s by quantity
instead of daily wage.
FouRB OF thb Clocxb.-<£ 13) ' Ayry* =eyry or nest.
SiXB OP thb Clockb.— (/. 14) ' ^/t£MSf ' s idle jade or
hinder-ling: (^ ao) 'Cr»Mr's crier: (/. ai) '//»*= fin, cease.
Eight op thb Clockb.— (il zi) 'i\r^/' = simpleton. C£
Thb Conclusion (/. 3).
NiNBOP THB Clocks.— <£ la) *Byrders* =■ snarers of birda :
(/. 19) *Beareward* a= keeper of bean.
Tbn op THB Cxjockb.— (il 7) * PantltT,* See January
(/. xa) : (iL X4) ' JfMKM' s notMog at alL
Elbubn op THB Clockb.— (£ zs) ' voides* =. vacates.
TwBLUB OP THB Clockb.— (/. lo) 'Duks Hnn^kreys
seruants,* So Hutton in 'Satyies and Epigrams' (X619X
'Dine with Duke Huinfrey in decayed Fkules' (see abo
Donne) s go without dinner by walking up and down St.
PauTs : (/. 17) *ai Juke* = on the perch : (/. 19) *b&r9tigk* s
burrow, as bdTore : (il ao) * muse*^ hole in a hedge.
Thb Conclusion.— (/. 3) 'Noddy* s simpleton.— G.
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The Court and Country.
1618.
56
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NOTE.
The 'Court and Country' exists in only a single complete exemplar
at BritwelL This was very carefully reprinted by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt in
his Roxburghe Library ' Inedited Tracts' (1868, pp. 169-21 1). Collation
of a mutilated copy in the Bodleian yields only a few slight corrections of
words and orthography. Curiously enough there are two title-pages.
The first has two conventional wood-cuts of * The Country-man * and * The
Courtier,' and is as follows : — The Court and Country, | or | A briefe
Discouife Dialogue-wife fet downe | betweene a Courtier and a Country-
man. I Contayning the manner and condition of their lines with many |
Delectable and Pithy Sayings worthy obseruation. | Alfo, neceflary Notes
for a Covrtier. | Written by N. B. Gent | Printed at London by G. Eld,
for lohn Wrighty and are to be fold at his (hop | at the Signe of the Bible
wifiSxoyxX, NewgaUy 161 8. | ^sm. 4to, 20 leaves. Opposite is the second or
title-page proper. On this extremely interesting booklet see our Memorial-
Introduction. — G.
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THE
Court and Country,
OR
A Briefe Difcourfe betweene the
Courtier and Country-man ;
of the Manner f Nature, and Condi-
Won of their liues
Dialogue-wife fet downe betwixt a
Courtier and Country-man.
Conteyning many Delectable and Pithy
SayingSy 'aoorthy Obfervatum.
Alfoy neceffary Notes for a CO VR TIE R.
Written by N, B, Gent.
London:
Printed by G. Eld for loAn Wright, and are to
be Sold at his Shoppe at the Signe of the Bible
without Newgate.
1618.
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To the Reader.
AMONG many Passages that I have met with in the world, it was my hap of late to light on a Idnde Contronersie
betweene two Khismen, a Courtier and a Countryman, who meeting together vpon a time, fell to perswading
one another from their courses of Life ; the Courtier would feine haue drawne the Countryman to the Court,
and the Countryman the Courtier to the Country. The reasons for their delights, and lone to their manner of lines, I
haue set downe as I found them ; but whatsoeuer they alledged for their contentments, it seemed they were resdhied
vpon their Courses, for in the end they left where they begunne, euery man to his owne humour, and so brake off.
Now what Profit or Pleasure may arise by the reading of them, I referre to their discretion that can best make vae
of them. Matter of state is not here medled with ; scurrility heere is none : no taxing of any Person nor offence iustly
to any whosoeuer : But passages of witte, without the malice of any euill minde. And in summe, matter of good
substance, and mirth enough to driue away a great deal of melancholy ; and so leaning it to your Patience to read,
and to your Pleasure to esteeme of as you see cause : both to Courtiers and Countrimen that are kinde and honest
men, I rest, to wish content in the Course of a happy life, and so remaine
Your well wishing Countreyman
N. B.
To the Worshipful! and worthy
Knight, the fauourer of all good
Vertues and Studies Sir Stephen
Poll, of Blackmoare in Essex; and
to his worthy Lady Health Honour,
imd ^ernaU Happinesse.
Worthy Knight,
BEing well acquainted with your true knowledge of the Honour of the Court, and the Pleasure of the Countrey :
your iudidall Obseruation in your Ttauels abroad, and your sweet retyred Life at home : Finding my Seruice
indebted to many of your vndeserued bountifull Fauours, and willing, in some fruites of my Labour, to shewe
the thankcftilnesse of my Loue, I haue aduentured to present your Patience with a short Discourse, in the manner of a
Dialdgut, betweene a Courtier and a Countriman, touching the Liues of either : What Matter of worth is in it I will
leaue to your discretion to consider of, with my bounden Seruice to the honour of your Commannd, hoping that either
heere or in the Country it will be a pretty passage of idle time with some matter of mirth to remoue
melancholy. And so in Prayer for your health, and your good Ladies,
to whom, with your sdfe. Dedicating
this short Diakgmtt I rest
Yours, kmmbfy deuoUd to ht Cmmamdii
NiCB. Brbton.
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The COVRTIER AND The COVNTRYMAN.
Cwrtitr,
COUSINp Well met ; I see you are still for the
Country, your habite, your countenance, your
footing and your carriage doe all plainly shew
you are no changeling, but euery day alike, one, and
the same.
Covntry-nuxn. I am so indeede, and wish that you
were so too : for then should you not be so great an eye-
sore to your Mends, nor such an enemy to your selfe :
for, I feare the place you line in is more costly then
profitable ; where, for one that goes vp the weather a
number goe downe the winde, and perhaps the place
not so truly fiill of delight as the passage through a
meaner compasse.
Court. Oh Cousfai, you cannot but confcsse that
blinde men can iudge no oonlours, and you that liue
plodding to purdiase a pudding, eannot but distast any
meat that may compare with it, though in many d^rees
of goodnes it ezceede it : for, should I tell you truly
what I know of it, you would soon alter your opinion to
a point of better iudgment. Ob, the gallant life of the
Courtr where so many are the choices of contentment,
as if on earth it were the Pftradise of the wotld : the
maiesty of the Soueraigne, the wisdome of the CounceU,
the honour of the Lords, the beauty of the Ladies, the
care of the Officers, the conrtsey of the Gentlemen, the
diuine Seruice of the Morning and Euening, the witty,
learned, noble, and pleasant discourses all day, the
variety of wiu, with the depth of iudgments, the dainty
fiue, — sweetly dressed and neatly serued, — the delicate
wines and raze firuites. with excellent Musique and
admiiable Voyces, Maskes and Playes, Danndng and
Riding ; deuersity of Games, deUghtfiill to the Gamsters
purposes ; and Riddles, Qnestioiis and Answers ; Poems,
Histories, and strange Inuentkms of V^, to startle the
Braine of a good Yuderstanding ; ridi Appanell, precknis
Jewells, fine proporttons, and high Sporits, Prinody
Coaches, stately Horses, royall Buildings and rare
Architecture, sweete Creatures and duill Behauionr:
and in the course of Lone such caniage of content as
setts the Spirit in the lap of pleasore; that if I should
talke of the praise of it all day, I should be short of the
worth of it at night.
Covnt, And there withall you wak't ; or else you are
like a Musitian that onely playes vpon one string : but,
touch the Basse, with the Treble, the Meane, with the
Counter Tenor, and then see how the stzings will agree
together, and whether the Voyces doe not rather fiune
then sing plaine, for feare the Ditty may disgrace the
Note, and so the Musicke be not worth the hearing.
But if all be as you say, yet take the Euening with the
Morning, and all the weeke with the holyday, the sower
with the sweet, and the cost with the pleasure, and tell
me then if once in seauen yeares, when your state is
weakened and your Land wasted, your Woods vn-
timberd, your Pastures vnstored, and your Houses
decayed : then tell me whether you find the prouerbe
true, of the Courtier young and <rfd ; though sometime
a Bell-weether may bee fiat, i^ien many a better sheepe
cannot hit on so good a feeding. But since you speake
so scoroefully of the Country life, if you were or could
be so happy as to apprehend the true content in the
course of it, you would shake the head and sigh fixim
the heart to be so long fixim the knowledg of it, and
oener be at rest tm you were gotten to it. Oh, the
sweete of the Country life, in which are so many and so
true varieties of pleaniies as keepe the spirit euer waking,
and the senses euer woridug for the full content of the
whole Creature, m so much that if [there] may be a
similie of heauen vpon earth, it is ondy in the prednct
of the Country passage, where both nature and reason
behold and enuythat satietyof pleasure that is not easily
to be expressed. And to answer directly to some of
your pdnu of praise, let me tdl you, though we see not
our Soueraigne eueiy day, yet we pray for him eueiy
bower; and holding our sehiesvnworthy of his presence,
are glad when we may get a sight of his Maiesty.
Now, for Councellors of State, we reuerence their
persons, and piay for their lines in theur labours for our
peace. And for your Lords, we haue Land-lords that
agree best with our mindes, whom vsing with due reuer-
ence, paying them their rent, and now and then for some
small remembranoes wee can haue frfendly talke withall.
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY-MAN.
and learne good lessons of them for many things to be
look't into. And vpon the Bench at a Quarter Sesions,
when they give a cfaaige, heare them speake so wisely,
that it would doe one's heart good to heare them : and
sometime in the holydayes, when they keepe good houses,
make many a good meales meat wiUi them. And in the
time of the yeare when the haruest is in, goe a hunting
and hauldng, coursing and fishing with them: and
sometime to continue good neighbourhood, meete and
make matches for shooting and bowling with them,
when wee exercise the body in plaine dealing, and not
the biaine in subtle deuice.
Now for your Ladies, wee haue pretty Wenches, that,
though they be not proud, yet they thinke their penny
good sHuer, and if they be fiure it is naturall, and
hauing their mothers wit they will doe wdl enough for
their fathers vnderstanding. And for your Gentlemen,
we haue good Yeomen that vse more oourtesey or at
least kindnesse then curiosity, more friendship then
complements, and more truth then eloquence : and per-
haps I may teU you, I thinke we haue more ancient and
true Gentlemen that hold the plough in the field then
you haue in great places that waite with a trencher at a
Table ; and I haue heard my father say, that I beleeue
to bee true, that a true Gentleman, will bee better
knowne by his inside then his outside, for (as he said) a
true Gentleman will be like himsdfe, sober, but not
proud ; liberall, and yet thrifty ; wise, but not full of
words ; and better scene in the Law, then be too busie
with the lawes ; one that feares God ; will be true to his
King ; and well knowes how to Uue in the world, and
wfaatsoeuer Grod sends, hath the grace to be content
with it ; loues his wife and his children, is carefull ibr
his lamily, is a friend to his neighbour, and no enemy
to himseUe ; and this (said my Csither) is indeed the true
Gentleman : and for his qualities, if he can speake well,
and ride well, and shoote weQ, and bowle well, wee
desire no more of him. But for kissing of the hand, as
if hee were lickingof his fingers, bending downe the head,
as if his neck were out of ioynt ; or scratching by the
foote, as if he were a Come-cntter ; or leering aside,
like a wench after her sweete-heart ; or winking with
one eye, as though hee were leuying at a Woodcocke ;
and audi Apish tricks, as came out of the land of Petito,
where a Monkey and a Baboone make an Urchin Gener-
ation ; and for telling of tales of the aduenturous
Knight & the Strang Lady ; and for writing in rime,
or talking in prose, with more tongues then teeth in
his h^, and with that whidi he brought finom beyond
the Seas, which he cannot be rid of at home, for swear-
ing and brauing, scoffing and stabbing, with such
tridtes of the dhiels teaching, we allow none of that
learning. Now, if yon haue any sudi where you Uue I
know not i I hope with vs there are none of them, but I
am sure, if they come amongst vs, wee desire to be rid
of them.
We haue good husbands and honest widdowes ; pure
Virgins and chast Bachelors ; learned Church men, and
duiU Townes men; holesome Hare, full dishes, white
bread, and hearty drinke; deane platters, and foire
linnen ; good company, friendly taike, plaine musique,
and a meny song : and so when God is praysed and the
people pleased, I thinke there is no course where a man
may be better contented. Now, if it bee true (but hope
it is not) that I haue heard, that in some such places as
you Uue in, in the vrorld, a great way hence beyond the
Sea, there be certaine people that haue brosen faces.
Serpents tongues, and Eagles dawes, that wiU intrude
into companies, and perswade wickednes, and flatter
folUes ; that catch hold of whatsoeuer they can light on
for the seruice of kwdnes, eyther money, kinds, or leases,
or appardl ; and euer cramming, and yet eucr craning.
They are carriers of letters betweene lust and wanton-
nesse, tellers of old wiues tales, and singers of wenching
Ballads ; sweare and forsweare, drinke and gull, laugh
and be &t, and for a little pleasure on earth goe to the
DiueU for ever. Now, these in the old time (but now a
dayes I hope are out of vse) were called Parasites and
Panders, leasters, or luglers, much of the nature of
Gypsies, cunning as the Dhidl to diue into a pocket, or
to picke out the bottome of a puise ; but I hope they
are aU dead, or at least you hane few of them about yon :
if you hane, I know not vibaX vse you can make of them,
but I am sure we cannot away with them among vs. I
haue heard moreouer that you haue among yon certain
Euesdroppers, that are tale carriers, that come among
theroolesofKnanes. But for our bowses in the Country
they are so £u one finom another, that if we catch any of
them about vs* wee should cany him before the Con-
stable for a Theefe.
But now leaning to speake more of these things : for
pleasures, beleeue it, we wiU put you downe a workl of
steppes ; for, first of all we rise with the Larke and goe
to bed with the Lambe, so that we haue the breake of
the day and the brightnes of the Sunne to cheere onr
Spirits in our going to our labours, which many of yon
barre your sehies of, by making day of the night and
night of the day, by sleeping after wearines vpon .the
labour of wantonnes, if not of wickednes, as th^ which
woike aU day to bring the Diud into hell at night, and
labour all night for damnation in the morning : sndi I
haue heard of beyond Sea, I prny God you haue none
about you : but for vs in the Country, I assure yon wee
can abide no such doings. Now for the delight of our
eyes, wee hane the Kfay-painting of the earth, with
diners flowen of dainty cokMOi and deUcate. sweets : we
haue the berryes, the dMiries, thepeaseand the beanesi,
the plums and the oodUngs, in the month of June : in
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY^MAN.
July the peares and the a{>ples, the wheat, the rye^ the
barley and the oates, the beauty of the wide fields, and
the labours with deli^^t and mirth, and meiry cheaie at
the comming home of the Hamest cart. We hane,
againe, in our woods the birds singing : in the pastures
the Cowe lowing, the Eue bleating, ft the Foale neigh-
ing, which with profit and pleasure makes ts better
musique then an idle note and a worse ditty, though I
highly doe commend musique, when it is in a right key.
Againe, we haue young Rabbets that in a sunny morn-
ing sit washing of their &oes, while as I haue heard
beyond the seas there are oertaine old Conies that in
their beds sit painting of their feces : wee haue beskles
Tumblers for our Conies, and Greyhounds for our
courses. Hounds for our chases, Haukes of all kinde for
the field, and the riuer, and the wood : so that what can
reason concehie, that nature can desire? but for the
ddight of both the Country doth afibrd us.
Furthermore, at our meetings on the holydayes be-
tweene our Lads and the Wenches, such true mirth at
honest meetings, such dauncing on the greene, in the
maiket house, or about the May-poole, where the
young folkes smiling Usse at euery turning, and the
old folkes checking with laughfaig at their Children,
when daundng for the garland, playing at stooldiall for
a Tansie and a banquet of Cords and Creame, with a
cup of old nappy Ale, matter of small chaige, with a
little reward of the Piper, after casting of sheepes eyes,
and fidth and troth for a baigaine, dappfaig of hands,
are scales to the truth of hearts, when a payre of (^oues
ft a handkerehiffe are as good as the best obligation,
with a cappe and a courtsey, hie ye home maides to
milking, and so merrily goes the day away. Againe we
hane hay in the bame, horses in the stable^ oaen
in the stall, sheepe in the pen, hogges in the stie, come
in the gamer, cheese in the k>ft, milke in the dairy,
creame in the pot, butter in the dish, ale fb the tub, and
Aq$ta vitm in the bottle, beefe in the brine, brawne in
the sowce, and bacon in the roofe, hearbs in the garden,
and water at our doores, whole dodis to our badces, and
some money in our oophers, and hauing an this, if we
seme God withaU, what in Gods name can we desire to
hane more?
Now, for some of ]rou, a man may take you many'
times in the nature of blind-men, that you con scarcely
see a penny in your pone, and your lands growne so
light, that you beare them all on your backes, and your
houses so empty that in the cold of winter all thesmoeke
goeth out at one chimney, when, if Brag were not a
good dogge, I know not how hee would hold vp his
taile. Oh, the fine excuses of wit, or rather foDyl late
bosinesse ooer night makes you keepe your beds in the
morning, when indeedit is for lacke of meate to dinner,
and perlu^ no great banquet at Sapper, when a CnaX
and an Orenge, a Sallad and a cup of Sack i
feast for a Braito : then after all, a strech.and a yaune,
and a pipe of Tobacco, weare bootes lor want of shooes,
or else that the garters and the roses are at pawner Now
these are no Courtiers, but hangers on vpon those that
sometimes in great places haue an humor to fiitten fleas.
Now for vs in the Country, weerunne no such courses,
but are content with that we haue, and keepe somwhat
for a rainy day : loue neither to borrow nor lend, but
keepe the stake still vpright, spend as we may spare, and
looke to the maine at the yeares end : our meetings are
for mirth, and not mischiefe : and for qnarrells we haue
none, eioept the qyle of the malt worice vp into the head
and so distemper the braine, that the tongue runne out
of order, when a fit of fisticuffes will soone make an end
of all matters ; so that wee haue pleasure with profit,
mirth without madnf^we, and lone without dissembUng,
when the peace of Conscience is an inward Paradise.
Now if you can shew any better Cards for the maintayn-
ing of your oppinion, I pray you heartily let me heare it
Court, Oh Cousin, I am sony to see your simplicity :
what a deale of adoe you hane made about nothing 1 but
I seetheprouerbeholds trae in you. He that lines alwayes
at home sees nothing but the same ; and your education
being but according to your dispositton, somewhat of
the meanest manner of good fiashion, your witte rather
being all in Coppy-hold, then in CapiU, and your learn-
ing but to spell and put together, it were hard for you
that neuer studied Astronomy to speake of the nature of
the Starres ; and therefore I can the better beare with
your humour, because it is more naturall then artifidall,
yet could I wish you would not so downifie your wit, as
to bury your vnderstanding all mder a dod of earth.
V^hat I is man but as a beast, bred like a fore-horse, to
goe alwayes right on, and rather draw in a cart, then
trot in a better oompasse I fie vpon basenesse, it is the
badgeofaBqs^. No, let me tdl you, if you were or
oonld be acquainted with the life of a Courtier, you
would finde such bewitching obiects to the eyes, and
ranishing delq^ts of the heart, that you would hold the
world as a wildemes to the Palace of a Prince, and life
but as a death that hath no tast of Court comforts.
Oh Coastal, wee haue learning in such reuerenoe,
wisdome in such admiration, vertue in such honour,
nUour in such estecme, truth in such loue, and loue in
so rare aooount, that there doth almost nothing passe
in perfection, yt is not followed with great obseruatkm,
wfaer the fiuiour of a Mnoe maks a Beegeat a petty King,
the countenance of a Lord makes a Clowne a Gentle-
man, and the looke of a Lady makes a groome a gay
feOow. Oh Cousin, aduancement and contentment are
the firuites of Court seruioe, and the steps of hope to the
state of honour : furthermore, for knowledge, we haue
the due consideration of occnrents, the disdphering of
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY^MAN.
Chaxacten, enditing of letterSp hearing of omtions, deliuer-
ing of messages, oongmtiilatiiig of Princes, and the
forme of ambassages, all which are such delights of the
Spirit, as makes a shadow of that man, that hath not a
mind from the multitude to looke into the nature of the
Spirits honour.
Furthermore, we haue in Court Officers of care, Orders
of discretion, eyes of brightnesse, eares of dearenesse,
hearts of purenesse, biaines of wisdome, tongues of
truth, mindes of noblenesse, and Spirits of goodnesse,
wliidi though they bee not in all, yet are they examples
for aU, and in the worthiest of alL Oh Coushi, to heare
a King or Prince speake like a prophet, a Queene like
an Angell, a Counoellor like an Oiade, a Lord like a
Counodlor, a Lady like a Queene, a Preacher like an
Apostle, and a Courtier like a Preacher : and then to
note the maiesty of the greatest, the reuerenoe of the
wisest, the honour of the worthiest, and the loue of the
best, to recdue grace from the one, instrucdon from the
other; fiftuour from one, countenance from another;
honour from one, and bounty from an other : Undnes
from one, and comfort from another ; where for the good
[of] aU, loue goeth through all, where exercises of wit
are but tryals of vnderstanding, and the properties of
speech are the proofics of iudgment : where peace is the
practise of power, iustice the grace of wisdome, and
mercy the gkiry of iustice : when time is fitted to his
vse, and reason is the gouemor of nature, where priui-
ledges are protections for the vnwiUing ofiendant, and
sanctuaries axe the safety of the vnhappily distressed :
where the name of want hath no note, basenesse no
regard, wantonnesse no grace, nor wickednesse enter-
tainement, except the Droell like an Angell of light come
vnseene to the world : where the qualities of vertne are
the grace of honour, and the breath of wisdome is the
beauty of greatnesse : where art hath lewarde of labour,
seruioe the regard of duty, nature the affect of reason,
and reason the respect of iudgement : where idlenesse is
hated, foolishnes derided, wilfiilnesse restrayned, and
wickednesse banished: where wits refined, btaines
setled, bodies purged, and spfrits purified make a con-
sort of such Creatures as come neere vnto heanenly
Beleeue me, Consfai, there is no comparison betweene
the Court and the Country, for the sweets of conceit in
an vnderstanding spirit, which can truely apprehend the
true natures both of pleasures and profit Alas, let the
Cowe lowe alter her Calfe, and the Eue bleat alter her
Lambe, the Asse bcay, the Owie sing, and the Dog
baike: What musique is in this medley? Let
ignorance be an enemy to wit, and experience be the
Mistris of fooles, the Stockes stand at the Constables
doore, and the GaBowes stand hard by the high way.
What is all this to matter of worth? To see Laddes
lift vp leaden hedes, and Wenches leare after their
Lubbers : to see old foUces play the fooles to laugh at
the birds of their owne breed, and the young Colts
wighie at thdr parting with thdr FiUies, when Madge
must home to milking, and Simon go seme the beasts :
What concdte is in all these courses, but to trouble a
good spirit with spending time in idlenes ?
Oh Cousfai, if thou wert once well entred into the life
of a Courtier, thou wonldst neuer more be in loue with
the Country, but vse it as a deane shirt, sometime for a
refreshing, though it be ferre courser for wearing, and
little deaner then that which you put o£ I could say
more that might easify perswade jrou to change your
opinion, and alter your afiecdon from the Country to
the Court ; but I hope this shall sufi&ce. If not, I pray
you let me heare you speake to some purpose.
Covntry. Say, quodi you 1 Let me tdl you, that all
that you haue said, or I thinke you can say, doth, nor
will worke any more with my witte to indine my humour
to your will, then a Pill that lyeth in the Stomake, and
more offends nature, then puigeth humour : for, where
there is no conruption Phisicke hath nothing to worke
vpon, except by the trouble of nature, to bring health
into sicknes. Doe you thinke so much of your strength
as to remove a Mil-stone with your little finger : or are
you so perswaded of your wit, that with a word of your
mouth you can take away the strength of vnderstanding ?
No such matter, no hast but good : I pniy you giue me
leane a little, and if I speake not to your purpose, I will
speake to mine owne : and I will say as one Dante,
an Italian Poet, once said in an obscure Booke of
his, Vnderstand me that can, I vnderstand my sdfe :
And though my Country hotikib be written in a ropgh
hand, yet I can read it and picke such matter out of it
as shall seme the tume for my instraction. What is
here to do in perswading you know not what? to talke
you care not how? Is this Court doquenoe? Is not
the Clownyfying of wit the Foolilying of vnderstanding ?
Home spunne doth is not worth the wearing, water is
a cold drinke, and simplenesse is but basenesse, and a
Qowne is but a rich Begiger. Nowtruly, Cousin, youare
quite out: for, let me tdl you that good words and good
deeds are the best tryals of good mhids, and make the
best passages among the best people : and so much lor
this matter.
Now to answer your prouerfas, and as I can remem-
ber, most points of your discourses : First, let me teU
you, that I hold it better to see somethhig of mhie owne
at home, then traueU so feire that I see nothing of mfaie
owne abroad, for I hane heard that rding stones gather
no mofise. And for my education, if it hath been
simple, and my disposition not subtle, if I be not
feshkmed accoidfaig to the world, I shall bee the fitter
for beanen: And for my wit, to deale tndy with yon, I
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY-MAN.
had rather hold it in a Coppy of a good Tenure, then by
the title of an idle braine to iceepe a fooles head in Free-
hold. Now for my leamingp I hold it better to spell
and put together, then to spoQe and put asunder : but
there are some that in their Child-hood are so long in
their home booke, that doe what they can, they will
smell of the Baby till they cannot see to read. Now we
in the Country beginne and goe forward with our read-
ing in this manner, Christs Crosse be my speed, and the
Holy Ghost : for feare the DiueU should be in the letters
of the Alphabet, as hee is too often when hee teacheth
od fellowes play tricks with their Creditors, who in stead
of payments, write I O V, and so scoffe many an honest
man out of his goods.
And againe, when he teacheth trauellors that haue
taken a surfet in the Low-countries to set downe H and
O, to ezpresse the nature of their griefe, and to least out
the time with B and R, or to bite mens good names
with those letters to auoyde actions of slander, and when
they write you R, and they B. Oh fine knackes of more
wit then honesty : But I hope there are none of these
among you. But I hane heard my father say, that when
he was young, hee saw many such in such places as you
line in, but it was a great way hence beyond the salt
water.
Now for Astronomy, I thinke it be fallen firom the
height that it was in former time, for Starres were wont
to bee in the heauens : now Gallants hang them vpon
their heeles, so bright in their Spuires as if they were all
young Phaetons, that would ride Phoebus horses, while
the foUy of pride should sit in the Chaire of mine : but
let them sit &st when they are vp, least they breake
their neckes in their Calls.
Now for your Nature and Art, I thinke better of a
natural! Art, then an artifidall Nature. And for your
Fore-horse pace right on, I hope he is better than a resty
lade that will not stir out of the Stable, or a Kicking
Curtail that wUl sette his Ryder beside the Saddle ; and
better draw soundly in a cart then be lamed in a coach,
or be sicke in a Foote-doth : ft better a true tiot then a
fidling amble. But let these humors passe.
Now for your bewitching obiects, I doubt they will
make abiects of Subiects, and therefore I loue no such
diuelish deuises, when womens eyes wHl bewitch mens
hearts, and the breath of Tongues will poison a mans
wits. And for^your rauishing delights, it is a word that
I well vnderstand not, or at least, as I haue heard, this
rauishing is a word that signifieth robbing of wenches of
the inner Uning of their linnen against their wills ; and
if it be 80, it is a perilous delight that brings a man to
the Gallowes, if not to the DiueU, for a little fit of
pleasure : but if there be any better sense in it, I would
be glad to vnderstand it, though at this time I care not
to be troubled with it.
56
Now for Princes Pftllates, they are too high buildings
for our Brickes ; plaine people are content with
Cottages, and had rather pay tributes to their mainten-
ance, then haue them too much in our view, for blinding
of our eies with their golden brigfatnes. Now for life
and death, hee that lines at quiet and will not be con-
tented, may change for the worse and repent it, when
he cannot hdpe it. Oh Cousin, I hane heard my Sather
say, that it is better to sit Cast, then to rise and &11, and
a great wise man that knew the worid to a hayre, would
say, that the mesne was sure : better be in the middle
roome, then either in the Garret or the Sailor : and
another of an excellent worlds wft, that ranne the ring
with him in the walke of the world, would say, that
honour was but ancient riches, and in high places, where
frownes are deadly, and fiauours are vnoertatne, there
was more ieare of the one, then hope of the other : and
a laborious weekes wages well payde was better then a
yeares hope in paper : and therefore, hee that would
leaue possessions for promises, and assurances for hope,
were more full of wit then vnderstanding, and of con-
ceipt then iudgement, for though there is no aeruice to
the King, nor no fishing to the Sea, yet there are so
many suitors for rewards, and so many beaters of the
water, that dekyes may be cold comforts of long hopes
to the one, and the other angle all day and catch a
Gudgion at night : and therefore, thou^^ the world be
like a Well with two Buckets, that when one fialletb,
another riseth, yet the foil is much swifter then the
lysing, and good reason, because the one goes downe
empty and the other comes vp laden. But to be plaine,
I haue so long beene vaed to a quiet life, that I would
not leaue it for a world.
Now for your notes of worth that you haue set downe
in yoiur Court commendations ; I aUow that all may bee
true, and they that thriue in it may thinke well of it,
and hold it a kind of heauen vpon earth : but for my
selfe, I remember oertaine notes that I reade in a Booke
of my Fathers owne writing that shall goe with me to
my graue ; there were not many, but in my mind to
good purpose : as first for greatnes. My mhkde to me a
Kingdome is : so that the quiet of the minde is a greater
matter then pertiaps many great men possesse. Then
for wealth, Godlines is great riches to him that is oontet
with that hee hath, which many great men somtime
periiaps haue lesse then meaner people. Then for a
good rule of life ; Feare God, and obay the King :
which periiaps some doe not so well in the Court as the
Country. Then for the coarse of the Law, Loue God
aboue all, and thy neighbour as thy sdfe : whidi if you
doe in the Court as wee doe in the Country, Enuy
would worke no hatred, nor malice mischiele : but loue
in all persons would make a paUaoe, a Paradise, which
in the best is more euident, then in the meanest
B
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY-MAN.
apprehended : but God, whose lone is the life of all,
breed sudi loue in the lines of all, that peace may euer
line among all.
Now for learning, what your neede is thereof I know
not, bat with vs, this is all we goe to schoole for : to
read common Prayers at Church, and set downe com-
mon prises at Markets; write a Letter, and make a
Bond ; set downe the day of our Births, our Marriage
day, and make our Wills when we are sicke, for the
disposing of our goods when we are dead : these are tlie
chiefe matters that we meddle with, and we find enough
to trouble our heads withall ; for if the fothers knowe
their owne children, wiues their owne husbands from
other men, maydens keepe their by your leaues from
subtle batcheiors ; Farmers know their cattle by the
heads, and Sheepheards know their sheepe by the brand.
What more learning haue we need of, but that ex-
perience will teach vs without booke? We can leame
to plough and harrow, sow and reape, plant and prune,
thrash and fiune, winnow and grinde, brue and bake,
and all without booke ; and these are our chiefe busi-
nesse in the Country, except we be lury-men to hang a
theefe, or speake truth in a man's right, which conscience
ft experience wil teach vs with a little learning : then
what should we study fcnr, except it were to talke with
the man in the Moone about the course of the Starres ?
No, Astronomy is too high a reach for our reason ; we
will rather sit vnder a shady tree in the Sunne to take
the benefit of the cold ayre, then lye and stare vpon the
Starres to marke their walke in the heauens, while wee
loose our wits in the Cloudes : and yet we reuerence
learning as well in the Parson of our parish, as our
Schoolemaster, but chiefdy, in our lustices of peace,
for vnder God and the King they beare great sway in
the Country. But for great learning, in great matters,
and in great places wee leaue it to great men. If wee
line within the compasse of the Law, serue God and
obey our King, and as good Subiects ought to doe, in
our duties and our prayers dayly remember him. What
neede we more learning ?
Now for wisdome, I heard our Parson in our Church
read it in the holy Booke of God, That the wisdome
of the workl is but foolishnes before God : And why then
should a man seeke to befoole himseife before God, with
more wit then is necessary for the knowledge of the world?
The wise man must die as wdl as the foole, and when
all are the Sonnes of Adam, wee haue a faire warning
to bee too busie with tasting of the Tkee of too much
knowledge. I haue read in the Booke of the best wis-
dome, that the feare of God is the b^:inning of wisdome,
and surely, he that begins his lesson there may continue
his learning the better, and come to bee a good SchoUer
at last. Salomon, the wisest man that euer was, said,
that all was vanity and vexation of the Spirit : and why
then should a man vex his spirit with seeking to be as
wise as a Woodcocke, in beating his braines to get the
possession of vanity? And yet I must oonfesse, that
least vanity tume to viUanie, it is good that the authority
of wisdome haue power to bridle the folly of sdfe will.
But for the great wisdome of Councellors of State,
ludges of Lawes, Gouemours of Citties, Generals of
Armies, or such great People in such great places, they
go so farre beyond our wits, that wee had rather be
obedient to their wills, then enter into the depth of their
discretions, and content our selues with that wisdome
which is most necessary for vs, to loue God aboue all,
ft our neighbours as our selues, to rise with the day raies,
and goe to bed without a candle, to eate when we are
hungry, drinke when wee are thfarsty, trauell when we are
lusty, and rest when we are weary : feare God, be true
to the Crowne, keepe the lawes, pay scot and lot, breed
no quarrels, doe no wrongs, and labour all we may to
haue peace, both with God and man : speake truth and
shame the Diuell : pitch and pay, say and hold, trye and
trust, beUeue no lies, tell no newes : deodue not an
enemy, nor abuse a friend, make much of a little and
more as it may increase: These are the points of
wisdome that we runne the course of our Card by.
Now for valour, it is scene best in the best quarrells.
and Saint Paul said, that hee had fought the good fight, to
fight Ux the preseruation of a state, the Person of a King
or Prince, to keepe my house from thieues, my children
from dogs, and my fomily from frunine, and my fiedth
frt>m feinting in the word of God, this hold we the good
fight, and the true valour : not to stand vpon puntos,
not to endure a lye without death, challenge for a
frowne, and kill for a fowle word, aduenture all for
nothing, or perhaps worse then nothing, loose lands,
goods, life and soule and all in a murther or a bloody
bargaine, to please a Punke, and to be counted a
Captain of the Diuels army, or a Gallant of the damned
crew, except some few howers before his end, while the
worme of Conscience bites him at the heart, a sparke of
grace enter into his soule, and make him at the Gallowes
make a repentant rehearsall of a lewd life, and leaue a
fayre example at his death to all behoulders, perhaps
with these good words at his departing. AH yee that
heere bee, take example to be hang'd by me.
Oh braue valour that makes many a weeping eye,
when my mother for my sonne and my sister for my
brother, or my wife for my husband, or my father for
my daughter, or mine vncle for mine aunt, sit and howle
like dogs to see the workes of the Diuel, in the wicked
of the world. Such kinde of valour I haue heard my
lather say that be hath mark*t in some places where he
hath tranel'd, I know not where, a great way hence
when he was young, where he found among a hellish
company of accursed spirits, they were called valliant
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY-MAN,
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fesUowes, that durst say any thing, doe any thing, or be
any thing, till they were worse then nothing : durst
quarrell with any man, abuse any man, strike any man,
kill any man, and care for no man, durst prate, lye,
sweare and forsweare, sco£fe and swagger, drinke and
dice, drab and stab, durst be hang'd and danm'd for a
horrible fit of a finanticke humour, and this was their
valour. I pray God there be none such among yee
where you keq)e, I am sure there keepe none such
among vs.
Now for truth, I hope there are more true hearts in
the Country then there are tongues in the City in many
places, yea, and in greater places then I will speake o^
but where they be, God blesse them, and where they are
not, God send them, and that is all that I say to them.
But for ought I see there is so much frlshoodin the
world that I feare there is little truth on the earth : and
in great places where protestations are without per-
formances, and excuses are better then lies. Where is
either truth of loue or loue of truth? but a little, I
thinke : I would there were more. But with vs, truth is
so beknied, that a Lyer is held little better then a theefe,
and it is a lesson we leame our little Children, speake
truth, tell truth, take heed yon lie not, the Diuell is the
&ther of lies, and little better be his Children ; deale
truly with all men, let your tongues and your hearts goe
together, Christ is truth, in his holy name be true, euer
tell truth and shame the Diuell, be true to God in your
beliefe and obedience to his word, bee true to your
King in the loyalty of your hearts, bee true to your
wiues in the honesty of your bodies, and bee true to
your friends in performing your promises : this is the
loue we hane to truth ; if jrou haue it so, it is a good
blesimg of God and makes a happy people.
And for loue, if it bee in the world, I thinke it is in
the Country, for where enuy, pride, and malice, and
lealousie makes busses in mens bremes, what loue can
bee in their hearts, howsoeuer it slip from their tongues ?
No, no ; our Turtles euer flie together ; our Swannes
euer swinune together, .and our loners line and die
together. Now if sudi loue be among you, it is worthy
to be much made of ; but if you like to day and loath
to morrow, if you fawne to day and frt>wne to morrow ;
if all your loue bee to laugh and lye downe, or to hope
of gaine or reward ; that is none of our loue. Wee lone
all goodnes and onely for goodnes: first God, then
our seines, then our wiues and children, then our family,
and then our friends : and so hath loue his course in
our lines : and therefoie if there be any obseruation in
affection, I pray you, let it bee rather in the Country
then in any place, where faith is not so frat, but frincy
can alter lone vpon a little humour of dislike.
Now for your fianoar, when one Begger growes rich
by it, how many rich grow b^ggen through the hope of
fortune: and therefore in my minde, better be Lord
ouer a little of a mans owne, then to follow a Lord for
the bare name of a Gentleman, and better with a little
to bee counted a good man, then with gaping after
Gudgions to be thought, I know not what Truly,
Cousin, I thinke euery thing is best in his owne nature ;
as one is bred, so let him bee : for as a Courtier cannot
hold the plough, but he wil be soone seene to be no
workman, so a Country-man cannot court it, but hee
wil shewe in somewhat from whence he comes.
And for a Ladies looke, I thinke wee haue wenches in
the Country that haue as faire eyes as finer creatures,
who when they lift to looke kindly, will make many glad
though few gay fellowes. And for apparell, plaine
russet is our wearing, while pied coats among vs we
account players or fooles, except they be better men
then the best of our parish, except our Landlord.
Now for preferment and aduanoement, they be
encouragements to some Spirits that are borne vnder
the diming climate, but for mine owne part I loue not
to play the flye with a Candle, for feare of burning my
wings, but will leaue the ladder of honour to him that
best knowes how to dimbe, and to dt fast when he is
vp. Now for your Occurrents, what are they but
newes, sometime true and some time fiedse, which when
they come to vs they are commonly more costly then
comfortable, and therefore wee desire not to trouble our
seines? Now for disdphering of Characters. I haue
heard my frither say in the old time, that they were
accounted little better then coniurations, in which were
written the names of Diuels that the Colledge of Hel
vsed to coniure vp in Ihe world, and belong'd onely to
the study of Sorcerers, Witches, Wisards, and such
wicked wretches, as not caring for the 'plaine word of
God, goe with scratches of the Diuels clawes into hell.
But how true it is God knoweth : but that this is true,
euery man knoweth that it was a deuise of the Diuell at
the first, to put into the head of a deoeiuing heart that
hauing no true nor plaine meaning in conscience, would
write so, that no man should vnderstand him but him-
sdfe, or like himsdfe, and onely to hoodwinke the
world for looking into his wickednesse. But what is the
end of all wily beguily? seeking to deoeiue other,
deoeiu'd himselfe most of aU. Now letters of darkenes
denised by the Diuell for the followers of his designes in
the courses of his deoeipt : honest men in the Country
loue to meddle with no such matters, but so fiar as may
be to Gods glory and the good of a State, to find out
the plots, and to preuent the mischiefe of a villanie,
being done in Gods holy name and by his grace. I
iK^d it a fine quality to discipher a Character, and lay
open a knaue : But for vs in the Country, wee krae no
such braine-labours as may bring our wits into such a
wood, that we know not how to get out of it Now for
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY-MAN,
enditing of Letters : alas, what neede wee much adoe
about a little matter? If we can write, wee conmionly
begin and end much alter one manner : Trusting in God
you are in good health, ¥dth all our friends : and so to
the matter, either to borrow or to pay, or to know the
prise of your Cattell, or for a merry meeting, or I
tlianke jrou for my good cfaeere. And so with my
hearty commendations, I commit you to God. FVom
my house such a day. Your lotting friend to his power.
And then seale vp the paper, and write on the outside :
To my louing Cousin, Neighbour, or Friend, at his
house in such a place, with speed, if the time require,
and so no more adoe. Except it bee a Loue Letter,
and then a fewe idle words of,
Sweete heart, I commend me vnto you, and haue
beene as good as my promise, and haue sent you a
paire of gloues by Meg your Brothers best bdoued, and
vpon Friday (God willing) I will meete you at the
Market, and wee will be merry, and taike ftirtber of the
matter, and if you be as I am, say and hold, I know my
portion, and when yours is put to it wee shall Uue the
better. And so, keeping your Handkercfaiffe neere my
heart : till I see you, I rest
Yomrs during lift in trui lone
W. T.
Now for your Stiles of honour and worship to this
Lord and that Lady on the outside, and a deale of
humility and ceremony on the inside, me thinkes it
is a wearying of the minde before you come to the
matter. And as I remember a great wise man that
would dispatch many matters in little time, would thus
euer read Letters, in the beginning two words for the
Stile, and other two at the end for the conclusion, so
noting the treble aboue, and the base beneath, he
would soone in the middest find the substance of the
Musique : and to tell truth, few words and plaine, and
to the purpose, is better for our vnderstanding, then to
goe about with words to tell a long tale to little end.
Now if we cannot write, we haue the Qerke of the
church, or the Schoolemaster of the towne to hdpe vs,
who for our plaine matters will seme our turoes wel
enough, and therefore what neede wee trouble our heads
with enditing of Letters?
Now, for Orations, they are fittest for SchoOers to
allure an audience to attendance : but for vs, we haue
more vse of our hands to worke for our Huings, then of
our eares to heare the sound of a little breath. Yet I
allow it among you in such places as you line in : but
where truth is the best ek)quence, we make but two
words to a bargaine, and therefore for your long dis-
courses, we desire not to be wearied with them, but
will leaue them to you that haue more vse of them, and
haue time to hearken to them.
Now for your Messages, alas, cannot we giue a Cap
and make a Legge to our betters, and deliuer our minds
in few words, without we leame to looke downe as
though we were seeking of a Rabbetts nest, or that we
had committed some such fault that we were ashamed to
shew our feces, or make a long oongie as though we
were making preparation to a Galltard, when if a foote
slip we may tuiue a disgrace in the fell ; and if a word
be misplaced, it is halfe a marring to all the matter :
and therefore for messages, our matters being not great,
small instructiOs wil seme our tumes for the deliuery of
our minds.
Now for congratulating of Princes, God blesse them,
they are too great men for vs, more then to pray for
them ; and their matters too high for our reason to
reach after ; it is enough for vs to giue a Cake for a
Pudding, and a pint of Wine for a pottle of Beere : and
when we kill Hogs to send our Children to our
neighbours with these messages : My Father and my
Mother haue sent you a Pudding and a Chine, and
desires you when you Idll your hpgges, you will send
him as good againe. Now for great folkes, they haue
such great choyoe of presents, and of such great charge,
and such great care in the deliuery of them, that (Lord
haue mercy vpon vs) wee in the country cannot teU what
to say vnto them, but, God blesse them that haue them,
and much good may they doe them.
Now for Ambassages and Ambassadors, wee know not
what the word meanes and therefore little care to be
troubled with the men ; for when we heare of any man
that comes from a strange Country, wee say, I pray God
he comes for good, and then hee is the better welcome :
Tush, talke to vs of a Basket or a Basket-maker, and
not of an Ambassador nor Ambassages ; but make your
selues, that best know the meaning of them, the best vse
you can of them ; for vs, wee care not to looke after
them, more then to pray for them, that as they doe, or
as they meane, so God blesse them.
Now for your OfiScers, their charge is so great, that
wee desire not their places, for we hold a priuate quiet
better then a publike trouble : and a cleane conscience
worth a world of wealth. Now for your Orders,
perhaps your need of them is great, where disorders
may be grieuous : for vs in the Country, we haue few,
but in the Churches for our Seates, and at our meetings
for our places, where, when Maister lustioe and the
high Constables are set, honest men, like good fellows,
will sit togeither ; ezcq;>t at a Sessions or an Assise wee
bee called vpon a Jury, then as it pleaseth the Clerk of
the Peace, set one afore another; and therefore for
orders what neede we trouble our selues with other then
we are vsd vnto? I remember I haue heard my fether
tell of a world of orders hee had scene in diners places,
where he had traud'd, where right good Gentlemen,
that had followed great Lords and Ladies had enough
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY-MAN.
"3
to doe to study orders in their Seruioe : a Trencher must
not be laid, nor a Napkin folded oat of order ; a dish
set downe out of order, A Cftpon earned, nor a Rabbet
vnlaoed out of order ; a Goose broken vp, nor a Pasty
cut vp out of order ; a Glasse filled, nor a Cup vn-
couered nor deliucred out of order ; you must not stand,
speake, nor looke out of order : wliichwere suchabusines
for vs to goe about, that we should be all out of time ere
we should get into any good order. But in that there is
difference of places, and euery one must haue their due.
It is meete for good manners to keepe the rules of good
orders. But how much more at rest are we in the
Country that are not troubled with these duties?
Now for your eyes of brightnesse, I feare you are not
troubled with too many of them : late sitting vp, long
watching, and ni^t busines, as writings, readings, cast*
ing vp of accounts, long watchings, and such like other
busines ; besides gaming, playing at Cards, Tables and
Dice, or such sports as spend time, are all dangerous for
weake sights, and make a world of sore des. But as
you said, some of the best sort are wiser in their actions,
and more temperate in their motions, and therefore keep
their sights in more perfection ; which may be examples
to others, if they haue the grace to follow them. But
for our eies, if we doe not hurt them with a stripe of a
twig in the wood, a flye in the ayre, or a mote in the
Sunne, our eyes are as bright as christall, so that we
can se the least thing that may doe vs good ; and if we
can see the Sunne in the morning and the Moone at
night, see our CatteU in our pastures, our sheepe in the
Common, our Coine in the fields, our houses in lepaire,
and our money in our purses, our meate on our tables,
and our wiues with our Children, and looke vp to heauen,
and ghie God thankes for all, wee sede no better sight
. Now for the dfannes of your hands, I feare that now
and then some of ye haue your hands so troubled with
an itch, that jrou must bane them nointed with the oyle
of gold, before you can fiUl to any good worice : and
some of yee, that though jrour wits hane good in-
uentions, yet you cannot write without a golden pen,
which indeede, best fits a fine hand. But for vs in the
Country, when we hane washed our hands, after no
foule woike, nor handling any vnwhoksome thing, wee
neede no little Forks to make hay with our mouths, to
throw our meat into them.
Now for the purenes of 3rour hearts ; except Kings,
Queenes and Princes, and such great persons* make
no comparison with Country people, where yea and nay
are our words of truth ; faiUi and troth are our bonds of
loue, plahie dealing, passages of honesty ; and kinde
thankes continues good neighbour-hood: A Iyer is
hated, a scoffer scorned, a spend-thrift derided, and
a miser not beloued: a Swaggerer imprisoned, a
Drunkard punished, and a lugler whipped, and a
Theefe hanged, for our hearu will harbour no such
Guests. And for loue, two eyes and one heart, two
hands and one body, two loners and one loue ties a
knot of such truth as nought but death can vndoe.
Now for braines of Wisdome, I thinke hee is wiser
that keepes his owne, and spends no more then needs,
then hee that spends much in hope of a little, and yet
may hap loose that too at lasL Now for tongues of
truth, let me tell you, fiftyre w<^ds make fooles faine,
and Court holy-water will scarce wash a foule shirt
deane, except it come from such a Fountaine, as euery
man must not dip his finger in. But, Cousin, when
hearts and hands goe together, words and deeds goe
together : these are the tongues that will not foulter in
thdr tales, but tell truth in the fisce of the wide worid ;
and therefore excepting the best that may bee examples
to the rest, I thinke if truth be any where, she is in the
Country.
Now for the noblenesse of minds : it fitteth the
persons in their places : but for vs in the Country, wee
had rather haue old Nobles in our purses, then a bare
name of noble vrithout Nobles : the reason may be that
we doe not know the nature of noblenes so well as wee
doe of Nobles, and therefore wee heare onely so much
of the cost of it, that we haue no heart to looke after it :
but where it is truly we honour it, and say, God blesse
them that haue it, and if they be worthy of it wdl may
they keepe it, and that is all I say to it.
Now to spirits of goodnes. alas, there is not one in
the workt Christ Jesus our Sauiour said so. There is
none good but God : and if there be any on the earth, I
thinke a good bdiefe and a good life doth best expresse
the nature of it.
To condude with Uertue, in which you lay vp all the
treasures of life, I doubt not it is in the best, I would it
were so in all with you. but bee it where it pleaseth God
to send it once, I verily beUeue it to bee as truly in the
Country as in places of higher compasse : and by your
leaue, let me tell you of a Riddle of my Sathers o[w]ne
writing, touching that rare and pretious lewdL
Tkert is a ucrtifiw doe kmowe.
And doth in sftdall pious grow,
A rick mans praise, apoore mans wealth,
A weak* mans strength, a siche mans health ;
A Ladyes beanty, a Lords bHsse,
A matehlesu Jewell where it is :
And mahes whire it is trmefy seene,
A gracious King and glorious Queene.
And this said he, is venue, which though he vnderstood
in the Court, yet he made vse of it in the Country.
Now therefore good Cousin, be content with your
humour, and let me akme with mine ; I thinke I haue
answered all your positions : and let me tell you. what-
soeuer you say, I verily bdieue that ere you die. I shall
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY-MAN,
finde you rather in the roole of peace in the Country,
then in the tryall of patience in the Court, except the
heauens highest Grace, and vnder heauen our earths
highest Honour, make you happier in their fauours then
the whole world else can maJce you. And now, what
say you further vnto mee ?
Covrt, I say this to you, kind Cousin, that your
Fathers lessons haue made you better learned then I
looked for, but yet let me tell you, had you seene but
one of our showes in our Triumphs, heard one of our
Songs on our solemne dayes, and tasted one of our
dishes, in our solemne feasts, you would neuer looke
m<»« on a May-game, listen more to a louzy Ballad, nor
euer be in loue with beefe and pudding.
Cotmt Oh Cousin, stay the Bells, I thinke you are
deoeiued, for it may be that at one of these Showes, I
might see the fruites of my labours and my poore
Neighbours, flong away in gaudes and feathers ; and
perhaps haue a proud humour, wish to be as wise as
they that were no wiser then they should bee; and
therefore I thinke, better tarry at home then trauell
abroad to no better purpose.
Now for Songs, a plaine ditty well expressed, is better
with vs, then a fine conceit, as £eugned in the voyce as
the matter. Now for your dishes of meat, I will tell
you, I heard my fiEUher once report it for a truth, that a
great man who lined where you line, sent him for a
great dainty a Porpose Pye or two cold : which taking
very thankfully, and causing the Messenger to stay
dinner with him, he cut one of them vp, and very nicely
taking out a peeoe of it, gaue it to my Mother, which
she no sooner had in her mouth, but it had like to haue
marred all with her stomacke, but shee quickly con-
ueyed it all vnder boord, which my Father seemg, said.
Why how now, wife? What? doe you loue no good
meate? Yes (quoth she) but I pray you tast of it your
sdfe : which he no sooner did, but he made as much hast
out of his mouth with it as she did ; then did the Children
likewise the same, and the Seruants behig by, their
Master offired ech one a peece of it, [who] no sooner
tasted of it, but they did so spit and spatter as if they
had been poysoned ; then he gaue a peece to his Dogge,
which smelt to it, and left it : by and by after came in a
Miller and his Dogge to whom my Father in like
manner offered a peece, but neither man nor dog would
eate of it : wherevpon my Father heartily laughhig, with
thankes to his great Lord for his kinde token, sent one
of them backe againe to hhn with this message. Com-
mend me, I pray yon, to my good Lord, and tdl him I
heartily thanke his honour, and tell him, if either my
selfe, or my wife, or my children, or my seruants,
or my dog, or the Miller, or his dogge, would bane
eaten of it, I would neuer haue sent one bit backe agame
to him of it : but it may bee that it is more wholesome
then toothsome, and bee may make a better friend with
it : so, paying the messenger for his paines, sent him
away with his message, which was no sooner ddiuered,
but his Lord heartily laughed at it. This was one of
your fine dishes. Another a great Lady sent him, which
was a little Barrell of Cauiaiy, which was no sooner
opened and tasted, but quickly made vp againe, [and]
was sent backe with this message. Commend me to my
good Lady, and thanke her honour, and tdl her we bane
blacke Sope enough aheady ; but if it be any better
thing, I beseech her Lad^hip to bestow it vpon a
better friend, that can better tell how to vse it Now if
such be your fine dishes, I pray you let me alone with my
Country £Effe. And now, what say yoi)dse vnto mee?
Covrt, I say this, that Nature is no botcher, and
there is no washing of a blacke Moore, except it bee
from a little durty sweat : the Oxe will weaie no Socks,
howsoener his feete carry their fiiuour : and I>i<^genes
would bee a Dog, though Alexander would giue him a
kingdome : and therefore though you are my kinsman,
I see it is more in name then in nature : thy breath
smds all of Garlike, and thy meat tests all of mammaday
pudding, which breaking at both ends, the stuffing
runnes about the Pot. And shioe I see thou art like a
Milstone that will not easily bee stirred, I will leane thee
to thy foUy, till I finde thee in a better humour, for I see
the Musique of thy minde hangeth all vpon the base
string. Farewell
Gnmt Nay, soft a while, let me not be in your debt,
for an ill word or two : I see truth is no Iyer ; all in the
Court are not Courtiers, nor euery man that hath witte
is not truly wise ; for then no man would spend breath
to no purpose : an Oxes Ibot may bee sweeter then a
Cods head, when Sockes may bee but saucguards for
bare tooes in broken stockings : Gariike hath beene in
more grace then Tobacco, and is yet in the Country,
with them that loue meate better then smoake.
Diogenes is dead, and Alexander is in his graue ; and
better bee a manish Dogge then a dogged man. And
if your good will be to your good words, you are more
like a stranger then a Idnseman ; and for my pudding, I
beliene it wUl proue better then a Tobacco pipe. So,
rather desirous to be a Milstone, not to stiire at euery
motion, then a feather in a Weathercocke, to tume with
euery gayle of winde, I will pray for your better wit,
then you haue showne in a seliie wild humour, and so
till I finde you in more patience and lesse passion, I will
leane you till wee meete againe, hoping that yon will
bee as I am, and will be a firiend, to focget all ill
humours, and ready to requite all kindnesses.
CovrHer. So will I ; and so. Farewell.
Thus they parted for that time, but what fell out at
their next meeting : as you like of this, you shall heare
more hereafter.
FINIS.
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Necessary Notes for a Courtier,
QuistioH,
W Hat is a Courtier ?
Answer, An Attendant vpon Maiesty, a
oompanion of Nobility, a friend to Uertue,
and a hope of honour.
Quest What things are chiefely to be required in a
Courtier?
A. Two.
Q. What are they?
A. A good body, and a good minde.
Q, How are th^ to be ysed ?
A. In humillity and cittillity.
Q, To whom?
A. The first vnto God, the second to man.
Q. What are the proofes of a good mind 7
A, Loue of goodnesse, and feare of greatnesse.
Q, What are the tokens of a good body?
A. Ability and agility.
Q, What preserues a good minde in goodnesse?
A, Prayer and Charity.
Q, And what keeps the body in strength ?
A. Continence and exercise.
Q, What is the chiefe grace of a Courtier?
A, The feare of God, and the £auour of a King.
Q. What is the Honour of a Courtier?
A, The loue of vertue.
Q. What is the wealth of a Courtier?
A. The loue [of] a King.
Q. What is the charge of a Courtier?
A. Truth in Religion, care in his Seruice, loue to his
Master, and secrecy in his trust.
Q, What is the care of a Courtier?
A. To deserue well, to keepe well, to liue well, and to
dye well.
Q. What qualities are chiefely required in a Courtier?
A. Wisdome, Valour, Learning, and Bounty.
Q, What learning is most fit for a Courtier?
A, Diuinity, Philosophy, Policy, and History.
Q. What are the Orxiaments of a Courtier ?
A. Variety of Languages, obseruation of Trauels,
experience of Natures, and the vse of Understanding.
Q. What is a Courtier most to take heed of?
A. Enuious Ambition, malicious Faction, palpable
Flattery, and base Pandarisme.
Q. What is a Courtier chiefely to take note of?
A, The disposition of the best, the words of the
wisest, the actions of the noblest, and the carriage of
the fairest.
Q. What things chiefely is a Courtier to be charie
of?
A, His tongue and his hand, his purse and his midle
finger.
Q, What oonuersation is fittest for a Courtier?
yf. Wise wits, noble spirits, faire eyes, and true
hearts.
Q. How should a Courtier hope c^aduancement?
A, With prayer to God, diligence in his seruice,
respect of persons, and iudgment in affections.
Q. What discourses are fittest for a Courtier ?
A. Admiration of wisdome. desert of honour, truth
of valour, and life of loue.
Q. What friends are fittest for a Courtier?
A. The wise and the wealthy, the valiant and the
honest
Q» What seruants are fittest for a Courtier ?
A. The expert, the faithfull, the diligent, and the
carefull.
Q. What is the true valour in a Courtier?
A. To feare no fortime, to be patient in aduersity, to
master affections, and to forgiue offenders.
Q. What are the follies in a Courtier?
A. Vaine discourses, idle complements, apish fancies,
and superfluous expences.
Q. What are most dangerous in a Co\irtier?
A . To bee inquisitiue of Occurrents, to reueale Secrets,
to scome Counsaile, and to murmur at Superiority.
Q. What things are most profitable to a Courtier?
A, A sharpe wit and a quicke apprehension, a smoth
speech, and a sound memory.
Q, What should a Courtier chiefely obserue in a
King?
A, His wisdome, his valour, his disposition, and
affection.
Q, WhatinaCounceUor?
A. His religion, his reason, his care, and his iudg-
ment.
Q. What in a Lord?
A. His title, his worthines, his spirit, and his carriage.
Q. What in a Lady?
A. Her beauty, her portion, her parentage, and her
disposition.
Q. What in an Officer?
A, His knowledge, his care, his diligence, and bis
conscience.
Q. What time is best spent in a Courtier?
A, In prayer, in study, in graue discourse, and in
good exercise.
Q. And what time is worst spent?
A. In deuising of fashions, in fitting of fancies, in
faining of Loue, and In honouring vnworthines.
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THE COURTIER AND THE COUNTRY^MAN,
Q. What is oommendable in a Courtier?
A, Concealing of discontentments, mitigating of
passions, affability of speech, and courtesie in bebauiour.
Q. What most delighteth a Ladies eye in a
Courtier?
A, Neat apparell, wise speech, to manage a Horse
well, to dance well.
Q. What most contenteth a King in a Courtier?
A. Religious valour, reuerent audacity, humble loue.
and faithiiill seruice.
Q, What is most troublesome to the minde of a
Courtier?
A. Conscience and patience, continence and abstin-
ence.
Q, What are most grieuous to a Courtier?
A. The firowne of a King, the displeasure of a Lady,
the fiill of honour, and the want of wealth.
Q. What friend shall a Courtier most rely vpon?
A. His God, his King, his wit, and his purse.
Q. What foes should a Courtier most stand in feare
of?
A. Wanton eyes, glib tongues, hollow hearts, and
irreligious spirits.
Q. What things are necessary for a Courtier to haue
euer in memory?
A. Temperate speeches, moderate actions, deliberate
inuentions, and discrete resolutions.
Q. What delights are most fit for a Courtier?
A. Riding and Tilting, hunting and hauking.
Q. What is most comdy in a Courtier?
A, A stayed eye, a &ire hand, a straight body, and a
good legge.
Q, What should be hated of a Courtier?
A. Rudenes and basenes, sloathfulnesse and slouen-
linesse.
Q, What spedall seruants of name are most fit for a
Courtier?
A, A Barbour for his Chamber, a Taylor for his
Wardrobe, a Groome for his Stable, and a Foote-man
for his Message.
Q. What is the hapmesse of a Courtier?
A. To feare God, to haue the iJEmour of a King, to be
able to lend, and to haue no neede to borrow.
Q. What is tiie shame of a Courtier?
A. To take much and giue nothing, to borrow much
and lend nothing, to promise much and performe nothing,
and to owe much and pay nothing.
Q. What should a Courtier be alwaies iealous of ?
A. Insinuating spirits, intruding wits, alluring eyes,
and fflttdtng tongues.
Q. What is the life of a Courtier?
yf . The labour of pleasure, the aspfaing to greatnes,
the ease of nature, and the commaund of reason.
Q, What is the fame of a Courtier?
A, A deare conscience, and a firee spirit, an innocent
heart, and a bountiftiU hand.
F/N/S.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Pagb 4, To TMB Rbadbr, 1. 6, *tttefy mam to ku otnu
humour*— 9, proverbial saving utilized by Ben Jooaon for two
of his most characteristic rlays.
Epistlb-Dboicatory to Sir Stbphbn Poll op Black-
MOORB, etc.— Sir Stephen Powle was knighted at Theobalds,
6ch August 1604. He married MarKaret— daughter and sole
heir ofjohn Turner of Creping Hall, co. Essex. Esquire— ad
wife and widow of Thomas Smyth, Esq. of Blackmore, co.
Essex (who died loth May 159^ a^ 70). On the 97th April
1633, letters of administration of his esUie were granted m the
Prerofative Court of Canterbury, to a creditor. He was then
descnoed as of the city of Westminster. He may have died
in the Gate House prison— incarcerated as a debtor. His wife
survived him.
P. 5, col. I, 1. \o,*ono that net vp iho taemiAor*—aa this
and otner uncollected proverbiafaayings herein and elsewhere,
see our Gloesarial Index. *,v., and Memorial-Introducdoii :
coL a, L z8, * BoU^wtotkor* ^ ih^ leader of the flock (of
sheep) : L 99, ' timitio ' = likeness, as we aay frc-simile.
P. 6, coL 1, L 18 (from bottomX 'ieuyimgr —yevtUhng, aim-
ing?: L iz (from bottom), *PgHio* — {9acv name: 1. xo,
*Urckm'—9itt Glossarial Index, *.v. : coL a, 1. 33. *rooUt* =
rolls : last line ' r«rfa>tf» ' = apples.
P. 7, coL z, 1. Z4, ' Tumbltrs'^ dogs used for taking rabbits
—see Nares, ».v. : 1. a4t * ckocktMf* = jesdng, ieeringr: L as,
' tiooUbaU* ss game with ball so called— see Gloasanal Index,
t,v. : L s6^ ' Tansit*^ a dish which was a great &vourite long
ago: 1.4Xf.'«!M«^*j= coffers.
P. 8. coL z, L 3, * amhattagos ' = embassages ; I. x8 (from
bottom), '«^/' = affection: coL a, 1. a, * LMort' j^paax-
sweetbeartsT : L 4,'nngkie* = whmey or nei^— an umtaUve
word : L 30, ^ontDantt* etc.,— see Glossarial Index, *.«.
P. 9^ ooL z. L 6, *A0rM AmAt's schooI4iook— Me GkMsarial
Index, t,v, : L 13, * lOV s I owe yon : L 16^ etc— see Glos-
sarial Index on these letters: L 30, 'fv«/r' s restive: L 38,
' CurUU* s docked horse : 1. 41. ^fidUnf^ eighty? : col. a,
L xz, 'mmmw's medium: I. za, '.SrAl^r^s cellar: 1. aa,'i$o
Mtruic*,* etc— see GkMsarial Index, t.v., on this elsewhere:
L 4Z. * My muuU to mo a. Ki$»gdomo m*— on this reference to
the famous poem see our Mcmorial-Introducdon.
P. 10^ coL a, L z7, *scot atul lot* *This expression, which
continues in use, meant literally at the time when the Health,
etc, appeared, an assessment on all subjects according to Aeir
several incomes or properties, and comes from Saxon scoot and
Hot. But the writer here seems to imply that the housekeepers
of the good old days which he remembered (when have there
not been good old dt^tf^ raent all th^ had in hospitality ex-
cept what they were obliged to pay to the Government in taxes
and other levies' (W. C Haahtt, in loco\ : L 3Z. *pmUot* =
a term in fencing: qu. s abbreviation or punctilios?: L 34,
* loon* s lose : L 36. Putike ' =s mistress.
P. xz,col. z,L 6^drui ' = associate with loose women ; L 18
(from bottomX *tusMot* =s buzzings : ooL a, L za (from bottom),
' wily btguUy '—see (glossarial Index, «.v.
P. za, col. z, L 6, <>rw'sprice: last Une, *aku*^Vi
interjection merely : ooL a, L 6, ^ GaiHard* s quick dance so
named : 1. x6. ^pottU ' = bottle-but see Glossarial Index, s.v, :
L zQ, ' Chino s a kind of salmon, also a cut of beefl
P. 13, coL z, 1. 4, 'vnlaeod* s cut up : ooL a, L az, 'NoUtt'
s coin (gold) worth 6s. 8d.
P. Z4, col. z, L z, * rooU*^ roll, as before : L a8, ' Porfom*
s porpoise : or qu. s porpin, i.t. hedgehog? : col. a, 1. ax,
' mammaday '—see Glossarial Index, ».v.
G.
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Character of Queen Elizabeth.
57
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NOTE.
This 'Character ,of Queen Elizabeth' is in the extremdy beautiful
handwriting of Breton himself. It is identical with the other two among
the Royal MSS. in the British Museum— whence also the present is
derived (Harleian MSS. 6207, (qs. 14-22). Nichols printed it in his
* Progresses of Q. Elizabeth,' but our text is taken directly from the
holograph, with no slight benefit The MS. contraction-form for 'tes'
and 'des' (« e with a tail) is lengthened, and occasionally other con-
tractions ; but our endeavour has been otherwise to reproduce the MS.
exactly. See out Memorial-Introduction on this ipost interesting
♦ Character.'— G.
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To the right honorable, Robert earle of Salisburie, Vicount Crambome,
lord high treasurer of England, principall Secretarie of estate, m^
of his highnes court of wardes & liueries, one of his maiesties most
honorable privie counsell, knight of the most noble order of the
garter & most worthy Chancelor of the famous Vniuersitie of
Cambridge.
NOBLE EARLE in that true noblenes of that true worthines, that the wise do admire, & the
honest do honor, vouchsafe me leaue (I beseech you) to present yo^ ho^e patience w^b a short
tract of a long approred troth, wherein though my vnworthines can hope of no favour in the weake
prayse of so excellent a person, yet out of the loyaJl hart of an humble spiritt in a few wordes let mee
sett downe a few notes in memorie of her ma^ worthines who as yo' hono^ best knowes, and the
world well knowes, did worthilie fovo' yo' excellent service, so hath yo' hono^ not onlie in her lief
shewen the loyaltie of yo^ love in the toyle of yo^ continuall care, but after her death haue shewen the
noblenes of yo^ thankfiilnes in being fiivorable to all those that in the loyalty of their service shewed
their love vnto her ma^, and as no doubt yo>^ grief could not be litle in the losse of her, so is yo' ioy
no lesse (but rather greater) in the enjoying of so gracious a Idng as in her seat hath succeeded her,
whose favour (no lesse comfortable then his wisedome admirable) may give not onHe yo' bono', but
all the Peeres and subiectes of his realmes iust cause as well trulie to love and seme his matie : as to
pray to the almighty for his etemaU preservacon ; and so foigetting all sorrowes for the losse of o'
late Queene Elizabeth, wee may rdoyce and be ioyfull in enioying o^ King James : pardon my good
Lord, my vnpolished lines, and in a better service comatmd the dutie of my love. In wch prayinge
to the almightie for yo' long lief with health, increase of bono', and etemall happines to yo' noble
hartes desire, and this kingdomes great comfort ;
I humblie rest
Yo"" hono« in
all humblenes
Nicholas Breton.
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Character of Queen Elizabeth.
IN the jrere of o^ Lord 1534 ; aep*: z ; ia the
paSaoe of Grenw^, to the great i^ of the wfaolo
realme, was bonie (to our bte Idiige of fiunoiis
memory, Heuie the & by his giackwi lady and o*
thenQoaene, Amie BoDein) this blessed ladye EBssbeth,
of whose royall disoent from both her pareotesand their
lines of pfinoelie antiquitie, the CSuonides doe make
soffident mention : bat for that my intent is, to speake
onlie of the daughter ; I will leavethe royall parentes to
the memorye of their princely worthines, andooUeintieat
a Utie of her worthy rpyaltie, that for the esceHency of
the same, deserves never to be forgotten* Ffint then*
for her disoent, yt wasfroma &moas and vertuoos King
and Qoeene^ from whose loynes, as shee tooke the rayaltie
of her bkmd, so from their spizittes did shee take the best
of their perfections : for as she had the magnanimitle of
her ffifUher, so had shee as tmlie the mildnes of her
mother : her edncation was from her infimcye to her
frdnes of age» in the ftdnes of p'foction. Where, what
was it that natoxe might oonoeive, reason digest, or
grace contemplate ; but shee learned with dilUgcnoe,
practised w^ carefrJnes, and enjoyed w*^ Mestednes :
forleamhige, what king before her, or Qnsene like her?
for languages, few to compare w*^ her, and for tmS
wiMdome in her goverment, who came neaie her I for her
person shee was natures darlinge, for hcrcountenannoe,
it was true maiestie^ and for her speech (in the wonder
of men) shee was the grace of woemea ; for her spbite
(in bdnge trulie idigious towardes god) shee was
glorious in the worid: but, not to nm away too frut
from her Cradell to her Qpowne, let mee a htle goe back
agayne, and speake of the yeres wherein her vnderstand-
inge si»ritt of grace in the true scale of true religion, for
her love to the word of god, was perMCUted by the
deviUf of the world: for such I hold all the enemies of
gods truth : in the tyme of her sister Queene Maries
raigne, how was shee handled? tost from pOler to post,
imprisoned, aoofl^t to be put to death, yea and dis-
gradousUc vsed even by them that were not worthy to
serve her ; bQt, god gane her that graoeAiU patience^
that moved even her enemies to phy her, and the worid
to comfort her: and that hi such good tyme, as after a
bitter storme brought a blessed cahne : for after the da-
cease of her sister, her Ma*** no sooner received her
toyaU dignity, but in the puttinge on of her Crowne, her
kingdome putt on comfort, godes word that had by the
devills ndnisters bene prophaned, was by her servantes
truly preached, IdofaUiye abolished, true religion sett up
and malntayned, and the crudl Cookes that eyther in
malice or madnes were the rosters of men, from her
court and countrey were all hanitUied. Tims in the best
royaltie, in the erectinge of true rdigion, did her Ma***
begin her raigne, ft that w*^ such care over her people,
that by the vertue of her owne wisedome, and advice of
her gnuie counsell, shee so heki the Scepter over her
kingdome, tliat shee had the harts of all her people*
(except some few Judasses, that beinge cursed in their
Cmdells were mere fitt for Hell then the worid ; but, to
speake of true harts onto god, who could bevntrueto
her maieBtie whom God himself had sent for a comfort to
the whole kfaigdome? Lett mee a litle by degrees speake
at the kive of her Subjectes to her ma***, her Coonsdl
loved h« for her padence in givinge eare to their advise,
her Peeres for her gradous affiibilitye and countenance
amoiqpe theni, her Uulies for her kind ilEivoures towardes
them, her servantes for herbowntie, and her subiectesfor
her princeHecaieoverthemandgradooskfaidnes towardes
them ; what eie was not gladd to see her? what care
would not rejoyoe to heare her? and for her fiivour who
would not run to attend her? did not her eie draw the
vertuous to serve her, and amaae the spirittes that
intended ill vnto her? was shee not as she wrote herself
semper eadem ahrales one? seafous fai one rdigion,
beUevhige in one god, constant in one truth, absohite
vnder god in herself, one Queene, and but one Queene ;
for in her dayes was no such Queene, one Phoenix for
her spiritt, one Aegell for her person, and one Goddesse
for her wisedome, one ahrayes in her word, one alwayes
of her word, and one ahrales, in one word Euzabetha
/M^iXttffo a princelie goddesse, Elixabeth a deUveier of
godes people from their spiritnall thraldome and a pro-
vider for their rest: one chosen by one god to be then
the one and onlie Queene of this one kingdom, of one
Isl^ then under heaven, the hope of our ooeifort. and.
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CHARACTER OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
on the earth the glorie of o' grace : during her lief, what
peace in her conntrej? what plentie in her land? what
triumphs in her Court? what leaminge in her Scholes?
what trades in her Cities ? what wealth in her Idngdome?
what wisedome in her counseU, and what grace in her
goa'ment? who durst to annoy her but the enemies of
godes word, who fdt the hand of his wnth for seefcinge
the hurt of his anoynted ? whom held shee her fiiends,
tmt the &vourera of godes truth ? and to whome was
shee an Enemye, but to the enemies of the same? what
Monarche ever sent to her, whose Ambassador did not
admire her ? and what Prince did ever heare of her, who
•did'oot worthiHe hono^ her? was shee not mistris of the
nanroweSeas? and ieared even in the Ocean? did not
the Heathen know her power? and Christians sue for her
fiEivour? Oh, let mee speake of her mat^ but with
■admiiaeon whom god had blessed w^ so much perfec-
tion: was not the Souldio* rewarded? the scfaoller
cherished? the Lawyer advanced? the mardiant fairidied?
and the tradesman maynteyned? yea, had not the rich
their pleasure? and the poore their rdief? the Stranger
pitie, and the Subject peace? and all vnder the
hand of god, in the eie of her grace, and care of
her goverment? and can all this be forgotten? dki
not her Trompetts sound rather pafsa measures then
poyntsof wane? and her DmiBes rather beate daimces
then warlike marches? and her horses not rather ney.
in the pride of their fimiiture, then in Inry against
the enemie : was not musique in her best key hi her
Court? and what art was eiodlent in her Ungdome
that had not grace in her fisnour? what State in mora
maiestie? wliat Court in more state? what Counsel! in
.more bono''? and what boao^ in more grace? and all
under the scepter of sudi a Queene, as under what
Unge was the like: oh heavens, if there were a
paradioe on the earth, where was it, but heere? where
such an Angell had the guard of it, that no deuHl ooulde
hurt yt : but if there were no paradlce on earth, yet, was
it a gardein of no smale grace, where God had planted
sudi a fflower, as in the savour of true sapience gaue a
sweet sent to the whole kingdome, and a wonder to the
whole world, that so many excellent wittes should be
gouemed by one wisedome, and so many Subjectes be
made happle in so excellent a Queene : what teares of
ioye haue bene shedd at the sight of her? and what
teares of sorrow haue bene scene for the losse of her?
and yet, is all this forgotten? and can shee be so deane
forgotten? no, shee can never be forgotten : shee lives
in theEiesof the vertuous, in the hartesof the religious,
'in the sphittes of the honorable, and in the mhides of
the honest : Wisedome tells honor, honor tells truth,
truth tells fiune, fame tells Memorie shee lives, in the
-heavens betoved, in the earth intombed, andin the world
^reniowmed. Justioetalkesof herhidgmeot, Merdeof her
Justice, vertne of her bounty, wisedome of her witt,
grace of her wisedome, Rdigion of her love, ft
admiracon of her lief: and therfore howsoever w^
Ingratitude shee may be forgotten, w^ the gracious, shee
wilbe had in a most honondde remembrance : Princes
will speake of her majestic, Councelors of her wisedome.
Divines of her rdigion, SchoUers of her leaminge.
Strangers of her languages, the Oppressed of her pitie,
the poore of her charitie, the Vertuous of her love, and
the Gradous of her lief ; and how can shee then be
forgotten? 4he Netherlanders were bownd to her, the
French were rddved by her, the Dane was friend w^
her, tlie Powlack would not offend her, the Mnacouite
dki hone her, the Persian did admhe her, the Spaniard
did feare her, the Gcrmatae did knre her, the Italian dfal
reverence her, the Turke was amased at her, and the
Devill could not hurt her, nor the Pope procure the
death of her, for God himsdf did so love her, that his
Angdl never left her* Oh, what Queene in her dales
dki live in more blessednes? hi a fertile land, faythfull
people, admiracon of the wise, honor of the great, love
of the good, and spite of the evill, in the wonder of the
world, and the fimour of God: and can then her maiestie
be forgotten? no, there are many noates of her ejc-
odlencye that will eternise her memorye : what Mnoe
could be more royally discended then her maiestie?
from two sndi fEathen and mothers as are w^^out com-
pare ; for her spiritt, from the kinge of kinges wlioae
gksry is infinite, and for her bodye, from or late kinge of
frunons memorie Hemle the 8. of whome the wotld
speakes such honor, that I need not amplifie his praise :
for her body, from a vertuous Queene, the worthy srief
of sudi a husband, and happie mother of such a
daughter : and for her spiritt, the' tine diurch of god,
the blessed mother of all blessed soules ; and can then
her ma^* be forgotten, that is knowne in the heauens
the daughter of the boUe Unge, and on earth the
daughter of the famous kinge? amonge the Saynts
known a Saint of the church, and on earth the daughter
of such a Queene : ytt can never be, but shee shalbe
remembred ; God wUl have it so, and the world cannott
but haue it so : her Connsdl, in comfort of her fiivor,
her Court, in grace of her countenance ; her servantes
in proffitt of thdr penstons, her people in the ioye of
their peace, all under God, and her scepter cannot chuse
but remember her : and therefore though the Pope hdd
her an heretkiue, and like a devill did curse her, and
the devills of the worid sought many wayes to anoy her,
yet while the Popes were accursed, and the devUI was
dampned, shee safely lived, gradonsUe reigned, and
peaceablie died: and therefore, howsoener faasenes
would write her name in 6blivion, her fame ^1 live in
the ettmitye of true honors and if it were possible, that
tbelyvingeooiddfoisett her, yet the MaiMe out of the
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CHARACTER OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.
earth will speake of herfiiaiesfie» so that the tongoeles,
and aenceles creatares in the impressioiis hi them fai-
gnuied, will in their memorye off her grace make the
world ashamed of their higratitnde, whose haites are so
damped, and tongues so tyed, as to bury her fiune hi
foigetfuhMs: but alas, how htle is all this that I haue
said in her dne prayse, in comparison of her desert? her
Counsdl can tdl by their knowledge, her favorites by
the lack of her fietvour, her servantes by the losse of
their mistris, her Subjects by the memory of her maiestie,
her friends by the lack of her kindnes, her foes by the
smart of her hist chastioem*^ ; in Smfie, her Comt and
her oountrey can tell, yea, the earth and the Sea, if it
could, would tell, that the world cannott tdl more truth
of hottO' in the desart of wisedome, nor proof of
maiestie in prinoelie merde, then god had pbmted in her
hart, and the world might behold in her des ; and how
is it then possible, that shee can be forgotten ? who so
liveth in the Tromp of fiune, in the notes of vertue, in
the Records of wisdome, in the rule of grace, in the
glasse of light, and in the grace of love. Old men will
weepe, when they speak of her p*son, how goodlie a
presence she carried even to her latter dayes ; yonge
men will weepe when they thinke of her maiestie, how
gracious shee was in the advancement of vertue, where
the hart that once kissed her hand, did as it wereswound
w^ the sweete ioy thereof: and cannot but moume in
the lack of such a comfort : Ladies will weepe when they
remember her kindnes ; where in the grace of her fovour,
they lived like princes" in her Court, and follow her to
her graue ; having tost their grace in the world : The
Souldio" weepe in memorie of her bountie, who in
losse of their payes, live poorelie on their pensions : her
SooUers weepe when they tooke on their bookes, and
misse the blessuige shee gave to their Studies : Strangers
weepe when they thinke of her pittie, who ever was
readie to succour the distressed ; and the Subjectes weepe
when they think on her grace, w*^ did gladd their
hartes that had but a glaunce of her presence : the ridi
weepe when they thinice on her comfort, in the peace of
whose care they made a paradice of their pleasure : and
the poore weepe when they thinke on her charity in want
whereof they pine away hi miserye : in Sume when so
many haue cause in teaies to remember her, can
it be, that almost any can foigett her? no, shee ys and
wilbe remembred : but in not foigettfaige her maiestie,
leste wee doe not too much forgett o^sehres hi forgets
tinge C thankftillnwt to god for his great mercy towards
vs, who haninge taken away O' comfort sent vs so great
a Joye ; let vs looke towards heaven, and behold the
greatnes of gods goodnes who hath sent vs such a soo-
cessc in her seat and such a possesso* of her place, as
in the wonder of more worthines then in wordes canbe
expressed, may make vs see, after a Starr.such aSunne ;
after a Springe such a Sommer : after a budd such a
tree : after a mirth such a toy ; and after akind of para-
dice such a worlds heanen, as if on earth ever were in
o* hmd may it ever be ; in the Eie of such a maiestie^
in the hart of such a wisedome, in the spiritt of such a
scale, to the hand of such a bountie, and to the grace of
such a goverment, as to o^ onlie ktoge James whom
Jesus the kinge of kioges hath to his mercy sent vs to be
so great a comfort vnto vs, that while wee might grieve
at the losse of o* late Queene : wee may ioy to the
enjoyinge of o' present ktoge : to vertue as gradous, m
wisedome as divtoe, to leaminge as studtous, to iudg-
mentasiust, toiusticeas merdfull, to religion as sealous,
to goodnes as fieunous as any Idnge on earth may be to
maiestie described, to desart honored, and to bono*
eternised: whose vertue god graceth, whose wisedome
god toveth, whose hart god directeth, whose p'son
god defendeth, whose seede god blesseth, whose sphitt
god inspheth, and iriiose seate god preserveth, so that
the heavens blessinge and the worides wonder meettoge to
that maiestie, that under the heavens ys the glory of o*
kingdome, may make vs see how mudi cause wee haue
to this comer of the world above the whole world to
glorifie the maker of the world, and thinke that as no
Chronides make menoon of such a Queene as wee had,
so no kingdome hath such a Ktoge as wee haue. Let
not due prayse seeme flattery, and consider the worthines
of his oommendacon, by the blessinge of his oomminge,
and care of his goverment, the unittoge of a derided
people, friendshipp w^ fomtoe enemies, peace at home
and abroad, plentie of all thinges necessarye. Love and
concord among the wise and honest, and a tow of iustice
upon the rebellious and irreligious ; oh what a blessed
sight it is, to the Eie of a good snbiect, to a court of so
much'state to behold to the seate of ma**« such a ktoge
and queene, w^ such a prince and princdie children,
as to the bewtie of thdr aspecu, to the consideracon of
their spirittes, in the excellency of thdr disposioons, and
good finite of their educacons, may glad the Eies, ioy
the hartes, and ravish the socles of the behoklers : Oh
heavens, what a work of god, was this upon earth? o*
ndghbo" long as strangers, and sometyme enemies,
now all, one frendes and lovers : the stranger, that to a
kinge could not enter the land w*N>ut fire and sword,
now to a Queene is come, and lives w^ tove and
pleasure. Blessed sayth the tord are the peaoe^nakers,
and blessed may wee say are wee to the makingeof such
a peace : lett mee speake boldlie and trulie : ys there
such a kinge on the earth? so fimr fromjdolatry, so fiur
firom Hypocrisie : so full of wisedome, so profoundlie
learned, so vertuouslie indyned, so royall to bowntye, so
gradous to ktodnes, so loving to his beloved, so toringe
to his friendes, so kivinge to his servantes, so lovinge to his
people, so tovtoge to god and man, as surdy he b no
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CHARACTER OF QUEEN EUZABETH.
godlie man that sees him not. and loves him not, as a
man of god, sent from the god of all goodmen, to be as
a god over men : oh, who oonld looke into the nature of
his goverment ? and would not dearlie love, trulie serve
him, and hartilye pray for his eternal! pieservaoon ? be
threatens none, and yet there are that feare him, bee sues
to none, and yet many are gladd of him, bee ren'ardetb
all that do well deserve of him, bee hurteth none that
seek not to trouble him, bee is bountifuU to those that
hee findeth to love him, hee graoeth those that are
faythiull unto him, maynteyneth those that dulie attend
him, and ys merdiull to those that are penitent when
they offend him. In Sume, his love to religion, his love
to vertue, his love to leamhige, his love to all goodnas
may give all good mmdes good cause to love him : and
though in the construction of highest goodnes, there is
none good but God, yet so much goodnes bath man, as
bee sheweth in the measure of his grace, in the fruites
whereof, smoe there liveth no kinge more worthy of a
Crowne, yea many crownes then o* gracious aovendgne
king James, idiose blessed m^ from the ma*** of the
almightie hath brought so many blessinges vnto vs :
let vs humblie thank God for him, and pray to God lor
him, that bee will ever p'eserue his royaU person, o^
gracious Queene, and their blessed and royaU progeny,
that wee may*ever enioy them, fisiytblullie love and
serve them, and willinglie spend o^ landes and lives in
bono' of them : And so foigettinge all grief in the losse
of o* late Queene, wee maye ever reioyoe in enioyinge
o' blessed Unge. Amen.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page 3, • Robtri, EarU qf SaiisburU '-—see our
Memorial-Introduction on this illustrious statesman :
1. 7 (from end of Epistle), 'my vnpoliskid lints'
— ^recalls Shakespeare's phrase in Epistle-dedicatory
to Southampton. See Memorial*Introduction and
Glossarial Index, j.v.
P. 5, col. 1, 1. 12. The *Pf' was - F as a capital.
P. 6, col. 1, 1. 35, 'Pa/sa '—see Glossarial Index, s,v, :
col. a, 1. 13, 'Pawlack* — Pole— see Glossarial Index :
L 5 (from bottom), *" dampned '—Xht contemporary
spelling. See Glossarial Index, s.v.
P. 7, ooL X, H. 4-6. See our Memorial- Introduction
on this noticeable allusion as to the ' ingratitude ' and
* forgetfulnes ' of those who were expected to cdebrate
Elizabeth. Shakespeare was specially complained of—
as all know.— G.
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I. GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
II. INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES.
III. PROVERBS AND PROVERBIAL SAYINGS.
IV. ERRATA ET CORRIGENDA.
60
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NOTE.
Thb fbDoving is the order and the classification of the Works of Breton, with abbreviated tides : —
VOU II,— PROSE.
X.
a AU5PICANT£jEH0UA.
a.
b Wit's Trenchmouk.
3-
e WiL OF Wit, etc etc.
4-
d Strange Fortunes.
5-
£ Crossing of Proverbs.
6.
/ Figure of Fours.
7.
g Wonders worth hearing.
8.
h A PosTE WITH A Packet of Letters.
9-
f A Mad World.
la
j A DiAJXKSUE OF PlTHE, ETC.
zz.
k Grimello's Fortunes.
19.
/ Olde Man's Lesson.
13-
m I FRAY YOU BE NOT ANGRIE.
14.
n A MURMURER.
IS-
0 Divine Considerations.
16.
p Wit's Private Wealth.
17.
q Characters upon Essaies.
x8.
r Good and Bad.
Z9,
s Strange Nbwes.
9a
t Fantasticks.
91.
u Courtier and Countryman.
99.
VOL. L— VERSE.
z. d A Floorish upon Fancie.
9. b Pilgrimage to Paradise.
3. e Countess of Pembroke's Passion.
4. d Arbor of Amorous Deuices.
5. € PASQUH.'8 MADCAPPB.
6. / PASQUIL'S FOOLB'S Cappe.
7. g Pasquil'8 Passb and Passbth not.
8. k Mblancholikb Humours.
9b f A SoifEMNB Passion*
za j Rauubt Soulb and Blbssbd Weeper.
iz. k Longing of a Blessed Heart.
Z9. / THE Soulb'8 Harmony.
Z3. m Mother's Blbssino.
Z4. n Passionate Shbphbard.
Z5. o SouLB's Immortal Crownb.
z6. p True Description OF Vnthankfulnbssb.
Z7. q Honour of Valour.
z8. r Invbctivb against Trbason.
Z9. S I would and I WOULD NOT.
90. t Daffodils and Primroses.
9z. u Amoris Lachrima and Gleanings.
The references accordingly are to the letters on the left-hand column, e*g. —
a = A Floorish upon Fande.
tf. p. z/z = pa^e z, ooL z.
a, I. p. ^9 a VoL L page 9, coL 9,
By the necessities of the case, each separate production had to be printed and paged by itself as it
was our good fortune to discover or recover exemplars of a series of books than which none — taken
as a whole — are of such peculiar rarity and costliness. But by keeping in mind the above reference-
letters, etc, a minimum of difficulty will be experienced in consulting the Works.
In the Glossaiial Index— as with John Daviss op Hereford and Dr. HEifRv More— my aim
has been to include every noticeable word. Considerable additions will be found to our Notes and
Illustrations under many words. These occasionally correct or add to our earlier explanations and
illustrations in the places. It has been thought well to give a distinct Index to the numerous
Proverbs and Proverbial Sayings in Breton. The Errata and Corrigenda, the student-Reader will
be so good as made at once in the text, agreeably to the references. It is satisfiactory to us that only
a very slight proportion of the Errata belong to the Editor. None the less has it been deemed right
to correct Author's and original Printer's mistakes. For our own, we have no fear of any genuine
fellow-Worker being unwilling to excuse our 'slips.' Infallibility in such kind of work, and in
relation to so large a mass of black-letter and antique literature, is no human attribute. In a very
few instances I have mislaid the references, but have retained the words.
I indulge a pleasant hope that as with the others, our Glossarial Index, etc., will add valuable
materials to the great phflological work of the near future— an adequate Dictionary of our noble
language.— A. B. G.
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fefefeMMiJMfefeiiiiii
I.-GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
A B c, achoote-mailrr, IL/ p. s/x, L xf.
Abhomioation, II. «, p. xj/a, 1. 49 ; p. 19/1, 1. 93.
Abide, v„ L a, p. 36/1, L xo ; p. ag/x, L 47; II. ii» p.
9^a. 1* 45 : P* sa/>> ^ 43-
Abject, II. q, p. 7/a, L 8. See Daviet's Bib. Bnf.. p.
46.
Abowd, to ML aboard, II. A, p. x8, Na 47, L aa.
Aboarde, aboorde, I. ^, p. xs/a, L 36 ; / p. 5/x, L 3 ;
p. xo/a, L 4x ; IL tf, p, 5/a, L 93.
Aboorde, to fieUl aboord, II. i; p. aQ/z» L X7 ; p. as/i, 1.
xa
AbooTde, to lay aboorde^ II. ^ p. i^i, L 36. On
words of thie fonn, lee Daaent's 'Jest and Earnest,'
ii pp. 43/4*.
Aborthie, x^., IL r, p. x<Va» L 46^
Abonndanoe, II. ^, p. xs/x, L a6^
AbooodBCS B aprkocke, IL f, pw 9lil^ IL a, 13.
Absohite ^ perfect. IL il, p. sx, Na 65, L 7.
Absolution, II. /, p. X4/X, L xx.
Abuser V. asto deoehre^ 1. 1, p. 7, st 4X.
Aoddence, II. ^, p. 9/x, L 35.
Accompt, v., I. 0, p. x9/x, L 5 ; IL 0, p. xx/a, L 13.
Acoompte, jiI., L /, p. x8, L 07.
Accord, v., L if, p. 5/1* 1* 4^
Accoumpt, I. 0. p. 3Q/a, title.
Ace, I. «, p. 5/a, L 7*-generaUy highest of suit in play,
and therefore stops all others. Henoe med « pale
or bound, ritkmi gr.
Ace, an aoe out, »'.#. wants one of the ftill number —
you have miscalrulated. IL A, p. 47, Nob 50, L 4.
Aoa of rijamonris, IL ^, p. 6o/a, L xo.
AchiSs, (dissyllable,) I. ^» p. 9/a, L 34 ; j, p» 8, sL 47.
A-colde, I. a, pk 32^x, 1. 5.
Acquite, II. A, p. aa, No. 63, L X9.
Addle, «4r;, I. €, p^ xx/x, L X5 ; /, p. ao/i. L 30 ; p.
a4/x, L 4 ; IL ^ p. 9/% L xo ; IL i, p. ^x, L ao.
Addle-headed, I./, p. ax/a, L 17.
Administers, j^. a* ministers, now administiatorB, IL «,
p. 8/1, L X7.
Admiracon « adminticm, IL v, p. 6/1, 1. 17.
Admooitorik IL A, pw 9, Na xx, 1. 8.
Adoe, a doe^ a doo (much), I. a, p. x<Va, 1. 43 ; p. 87/3,
L 35 ; il, pi 5/a, L 7> To Reader, etc.
Adrett, V. «i dreit, L a, p. 40/t, L X4.
AdTmmoer, I. r, p. 4/x. L 8.
AdvertM, IL t. p. X4/X, L 9. ijoeiy— Is the reference
to advote ending in !y <li^, and so applied to
esaggented or iaunenfee compUmeaU? Or is there
a hit at the affected balancing of clauses, all ending
with 'you,' fai Lorcnao's spe^di, and parodied by
Dorindo? 'Old' is here 4s in Shakespeare, 'old
abodng of God% patience.' (Merry Wives, i. 4-)
Advise, J*., L a, p. 7/1. L 34; p. X9/X, L 59; ^. p. 8/1,
1. x6 ; IL €t Pi xa/x, L xy, etc
Advisement, IL f, p. 50/1, L 39^
Afeard - afraid, L f, p. 7/z. L 4B> SeeBOi. Eng.,p.55.
Affect, affectes, «^., 1. ^, p. 34/1, L x ; if, p. xo^a^ 1. x ;
p. X4/X, L 38, etc
Affect, affecte, afibcted, «., L r, p^ 5, sL 39 ; if, p. X4/X,
!• 17 » ff P' t8, L 44, elt. etc.
Affecter, I. r, p. 4/<* 1* 9*
Affiance, II. r, p. xx/x, L 4a
Affoorde, affoored, II. d, p. 97/3, L 7 ; / p. 7/x, L 97.
Affirigfat, »., L/ p. 7/3, L 33.
Afright, tr. s aft^ted, II. i, p. 14/x, L a.
After -^ afterwards, II. r, p^ 63/3, L 4. Of. Genesis
xzziii. 7.
After dappes « ill after-consequences, from dap, a sharp
blow. L a, p. 34/a, L 33.
After paynesafter-pain-'geiiemlly applied to a woman's
pains after diild-birth, and ' inwards ' here points
to this, 1. /, p. 4/3, L x^
After-spring, sb., L r, p. 3/a, L x8. 'To recreate him
and to put an afUr-tpring into his decaying spirits
... the Lord ChanceUor was created Viscount
Bnddey ' (Hacket's Life of Abp. Williams, 11. 30).
After the frJre, II. #, pw 9/x, 1. 37.
Againe — against, IL /, p. x6/3, L x6. See Daaent, as
before, iL p. 6x.
Agleu, I. 0» p. x4/x, L 84. Fr. nigmiUeUat i,i, point
ftstened 00 end of a lace.
Agoe, II. /, p. x5/t, L a ; p. 15/3. 1. 3.
A goes « he goes, II. k, pw 13/8. 1. sS.
Aireth, query misprint for ' araieth ' 7 or for ' marieth,'
IL q, p. 7/t, 1. 38. But cf. Shakespeare, s.v.
Ake, v., II. H, p. xi/t, L X9.
Alarum, IL i, p. x^x, 1. 8.
Akamistrie, II. /, p. X5/9. L 53.
Alchymie, IL A, p. xs, No. 34, L xs.
Alcbymist, I. s, p. 8, st 49 ; p. 13, st 137. .
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Alchymistry, II. h, p. 15, No. 33, 1. lo ; p. 53/2, 1. 1 ;
p. S4/X. L 8.
Ale4ioiuKgames (a]e4ioiise games), I. #, p. ^a, L 26.
AMuDfuae = place for drinking : ' tavern' « where
food is the main tiling. Tavern now is often much
the same as ale-house, except in such cases as the
London or Freemasons* Tavern.
Ale-sorfet, II. ht p. 45, No. 44, 1. x8.
Ales — Alice, I. a, p. 30/1, L 32.
AUcamie, II. ^, p. 7/z, 1. 37.
AU and some, summe summ, I. h^ p. i6/a, L 33 ; p. 17/1,
L 36 ; A, p. Z4/a, L 3 ; 4, p. 14/3, L 3a, etc.
All in summe, some, I. », p. 6/a, L 53 ; 0, p. x8/a, 1. 48.
AH is well that ends weU. II. A, p. 33, No. 6, L 15.
AU to gallope. It is still controverted whether the *to '
in such phrases belongs to the ' all,' or to the verb.
Cf. 'all to gased at ' in I. ^, st 105, L a. See Bib.
Eng., p. 87.
Alleage, alleadged, IL «, p. z^z. 1. 37 : P- za/a, L Z9, etc.
All^geaunce, II. e, p. 56/a, L 33.
Anianoe, II. i, p. 7/3, 1. 35. Always used of rdation-
sbip by mazriage. Fuller speaks of a ' kinsman or
alliencar in the fourth degree ' (Ch. Hist. xi. tv. 9),
u€, related by blood or marriage.
Allies -alleys or walks, Ji»., I. /, p. 4/z, L 39.
Allitia - AUda, II. f, p. ^^ L az.
Allow, v., allowed - to approve, II. ^ p. zo/3. L x8 ;
d^ p. 4/z, L z6 ; A, p. 9. No. Z3, L zz, etc.
Allowance - approval, II. A, p. 43, No. 3^. 1. 53 ; A P-
4/a, L 3, To Reader; q, p. 4/z. 1. 5.
Allowed, a4f.. II. A, p. 35, No. 78, 1. 33.
All-seeing, I. 0, p. 8/z, l 5a
Allude, v., alluding - sportfaig, rejoicing, I. /, p. 5/z,
L zy;/, p.4yz,l. 5of 'Ingr. Ser. Nef.' In Fuller's
Ch. Hist., iL p. 5a, 1( z, allusions - puns, or con-
ceits. Adams (iL zo) uses ' allude ' for * compare '
In a mystkal or allegorical way: 'some have
alluded these three, gold, myizh, and frankincense
to the three theologteal virtues.' Also - resemble.
Allume, J^. « alum, II. f. p. zz/z. L 5a.
AUusion - sport, I. b, p. 37/z, L 35.
Ahnanacke, IL k, p. Z7/3, 1. 37.
Aimers, I. k, p. zc/z, L zz.
AlmeS'-a i|ing«'i<^r noun, pronounced AlnUfs (a dis-
syllable), L b, p. 38/z, 1. z6; a, p. za/z, L 38; A p.
5/z, L Z3. See Bib. Eng., p. 3Z.
Ahnes-basket. IL /. p. zz/z, L 48.
Aloft s aloft, L a, p. z6/a. 1. 54.
Atone, without company, IL c, p. a5/z, L zy. Chaucer,
Knigfate's Tale. Z9az, ' alone withonten any com-
panye,' probably supplies the original of Breton.
Query— Had Chancer the line of Dante in his head
(Inferno, xziii. z) tadti soli e senza compagnia?'
Dasent, as before, iL pp. 55-57, disproves the deri-
vation ftxmi ' all one : ' it is ' a lone.'
Alonely = allonely. I. », p. 6/a, L 44.
Aly, adj* ~ muzzy or stupid with beer, as an aley nose
is •- a red or bulbous nose, L a, p. 55/3, 1. 37.
Ambassage, II. rf. p. as/z, L 34 ; P. a8/z. I. 33.
Amble, x^.,— pace of horse, IL «, p. 9/z, 1. 4Z.
Ambleng foote doth, IL <f, p. 7/z, L 5a
Ambling nagge, I./, p. 33/3, L 30.
Ambodezter, IL 4, p. 8/3, L 5. ' The rest are his
pointes ambodexters, outrides ' (Burton's Anatom.,
Prefiwe). Of course 'ambidexter' is the more
usual form.
Ambuscado»— transition-form of ' ambuscades,' r^., I.
b, p. Z9/3, L 33.
A Merricat — America, IL j, p. 9/a, L z8. See
'Magerian.'
Amidde, II. e, p. 8/z, L Z9.
Amisse, i^., I. h, P> 13/1. 1* 33 ; / P- 9/i« 1* xo>
Amnus — annus : Time present, I. /, p. 9/z, L 34.
A mort — death, I. <f, p. z4/z, L 33.
An « and : ' many a iustioe an iuzoure ' (Piers. PL, vii.
44). I- g* p. 7/1. 1 8.
Anathomie, IL n, p. Z5/3, L Z4. ' Anathomise ' is the
almost universal spdling in quartos and folios of
Shakespeare.
Anatomy, I. A, p. 8, L 44.
And — an, IL c, p. 43/z, L 45. Cf. Bib. Eng., p. 74 «
And if, I. /, p. zz/3, L 38. See Bib. Eng., p. 74.
Angells, play on word, I.^, p. 6/3, L 8.
Angels, coin, angell, I. «, p. 9/3, L 40 ; II. k^ p. 9/3,
L 44 ; p. Z3/z, L 53 ; «i, p. Z4/3, L zs, etc.
Angeriy, aiv,t I. d, p. 8/z, L Z3. ' Nor look upon the
iron angeriy ' (King John, iv. z).
Angle, angle with Diuels hooke, I. at, p. 8/z. 1. 44.
Anker «- anchor, v., IL <f, p. 35/a, L 38 ; t, p. 5/a, L 33.
Anoies, j^., L ^, p. 33/z, L 5 : v., L b, p. 34/z, L 33.
Anone = anon, I. b, p. Z5/3, 1. 3Z. See BSb. Eng., p.
Z09.
Anticks, «^., II. A, p. 35, No. Z3, L 3Z ; p. 47, Na 49,
1.9.
Antike, I. 0, p. 5/a, 1. 33.
Anuile, to beat the anuile of a busy braine, I. ^, p.
9/3, L z8 (and see Hammers of the head).
Apaide, v, — satisfied, I. a, p. 8/z, L aa
Apall, apalled, L *, p. 6/z, L 33 ; j^, p. ^x, l 33.
Apaiant, II. Ot p. 8/3, L 53.
Aparel, IL A, p. 9, No. zz, L Z5.
Ape-baiting, IL b, p. Z5/3, L 53.
Apeme, sport « apron, I. j, p. 6, St. Z9. C£ ' smock
employment ' in Massinger's Rtm^ado, ii. L =
pandiing.
Aple tarte, I. q, p. 6/z, L 3Z.
Aposthume— an intermediate form between the correct
afosUm (quoted by Nares from Donne's ad Anniv.)
and the common form ' imposthume,' I. b, p. zz/a,
Appalde (and see Apall), IL c, p. 46/z, L 8.
Apparenoe, IL c, p. 57/z, L 53.
Appertinent, IL r, p. 37/z, IL z-40.
Apple— order of the squire •« a pimp. II. s, p. €/3, L z6.
See Nares, j.v.
Apprehension, of joyi IL q^ p. 6/a, L z6— 4iow usually
of danger or mitfortune. ' The beginning [of your
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H
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
5
letter] dilated my spirit with apprehenaons of joy.'
(HoweU. I. tL 7.)
Apprentiship, II. A, p. 7, No. 7. L 5.
Approoue, v. — to prove, Approver ~ prover, evidence,
II. c, p. 46/1, L 34; p. 46/2, L aa So an 'in-
former ' is called an ' approver.'
Approne, v., I. A, p. 14/2, L 98 ; /, p. 19/3, 1. 33.
Aprioocke, II. /, p. zo/3, L 7.
Aqua vitse, II. /, p. 9/2, L 19 ; », p. 7/1, 1. 38.
Arands — errands, II. /. p. ii/i, 1. 6.
Arbers •« arboors, I. a, p. 41/x, L 34.
Armes— (heraldic) II. q, p. 8/3, L 5 ; r, p. 9/1, 1. 4.
Arrant, adj„ I./, p. 23/3, L 56.
Arrantest, airantst, I. j, p. 6, st. 19 ; II. #, p. zo/z, 1. a8.
Arrants, sb, — profligates, II. «f, p. 8/z, L 38.
Arrerages, II. A, p. 53, No. 66, 1. Z3.
Anined, v. /r. ~ anived at, I. /, p. 33/z, 1. 3Z.
Arrogancie, II. e, p. sy/z, L za
Ardficiall — made by art, here •« artfol, II. r, p. z6/3,
L Z3. * The lantern of that Church (so artificieU
for the workmanship ' — ' A golden medall of good
value was given to every one of them, wherein the
sitting of the Synod was artificiaUy represented ' :
Fuller's Ch. Hist., bk. x. p. 55, If 38, and p. 83,
IT 3. So Thomas Nabbes :—
'As shee doth puse, the birds shall streine their throtes.
And beate the ayre with artiJUiaU vtott*,*
(Bpifhalantinni 1637 : Spring's Glory, a Bfaske 1699.
Artir — artery, I. 0, p. zz/z, 1. 7.
A say » assay, f.«. trial, proof, I. a, p. 4z/3, 1. 48.
Milton, P. L. ix. 747. The verb is written as two
words in Robert of Gloucester (p. 34), ' a sayed.'
Ase, II. #, p. 6/3. IL 3Z, 33.
Aspire, v. /Ir., I. *, p. 7/z, 1. 34 ; P- ai/i. 1. 14 ; P- ^l^»
Lz6.
Aspis — asps, serpents, I. <f, p. zz/3, 1, z.
Asseband, contemptuously for husband, II. k, p. z3/z,
L 33 ; '1 P- 10/3, 1. 49. In this same place ' goose-
man ' is a play on ' goodman.'
Assend * ascend, I. r, p. zo, st. zo8.
Astrologie, astrology, I. «f , p. 7/z, 1. 36 ; II. b, p. Z7/3,
1. 33 ; p. z8/z, L z5 ; A, p. 36, No. z6, 1. 3a
Astronomers, I. j, p. 8, st. 50 ; II. </, p. zo/3, L 49 ; p.
Z3/3, 1. 3 ; A, p. z6. No. 39, 1 8 ; II. A, p. z6. No.
40, L Z3.
Astronomy, astronomie— generally used by Breton as —
astrology, and 'astrok>gy' for what we now call
'astronomy,' II. k, p. Z7/3, L 35 ; p. z8/z, L xy;
A, p. 3^, No. z6, L Z7 ; A, p. 48, No. 53, 1. zo ;
No. 54. L 7 ; /, p. 7/3, L 30.
A thanke, II. e, p. 48/z, L Z3. See Bib. Eng., p. 30.
A thwart, I. a, p. 6/z, 1. 60.
Atonement, II. », p. Z5/3, 1. Z4. See Bib. Eng., p. 79.
A-too ~ asunder, I. /, p. 30/3, L Z4.
Attempted = tempted, II. c, p. 38/z, 1. 31.
Attonement, attonements, I. b, p. Z3/Z. 1. 33 ; 0, p. z^z,
1.7.
A-two » asunder, I. a, p. 37/z, 1. 33.
Auaile. sb., I. g, p. 6/z, L 33 ; II. c, p. 31/3, 1. 3.
60
Audacity, in good sense, II. », p. x6/z, 1. 9.
Auengeance, I. /, p. 5/z, 1. 38.
Aungells, I. /, p. Z3/3, L 6, eta
Aunswer, aunswere, I. a, p. 43/3, 1. 46 ; p. 47/z, L 34 ;
II. e, p. z6/z, L 33, etc.
Aurum potabile, II. /, p. 7/3. 1. 6.
Ave — a welcome, or an orison, II. /, p. 6/3, L 34.
Aware, v. — avoid, to ward off, keep oft, but qu. a mis-
print for ' award?' i.e., ward oft; II. /, p. Z5/3, 1. 37.
Away, ' I could tarre better away with him,' * bear with.
II. Ct p. 44/z, 1. 36.
Axill-tree, I. 0, p. zi^z, L 33.
Ayry — aCrie, II. /, p. Z3/3, 1. Z3.
Anurde, adj„ I. f, p. 6/3, L 39. Qu.->a participle, as
in the 'Gentleman Instructed ' (p. 394), ' who asur'd
the firmament.'
B
Babib » a doll, II. Ct p. 37/z, L 46.
Babies, to looke babies, I. /, p. so/z, 1. 43 ; II. c, p.
Z7/Z, 1. 34 ; p. 57/3, 1. 35. Cf. the use of the Greek
Khpn/f : also our Herrick, I. p. 36.
Babish, babishe, adf, * babyish, I. b» p. Z3/3, 1. 30 ; g,
p. 7/z, L 34 ; II. A, p. 46, No. 46, 1. 36.
Bable * bauble, I. b, p. z4/z, L Z4 ; dT, p. Z4/3, L 36 ;
/p. 3^3, 1. 34; jr, p. 8/a, L zs; p. zo/3, 1. 33; p.
z^3, L s ; II. *, p. zo/z, 1. 38 ; j, p. 5/z, 1. 30.
' They play with bid>ies of clouts and such toys, we
with greater babies . . . &bles and babies.' (Bur-
ton's Anat DeuL to Reader, pp. 33, 39.)
Babling, II. A, p. 34, No. Z3, L Z5 ; ^, p. 8/z, 1. 38.
Baboune, I. j, p. Z3, st. Z3Z ; II. r, p. 8/z, I. 39. See
Strutt, f.v., 'Baloune.'
Baby, to smell of the, II. », p. 9^z, 1. 7.
Bace, to run at baoe (and see base), I. m, p. 6/z, I. 46 ;
II. I, p. zo/z, L 4Z.
Bace, adf, = base, II. b, p. Z3/Z, 1. 4.
Backe friends » secret enemies, II. b, p. Z5/3, 1. 50 ; p.
z6/z, L 39 ; </, p. Z3/z, 1. 49.
Back-pipe, II. b, p. zo/z, 1. 39.
Backe side, II. g, p. 6/z, 1. 36 ; /, p. zo/3, 1. 3Z.
Badger, i^. — a retail corn-dealer, I. 0, p. 58/3, L 5.
See Bailey, s,v., and Batman, b. z8, ch. Z93.
Baffled, II. 4, p. 35, No. Z3, 1. 38.
Baggadge, II. g, p. za/z, L 37.
Baggage, adj., I./, p. 33/z, L zo ; p. 33/z, L 35 ; g, p.
7/1. L 3-
Baggage, sb., bagage, I./, p. 33/z, L 43 ; II. <r. p. 43/z,
1. 36;/, p. ^z, 1. 37 ;/ p. 8/z, IS; m, p. 5/z, 1.
34.
Baggage stufiie — worthless material, II. r, p. 8/z, 1. Z3.
So a female is called contemptuously ' a baggige.'
Query— whether ' baggige ' (Pasq. Precession, I. g,
p. 7/z, 1. 35) is not the genitive (the ' s ' is often
omitted), and = a worthless woman's humour. Or
qu. used adjectively?
Baggige. adj., I. g, p. 7/z, I. 35.
Baggige, sb., I. g, p. 9/z, 1. za.
A 2
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
fiog-'pipe cfaedus, I. ht p. Z9/a» L 5a
Bag-pudding. II. i, p^ 7/a, L 39.
Baie-ksaf. II. K p. 9/a. L 45-
Ba%fat^teit» I. tf, p.^/a, 1. 4S;/ P- «l/a, i 5.* P-
aS/x. L 17.
Baites — refineshment, II. /, p. s/a, I. 15.
Balde oooie. a sea bird, II. 4, p. 13/3, L 43. See Moitis,
▼.. p. 45.
Baldicttim rimes, I. a, p.^/a, L 15. Bee^ HalHweO, j.v.
- baldefdash, aflbetadexpnssioBv-Hnade foatasti-
cally to look like Lads.
Bale, sb,, I. a, p. 7/1, L xa ; p. 35/1, 1. 33 { ^, p. 6/1, 1.
37; II. tf. p.8/1, L 17.
Balke, j^., I. a, p. 37/1, L 17 ; «, p. 6/a, L 7.
Baike, v., I. ^ p. »/x, L 47.
BaDad-makers, 11./, p^ s/i, L la.
Ballad penners, II. s, p. 6/a, I 34.
Ballat-makers, I. ^, p. 5, L a from bottom ; p. 5/a, L 35.
Ban, v., banning, I. a, p. ^3, L 36 ; p. 7/1, L 46 ; ^, plL
9/x, 1. 34 ; II. /, p. iV^i L 9.
Banbuty cheese, II. 4 P* as, Na 65, L x6k See Beedey's
History of Banbory, pp. 454-59. 567-68. It is
mentioned by Camden, Burton, Plot, and Fuller—
the last quoting the pioveifaial saying, ' Banbury
seale, cheese, and cakeSb' Chamberlain, and De
Foe also mentkm' it
Banflkrout. bandt-nipt, Ili^ ^ p. 03/3, 1 19 ; ^, p. 9/a, 1.
X4 ; p. 13/1, 1. 34 ; >', p. ii/i, 1. la ; p. 13/x, L 38.
Bands » bonds, I. il» p. xi/x. L 5 ; <»; p. m/x. t ^ : H-
^1 P* 19/1* L X.
Bandy— « term at tennis atUl II. /, p..io/a, L a.
Bane, j^., II. /, p. z3/x, I 39.
Banes, j^. » bans (of manriage), II. ff» p. 8/3* 1. 48.
Bangde = beaten, I. a, p. 30/3* L 4.
Bankerout, II. x, p. 7/3, U. 36k 3X.
Bankets, II. A, p. 36, Na 14, 1. 71.
Bankrupts, II. A, p. X5, No. 35, L xa.
Banquerottt, II. K p. 15* No. 36, L 5 } /» p. 7/1, L 45 ;
p. x3/a, L 5a
Baitaiie, horse out of Bavbary, II. h, p. 41/3, No. 3a, L
ax.
Baitaiie sugar, Barbary, II. A. p. 40, Na 35. L 7 • A
p. is/z, L 3a CI I. Henry iv. il 4, L 84, 'in
Barbary it caan^ eome to so much.'.
Bard, v., barde « barred, I. h, p. xx/a, I. 13 ; p. xs/x,
L 38 ; OT, p. xc/a, L 34.
Bare iralhw'd, I. j, p./i8, st. 105.
Barky, I. », p. 6/x, 1. 41.
Barreiwloe, I. s, p. 7, sL 33.
Barst, v., - baredst, I. «, p. x8/x, 1 49.
Base, tf4f*t » low, II. ^, p. 9/3. L 33 ; r, p. 8/x, L 37.
Base, to run at base, and sea baoe « prisoner's base,
I iT, p. 9, SL 98 ; /, p. 9/3, i X7 ; p, 13/x, L 9 ; p.
x6/x, L s ; II. /, p. 6/3. 1 35.
Base Courts •« a base or back or outer court for
hMisehold uses, an inner yard. Ct Batteoom
(Cotgraye). I. 0, p. 9/^. L 39 # H. c, p. x^t, L 14.
* Into the base-court then she did me lead.' Tower
of Doctrine, Percy, Anc. Poet, i. p. X05, Naies.
L <l, p. 4/9. L 3.
Basilethea « a princely goddess, t.«.» RMsabmha by ana-
gram. II. y, p. <o/a, L x; V, p. 5/b 1.38.
nninasiie, II. 0, p: aa/i, L ao; pi ao/a, IL 16^ x8.
Bason, I. tf, p. 4D/3, 1* 33 : P- 4S^* 1* 5«
Bassa = bashaw or p«ha, 11. d, p."S5/i, L 85. Mar-
lowe (Tamb. iix. L, I Xr 'writes 'tossa')
Bate. V. - to abate, II. #, p. d/a, a a^ oa.
Battaile, U. c, p. 30/1, L 3a.
Battailing, ^, a ei|»enditure for food,IL #. p.^ xy/s;, L 9.
AmanatOzfoidwiiofaas things out of <hi9 ooli^ge
buttery, etc, is said to 'battel': hisbllifar«alkge
dues and board are oaHed katSels.
Battel, II. f,p. 3Q/X, L44.
Battle-dooce^ IL /, p. xc/x, L 47.
Bandiie, L tf, p. x6/x. I 33.
Baven, A, « bmsh^wood, I. ^piiQi^ L a9>
Bawble, II. r, xx/x, L xa
Banding, bawles,. v., IL #;.p^6/a. L vj% K 9*^Hf»» ^ 10.
Bay, baye, to bring to bny, I. o^^p.. 38^^, TL 30, 36 ; p.
89/«. 1. 35.
Bay salt, I. j, st* 85, L 4, -iw»rtt.
Bayard, bald, IL A, p. xa. No. .84, 1. 8.
Bayardof ten toes « walk on foot, IL r, p. 14/x, L 9.
He thus distinguishes between, or nther puns upon
the Bayard satu p€nr, etc.. the celebiated hone
Bayard of Riaalda
Bftfo kw maaos «* beso lasmanos, IL «» p# 9/1. L 49^
Beadlame greene, IL m, p. 4/9, 1. 33.
Beadman, Beade-man, IL 0, p. 4/it 1* 14; ^# P^ ^9,
L a ; y; p. xc^ii L sa
Beanrdes, bearards •» bearwards, L j, p. X3» St. xax ;
IL g* P« 7/a. L 10 ; *, p. 11/3, L a3^ p. xa/x. I 3.
Bearde brushes, I. a. p. X5/1, L 55.
Beareward. II. /, p. 14/3. L 37.
Bearewards ape, IL A, p. xa, Na aa, L Z4. The
' beare ' (or ' bearward ') w^i^geocaJIy. aocompttnied
by an ape.
Beare whelpes eye, L a*,, p.- 9/x, 1. 39.
Bebk>t = blot, L </ , p. x^/x, V 31.
Becke. j^.« beck, L ^, p. 5/x, L xa ; A, p, 9/x, ^.56; IL
4, p. 8/a, L 47 ; r, p. la^r, L aa
Bedfellow, IL ^ p. 40, Na 35, L X4 ; Na 37. 1 aa.
Bedight, I. h, p. X3/X. L 90 ; ai. p.. xc/s. L 33.
Bedlem, Bedlam, j^.. I. A, p. 5 (To Reader); p. x6/i
(note) ; IL A. p. 17. Na 41. 1- 8 ;. r, p. jo/x. JL 4a.
Bedlem, as neere as MoQrqgaterrapparently a pro-
verbial expression » quite ck>se,* Bedlam, being in
Moorefiekls.
Bedsteed. I. 0. p. X3/X. L 43.
Beefo. L 0, p. ss/x, 1 aa
Beefes. L a, p. 59/1. L ix ; IL ^ |^ 4771. i x6.
Be^gon, V, m bctgun. II. «« p. jx/a, L ^.
Beetle, adj., I./, p. ax/^ L 17.
Beetle. Beetels, j». « a kind of m«llat , or wooden
hammer (used by paviourst. etfr V ^ « . P.. kV«. L
40 ; p. x6/x, IL 53, 59.
Beetle brain, I. 0, p. 31/3, L 17.
Beetle-browes, I. «, p. 8/x, 1. aa.
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GLOSS ARIAL INDEX.
Beetle-headed - log or kiggev-haadMl, from * baeUe ' as
above, I. / p. x8/a, L 7{ p. 19^3, L ^4: 'faeatle-
headed» flap-eond haawei' ^Taming of Sfarew,
IV. i.)
Beetle-heads, I. d, p. 6/a, L 19 ; p. 31/3, 1. 13 i ^» P> 7/i*
I. 35 ; II. K P^ 38. No. Z9> L 6.
Beeves — okco, II. /, p. zo/i, 1. x8.
Befoole. v.. II. «, p. lo/z, L 44.
Beggar and the King, a popular aong, I. /, p. x8/b, I. za
Beggars cjrosse, I. #, p^ 5/3. L 7 ; g, p. 8/z. L xa
Beggeries, I. 4, p. 8/z, 1. x8.
Begg«rly, I. A, p. 8/3, L 39.
Begon mee, L A, p. 6/3, L ss. Cf. »^., p. 7/z. I. Z4.
'begon thee.'
Begone, v. - b^gua, I. «. p. 09^, L Z9 ; p. 35/1, L 39.
Begnll, v., II. /, p. 13/z, L x6.
Beheader. I. ^, p. 7/z, 1. 33.
Beholding, v.— see Nares, j.v., II. ^. p. X7/z, 1. a ; ^ p.
zz. No. 3z, L 9 ; p. z8, Na 49> 1« 3i ^c.
Behoue, ji^., behovne, bdiofe, bebovve s behoof, I. a,
p. s/i» 1- 36; P- 45^. L 33; p. 45/3, L Z4; p.
3x/z, L ao ; A, p. Z3, L 34, elo. etfi. 'Some behove-
fill law.' Clarendon's Hist, bk. m. p. 303.
Beldam, I. $, p. 5/a, L 33.
Belibeling. II. A, p. 37, No. zs, L 78.
Bell, to beare the, bear the away, I. 0, p. 33/z, 1. x6 ; p.
33/1, L 6 ; p. 49^8, L ID ; ^. p. zo, St. 74. See
Nares. j.v.
Bellawaie— two words run into one, II. k, p. zo/i, 1. 37.
Bell-man, II. /, p. za/a, L 33.
Bell-weether, II. », p. 5/3, 1. z8.
Belly-cheere, I. g, p. zo/a, L 41.
Belly-pleasures, I. ^, p. ^z, L 34.
Bemone, v., I. a, p. 34/3, L 36.
Ben aoaaza, L ^, p. zs/a, L aa.
Bench hole — hole in a W.C, dogge in a, II. 4, p. 47,
No. 53, L 7.
Benoh-whistler— a tippler, orona who idles on an ale-
house bench. See Halliwell, J.V. Query « Whistle
Binkie (Scotch)? II. <*, p. za/z. I. aa
Bended, L if, p. 9/3, L 39 ; II. r. p. 36/x, L 38.
Benedidtie » bless us, salutation— oonmion in Chaucer,
II. c, p. zs/z, L xo (from bottom). Originally and
stiU used by monks, etc.
Benixon, I. j, p. Z4, St. Z4a
Bent, j^., II. r, p. z8/z, L xz.
Beraide, v. — polluted, defiled, I. #, p. 5/3, L 37. ' Ray '
is used several times by Spenser, -* to pollute, #^.
* which with their vifleine feet the streaiM did ray/
—(Visions of Bdlay. Z3, L Z3.)
Berard — bearward, II. s, p. tafi, L 7.
Berent. I. «, p. 34/a, L 39.
Berlady s» by our Lady (Idary), II. c, p. 4C/8, L 38.
Beseeme, I./ p. sz/s, L z8.
Beset. I. /, p. 4/1. U- 39. 40-
Bashrew. v., L 0, p. 8/z, L 7 ; /, p. 4/a, L z ; II. », p.
zi^a, L 40.
Beshrow, v., beshrowe, I. a, p. ao/s, L 16 ;/, p. 33/2. 1. 4.
Besmeered, oifr., II. 0, p. 19/3, 1. 33.
, II. o, p. a^z, 1. 4z.
Bestranght, I. a, p. 35/3, L a8.
Bestrowed, v., I. a, p. 4C/3, L 33.
Betresse * Beatrice, L ^ , p. 8/z, 1. aa.
Better cheape (and see * good cheape '), I. g, p, 4/3, L z.
To Reader ; IL «, p. 9/a, L 3. It is a comparative
of 'good cheap.' 'Cheap' is the Saxon for
' market,' and thus as Nares says. ' good cheap ' is
the exact equivalent of dom marekd. When ' good
cheap' was shortened to 'cheap,' 'better cheap'
became ' dieaper.'
Be-whore, v., I. #, p. 7/3, 1. zr.
Bewray, v., bewraies, I. d, p. Z3/3, 1. 33 ; /, p. 8/z, 1. Z3.
Bewtifie, II. c, p. 36/z, 1. 37.
Bezoles manos * Besar las manos. i,e. to kiss the hands
or curtesie k la EspalioL Query— is 'unbrasings
downe to knee' — the Spanish curtesie ' to Idas the
feet'? I. «, p. zz/z, L Z7.
Bid, v., I. 0, p. 38/z, 1. sz.
Bkl, V. - abided, I. c, p. 7, St. 70.
Bidde, v, « bade, II. e, p. 45/z, L 35.
Bide, v., I. 0, p. 36/z, L Z3 ; p. 60/3, L 8.
Rilkunents sb ornaments of a woman's head or neck.
I. 0, p. z5/z, L 53. (Baret's Alvearie. 1580.) See
Halliwdl, J.V.
Billing, adj,, I. n, p. za/z, L 461
Billing, v., II. it p. zo/z, L 4Z.
Birders, byrdcrs — swanhoppers, II. x, p. 13/3. 1. 3.
Bite her penne, I. a, p. 5/3, 1. 3a Cf. Sidney ' Biting
my trewand pen.' (A. and St., st z.)
Bitter-sweet, j*. - wood night-shade, II. A, p. 51, Na
63. L z.
Black bagge. 11./, p. 8/z. L 4.
Black-dust, II. /, p. 7/3, L 8.
BlackHnoore, IL r, p. z5/z, 1. z6 ; u, p. Z4/3. 1. z6.
Black-puddinge, II. «'. p. za/x. 1. zz.
Black swanne, II. g, p. 5/x, L z6.
Blacke art. II. f, p. zz/z. L 38.
Blaines. I. g^ p. 8/a, L 33.
Blasphemous, 1. b, p. zz/z, 1. 49.
Blase, v., I. 0, p. ay/a, L 36.
Bleakes. fish so called, II. ^, p. 7/3, L Z5 ; p. zz/z. 1. 3.
Kersey says 'Ueak or blay, a small eager [thin?]
freshwater fish.'
Blee, a, - ookMr, 1. /, p. 7/a, L ss. • How bright she
is of blee.' (Greene's * George-a-Greene/ p. 364.)
See id,t p. 367. So Thomas Adams, l 55.
Blesse, v., to bless fix>m, II. ^, p. zz/3, 1. 33 ; p. Z3/Z, L
46 ; r, p. 34/3, 1. 8 ; II. A, p. Z3, No. 34. 1. 9.
Blesse, v.. to blesse out of, II. k, p. 33, No. 7Z, L X3.
Blew " blue, T. 0, p. Z4/3, 1. 57.
Blew-coat— common phnue then for a servant, IL h, p.
37. No. z6. L 47.
Blind bridaile- obscure marriage feast. II.*, p. ao/x, 1. z8.
BUnd chappell. II. g^ p. 8/3. L 35— qu. unauthorised.
where payment was expected hi support ?
Blissed, I. c, p. 5, st. 40.
Blisdnge, «»., blissinges. I. r. p. 4, st 3a ; p. 6. st. 53 ;
p. 8, St. 77 ; p. 9, St. 88.
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8
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Blocke, sb., I. 0, p. 53/z, L 45 ; II. k, p. 8/z, L 48.
Bloodied, v., I. «, p. 6/1, L 43.
Blood-raw, I. /, p. 9/3, 1. 25.
Bloods, II. /, p. zi/z, L 43.
Blowe, v., II. d^ p. 7/fl, L 37.
Blowes, J^.. I. /, p. az/a, L 5a.
Blubbred, I. d, p. 14/1, 1 36.
Blusheth, v. ir. = verb active • graces with a blush, II.
€> P- 9M !• 3^* II> Henry vi., iil a.
Bobs, V. bobs for eeles, II. /, p. Z3/X, L aa.
Bodies, si, — bodice, II. b, p. Z9/3, 1. 5a
Boldmng, v., I. ^, p. Z4/Z, 1. 35.
Bole, sd, » bowl, I. a, p. 36/3, L za.
Bole armonick * bole armoniac, II. c, p. 39/z, L 19.
Bolt, J*., I. «, p. 6/z, L Z7.
Bones, to make little bones of, made Uttle of it, II. e. p.
39/z, 1. 8. This expression is used by Bp. Andrewes
in a sermon (v. p. 60) : ' some say Omnia mihi
licent, and so it be not condemned as unlawful,
make no bones of it' » scruple or difficulty, i,e, of
swallowing something whole : conversely, we say
' this sticks in my throat/ i.€, we do make bones
of it.
Bongraces, I. a, p. zs/z, L 50.
Bony-Kate - Bonny-Kate, I. s, p. 7, st. 3Z ; p. zs, st
Z09.
Bo-peepe. to play at, II. k, p. 49, No. 58, h 16; i, p.
8/z, L 4B.
Bodce, v., I. i, p. Z3/3, 1. 34.
Booke, spell him with booke = spell (or understand)
him with certainty, II. i, p. 7/3, L 3.
Booke-matters, II. i, p. 6/3, 1. 33.
Booke oath, II. r. p. 57/x, 1. 7.
Booke within booke, II. i, p. 7/3, L 3.
Boorde, borde - table, 1. a, p. Z7/Z, 1. 53 ; p. Z7/3, L 33.
Boordes = floor, I. b, p. zz/z, 1. 34.
Boote, J*., I. a, p. 57/3, L 4Z ; *, p. zo/3, L 39 ; II. c,
p. Z7/3, L 33.
Bootes, v., booteth, I. », p. Z3/3, L 34 ; p. a6/3, 1. Z9.
BooUes, I. /, p. Z4/z. 1. 8.
Bord. V. - to accost, II. », p. 7/z, L 7. Fr., aborder.
Borde, see boorde = table.
Bore, sb. - boar, II. c, p. Z4/3, L 35 ; p. 40/z, 11. 31,
26; n,p, Z4/Z, L 3.
Borough, s», - burrow. I. /, p. 9/3, L SS J »» P- «>/»»
L 38 ; II. /, p. 7/a. 1- 14 J P» 9/a. 1- 7. etc
Boson = boatswain, I. i, p. z6/3, L az.
Botcher, II. », p. Z4/3, L Z4.
Bottle^le, II. A. p. 50, No. 63, 1. X9.
Botae4iose, II. ^, p. 7/3, 1. 45 ; A, p. 50, No. 63, L 30.
Bottle-red, II. », p. 7/ii !• 4^'
Boult, v., II. c, p. S9/i» >• 14*
Bounce, II. /, p. 6/3, L Z9.
Bowby = booby, L j, p. Z3, st. Z3Z.
Bowe, to bring to bowe, II. c, p. z8/z, L zo^
* And eke to January he goth as lowe
As euer did a dogge for the bowe.'
(Chaucer, Cant. Tales, 9888).
bowed - bent, II. A. p. 33, No. 68, 1. X4.
Bowes, sb, * boughs, I. a, p. 54/z. 1. 5.
Box, plies the, I. m. p. 6/a, L ss. Query-— the mcuning
used as in Christmas box ? or = deceives and casts
slei£^ts?
Brabble, v.. II. /, p. zo/a, 1. 54.
Brabbler, I. st, p. 9/3. 1. 6.
Brack, sd. = break, crack, flaw, II. c, p. 37/3, L 47.
' No brecM was euer found in her veil, so spotless
was her conversation.' (Fuller's Holy State, p. 37.)
Bmg, dog's name, II. », p. 7/z, L 49. Of. the old pro-
verb, ' Brag isagood dog, but Hold£utisa better.'
Brags, s6., brag, I. ^, p. 97/3, L aa ; II. A, p. ai, No. 59,
1. za.
Breine-labours, II. u, p. zz/a, L 53.
Bnunes, to beat the, I./, p. ao/z, L 44 ; A, p. 8/a, L Z5 ;
it, p. 7/z, L 33 ; II. «, p. zo/3, 1. a.
BrainsKke, brainesicke, I. a, p. 42/1, L z ; p. 58/1, L 19 ;
p. 53/z, L 8.
Branne, sd, * bran, I. r, p. 4/z, L 33.
Brase, v., I./, p. 34/3, L 8.
Brast, V. — burst, I. a, p. z8/z. L 34.
Braue, j^. a a bravo, II. u, p. 7/a, 1. 3.
Braue, ad;\» brauest, I. a, p. iz/z, L 47 ; p. z^/z, L z7 ;
p. xz/z, L ao; </, p. 8/3, L 4.
Braue, v. s to boast, brau'd, I. #, p. 6/z, L 44 ; ^, p.
zo/a, L 8 ; II. j, p. Z4/Z, 1. z.
Braue, v., to braue it, II. i, p. z6/a, L 33.
Brauerie, brauery, I. a, p. zz/3, IL 38, 57 ; p. 14/ 1, 1. 5 ;
/, p. az/a, L 33 ; p. 34/3, 1. Z3, etc.
Brauely, adv„ I. a, p. zz/3, 1 56 ; p. z4yz, L 43.
Braun £alne, I. d, p. Z3/3, 1. Z9. See ' Brawn feOne:'
Brawles, j;^., I. a, p. 3o/z, L 37.
BrawUng, tr., farawles, II. /, p. Z4/3, U. 8, la
Brawn, I. A, p. 8, L 43.
Brawn £alne — emaciated, I. A. p. 8/z, L 44. Cf.
Farquhar's ' Inconstant,' L
Brazed, adj, — brasened, II. r, p. Z3/Z, L 3z. Barrow
(Serm. Z4), ' foreheads broMfd and hearts steeled
against all blame.'
Bread-chipps, read 'chipper,' II. /, p. 16, L 96 (Notes).
Breake, v., to breake day * to £ail in paying boirowed
money on the appointed day, II. A, p. 39, No. az,
L Z3 ; p. 4a, No. 33, I 6 ; i, p. Z3/1, 1. 4Z.
Break day = not keep time in paying, II. g, p. 13/z, 1.
4 (from bottom).
Breake, v. - to burst, II. o» p. 9/a» 1- 40-
Breake-neck, I./, p. a^s. 1. 48.
Breake wedlodL See Bib. Eng., p. 367.
Breakes, without his fiut, II. r, p. zo/z, 1. 15.
Break-hart, sb., II. /. p. 9/1* ^ lo-
Breaking =s Calling, II. s, p. 7/3, 1. 36.
Breech, v., I. a, p. 7/3, 1. 44 ; p. Sz/3, L 5.
Breech, sK I. a, p. 49/i» 1-39;/, p. 84/3. L 34.
Breeches, to wear the, II. f , p* 7/^1 ^ 53*
Breere, breares, brcers - briars, I. a, p. 13/ai ^ 49 ;
p. 34/a. 1. 39 ; / p- ai/i' 1- 46 ; n. t, p. 35/1, 1. 9.
Brewes, brewess, bruesse, II. b, p. zq/z, 1. 38.
Bribrie, I./ p. 8/x, 1. 3X.
Bride, v., II. i, p. lo/d, 1. 3Z.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Bride cupk II. /, p. 9/9, L 40.
Bride-ale feast, I. #, p. 13/1, L 10— word ooonn oon-
tinnaUy in Jonscm's ' Tale of a Tub,' bnt as a sub-
stantive. Comiptioii of ' Bridall,' easily made,
because ale was common at these feasts.
Bridewell booke, hf, p. az/s, L aS.
Brittany, I. r, p. 5/a, L 41.
BritUynes, I. r, p. 5/a, L 41.
Broad4ieaded, II. /, p. 6/3, L 31.
Broages — brogues, ooaxse shoes, L #, p. 6/1, 1 34.
Brock s a badger, I. n, p. zo/z, 1. 35.
BrodersB broader, II. ^, p. 7/z, L zz.
Broke, v., hath broke, I. r, p. 3/a, L 6.
Broke, v., see to breake his day, II. g, p. Z3/z, L 95.
Bioker, I. j, p. 9, sL 6a
Broking, j;^., II. k, p. z8, No. 46, L za.
Brooke, v., brook, farookt, II. €, p. 49/9, 1. 43 : P* 5</^*
1* 9 ; A* P- 5z> No. 64, L Z3.
BrowB'bred crtunmes, I. #, p. 8/z, L zy*
Brown loafe gape, II. b, p. z8/a, 1. 4.
Browne, f^., I. j, p. 6^ st za.
Browse, j*., II. ^, p. 7/a, L zs.
Broyles « broils, tumults, II. », p. z^ L 95.
Braer, sb, - brewer, I. «« p. 58/3. 11. 59, 53 ; j, p. zo, st.
85.87.
Brues, v„ I. ^, p. zz, sL 87.
Bruesse, st,, and see brewes, II. s, p. 9/z, L z6.
Bruse, sb. -» bndae, I. tf, p. zo/z, L 8.
Brusher, II. c, p. sg/z, 1. 99^
finitely, query « bruitly, t.#. mdely, or not eourteoosly,
II. €, p. Z7/9, L 39. Cf. Macbeth. ▼. 7, 'By this
great clatter one of greatest note seems bruited.'
See our Sylvester Ol Index, lv. s roughly. Halli-
wdl has a probably corrupt form of ' Bmtal '—
'bmttle, farions, wild:' 'brute,' rough, roughly.
Richardson, !.«., quotes 'brutdy' from Milton's
' Tetrachordon.' It would therefore seem to come
from 'brute.'
Bruse, v. « bruise, I. «, p. az/z, L 59.
Bryres, I. /, p. z8/9, 1. 9.
Buckes, washing of, II. A, p. 9/z, L 9Z.
Buckes, sb., a quantity of [foul] linen to be washed or
bucked (ct Meny ^^ves), II. €, p. 40/9, 1. 53.
Budget, II. b, p. 9/9, 1. 53 ; <>» P- a^». *• 45.
Buffie leather, IL g, p. 9/z, L 93.
Buide - busy, I. r, p. 4/1* 1* 9&
Bulbegger, II. e, p. 59/9, L 45.
Bull beefe, II. /, p. zo/9, L 94.
BuUockes home, I. s, p. 6, st 96.
Bumble bee, goodwife Bumble bee, II. g, p. Z9/z, L 4Z.
Bunting, I. g, p. zo/9, L 39 ; II. €, p. 69/z, L 99 ; 1, p.
^x.1.9.
Bunting, to take a bunting for a lark, to know a bunt-
ing from a lark, I. /, p. 93/9, L 95 ; II. s, p. Z3/9,
La.
Buonaventure, I. b, p. Z5/9, 1. 8 ; p. z6/9, L 38.
Burden, «^. »bordel or bordeOo - a brothel (Fr.), II.
h, p. zz/z, L 49. See Bailey's Diet, s.v,
Burgamaster, II. t» p. 7/r, L z.
. P- 7/1.
Buigar — buigfaer, II. >', p. 7/z, L z.
Bnigonet, buigonettes » a kind of helmet (Nares, s.v,),
without a beaver, and probably from its form in
'et' smaller, II. d, p. z5/z, 1. 6 ; p. 96/T, 1. 98 ; p.
97/9, L 33.
Bume, v., to bume daylight, II. /, p. 5/z, L 37.
Burrough, Ji^. « burrow, II. b, 9/9, 1. 49.
Burst, V, — broken, I. a, p. 9/9, L 49.
Bush, good wine needs no bush, II. «, p. 5 ; j,
L96.
Bussing, v., I. o, p. Z3/Z, L 39.
Bussle, II. /, p. Z3/Z, L 5.
But - only. I. k, p. Z3/Z, L 6 ; j, p. 15, st. 153 ; /, p.
Z8/9, IL 97, 99.
Buts, sb.t II. e, p. zo/z, L 3Z.
Butteiy, II. t, p. Z5/Z. L 36.
Buttons, i»., aowers of ' double white Campion ' (Parkin-
son)—various species of Lychnis, ranunculus, etc.,
I. a, p. zz/a. L 46 ; < p. 3/9, L Z9.
Buttrie, IL e, p. 58/9, L 49.
Busing, V. =s bussing, I. 0, p. 97/z, L 6b
Bussard s: coward, I. e, p. zz/z, 1. 4 7 P* ^a/a, 1. Z9 ;
4, p. Z0/9, L 4. etc 'An old man's shadow is better
than a bossard's sword.' (Geo. Hertxrt's Jacula
Prud.) : does not know a Bussard from a Hawlke
= synonym of dulness or stupidity : corrects note
in loco, I./ p. 9g/9, L 47.
Bussard Kite. I. g, p. zo/a, L 3Z ; II. r. p. 8/z, 1. 33 ;
J, p. Z3/9, L 7.
Busses, to make busses in the brain, II. «, p. zz/z, L 37.
Busseth, v., I. h, p. za/z, L z6.
By *- as^dnst about, concerning (to say ill by me), IL
e, p. 61/9, L zz. See Bib. Eng., p. 80 » of or con.
cerning, with (generally) an unlavourable meaning.
Cf. ' censure ' fonneriy only opinion or judgment
good or bad, bnt now bad or unfiivourable only.
Simihurly ' retaUation,' ' resent' etc etc Cf. z Cor.
iv. 4, ' For I Imow nothing by mysdf.'
Bjrace, sb, — Mas hi bowls, IL /, p. zo/a, L 39.
By-ace, j^. ^ byace, II. h, p. 6/1, 1. 49.
By and by s immediately, I. a, ip. 7/9, U. S*. 55 ; P*
49/9, L 8 ; p. Z8/9, L 40. etc
Bydes, v. — bids, I. /, p. Z4/9, L z8.
^e and mayne, I. a, p. 98/z, L Z4. Here is a good
example of this |duase :—
'Awl waggM mnst «ag, m
Awl gamiten plot for gaiM :
Who likM not of hi« chanoe
Take by to hdpe the maiae:'
From 'Bacon's Prophesle,' Z604 (Haslitt's 'Early
Pbpubur Poetry,' iv. a86). Two throwsof thedice
in hasaid and gresoo are so called.
By great - wholesale, IL h, p. 37, No. z6, L 35.
^-past, IL k, p. 5Z, Na 66k L 6.
^^wit L 9, p. 7/9, L 54. 'By-ends' is weD known
from the * Pilgrim's Progress.* Nares, s.v„ quotes
' By-arts ' from Cartwrlght
By your laanes, j^., II. «, p. zo/z, L j^
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10
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Byrders, and see Birder$, II. /, p. 14/9, L 90.
Byrding. and see Birding, II. b^ p. 13/8, 1. 17.
Cabins « a cottage, II. b, p. 90/g, 1. 04.
Cackling, II. /, p. ii/i , 1. 23.
Cage, sb, =» cage for impoonding bad cbaiact^rs, II. b,
p. 17/1, L 13. StiUacant word for a 'prison.'
Cake, a cake and a pot, II. A, p. 23. No. 68, I. za
Cake, her cake was dowe, II. ^, p. 17/9, 1. la
CaUes, cawles, cawle, I. a, p. 15/1, L 53 ; p. 30/^ L 25.
Calue-akinne gk>ves. II. g, p. 8/1, L 33.
Caroamill, I. tf, p. ii/a, 1. 33.
Canapy. II. r, p. 14/1, 1. 3.
Canayery = knavery, II. i. p. 8/a, 1. 96.
Cancro—an Italian inpfeoation, II. <« p. 6a/Vt L xi.
See Cbapman's ' Widow's Tears.' Act v.
Candles of the nigl^t, \. b, p. 94/1, 1. 36 ; <f, p. 9/a, 1. 36 ;
0, p. x8/x, L xa.
Candlesticke, ca]M to, II. ^ , p. 57/z, I. 6.
Candkatioke, swome tothe, II. c, p. 5^1, L 33 : P- 57/x.
1. 3. As it aeems to mean that such a one is vowed
to speak well of ladies, perhaps it is a Protestant Q)
punning allusion to the htessing of candles on the
Purification^ the Blessed Vligin (a Fc^.).
Canker, sb., cancker » rus^, I. b, p. i^x* t 33 ; p» x6/9,
1. 4 ; IL if. p. X4/9, L 33 i », p. x<Va, I 19. See
Bib. Eng., p. X38.
Cankied. OMHskiffd. a4j\, I. a, p. 38/2, L 39; p. 39/a, 1.
X9 ; P- S8/a. L 30 ; <^» P .xx/a, I xs ; ^, p. S/a. t 36.
etc
Canuassados, I. ^, p. xg^s, L 24. A mistake for ' cam!-
sado ' or a sudden night attack—so called from the
custom of waving their sl^jbis (Sp. camisa) over
their other ck>thejB.
Cap, tb», cappes - bows, aalntatipns, I. a, p. xx/x. L 19 ;
n. ^, p. 7l9, 1 x6 ; •, p. 7/x. L 3a J p. xa/i, L 54.
Capa di buen Spcxanza, I. b, p. 15/a, I ao.
Cape of ill Hope, II. j, p. g/x, L x$.
Cappc. v„ I. b, p. xx/i. L 9.
Capper, sb„ one who doffs his cap as a salute, II. / p.
S/9. L a8.
Capping, sbn II, >, p^ 8/2. L 44.
Capphig, adj., I. m, p. 9/x, L xx.
CapUuated. v., II. A, p. 59, No. 67, L 5.
Card, v., carde >■ to |^y at eards, L «, p. 7/1, L 3X ; p.
96/9, 1. s ; g, p. 6/x, 1. 96.
Card of tenne, I. f, p. 9/9, L 9.
Card, run the course of our card, II. m, p. xo/a, 1. 94.
Nans {s.v. ) being in enor, it may be as well to note
that card is m chart, »ai the compass. So also in
Ben Jonson's NepL Triumphs.
Carding, sb., crooe canUog, IL d, p. »sl^, L 96 ; / p.
€/x. 1. IX.
Care » scruple [v.), 1, M, p. xo/a, L 8.
Care away, caxuaway, I. a. p. 3x/x, 1. 34 ; II. t, p. 9/x,
L 17. 'Wanton yonkcrs and wiUull oareawayes.'
(Toubhstooe of Conplodgns, p. 99, 1575.) *
Carefiill » fiill of care, I. b, p. jgfu, t x ; p. aO/x, 1. 18 ;
d, p. 6/x, L X4; p. x3Bf^ L 3,.etc. See Bfc. Sag^
p. lOX.
Cariage, carriage, that wfaidi is carried, burden,
Inggage, I. b, p. xg/a, L 38 ; II. c, p. 96/9, L xo.
Acts zzL X5 : We took op cnr carriages. See Bib.
Eng., p. 1x8.
Cariage, sb., caridge, carria0B s bdbariour, I. a p* xa/t,
L X4; p. X4/X, L 39; J, p. 19, SL 107; II. #, p.
15/x, L 51 ; «, p. ^^ L so; ^, p. 4S> No. 38, 1. 48,
etc.
Carie, V. = cany, I. «, p. 18/2, L aa.
Carke, sb., I. a, p. 7/x, L xo.
Cadcing, v., LA p. 97/x, L 94.
Carie, sb., I. a, p. 55/9, L 13 ; p. 58^, L 99.
Carrein, adj. — carrion, I. b, p. 8/9^ L 38 ; ^, p. xx/x, 1.
X7. * This town of St Mak> hath ... dogs wfaidi
are let out in the night to . • . eat the^afrMiupand
down the street' (Howdl, bk. ii. f x, letter aa)
Cart-horse, 11./, p. ^2, L sx.
Casheerd, v., 11. i, p. 19/9, L 34.
Cast, J*., II. 4, p. 6/x, L 43-
Castles in the aine, L €, p. 13/9, L 16;/, p. 9^9, 1. 36 ;
II. A, p. 48, No. 54, L xa
Cat, to turn the cat in the pan, I. #, p. 7/x, L 35. See
Notes and Queries, s.m^ fiaoon'a illustiation in
Nares and our note Is «alf oae pattimhir use nT
the phrase, and HaOhvell says rightly when hecalb
it in a way a topsy-turvy changes No one vfao
has seen the opention can doobt thai it is fism
dexterously turnuig a 'cate *(8udi as pancakes or
fritten) in a peiL
Cax, to make a cat speak, II. A, p. sOi Na 6a i aa
Cf. Shakespeare's Tempest it ii, L 86: and
Dickens' * Talk, miss 1 it's cnoi^ to UMke a Tom
cat speak Fjrench gramoiar only to aee how she
tones her head.' (Nioh. NkkelKe. xa.)
Catcht, V. — caught, I. #, p. iz/a. L 34 ; IL x, p. X3/1,
1.3.
Cates, I. a, p. 17/1. L S3 ; P- S4/a, L 33 1 P- 5S/x. L 7 ;
b, p. xz/x, L 38 ; «, p. xx/a, L 99^ etc.
Cattel, IL /, p. xo/x, L 3.
Caualieros, 1. b, p. 19/3, L 51 ; IL b, p. X4/X, L 4a
Caned, v. » at home In their dens, II. /, p. lai^ 1 17.
Cauiary * caviare, II. u, p. X4/a, L 5.
Causey, causie, L a, p. 4/1,1x4; IL b, p. X3/9, L 35 ;
p. 16/9, 1. 15. See Bib. Eog,, pp. 995, 978.
Cawle, L f , p. 9/a, L 53 ; II. ^ p. 94. No. 73, L 9. See
Bib. Eng., p. aaS.
Caytifci sb., L a, p. 97/x, L 99.
Cease, v. s to cause tocease, IL A, p. ax. No. 6a L 7.
Cease, cease, v. - to seise, 1. b, p. 14/2, L 40 • iT. p.
X0/2, L X9.
Ceisd •« seised, L m, p. 7/x, L 39.
Censure, **., 1. A, p. 16/1 (note) ; tt, p. X9/x, I X5 ; IL
g, p. 4/9, 1. 36 ; /, p. 4/x, 1. 9.
Censure, v., IL /, p. X5/9, 1. 43.
Cernation «t oamation oolonr, 1. a, p. 14/x, L 57.
Cestenie*dstem, IL i», p. x^a. L 51 ; pi 1^1, 1 3X, etc.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
II
Chafe tr., I. tf, p. 6/a, L ay ; p. 99/s. L X4 ; *, p. 15/1.
L 7 ; /, p. aa/2, L 41 ; '. P- ". «*• 96-
QuuninK fauis, L A» p. 13/1. L i?— 'wlio £A«/» bited
youths in trammels of their bilr.' (Greene's 'Groats-
woith of Witp' p^ 31a) CX PtHpe's RAp» of the
Lock^iLLaa.
ChaUBe,i».-9Dore (masked irtthcteUO. I.
Chalke, make the diaUie walk apaee =» iAcieaaet the
eoore, IL /, p. ^r, L 3.
Chalke, v., I./ p. si/i, L 5.
Chamber-lye->ttriike, II, #, p. xa/z, L 14. Cf. z Hen.nr.ii. z.
Champes upoa his -ciiAfie, I. #, p, ^i, L a ; >(, p. 8/a,
Laa.
ChangeUng, II. il, p. 44, No. 4a, L zo ; p. 50. No. 60,
L zo ; «f , p. 5/a, L 3.
Chapman, Chapmen, II. #, p. 9/a, L z ; ^, p. zo/i, L
S ; p. zs/z, L Z9 ; A, p. 7, No. 6^ L za ; / p. zx/a.
L 45 ; ^. P- 9/1. !• 9 ; A p. zs/z, L zz.
Chappes, j*., II. g, p. za/z. L 50.
Chaps, I. 0, p. 55/s, IL z, 37.
Character, v., It q, p. 4ya, L Z7.
ChaiBctered, II. q, p. ^a, L 18.
Charactering, i#., II. q, p. 4/B, L a8.
Ch^tie - four syllables, I. k, p. Z3/Z. I. za So Spenser
(Raines of Time), 'Immoftalitie.'
Chaime, j;^., of birds, 11. A p. 8/x, 1. 4z ; p. 9/a, 1. Z4.
See Notes and Queries, 5 S. vii. pp. ao7, a57.
Charme, j^., II. /, pi z4/a, L 3.
Chary, charie, I. b, p. zz/z, L Z5 ; f, p. 5/z. 1. 33 ; II. A,
p. 6, Na 4, 1 3.
Charyiy, charfly — carefully. I. «, p. 34/a. 1. zi ; ^. p.
8/z, L 43 ; IL A, p. 8, No. zo, L 7- 'He diarily
locked it up in a box/ (Fuller's Ch. Hist., zi za5,
ir39.)
Chase, 1^., L a, p. 38/1, IL 9, Z3, Z5 ; p. 39/t, L zo.
Chauing — chewing, adj,^ I. tf, p. z6/3, 1. 4Z.
Chaunging^ adf, — changmg, I. ^, p. zz/a, L az.
Chaunticlers, chaunticleere, I. #, p. ^a, L zz ; 7, p.
6/1. L ss ; n. J, p. za/a, IL z6, 33.
Cheapside, Cheapeside, I. a, p. z4/z, IL Z4, a8 ; II. /, p.
zo/z, L 5z ; p. zo/a, L z6.
Cheater — knave, II. g, p. Z3/Z, L za
Checking, ti., II. «, p. 7/^, L 34.
Checks, sb,t I. a, p. 30/z, L 37.
Cheere == fiice, L /, p. zo/a, L Z3. See Bib. Eng., p. a68.
Cheering — keeping cheer, hospitality, II. /*. p. 7/a, 1. as.
Cheese for chalke/ \,f, p. z9/r, L Z9.
Cheme, cheame • chum, II. ^, p. ao/z, L z ; ^ , p. 43/1,
>.7;p. S9/».l. i«.
Cbenie-oheekt, II. A, p. 34, No. 8, L z8.
Cbeny^ed, I* «, p. z3/t, L as.
Chew their cnddCB, I. «, p. 7/a, L 56.
ChOde — fellow, I. / Is. Z9/a, L 3 from bottom. Scodce.
ckteL The ' fellow ' may be a ' knight' even sudk
as\Anhar of romaaoe:
ChiUiBg cheere, I. ^, p. 6, st 48.
Chine, jA. (of poric), II. ir, p. i5ili^^ L Z9. Considered
the most delioate part of the pig.
Chinning, v., 11. r, p. Z7/Z, 1. 33.
Chip, sk. — beam, with play on words, II. q, p. 7/a,
Las.
Chippuig, II. /, p. zs/z, L z6.
Chirip— noticeable form, I. «, p. 6/z, L aa (from bottom).
C£ Sbep. CaL June : Browne ' Urn Burial,' c. 4 :
noon and veib a &vourite with Cowper.
Cbiruigian, chiniigions, II. 9, p. as/a, U. 7, Z4 ; q, p.
^a, L 48 ; p. 8/z, L az ; r, p. 7/z, 1. zs ; p. 9/*.
L 39, etc.
ChoUer, II. c, p. Z4/Z, L 36 ; p. 61/1, IL 7, ao.
ChoUick. II. #, p. 5/^. L 4a
Chop logic, II. f, p. zz/z, L a6.
Chopping, v., I. 0. p. a4/z, L az ; II. /, p. 8/z, 1. as.
Chopping dialke, I. j, p. zo, st. 83. Was this a
punishment at the Spittle House, like picking
oakum or other task-work ? The dust from it would
' spoUe her complexion,* or is it =s in prison she
would be chaste perforce? Cf. Reply to Ladle's
and Bachetor's Petitkm (HarL Misc. iv., 438):
Farquhar, Constant Couple, Act v. : and the In-
constant, Act ii.
Chough — not = a crow, but of the genus ccrvtts, II. s, p.
z^z, L z6.
Christ his Crosse, I. b, p. z4/a, 1. Z9.
Christes Crosse, I. o, p. Z3/Z, 1. 34 ; II. b, p. z7/a, 1. 3s ;
u, p. 9/z, L 9.
Christe Crosse rowe, II. c, p. 37/z, L 31-
Chuffe, sb,, I. /, p. 6/z, L z ; «, p. 9/a, L 39 ; II. e,
p. 48/a. L 40 ; ^, p. za/z, L 53 ; / p. 7/a, 1. 51.
See Nazes, s.v,, under 'chuff head.'
Church-man, men = Claqgy, I. b, p. Z7/Z, L 47 ; 0, p.
zs/a. L Z7 ; IL i, p. 9/z, L 9 ; p. za/a, L s©.
Churle == covetons, II. /, p. za/z, IL 49, s^. See Bib.
Eng., p. Z84. SonUdo in * Every Man out of his
Humour* is a capital specimen of the churl re-
ferred to here. But qu.— is it not here used as = a
rustic of pocH* or mean descent and estate and ill-
mannered, and the same word as ' carle' ?
Ciphers, cypher, I. b, p; Z4yz, L Z9 ; i», p. 8/a, L 48 ; II.
b, p. zs/z, L a8 ; p. Z7/Z, L a6.
Citteme, dttem. dttron, I. a, p. 40/r, 1. z7 ; p. 46/a, L
8 ; II. b, p. z6/z, L z6 ; c, p. z6/3, 1. ao ; A, p. 4a,
No. 3a, L 27.
Quilitie, II. o, p. a3/z, L 37.
Ciuillian, I. 5, pi 8, st. S3.
Clap, sb, — stroke or blow, I. a, p. 8/t, L 8.
Clapping handes, I. «, p. za/z, 1. 43.
Clapt, v^., v., II. g, p. Z2/Z, L 37.
Clarke. II. 1, p. za/z, L Z3.
Ckiw, v., I. it p. 6/a, L 45.
Ckiw a back, IL i, p. 8/z, L 43 ; p. 8/a, 1. 83.
Qawbacke, sb, - flatterer, II. Jk, p. 8/a, L z. 'A claw
back parasite.' (Hall's Sat, vi. L 43.) So Latimer,
p. zflo, and Fuller's Ch. Hist, iv. Z97, margin and
play on it, vL 3za : also St. State, p. Z37.
Cleered, adj„ II. d, p. a^z, L 43.
Qerke - derk (or Church) or Parish Qcrk, II. s, p.
8/z, L 9 ; », p. i^i. L 39.
Cliffe (in musk:), II. /, p. 7/a, 1. 3.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Oim of the dough, I. ^> p. S/^f t 34« See the ^Olad
on.
Climing, v., dime, I. h, 8/a, L 4a ; 4, p. 9/a, L 40 ; 0, p.
7/1. L 40.
Climiiig Climate, born under the, II. m, p. ii/a, I. aa
Clipping (of money), II. h, p. i8/x, L 33.
Clish, dash, imitative word. II. c, p. 38/1, L 5a Sir
R. Fanshawe has, ' The sUsh dash of their swords.'
Cloathes, pronounced dd&thCs, L i, p. la, st. 104,
106.
Qoaths - doths, II. h, p. 15, Na 35, IL 8. 33.
Clodce-henne^ I. j, p. xo, st. 8x.
Qocking, v. = ducking, II. /, p. 9/1, L xz.
Qogge of care, II. r, p. zo/i, L ao (from bottom).
Close-catchers » privy or secret catchers, II. /, ^* 5/a,
L32.
Clout, sd.srza, bit, or rag, or piece, used for messful pur-
poses, as ' dish-clout,' II. c, p. 43/1, L 8.
Clouted shooe, dowted, I. /, p^ 5/3, L 30 ; II. «, p. lo/a,
La4.
Clownifie, v., II. tr, p. 7/3, 1. 3a.
Qownifyhig, adj,, II. ir, p. 8/3, L 38.
Clowtes, j^., I. /, p. 5/1, L 38.
Cloy, v., I. d, p. ill, L ao.
Coale-house, I. a, p. 16/1, 1. 15.
Coarse = corse, II. jf, p. 8/a, II. x6, 33.
Coate, i^., one of your ooate, profession (or trade), II.
A, p. xo, No. 14, L 33.
Coate, with four dboes, II. A, p. 33, No. 8, 1. 9.
Coate armours, II. r, p. a6/3, 1. 4a
Cobbled, II. /. p. 9/1, 1. a6.
Cock, 'tis cock, I. a, p. 30/1, L 38. See Note.
Cock horse (b^gar on a), I. e, p. 7/3, 1. sa.
Cock master, II. j, p. xsi/a, 1. 3X.
Cockaurice, I. c, p. 3, st. 4 ; d, p. 6/1, L aa ; II. / p.
7/3, 1. Sx ; /, p. x4/x, L IS ; r, p. ia/3, L xo.
Cock-boat. I. ^, p. 5/3, L 8.
Cocke (of hay), II. c, p. 59/1, 1. 9.
Cockes of game, I. d, p. 8/3, L a8 ; ^, p. lo/a, L 33 ; II.
p. 8/3, 1. 39.
Cockes bones, II. ^, p. 7l», L 41. See Nares under
' Cock ' for a good note.
Cockes my bones, II. c, p. 40/3, L 49.
Cockes-combe, oocks-combe, I. s, p. 6, st. 13 ; II. d, p.
9/1, L I ; *, p. 47. No. 49, 1. X4; *, p. xo/x, L sa;
J, p. xa/s, L X3.
Cocke shoote, II. /, p. xo/a, 1. ao.
CodK-stride, II. /, p. 7/3, 1. 40—
'At New Veal's tide,
The days limgthm a cock's stride.'
(OU Saying.)
Codcerdl, I. «, p. xx/3, 1. 40.
Codlings— apples, II. », p. 6/a, L S4*
Codshead - fool, I. #, p. 7/3, L 6 ; II. ^, p. 8/3, U. X3,
50 ; p. ii/i, t 3x ; A. p. 33, No. 7, 1. X3 ; m, p. 9/a,
L 48. In ' Kenilworth ' Raleigh calls Blount ' an
all unutterable codshead. '
CoeUs * Heavens, II. ^, p. ao/a, L x. Cf. Meridianis,
i.e. the Latin abL after 'in.'
Cofers, cophers — ooffien (and see Copher), II. «, p. 6/x,
1.44.
Cogge, v., L a, p. a9^x, 1. 4X ; / p. ax/x, L x6.
Coggers, J*., L a, p. ag/x, IL 44, 4s.
Cogging, adf. - cbeatfaig, I. 0, p. 39/x, U. 3, aa ;/, p.
x9/a. L 38; P« «>/a. 1. 37 ; ^. P- 7/i. L x^
' Flattering knaves that can cog and pnte fisstest
speed best in the Court' (Greene's James iv.
Induction.) In ii. a, of same Flaya ' case of cogs'
s set of false dice.
Cognisannoe, cognizance, L/, p. x8/x, L xy ; p. ao/a, L
7 ; II. ^, p. 9/x. L 4S ; p. xo/a, L 4X ; ^, p. lo/a,
L9.
Coiffes, ooifesj I. a, p. xs/x, L 53 ; p. spft, t as.
Cole-fish, II. h, p. a4. No. 74, L xs. HaUiweU says * a
kindofGadus.'
Coles, cole, ha, p. 37/a, L a4 ; IL ^, p. fl7/x, L s*
Colier, collier, oollyer, I. a, p. $1^, L X9 ; p. s8/a, IL 3^,
37 ; *. p. 7. St. 36 ; II. /, p, ^a. L 40.
Coll, v., coiling, ooUed, I. ^, p. xa/a, L 4a; IL f, p.
xy/x, L 33 ; p. 37/x, L 15 ; /. p. 15/1, L xa.
Collations — lectures or sermons, L ^ , p. 6/a, 1. as.
Fuller's Ch. Hist., z. X09 : Cambridge, p. xox.
CoUoging, sd„ I. m, p^ 9/x, L xa.
Cologne, v., collogue — speak together, usually inabad
sense, L ^ , p. xo/a, 1. x6 ; IL sf , p. 9/x, L 49b See
Adams, L 3a. In Geoige Eliot's * Silas Mamer ' »
conspire (c. 9.) In Bp. Sanderson s flatter or ooaz.
See Jaoobson's note on iiL 354.
Comber, v,, oombring, I. a, p. S5/>» I* S5 ! '1 P< 5* ^
9 ; II. a, p. 6/1, L xa
Combersome, IL a, p. 6/x, L x8.
Come Uue with me, IL A, p^ 34* Na 3. L X9.
Come-to-it, si., IL g, p. 7/x, 1. xa.
Comfit-makers, II. /, p. 7/x, L 34 ; /, p. 6/1, 1. S3 ! A p.
X0/3, L aa.
Comfort, V. s to strengthen, IL c, p. a8/a, L ao.
Comfortable » comforting : Ps. liv. 6, Pr.4>k. version,
* so divhie and comfortable a thfa^' (Notice of H.
Coomiunion.)
Comgligrande, II. s, p. ^a, t 7. See'previons remark
on ' Baldictum,' etc.
Comma, make a comma to, IL A, p. z6, No. 38, L xx.
Commandements, IL c, p. 47/B, L sx.
Commendaoon, II. v, p. 7f9, L a8.
Conmioditie, IL e, p. xj/x, L aS.
Common woe-~play on Commonweale, IL m, p. y/a, i
SX ; p. 14/a, L xa
Commons •- provisions used at a oommon meal i^iere
all pay alike, IL /, p. xx/a, L x8 ; /, p. xs/z, L aa
Compagnions,— in contemptuous senses IL 4>, p. 9/a» I.
49 : r (Un. Laixy.). See Bib. Eqg., p. x88.
Compasse, s6», IL s, p. 9/a, L X3 ; p. xa/x, L z6, et&
Compast, «jr., h Jt, p, y/a, L X9b Compast booke»->
qu. = books in which places are aocnrately marked
out as with a compass, i.e. described On the old
sense). See ' m^» of the Indies ' in New Shake-
speare Society's last Thmsactions.
Compation, IL m, p. ti/a, L 9. Qu.--4nispcint for oom-
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
13
panion. This suits the passage, and HalUweH gives
the meaning of ' a scurvy fdlow.'
Compeeres, I. 0, p. Z7/a, 0. i, 13, 19.
Compiled, I. a, title page— see our Memorial-Introduc-
tion.
Compiling, sb.^ II. d, p. a^a, L 6.
Complement, j^., 11. A, p. 10, No. 17, L aa ; p. 33, Na
5, L 8 ; p. 44, Na 43, L i.
Complementall, II. h, p. 6, No. i.
Complexion, complection — dispositions, I. «i, p^ 9/a,
1. 43 ; II. c, p. 57/3, L 97 ; OT, p. 9/3, L z8 ; r, p.
zo/a, 1. 17. This word has changed its meaning.
The four complexions — the four humours. See
Nabbes' ' Microoosmus.' Ward says, 'A dull
phlegmatic creature . . . may plead eompUxum ;
and yet grace is above nature.' (Coal from the
Altar, p. 85.)
Composure, II. ^ p. 6, No. i, L i.
Comprehend, II. il, p. 51, No. 65, L 17.
Conceaue, v., 11. /, p. i6/a, L la.
Conceaning, I. jt, p. 9/1, 1. x.
Conoeight, i^., I. a, p. 33/1. 1. a ; p. 33/1, L 9 ; / p.
34/3. L 3 ; p. 35/z, L 16.
Conceipt — conceive, II. ^. p. 4 (Dedication), 1. 3.
Many of these noun-verbs and verb-nouns were no
doubt mere slips.
Conceipt, j^., conceipts, I. <f, p. 13/a, L 16;/, p. 19/3,
L xo ; A, p. 10/3, L II ; p. 13/1, L 51, etc
Conceipt, v., II. ^, p. 4/1, L 3.
Conceipted, adj,^ conceited, I. /, p. 31/1, 1. 15 ; h^ pr
z6/i, L 9 ; A, p. 7/x, L 6 ; IL ^, p. 8/3, 1. 41, etc
Conceit, Ji^., conceite — imagination, L ^, p. 6/1, 1. 33 ;
p. ii/i, L 37 ; p. 3o/i, L 36 ; f, p. 10, St. Z04 ; IL
c, p. 6x/3, L 6 (from bottom), etc
Conodte, v., conceited, I. i, p. i^i, L 51 ; n, p. 9/1,
1.9.
Conceitedly, II. /, p. xy/i. L 38.
Conceiue, v., concdued, II. r, p. 33/9, L z8 ; il, p. 35,
No. 79, 1. 4.
Concdued, adj,, I. /, p. 7/3, In; 0, p. 7/1, L 44.
Concdued, v. (to be conceiued), II. A, p. 5/3, L 9.
Concdved « concdted— by stress of rhyme, I. /, p.
33/1,1 34.
Concqrte, a„ conceyts, L a, p. 33/3, U. 3, 3Z ; p. 33/z.
La.
Concord, II. ^, p. 7/1, L 44.
Concordance, I. 0, p. 9/1, 1. 33.
Condempned, v.i L /, p. 5/3, L 54 ; p. 6/1, 1. 6.
Condit — conduit, j^., I. /, p. .3/3, L 31.
Condition — the Latin mans, IL r, p. zo/a, 1. 18.
Though frequent contemporaneously it only sur^
vives in the derivative * ill-conditioned ' and * well-
conditioned.'
Coneyes (and see Cony), II. p, p. la/i, L 33.
Conference, II. *, p. 14/1, L 34 j p. zs/a, 1. Z3 ; /, p.
9/z, L 4 ; r. p. 8/z, 1. 38.
Confining, v., IL d, p. 5/3, L zy.
Confiscate = confiscated, IL c, p. 46/3, 1. 54.
Congee, congie, IL d, p. 35/z, 1. 7 ; ar, p. Z3/a, 1. 5.
60
Coninratioo, IL ir, p. zz/a, L 30.
Coniure. v., coniured, I. r, p. 3/3, L 35 ; IL il, p. aa,
No. 63, 1. so ; /, p. zo/z, las; s, P- 7/a. 1- So-
Coniure, v., IL r, p. Z3, No. 4Z, L 8 ; a, p. zi/3, L 3a.
The original and meaning of the phrase ' conjure
the diuell into hell ' is to be found in Boccacdo
Decam. Giom. Tersa, Novella X ' Alibech diviene
romita, a du Rustico monaoo insegna rimettere il
diavolo in inferno.'
Conne, v., conning » to study, IL /, p. Z4/Z, L 34 ; p.
Z4/a, 1. 33.
Conny, connies, cony, conies, « a ferret that goes after
conies? I. k, p. 13/1, 1. 48 ; and the other referwces
- ' the rabbit' ^, p. zz/i, L z5 ; «, p. 4/a. L 41 ;
Mi P* S/3» !• 3S» ^c-
Conny-borough, coniborouh « burrow, I. / p. 33/a, L
SO ; II. J, p. 9/3, L 7.
Conny-catcher, connie-catcher, IL /, p. 5/a, L 34 ; il,
p. 47, No. 50, L 8.
Conny-catching, IL t, p. 13/a, L 17.
Consaite, j^., I. d, p. 14/3, L Z9.
Consdonable, IL/ p. Z5/3, L Z3 ; /, p. za/z, L 4a
Conseale, v. s to conceal, L Jt, p. Z3/Z, L 3Z.
Consequents, sd., L #, p. 8/z, 1. 361
Consideraoon, IL v, p. 7/3, L 37.
Consistorie, I. 0, p. 7/3, 1. 37.
Consort, j^., consorts, consortes, I. c, p. zo, at Z07 ; k,
p. 9/z, 1. 4 : A P- 4/1* L az ; p. 6/a, L z8, etc
Constants, L /, p. 8/3, L 5.
Conster = construe, v., I. a, p. 5Z/3, L 37.
Consulted s agreed in league, IL c, p. z4/0i 1 13-
Consomer, II. jt, p. 8/z, L 33.
Conswaption « exchange ; to swap or swop is still to
(vulgar) use, IL *, p. 9/a, L 39.
Conteine, v., II. A, p. zz/z, L 6.
Contentation, IL ^, p. Z5/3, 1. 37.
Contentiue — satisfisu^oiy, contenting, L o, p. 6fa, 1 49 ;
p. 9/z, L 33 ; p. Z3/Z, L Z5 ; IL ^, p. Z5/3, 1. 33 ; e,
p. 7/1, L 38 : p. Z3/Z, L 43 ; A, p. z3/z, L zz (from
bottom), etc Cf. 'afflictive,' etc
Contentment, II. k, p. zo» No. Z7, 1. za ; p. 17, No. 4a,
1.5.
Continent, st, — receptacle, L r, p. 4/z, 1. zz ; p. 5/3, 1.
18 ; ^, p. 6/3, 1. 38.
Continwed, v. -contained or conttoned, I. c, p. 7, at 7a
Conueyance, IL at, p. 5/3, 1. 4Z.
Cony-catch, v. •- cheat— metaph. from arts used to
scaring rabbiu, L e, p. 9/3, L 3. * Taming of Shrew,'
lY. i. and V. L
Cony-ferits, L «, p. Z3/3, 1. 3. Probably a Bretonic
word, r.^. , for rabbit warrens (see preceduig words) ;
but it may be merdy— ferrets themsdves as catchers
of conies.
Cony-hole, L g, p. 6/z, 1. 30.
Cooke, IL t, p. zi/z, 1. ai. ' If the Cooke do not lacke
wit he will sweetly lick his fingers.'— Cf. Romeo
and Juliet, nr. iii.
Cookerome — cook-room, i.i. cooking room, I. ^, p.
z6/3, 1. aa.
B
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14
GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
Cookes, cnidl cookes thtt were the rosters oi mu^ II.
v. p. S^ L 7.
Cooliag card, II. c^ pi 60/9* L ^6. A cafd, loeb as a
card of ten that oools the oppoaent's copftdgnoe.
Coope, J*., L ^» p. 5/a, L 4Q ; IL «p, p. f/», i 33.
Ccx)seDiiv> i)^-» ooQaoBiii|^» I. #, p. ii^, L 3a.
Cooseniag^ adj,, L/» p. 19/8, L 36 ; II. ot, pu 7/1, 1 45-
CooaBBt V. (and aBeCoae&), IL /; p. 8/a, 1. 89 ; il, p. z6.
No. 41, 1. a.
Cope»-inat(6, copes mates. I. », p. 9/a» L 5 ; IL i, p. 6/a,
1.49.
Gophers » ooflEers (aad see Coiers), I. /, ai/a. 1. 1 ; II. /
»i/x, L a3 ; «, p. 7/1, U 41.
Coppjr-bold, II. a, p. 7/a, L 97.
Coppy, to hold in a ooppy, TI. a» p. 9/z, 1. i.
Copresse «- copperas, II. i, p. iz/i, 1. 5a.
Copy-wit, I. q^ p. 6/a, L z.
Cords « curds, II. a, p. 7/1, 1. a6.
Cormorant, II. c, p. 58/2, U. 3a. 35.
Come s grain, II. a, pu Z3/a, I Z5 (fiKua bottom). See
Bib. Eng., p. 339— «tiU hi use applied lo gmi*
povder.
Come-cutter (comes in the foot), II. a, p. 6/1, L 41.
Corae-loft, II. /, p. zo/z, L 3Z.
Come-monger, II. / p. 7/a, L 50.
Comericke — oomrick, or rick of com, II. >', p. 8/a, I.
4Z. Perhaps the reference is to tardiness in paying
tithes.
Comer-cap =: square-cap, II. f. p. 8^, L as.
Comets = horn-shaped head-dress, I. a, p. 15/z, L 53.
So Surrey, Vanbmgh, eta
Coma copta, I. b, p. 8/z, 1. 33.
Corps, oorpes,. I. a, p. a6/z, 1. la ; p. ^sl*, I. 35 ; <#, p.
4/z, 1. 4. etc.
Corpus Habeas, II. </. p. 35/z, L 10.
Corrosiue, II. k^ p. 38, No. 19, L 41.
Corraptions, I. «, p. lo/a, L 3a
Corse, L a, p. a6/a, 1. 31 ; ^, p. 6, St. 56 ; d, p. 13/3,
L 34, etc
Corsey, oorsie « trouble, I. a, p. 40/z, L 46 ; II. r, p.
Z3/X, L la See HalUweU* t.v,, oorsey-^m^ * oonx>-
sive ' which would be ' corsive.'
Cony » grkvance. I. /, p. ai/z, L xa.
Cosen, lb, « cousin, II. 0, p. 7/3, L 7.
Cosen, v., coozen, oosin, ooosen, oosen, coosoned, I. b,
p. Z0/3, I. Z3 ; #, p. 9/8, 1. 3 ; /, p. az/z, L x6 ; p.
•3/3, L a4 ; p. 24/1. 1. 38 ; ^. P- S/2. 1. 31 ; P- 9/1.
La9;y. p. z<Vi. L 33. «c.
Cosener, f^., cozener, II. a, p. 8/z, 1. aa.
COsmographer, I. k, p. 7/3, 1. z5 ; p. 9/z, L 36.
Cosmography. L iw. p. 7/z> L 98>
Cosset-lambb II. /, p. 8/a, 1. 13. Spenser uses ' cosset '
by itself for a lamb brought up by hand. (Sbep. CaL
November.)
Cost s= coast, I. a. p. 96/1, 1. 34.
Costrell "" probably a cormption of * ooistrel ' (Ft. con-
stilUer) « in one sense, a groom, and so a low
fellow. See Nares, j.v., 'coistrel.' and I. a, p.
55/3, 1. 36 ; II. A, p. 36, letter 15, 1. 99, and note.
Cote (Coat, ia heraldry)* IL.f, p. %lB,L 6; p. 9^, L 7.
Cotes = coats, I. a, p. 34/1. 1. ^.
Couentrie blew, II. il, p. 49, No. 59, L 7.
Couarpaine^ II. ^, p. 9/3, 1. 50^
Couetousnesse, II. 0, p. Z9/3, n. 36, 33.
Coulde — cold, I. /, p. Z4/3, . z.
Coumpt, v., L a, pi aa/a, L 35 ; p. 33/z, 1. i.
Counsell = council, II. a, p. 14/^, 1 8.
Count (no count), I. d, p. Ez/a, L Z5.
Couni faking. II. f, p. 13/1, 1. 38.
Couateiiauncad(we[l-eouatenauiiood)slooknig^--not as
now s appraved or supported, II. g, p. 5/9, L 4 ;
a, p. 8/a, L 44.
Counter. I.^, p. s/«. L i3«
Counterfeite, v., ooonterfist, oounteffsit, I./ 93/1. L 37 ;
/, p. 6/1, 1 ay ; II. r, p. ii/a, L 33.
Countofeit, j^., counter&ite, oounterfet, I. i, p. 9/z. L
9 ; II. /, p. Z3/3, L zz ; i, p. 6/1, L Z5.
Cotmterfdt, adj., eounteriet, counterfaite, I. as, p. 9/x.
L ss ; II- ^. p- 13/a. 1- 19 ; '•. p- ^/a. !• »«•
Counteruaile, v., I. tf, p. 36/1, 1. 34: it, p. 7/9, L 39 ;
^, p. 8/9, L 36 ; II. d, p. 93/1, L zo ; il, p. ix. No.
90, 1. Z9.
Counting, tU^, ^ redeoniag, I. 0, p. 8/1, L iz.
Countin^p-booke, I. «, pi 7/a, 1. 37.
Counting hoose, I. «f, p. Z4/Z, L 53 ; p* 14/9, B. 33, 43 :
II. c, p. 9/9, L 35 ; p. zi/z, L 9.
Course « ooarse, courier, eoursest, I. f , p. 6/at L z6 ;
II. b, p. 9/9, L sz ; t, p. 43/z, L z6, etc.
Courser (horse). 11./ p. 6/9. 1. 9a
Court, V. (to ooiort it), I. ot, p. 6/z, L 53 ; II. a, p. zz/a.
L9.
Court de Garde •- plaea where the gmud musier, and
therefore not » though equivalent to tte now in-
correct use of corps, etc., I. ^, p. 19/9, 1, 19 ; II. i;
p. Z3/Z, L z6. Cf. Greene's Orl. Furioso, p. 94.
Court holy-water, II. a, p. 1^% 1. zo. Milton (Eskoao-
khvrtes, c. zy) has * court dement.*
Court like, II. b, p. z8/9, 1. 44.
Court of Wardes and Uneries, II. v, ix 3, L 3.
Court words. IL <^ p. Z7/Z, 1. 33.
Courtsy, v., I. b, p. zz/z, L 9,
Cousen, v., consoned, cousoning, cousen'd, I. x, p. 7,
St. 36.
Cousin, V, (and see Cosen and Cousen), II. »', p. 4/x, L 3.
Couye — covey, I. a, p. 6/9, 1. 90.
Couzen. See Cosen, etc
Couzen, sb., I. j, p. Z3. st. zay.
Coventry blue— the dyein^r of bhie tiiread was fDnneriy
an important part of the trade of Coventry. See
Nares, s.v, for other examples.
Coward, v., II. «, p. 9/1, L 96.
Cow pastor, II. /, p. zo/z, 1. 39.
Cow-path =s beaten patk, II. /, p. y/a^ L 38.
Cow thistle, II. m, p. 6/1, L 40.
Coxcombes (also 'codecs combe,' ' coxeeonsbc '), I. a,
p. 4/z, 1. Z4 : II. A, p. Z3, No. 94, L ao ; r, p. ii/x.
1. zo. See Nares, ^.t>., for a good note.
Coxe, sb, s: oDkes. a fool, I. a, p. 6/9, 1. z6. * Wilt thou
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
believe him, and he made a cokes ' ? (Jonson's Case
is altered, v. x.)
Coystrel, I. a, p. 5^3, L 36. See ' CostrelL*
Cosen, V, (and see Cosen), II. /,^. 5/1, 1. 34 ; r, p. xi/a,
1. 23.
Cozener, II. 0, p. aa/i, a 44, 49.
Cozoned, II. r, p. 44/3, 1. 3s.
Crabbed. I. a, p. s^a, D. 7, a6, 45 ; p. 58/3, L 39 ; II. c,
p. 40/a, L 36, etc.
Ciab-tree-staffe, I. x, p. 13, st. laa.
Crack, sb,, cracke, crackes, II. h, p. 39, No. 33, L i ;
/, p. ii/i, L 33 ; /, p. 6/1, 1. a.
Crack, V. (lanadLC this friendly nut), I. /, p. ao/a, 1. 34.
Crackes, v., II. nt, p. 9/3, 1. 51.
Cracking, adj, — boasting, II. h, p. xs. No. 33, L 3.
Cradcs, tf. - breakes, L a. p. 56/1, 1. i.
Crackt. I. «, p. 13/1, L 57.
Craiteaman, craftsman, crafty, I. «, p. xx/a, L 31 ; II. /,
P* 7/3i !• 31 ; P« zfl/a. !• 6. See Bib. Eng., p. 179.
Craier (not ' crier,') « a small sluggish imwieldy
vessel, II. /. p. i4/i> 1. acx Cf. Nares in v. ' crare.'
Cymbeline, !▼. a, ' ciare.'
Cealinge —.ceawliBg, 1. 1, p. 9, st. 98.
Crambde, v. « crammed, I. j, p. 11, st 94.
Cranmie (old Cramme), II. A, p. 50, No. 59, 1. 9.
Crauen, adj,^ I. g^ p. 9/a, L 16 ; II. x, p. 13/3, L so.
Cranens, i^., II. x, p. xa/a, 1. 35.
Crave « want, and so go without, L ^, p. xa/x, L X5.
Craae, v., crazed, I. ^ , p. 5, st a8 ; y, p. xo/x, L X5.
Creeping cUmbingi II. K p. 96, No. 8x, L 9.
Crest (in heraldry), II. q, p. 9/x, L X4.
Crippfais, crippin, 1. «. p. 15/1, L 53 ; *, p. 9/3, L 53.
See HalUweU. x.v.
Crocadile, II. r, p. xa/a, 1. xa
Crocodiles teares, II. ^, p. xx/i, 1. 5a.
Croiden sanguine (and see ' Croyden '), I. m , p. 9/3,
1.44.
Crooke, x^., crookes = turnings, windings, I. ^ p. 7/3,
L x6 ; ^, p. 5/3, 1. 8.
Crookes, v., I. /, p. 4/x, L 4.
Crosnesse, crossnesse, II. ^, p. X5/3, L 50 ; il, p. 9, No.
X3, 1. 3.
Crosse whining, x^., usually 'weeping cross,' II. g, p.
x3/i, L 10.
Crosse, adj,, I. A, p. 13/1, L 30 ; /, p. 6/3, 1. 35 ; II. *,
p. x4/a, L 4 ; P- »6/«. L I. etc.
Crosses— play on words, II. «i, p. 4/3, L 37.
Crosse-bow, I. x, p. 7, st 33.
Crosse-row « Christ or Cbris-crosse, II. k, p. 6/1, L 35 ;
X, p. 6/a, L 4a.
Crossest, adj, « diagonal moves of Bp. at chess, I. /,
p. 5/3, L x8.
Crowch, tf., I. *, p. 5/3, L 35.
Crowch, a„ I. i». p. 7/x, 1. X3. There does not seem
much antithesis between * crutch ' and ' crowne,' but
perhaps it is intended here— qo. miq;ifint for
'cratch'?
Crowde, x^. - a fiddle, I. «, p. 7/3, 1. 55 ; II. h, p. x8/i,
1.6.
Crowding — cxouching dose, II. r, p. 36/1 • 1. 36— it may
simply mean that constant shutting one's-self up at
home which produces stuffiness.
Crownes, I. b, p. x6/x, L xo ; «, p. 9/3, 1. 40.
Crowtrodden — with crow's fiset under the eyes, and so
ag^* I- 8^ P- 9/3> ^ 9&,
Croyden sanguine (and ' Croiden ') « Uackaviced, I. m,
p. 9, L 44 ; II. A, p. X3, No. 84. 1. X4. Croydon
was noted for its ooUiers. So in Grimello's Foi^
tunes (IL A, p. 9/8, L 33). ' his complexion, sea-cole
sanguine,' and the veiy same pluase, 'CXoyden
sanguine,' occurs in T. Peend's Hermai^roditus
and Salmanis, X565 ; and two other instaneas are
given by Nares, x.v. A play eaUed Grim tki
Cotlur of Croydon has been (in part) attributed to
no less than Shakespeare. See Simpson's ' School
of Shakspere,' vol. ii. 388, and 443/870.
Crucified, I. g, p. 9/3, L 46.
Crudfing — crucifying, x^., II. 0, p. ax/a, I xi.
Crue, cursed, II. /, p. xs/i, L x8 ; so also II. c, p. 39/3,
1. 3 : so invariably in Breton ' crue ' (crew) with evil
signification. Spenser, on the contrary, uses it in
a good sense, i,g„ in Sonnet Izi., ' with the crew of
blessed Saynts upbrought.' So H. E. Cary in
Talfoord's Memorials of Lamb, in imitation of
"Us done, and thou hast joined a cfew
To whom thy sonl was josdy due.'
Now it has the deteriorated or bad sense, except in
its technical use, as in ' a ship's crew.'
Crud, adj, « crewdl, crewd, made of cmd or woisted,
I. tf, p. 17/1, 1. 6.
Crudl, x^., a sort of worsted, II. /, p. X4/3, 1. 4X.
Crup shouldred, II. ^ , p. 49/3, 1. X3. Misprint for
< crtunp ' sh., which is used by Holland, L'Estrange;
etc
Cruse, IL n, p. 6/3, L 9.
Crust, x^., I. a, p. 55/3, L 7.
Crust (old Crust). IL h, p. 50, No. 59. 1. 36.
Crusty, I. 0, p. 55/3. 11. X, 37.
Cry, out of— beyond anything, hunting or hawking
term — out of hearing and therefore of recalling or
guidance, II. g, p. xa/x, L ao.
Cryples, II. r, p. 8/a, L X3.
Cub, II. il, p. 36, No. X5, L 3a
Cubboofd (and see ' cupboord '), II. /, p. xo/a, 1. 30.
Cttchiniles, IL A, p. xs, No. 36, 1. xy.
Cucking stoole, II. h, p. X7/X, 1. X3.
Cuckoe, I. /, p. ax/x, 1. 9 ; II. h, p. xo, No. 15, L 9 ;
k, p. xa/x, 1. x6.
Cuckoes, I. iy p. 8/1, 1. 416b
Cudde, to chew the, 1. », p. xo/a, 1. 3.
Cuffe, sb,, I. 0, p. 3a/x, 1. 9.
Cuffes, to goe to, L x, p. X5, st. X53.
CuUes, a, - cullis, II. b, p. la/x. 1. 8. See Webster's
' The Dudiess of Malfi,' 11. iv.
Cunger = conger eel, L g, p. 8/1, 1. 30; IL b, p. lo/x,
L 39.
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i6
GLOSS ARIAL INDEX,
Cunning, sb., L b, p. 16/2, 1. 3 ; «/, p. 14/2, I. 2a ; A, p.
8/2, L 31 ; /, p. 8/1. 1. II, eta
Canny, connies, I. h, p. 8/a, 1. 33 ; II. c, p. 62/1, L ao.
Cunny-catching—^xreene, Rowland, etc., popularised
the phrase, 11. g, p. la/i. L 34 ; m, p. 8/a, L 48.
Cupboard, cupboord, cubborde, cnbbord, cubboord,
II. /, p. i<Vx, L 31 ; /, p. la/a, L 36.
Cupid-blind, I. h, p. la/a, 1. aa.
Cureks, curelesse, I. b, p. 13/1, L 16 ; ^, p. 8/a, 1. a ;
A, p. ii/a, 1. 50 ; II. fl, p. 7/a, I 40, etc.
Curiositie, I. a, p. 14/1, 1. 36 ; p. 15/1, L a6 ; p. is/a,
I. a ; II. A, p. XI, No. ao, 1. 6.
Cninmt, a^*., II. b, p. 13/1, 1. 39: ^, p. 4/x, L 5, to
reader ; jt, p. 14/3, L ai.
CurrieK»mbe, II. d^ p. la/i, 1. 5a.
Currier, 11. /, p. 7/a, 1. 15.
Curriers oyle =s candle-light by a square-shaped candle,
II. h, p. 13. No. 33, L 3.
Currish, I. tf, p. 13/1, 1. s ; ot, p. 9/a, 1. 44.
Cursed-dames, I. j, p. 13, st. 139.
Cursed, adj,^ L d, p. xi/i, 1. ai ; *. p. 6/a, 1. 34.
Curst, adj,, I. a, p. 52^1. 1. 3 ; II. e, p. 37/1. 1. 31 ; p.
4^/i» 1. S4 ; ^. p. 7/a» 1. 43 ; '. P- 7/a. L 35 I '. p.
14/1, 1. 13.
Curst^ueane, I. j, p. 7, st. 37.
Curtail, adj,^ I./, p. 36/3, L i.
Curtail, curtalles, II. g, p. 6/3, L 13 ; «, p. 9/1, 1. 38.
Curtens, curteynes, I. a, p. i6/a, L a6 ; p. 17/1, 1. 4.
Curteous, I. a, p. 30/1, 1. 10 ; p. 31/3, 1. 46 ; p. 46/x,
I. 10.
Curtesie, curtesies, I. a, p. ii/i, 1. 19 ; ^, p. 13/s, L 3o ;
II. f, p. xo/i, 1. X.
Curtesse, II. k, p. 8/3, 1. 45.
Curtsie man, II. /, p. 5/3, 1. 39.
Curtzy, V. See under ' Curtsie.'
Curtsie, j^., I. g, p. 5/1, 1. 30 ; p 7/3. L 18 ; II. ^, p.
17/1, 1. 41.
Curtsey. I. /, p. 4/3. 1. 5.
Curtsie, v., II. b, p. 13/1, 1. 30 ; p. 17/a, 1. a.
Cushin-stoole «- a cushioned stool, I. /, p. 33/3, L 39.
Cut, to keepe cut, keep within bounds? I. b, p. 8/3, 1.
aa ; w, p. 9/3, L 40 ; II. /, p. xi/i, L 37. The
phrase occurs in Sidney's Astrop., and Stella, st 85.
In Breton (first two references) it is -« a licentious
woman, sparrows being very amorous. The third
reference is somewhat obscure, as sparrows were
not domesticated. One would refer it naturally to
cutting at cards but for the association with the
'sparrow.'
Cutberd, I. j, p. 7, st 31— query, punning on 'Cuthbert '
quasi Cut-beard ?
Cutlers, sb,t II. r, p. 10/3, L 13.
Cut-purses, 11./, p. 7/1, 1. 8 ; /, p. 6/a, 1. 17 ; p. 9/a. L 3*
Cut-throates, I. (7, p. 58/3, 1. 30.
Cutters of a carde — those who cut cards, I. a, p. 39/1,
L46.
Cutworks, I. tf, p. 15/1. L 49.
Cnt-worke lace, II. b, p. 19/a, 1. 51.
Cyphers (and see * Ciphers '), IT./, p. 5/3, 1 14.
Dads, I. a, p. 4/1, L 6.
Dads byrd, II. c, p. 37/1, 1. 19.
Dagge, a pistol, II. c, p. 39/a, 1. 33.
Daliauncc, I. «, p. 18/1. 1. 31 ; p. 31/1, I. 49.
Dally, dallie, r., II. r. p. 45/3, IL 38, 39.
Dambes, sb„ dambe - dams, I. jt, p. x<Vx, L aa ; II. j».
p. la/i, L 43.
Dambn'de, I. x, p. 11, st 95.
Damosels, II. c, p. 57/3, L 39.
Damped v. « checked, dejected ; or qo.— oold, flaccid ?
L d, p. 4/x. L 3 ; II. v, p. 7/x. L 5.
Dampned, « damned? II. v, p. 6^, L 40^
Dancing, sunnes day— as in Sudding's famous ballad,
II. t, p. 13 (Easter).
Daplissis « Du Plessis, II. b, p. 15/3, 1. a6.
Daunger, I. «, p. 48/3, L 38 ; II. r, p. 44/1. L 3a; p.
45/3, L 39.
Daw - a fool, dawe, dawes, I. a, p. 19/1, 1. 7 ; #, p.
6/a. 1- 53 ; / P> as/i, 1. 34. In the SUent Woman
one of the gulls is Sir John Daw, the otho- Sir
Amorous.
Dawcockes, dawoocke, L g, p. xi/a. L 8 ; II. h, p. i3.
No. aa, 1. 35.
Day, to break day— ^see ' Breake.'
Day-note-booke, I. j, p. 8, st. 5a.
Dayes, to take up upon dayes = promismg payment on
a certain date, II. t, p. 13/1, L 35.
Deaf, as a door - deaf as a post II. c, p. 49/1. L 7.
We say dead as a door^iail. Cf. opoiing of
Dickens's Christmas Carol.
Deawe = dew, I./, p. 30/1, 1. 53.
Deawy - dewy, II. g, p. 7/1, 1. so.
Deceased - diseased, I. j, p. 14, st 136.
Decdght, J*., I. fl, p. 9/a, I. 40 ; p. 33/1, L 5 ; p. 36/3,
L 34.
Deceiptfull, I. a, p. 13/3, 1. 33.
Deceipts, ib„ I. r, p. 4/1, 1. 38.
Decorum, II. h, p. ix, No. 31, 1. 16.
Deeme, I. a, p. 33/1, 1. 38.
De&oe, 1^.. I. 0, p. x6/a, L la
Defamde, v., defamed, I. a, p. ax/x, L xi ; 11. g, p. 13/1,
La6.
Defeme, 1*., I. a, p. 4/3, L 34, Pref. ; p. 19/1. L 34 ;
II. e, p. 4S/3, I 35 ; p. 5^1. L a8.
Defeat v. - disposses, do her out of, II. c, p. 46/a, I. a6.
Fr. defairt.
Defendauntes, I. b^ p. 6/3, 1. xa
Defineth, v., I. 0, p. 9/x, I. 43.
Ddnty, dehitie - damty, I. g, p. xx/i, L xy ; /, p. 18/1.
1.45.
DeUte, v., I. a, p. 10/3, L 34.
Ddues, v.. I. k, p. 8/x, 1. 3.
Ddycates. delicates. j*., I. a, p. 40/3, 1. 7 ; *, p. ix/s,
1.44.
Demaund, II. <, p. 41/1, L 51.
Demaunders, I. /, p. 9/1, 1. 40.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
n
#, p. 9/2, 1. 8.
I as ; II. d, p. 18/3,
Demeane = (probably) domain. So in George Her-
bert:—
' The flow'n in Spring,
To which, bendes their own demeen.
The lete-pMt fiosti tributes of pleasure bring, '
(*The Flowei' : our Aldine edition.)
IL r. p. 6/3. No. 9, 1. 6, and note. (An Vnnoble
Man.)
Demeanure, II. r, p. 9/3. 1. 4a ; p. 13/3, L 8.
Demurres, sb.^ demum, II. k^ p. 84, No. 73, L 13 ; m,
p. 5/«. 1- 38.
Demurres— law term, II. k, p. 13/3, 1. 3.
Depart, v., II. k^ p. 50, No. 60, 1. 37.
Depraue, I. m, p. 6/3, L 51.
Depriue, v., I. r, p. 4, st. 13.
Depts » debts, I. b, p. 36/3, 1. 31 ;
Descry, v., descried, I. a, p. 58/z,
I. 3a.
Deseming, v., I. q, p. 5/1, 1. 38.
Deskant, II. c, pu 37/3, D. xi, 3a
Despaire, to despaire in, II. a, p. 5/3, L 9.
Despight. dispight, I. a, p. 13/3, L 38 ; p. aS/s, 1. 17 ;
A p. 7/1. 1- 37.
Detract, v. « delay. I. h, p. 14/1, L 47 ; II. i, p. 14/3,
1. 6 ; Jt, p. 14/z, 1. zi.
' My seal and rath to see yoor grace's wrong
Make me lament I did detract so long.'
(Greene's James iv., L i.)
Deuided, v., deaiding, I. 0, p. z7/8, 1. ao ; II. ^, p. ii/z,
I. 46 ; », p. 13/z, L 5a
Deuided, adj., II. jt. p. Z3/3, U. 3. 5.
Deuine, v., I. 0. p. 39/3, 1. 38.
Deuise, v., deuising, denice, I. a, p. 6/1, 1. a ; p. 11/3, 1.
3; «, p. 8/z, L 34. etc
Deuise, sb., deuises, I. a, p. Z4/1, L 4 ; if, p. 9/1, L 6.
Deuisions, deuision, I. ^ , p. zo, st zo6 ; II. Jt, p. 13/3,
n. 34, 36, etc.
Devize, v, intr,» I. /, p. a^3, 1. 45.
Diagolicall « dialogicall, ut. in form of a dialogue, II.
/. p. 4/z, 1. 7.
Diamond wench, II. g, p. za/3, L 37.
Dice, V. — to play at dice, I. a, p. 7/1, 1. 3Z.
Dicers, sb.^ II. e, p. 9/3, 1. 36.
Didng, j^., II. c, p. 8/3, L zi.
Didng-house, II. «, p. zo/i, L 44.
Diddledomes, dish of » any pretty little tiny kickshaw,
II. e, p. Z7/3, L 5.
Dide, V, — dyed, 1. b, p. zo/z, L 37.
Die, J*., I./, p. 34/z. L 30.
Die doppers — pick-^)ockets (metaphorically) or sharpers,
II. J, p. 6/3, 1. 9. Shakspeare has 'diro^iapper'
in Venus and Adonis = the Little Grebe. Fidding
has * Beau Didapper ' in Joseph Andrews.
Diet, v., I. X, p. Z4, st 143.
Digfat, I. b, p. 8/z, L 33 ; *, p. 9/1, L 37.
Dilatation, II. /, p. z6/3, L 30.
Dilicate, II. c, p. x6/a, 1. 13.
Dinging, v., II. c, p. 8/z, 1. 51. So Milton, Areopag..
'ready to din^ the book a ooit's distance from
him • (Aiber, p. 57).
Dinte, j^., I. 0, p. 37/z, 1. 36.
Disalated, I. r, p. 3/3, 1. 4a Halliwell says under
' Alate ' - let, in an old Glossary. If let — permit,
aUow, ' disalate ' may be « disallow. This sense
suits the text It is possible, however, that it is a
misprint for * desolated ' — forsaken, abandoned,
ruined.
Disoend, II. /, p. 13/3, L 41 ; v, p. 6/3, 1. 36.
Discent. IL v, p. 5/z, IL 6, Z3.
Disoention, II. 0, p. z6/z, 1. 38.
Disdpherd, disdphering, L ^ p. 5/z, L 15 ; II. », p.
7/3,154; P. 11/3, L38.
Disoontentiue — discontented (and see ' Contentive '),
IL </, p. 17/z. 1. 48 ; p. Z9/Z, I. Z3 ; k, p. 38, No.
19. L 45 ; «, p. 7/z, L zo ; p. 9/3, 1. 54.
Discountenannoe, I. a, p. 39/z, 11. 38, 4Z ; b, p. zj/z,
L4.
Discrecon, I. /, p. a3/z, 1. Z7.
Discredit, v., discredited, IL r, p. 56/3, 1. 35 ; k, p. Z7,
No. 43, L Z7.
Discreet, adj,, II. «, p. 4/z, L 4.
Discride, v., I. a, p. 3Z/3, 1. 30.
Discurtesie, disoourtesie, discortesie, 1. a, p. sz/z, 1. 35 ;
p. 39/1. L 39 ; P- 39/1. L sa
Disease, sb„ diseases, 1. a, p. 36/z, L 36 ; p. 54/z, 1. a6 ;
bt p. a4/z, L 3, etc.
Disease, v., diseased, diseasing, 1. a, p. 30/z, L 33 ; p.
33/z, 1. 3 ; ^, p. 6/a, 1. 33, etc.
Disfauouring, II. d^ p. Z4/3, L 7.
Disfumished, IL «, p. 7/z, L 47 ; /, p. 7/3, 1. 33.
Disfumishment, II. h, p. 17, No. 43, 1. z6 ; /, p. zo/i,
L z8.
Disgest, v., diageste, »'.#. digest, I. s, p. zs, st. Z03 ; IL
*, p. zo/z, L 33 ; f , p. a6/z, L 35 ; rf. p. 7/z, 1. 8 ;
/, p. z5/z, L 3Z.
Disgestion, II. b, p. zo/z, L 4a ; p. lo/a, L 46.
Disgracing, v., disgraoeing, IL e, p. s6/z, L 3 ; p. 57/z,
L 4a ; ^, p. Z4/3, L 7.
Di^giadousUe, IL v, p. 5/1, L 38.
Disgras't «- despised, I. b, p. 8/1, 1. 3a
Disgratious, di^grateous, II. d, p. la/z, 1. ai ; p. 14/1,
L 48 ; / p. Z4/1, 1. 8 ; p. z6/3, L 33.
Dislike, v., to displease, IL c, p. a3/z, L aa ; p. 48/3, 1.
6 ; ^, p. i8/z, L 33 ; il, p. zo, No. Z5, 1. za
Disliking, a., IL e, p. 33/3, 11. 3, Z4 ; p. 56/3, L 35.
Dispeopler, IL r, p. 5/3, 1. 6.
Di^iight, (and see Despight), I. a, p. Z7/a, L 41 ; p. 19/3,
1.39.
Disportes, disport. I. «, p. 17/3, L 4a ; p. 4z/z, L 13.
Disposioons — dispodtions, IL v, p. 7/a, L 38.
Disdgnes, IL r. p. 6/z, L 6.
Dissolute. IL jt, p. 7/a. L a8.
Distemper, v., distempered, 1. /, p. lo/z, L 16 ; II. k,
p. 8z, No. 60^ L 9 ; Jt, p. zo/i. L 9.
Distraught, v.. I. i^ p. z3/z, 1. 41.
Distruction, II. «. p. Z3/3. L 7.
Distrust in, II. a, p. 5/3, 1. 9.
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i8
GLOSS ARIAL INDEX.
Dittie, j^., ditty, I. c^ p. lo, 8t. io8 ; o, p. 7/1, 1. 99 ; II.
d, p. 93/1, 1. 24 ; p. 23/3, 1. 1,
Dhiell, diuels, I. i, p. la/i, 1. 9 ; /, p. ii/a, 1. 15 ; IL r,
p. 7/a, 11. 19, 33.
Diulde. v., I. /, p. i6/a. 1. 39 ; II. /, p. 6/3, L 90.
Diuote, v., II. bt p. X4/3, 1. 35.
Diuonroement, II. Jt, p. 15/3, L 15.
Dizard. I. #, p. 6/1, 1. 15 ; II. c, p. 49/1, 1. 48 ; Jt, p. 13/1,
1. 43 ; ^. P- 9/3» 1- ao.
Dog, dogge, II. d, p. 11/3, 1, 35 ; «, p. 13/3. L 46 ; / p.
7/3, 1. 47 ; p. 16/3, 1. 3 ; ». p. 9/a, L 47. .
I>ogge. to be called dogge, IL 0, p. 33/3. 1. 31.
Dogged, doggedst, a4^— used as = currisb ; I. #, p. 7/fl,
L 41 ; / p. 3i/i, L 43 ; ^, p. 7/1. 1. 39 ; *. p. 9/r.
I. 13 ; X, p. 13, St. no. The bad qualities of the
inferior (perhaps iU-used) dogs, are always implied
in the use of the word ; but why should we not
speak of dogged afifection, fidelity, sagacity, etc.
Doggednesse, II. ^, p. 10/3, 1. 6.
Dole, sb.^ I. a, p. 35/1, 1. 33 ; p. 36/3, 1. 7 ; ^, p. xi/i,
L II, etc.
Doloures, doUoures, doller, dolor, 1. 0, p. 37/3, IL xa, 35 ;
c, p. 8, st 76 ; /, p. 33/3, 1. 8.
Dolphine, I. c, st. 99, L 3 — Delphinns orca (Linnseos),
ia, the killer or grampus often called 'Dolphin,'
— ^the whale's great enemy. Probably this was the
ore or orque of Heywood and others of that time,
who would take the name, etc., from Pliny (orca),
now the orca gladiator (Bell).
Doltes, 1*., I. fl, p. 19/1, L 7 ; p. 55/1, L 36.
Dombe = dumb, I. /, p. 9/1, 1. 43.
Doo — doon or done, I. /, p. 9/3, L 33.
Doo, doone, dooing, doon, dooth, dooest, I. a, p. 5/1,
U. 8, 33 ; p. 38/1, L 8 ; p. s/i, I 35 ; p. lo/i. 1. 43 ;
/, p. 7/1, 1. 33 ; p. s/i, 1. 13.
Doome, j^., I. a, p. 14/3, L 33; p. aj/hL 19; d, p.
13/1, L 36 ; 0, p. 8/3, 1. 17 ; p. 14/3. L 99 ; II. *, p.
14/1, L 15 ; A, p. 43, No. 36. L 19 ; ^, p. 8/a, L 44.
etc.
Dopping, v., II. J, p. 6/3, 1. 9.
Dotards, II. j, p. 7/1, 1 31.
Doubt, V, — to suspect, I. a, p. 39/3. 1. 7 ; 40/1, 1. 4 ; II.
«, p. I3/I, L 45.
Doultes, and see doltes, I. a, p. 10/3, 1. 31.
Doutie, adj\ «- doughty, I. a, p. xo/i, 1. 55.
Dow, si, s= dough, her cake was » she was stumped,
II. b, p. 13/1, 1. 50 ; f, p. 17/a, L xa * Our cakes
dough on both sides,' (Taming of Shrew, i. i), 'my
cake is dough ' {ib. ▼. i.). Cf. Don Quixote, PL liL
Bk. III. cxz. (Jarvis).
Dowd, dowde, dowdes, I. /, p. 30/3, 1 35 ; p. 116/3, L
"9 ; ^. P- lo/i. L aa ; i». p. 7/a» L 54 *. H- «. P- 9/x.
1. 35. 'Owle-fiiced dowdes.' (Udal's Erasmus
Apoth. p. 344t 154a.)
Dowdy, II. A, p. 13, No. 33, title.
Downe the wind, winde (and see Up in the weather), I.
^. p. ii/i. 1. 58 ; II. A. p. 9, No. 13, L 13 ; p. 45,
No. 44, 1. 16 ; /, p. 17/a, 1. 39 ; /, p. 1 1/3, 1. la
Drab, v., II. v, p. ii/i, 1. 6.
Drabbe, drab, 1*., I./ p. 31/1, L 14 ; II. ^, p. 13/1, 1. 6.
Dragon, I. f , p. 6/3, 1. 33.
Draue, V. =s drove, I. a, p. 18/1, L 33 ; y, p. 10/3, L 47 ;
II. d, p. 9/3, L 10.
Draw a hand, II. A, p. 5/3, L 39.
Drawen, v., II. a, p. 8/3, L 43.
Drawing gloues, I. jt, p. la/i, L 43. See our Henick,
s.v. It is mentioned so late as H. Brooke's Fool of
Quality (1766) as ' draw-glove.'
r, II. /, p. 15/1, 1. 37.
Dreuffl = to drivel, r., I. m, p. 5/3, L 7.
Drifts, I. a, p. 58/1, 1. 34.
Dripping pan, I. ^, p. 6/1. L 53.
Driueled, I. #, p. 7/3, 1. 3 ; II. ^, p. 7/3, 1. 36.
Dronke, droncken, droncke, I. a, p. 30/3, L 38 ; 3, p.
16/3, L 33 ; II. tf, p. 8/1, 1. 3.
Drossie, II. a, p. 7/1, 1. 43 ; A, p. 36, No. 83, L 6.
Droyle, II. c, p. 43/1, L la See Bp. Sanderson's use
of it (ed. Jacobson, i. 468, with Jaoobson's note).
Drumme, — Tom Drum's entertainment, 11. /, p. 11/3,
La— Jack Drum's. See All's Well, tii. vi. and v.
ilL See Henry Crosse's ' Vertues Commonwealth '
in our edition.
Drummes, sb,, L a, p. 14/3, L 33.
Drye, adj. — thirsty, I. b, p. la/i, L 38.
Dudgeon hafte, II. ^, p. 9/1. L 34.
Duke - duck, II. s, p. 1^3, L 33. ' Duke ' the title of
nobility and ' duke ' — a duck, are pronounced alike
in Domiriesshire ; and a story runs of a certain
Duke of Bacdeuch, who, on being ' interviewed '
by a precocious youth, was asked if he could swim
(' soom') or fly ('flee') ; and on beiiig answered in
the negative, remarked, ' Oh what a great big iite-
less duke you are, for my fiuther's [father's] dukes
can baith soom an' flee' [= both swim and fly].
Duke Humphrey, II. /, p. 15/3, L 6.
Dulled, v., I. a, p. 53/1, L 48 ; p. 53/3, L a.
Dulled, adj., I. a, p. 35/3, L 33.
Dtunpes, dumpe, L a, p, 36/3, L 3 ; p. 35/3, title ; d, p.
13/a. ^ 90: A. p. ^1, L 9; /, p. Qofa, L 13.
Dunghill (cock), I. ^. p. 6/i, L 56 ; II. s, p. 13/a, L 33.
Dunsicus, I. a, p. 5a/i, 1. 46.
Dunstable (plain Dunstable), II. c, p. 48/1, L 43. ' There
were some good walkers among them that walked
in the King's highway ordinarily, uprightly, plain
Dunstable way.' (Latimer's Serm. p. 1x3.)
During, adj., II. /, p. 7/a, L 9.
Dust, Northeme blacke — Dame Quickley's ' seaooale '
(Henry iv.), II. /, p. 7/3, 1. 9.
Dyoe (and see Dice), I. 0, p. 36/3, L 5.
Dyoe-play, I. a, p. ae/x, L 41.
Dye (and see Die), L a, p. 39/1, L 7.
Easter-dookes - account-books of the Easter-offer-
ings, II. f, p. 13/3, 1. 54.
Easely — easily, I. A, p. 7/1, 11. 6, 9.
Eatb, easy, I. /, p. 5/1, L 4.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
19
Eawe ss ewe, L/ p. ao/i, L 51.
Educaoons — educations, IL v, p. 7/a, L 39.
Eeke. I. a, p. 30/z, L 96w
Eevenes, II. 0. p. la/a, L 3.
Efiecthie — effectual, II. d, p. 95/1, L 37.
Efte, L 0, p. 37/1, L i^
EkM-hawke s Eyas hawk, II. i, p. lo/a, L 37.
Eke, L a. p. 13/z, L la ; p. 34/3, L 3. etc.
Ela, L «, p. 7/2, L SI ; II. g, p. 7/a, L 34.
Elfe, L /. p. aa/i. i 56; ^, p. ^a, L 53 ; IL<r. p. 36/3,
1.39; p. 43/1. 1.38-
Elfe, to play the elfe> L k, p. i3/a» L 34 ; p. 14/1, 1. a8 ;
/, p. i«/3, L 37; *, p. 14/fl, L SI.
Elizers, I. «, p. 9/1, L a.
EUs — else, L /, p. a2/3, L 41.
Embase, ^mbased, I. ^, p. ii/i, L 7 ; ^, p. sft, L i.
Embassadour, II. d, p. 18/1, L 7 ; p. i8/a, IL 5, 15, etc.
Embassage, II. d, p. 14/1. L 46 ; p. 14/8, 11. 19, 491
Embroderetb, II. /, p. 7/a, 1. S4-
Emong — among, I./, p. 33/3, 1. 7 ; II. a, p< 8/a, L 10;
p. g/i, L 31.
Emparked, I. /, p. 14/1, D. Si 19-
Emperor, * murmur not, O Kmg, if tbon be not an
Emperor,' II. jt, p. ii/a, 1. 9i« (Royal Titles
Bill 11).
Emulation— in bad sense, II. jt, p. 13/1. L 3 fiom bottom.
See Bib. Sog., p. 308.
EUidioe, endined — to incline, I. t, p. 7/z, L 40 ; II. a,
p. 5/3, 1. 3a
Encrease, encreaseth, I. ^ , p. 9, st 88 ; o, p. x8/i, L 34,
etc.
Encrease, sb., II. d, p. xa/i, L 13.
Encroach «- obtain possession of, L ^, pb 9/z^ L a from
bottom.
Endight, v„ enditing, I. a, p. 30/1, L 30 ; II. ar, p. Z3/i,
Li.
Endigfatment, IL c, p. 46/1, L 38.
Enflamde, enflam'd, I. b, p. 9/3, L 4 ; p. 35/3^ L xa ; </,
p. 8/3, 1. 4 ; <^, p. 9/3. L I, etc
Engines, II. /, p. 13/z, L 3a
Ens » essence, being, I. /, p. 6/3, L 33. See Milton's
Vacation EKerdse. 1. S9>
Ensign — armorial bearing, insigae, II. c, p. 34/1, L 9
(from bottom).
Enstalled, I. 0, p. 18/1, L 47.
Ensue, v, intr,, ensnth, ensoeth, I. ^, p. 3S/x, L 16;
/, p. 13/3, L 36 ; /, p. 19/3, 1. 3S.
Ensue, v. tr., ensuth, 1. /, p. 4/3, 1. 4 ; ^, p. 7/3, L 7.
Entended, entending, II. c^ p. 50/3, 1. 49 ; 1, p. 6/1,
L37.
Emeries, I. a, p. 36/3, 1. 31.
Enterlude, II. ^, p. 9/1, L 30.
Entitle, II. ^, p. ii/i, 1. S3 • P* i^A* 1- 43-
Entituleth, I. o, p. ii/z, L 36.
Entreat, entreate, to treat, II. d, p. s/a. 1. x6 ; i, p.
Z1/3, L so : p. 6/1. 1. 14.
Enuie, v., I. d, p. 8/3, 1. xa
Envie, v. == inveigh (though from different roots), to
envie against, 11. c, p. 56/1, 1. 3o.
Epicurean, I. m, p. s/^. L 6.
Epicures, followers of Epicurus— repetition of the old
libel, I. g, p. X9/3. L 41 ; A, p. 9/x. L 30 ; /, p. 5/1,
L 35 ; 11./, p. 7/3, L 3S ; <^, p. 33/1, 1. 46 ; ^ p. 8/3,
L3I.
Eiigo, IL tt p. X4/3, L 4.
Eringoes— supposed to be very aphrodisiac, II. r, p.
38/3, L 3.
Erne, v., II. c, p. 36/3, 1. 3.
Esoocheon = escutcheon, II. q, p. 9/1, 1. 9.
Essay, II. ^. p. 4/a, lines by I. a Cf. Bib. English, p.
16, as before. The word occurs in a sonnet by
James i. in iS^S. It is also found in Puttenham's
Art of Eng. Poeae (is89)- See also our edition of
Sylvester's Du Bartas, eta, in Glossarial Index, s.v.
Eternize, II. y, p. lo/a, 1. 34.
Ethiopian, sb.^'Lg, p. 8/1, 1. 43.
Euer-life, I. c, p. 7, st. 68.
Euer-liues, I. c, p. 7, st. 68.
Euer-liuing, I. / p. 13/3, 1. 39.
Euesdroppers, II. «r, p. 6/3, L 33.
Ezoeedings, sb., II. b, p. 3o/a, 1. z$.
Experiment * experience, II. ^, p. Si> ^o. 64, I. i.
Extant, I. d, p. 13/3, L 14.
Extasies, I./, p. 19/3, L 6 ; 0, p. 13/3, 1. 34 ; II. g, p. 6,
Na I. L s.
Exuberant, IL g, p. sz* No. 64, L 10.
Faced = countenanced, II. g, p. 8/1, 1. 4s ; p. 9/1, 1. 16.
Fact, sb, » crime, as frequenter in Spenser, I. r, p. 3/1,
11. 16, 40 ; II. k, p. 40, No. 34, 1. 8.
Fagarie— noticeable spelling, II. c, p. 37/z, I. 10 (from
bottom). Cf. ' Lady Alimony' II. i. and 'Ram
Alley,' V. i.
Faine, adj.^ I. a. p. 40/1, 1. 6 ; II. u, p. 13/3, L 9.
Faine, iayne, v. — to feign, I. a, p. s/Si 1. 43 ; p. 37/3,
1- 5 ; p. 37/1. L 33 ; ^, p. ip/3, L 3 ; II. c, p. 35/1,
1.9.
Fained, adf., II. ci p. as/x* !. 9.
Faining, adj,, I. s, p. s/s, L so.
Faining, adj., fayning, I. », p. 9/3, 1. 37.
Faints, sb, — feints, I. nt, p. 8/z, 1. 3.
Faire, sb.,l.d, p. 13/3, L 4 ; A, p. 15/3, 1. so ; «', p. 6/z,
L 34 ; 0. p. s/ii 1. 13.
Faire>handed, II. i, p. 8/z, 1. 17,
Fall, V. tr,t I. «, p. X1/3, 1. zi.
Fall, sb. —autumn, the fall of the year, II. c, p. 6z/zr
1. 36 ; J, p. 6/z, L 48. An early word, which long
dropped from English speech and writing, has re-
newed its life across the Atlantia It seems a pity
to disuse it : for it is a vivid and picturesque con-
trast to * Spring.' 'The green verdure,' remarks
Professor De Vere, 'which springs forth in the
early season, fails to the g^und again in autumn.
Raleigh has it, e.g. ." —
' A honey tongue and heart of gall
Is fancy's spring bnt sorrow's faiL'
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20
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Dryden also employs it : —
' What crowd of patients the town doctor kil]%
Or how last/oZf he railed the weekly bills.'
Dr. Lowell quotes Middleton*s playing on the
word :— * May'st thou have a reasonable spring, for
thou art like to have many dangerous foul falls.*
See 'Old Friends with New Faces' in Professor
I>e Verc's ' Americanisms ; the English of the New
World' (New York. iS/a). See our Memorial-
Introduction on this fine word.
Falling-tMind. II. t, p. 9/1, 1. 15.
Falling sicknesse, II. s, p. 8/a. L 48.
Fancies, small dogs so called, II. j. p. 5/3, 1. 95.
Fantasie, fantasye, I. a, p. 34/1, U. i, 6 ; II. k, p. 44.
No. 41, L 10.
Fantastickes. I. #, p. 10/3, L 5 ; A p. 14/1. 1 33.
Farde. H./ p. ^3. 1. 49.
Fardel. fiEundel — pack, I. b, p. 93/3, L 50 ; <f. p. lo/i,
1. 48. • We trussed up our fiardels' (Acts xxi. 15,
Geneva Version). Cf. my Herrick. s.v. Fuller has
the veri) ' fiurdled up ' (Holy State, p. 164).
Faidingale, II. A, p. 47, No. 49. 1. 8.
Farweell. II. c, p. 51/3, L 31.
Fashion-deuisers, I. j, p. 5, st. 3.
Fast-handed, II. h, p. 38, Na 18, 1. 31.
Fart and loose, play, I. o, p. 7/3, 1. 13 (from bottom).
Fats, J*., II. k, p. 15, No. 36. 1. 15.
FaulUesse, I. d, p. 5/3, 1. 8.
Fannde, &nncy. I. /, p. 14/3, 1. 4 ; p. 18/1, 1. 14.
Fauorous, II. b, p. 9/3, 1 38.
Fays faith, I. a, p. zo/i. L 36.
Fayrie, II, i, p. 6/1, L 47.
Feade s fed, I. b, p. lo/i, L 39.
Feare. sb. == pheere, I. a, p. 35/3, L 7.
Feare, v., fear — to affright, I. 0, p. 38/3, L 37 ; p. 39/1.
n. 4a. 46; *. p. X0/3, 1. 30; II. *. p. 9/3, L 48, etc.
See Bib. Bng., p. 67, on the meaning to ' brighten,'
as in other Breton references.
Fearfiill, I. b, p. 37/1, 1. 14.
Feast, no triumph to a — can be compared to a feast,
I. bt p. la/a, L 33.
Feate, sb., I. a. p. 58/1, L 14.
Featenes, I. b, p. 19/1, 1. 33.
Fed)led, adj., I. a, p. as/a, L 13 ; 0. p. 7/z, 1. 51.
Feede, sb., I. A, p. 9/3, L la
FeUdes. I. /, p. z6/i, L i.
Fell, I. b, p. 9/1, 1. 3.
Feltred «- entangled, bound by meshes, I./, p. zi/z,
1. 34. See Dies, Etym. Wttrterbuch der romani-
schen Spracben, s.v. feltro.
Ferits « ferrets, I. nt, p. 5/3, L 35 ; p. 10/3, 1. 36.
Ferretted. II. k, p. 49, No. 59, 1. 13.
Fesant, I. a, p. 14/3, 1. 95.
Fescue, fesoew, I. k, p. iz/3, 1. Z9; II. c, p. 37/1,
1.44.
Festraw s stand for pointing out the letters in teaching
children to read, II. i, p. 6/z, 1. a6. This is an
interesting example of the tendency to make foreign
words take an English-looking form, festuca ->
festraw, just as chanss^ has become <
what the Germans call fo]ks-«tymok3gy.
Fet, tf., I. a, p. 49/3. 1. 4Z ; II. c, p. 8/z, L za
Fetches, j*., I. a, p. 58/z, 1. sz.
Fiddle, j-^. « a fool or worthless person, I. e, p. 9/z, L 35.
Cf. fiddle fiiddle, fiddle de dee, eta *We thus
fiddle and fool with our own souls ' (Barrow, l 3Z7).
' As his rank and station often find him in the best
company, his easy humour, whenever he is called
toit,canstillmakehimselftbe>4&toofit' (Gibber's
Apology, c. i.
Fiddle &ddle, I./ p. zg/z, L z8 ; II. f, p. 7/,, l 33.
Fiddles, v., fidling. II. k, p. 4Z, No. 98. L zi ; », p. 8/z,
L98.
Fiddling, adj., fidling, I. g, p. 9/z, L Z9 ; II. c, p. Z7/Z,
L 9 ; p. 99/z, 1. 6 ; /, p. 6/z. L 99.
FidUng. 11./, p. zi/z, 1. 8.
Fidling, adj., a fidling amble, II. «, p. 9/z, 1. 4Z.
Fier. fyer, I. /, p. Z4/9, IL 9, 3.
Fiery-feced, II. g, p. 7/9. L 45.
Fifte, I. b, p. zo/z, L 35.
Flfteenes, II. A, p. 37, No. z6, L 30.
Figge, J*., I. M, p. 7/z, I zo ; II. m, p. 7/9, L 96.
Flgurste out, I. b, p. Z3/3, 1. 49.
FUe, w., to defile. II. t, p. 57/3, 1. Z7.
File, v., to polish, I./ p. 3Q/3, 1. 43.
Filed, adj. - defiled, poUuted, I. n, p. 9/3. 1. 37 ; II. A.
p. 43. No. 39. 1. z.
FiUie. II. m, p. 8/1, 1. 3Z.
Fillop, I. /, p. 4/3, 1. 4.
Filtching, I. s, p. 7, st 38.
Finde. sb. - fiend. II. o, p. 3Z/3, L Z4.
Flndefaults, I. d, p. 3/z, L zz.
Fine, adj., be not fine with your firlendes. II. V. p. 7/1,
LS4.
Fine, adj., II. h, p. zo. No. z8, L a : n, p. 8/3, 1. 45,
Fine (in fine), I. a, p. 33/z, 1. 43 ; p. 33/1, L Z5 ; ^. p.
33/3, L 35, eta
Fine fingreed, II. *', p. zz/z, 1. 39.
Fineliest, II. n, p. zi/3, 1. 7.
Fingring. sb., II. /. p. zo/3. L 94.
Rnical. finicall, II. n, p. 8/a, L 4Z ; /, p. zz/z. L 9.
Fire-locke. fire-lock. II. c, p. 38/3, 1. 37 ; p. 39/3. 1. 33.
Fire-hooke ss instrument used in pulling down burning
houses, II. e, p. 5z/z, 1. z6—
' The engines thimder'd through the street,
Firehook, pipe, bucket, all complete.'
(Rejected Addresses : imitation of Scott)
Fu«-work 3s woric wrought in the fire, now pyrotechnics.
II. n, p. zo/z, L 39.
Fist, brought to fist, I. d, p. 5/z, 1. 5.
Fisticuffes, II. u, p. 7/3, 1. Z5.
Fiue-shares, I. t, p. zo, st 74. See Memorial-Intro-
duction.
Flagre— query is this a misprint Usr glare OT^airf II. e,
p. 40/9, 1. 99. Cf. the recipe in Ben Jonson's ' lite
Case is altered,' n. (end), ' Go get the white of an
eg^ and dose the breach of the head ; it is the
most condudble thing that can be.' See also Lear,
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
21
in. vii. xo6, or is It a corruption of fleor de luce,
the root of which was supposed very good for
wounds, especially of the head.
Flafle, II. k, p. 36, No. z6, L 16.
Flasket, I. «, p. 9/3, L 53.
Flatts (music), I. c, p. 10, st. 106.
Flaunt, j^., flaunte, to flaunt, a flaunt, I. a, p. x8/a, L
43 ; p. aa/a. 1. 35.
Flawes -■ sudden gusts of wind, I. b, p. 15/a, 1. 5.
' Northern gust, or southern flaw ' (Jonson's ' Case
is altered,' III. i.) So Greene's OrL Furioso, p. 90,
and Marston's own * Dutch Courtezan,' (nr. L)
' What sodaine;ln0 is risen ' ? (metaph.) Admiral
Smyth defines it ' fickle breezes in light weather.'
Flea, V. =s to flay, II. c, p. 39/a, 1. 30 ; il, p. 13/1, L 4a
Cf. Fuller's Ch. Hist., iii. p. 86, 5 43> and Hudi-
bras. III. i. a63.
Flea-bite, adj., I. q, p. 6/1, 1. 4.
Plea-bites, sb., I. a, p. as/z, L 30; II. p, p. 6/z,
L39.
Flea-feeders, II. /, p. 7/1, L 15.
Flead quicke — flayed alive, II. 0, p. ai/a, L a3.
Fleame. I. g, p. 9/1, 1. 5 ; II. b, p. ix/a, 1. 50 ; f , p. 43/a,
1.47.
Fleas, to fatten fleas, II. u, p. 7/a, L 6.
Fleeces = hair, II. h, p. 43, No, 39, 1. 7.
Fleere. v., fleering, 1. 1, p. 9/a, 1. 15 ; /, p. ai/a, L 46 ;
11./ p. 6/3, L I.
Fleering, adj., I. «, p. 33/1, D. i, 8 ; p. 33/1. 1. x ; ^, p.
7/3. 1. 17 ; M, p. 9/z, L xo. A term often applied to
' grinning like a dog ' : * Those . . . with their court
dog-tricks that can Dawn and fleer ' (Jonson's Fox, iii.
i) : 'what fleering . . . there is in this age ' (Burton's
Anat. Dem. to Reader). So Latimer's Serm. , p. 547 :
Adams's I. 8, etc. Palsgrave says, * to make an
yvell countenance with the mouthe by unooverynge
of the tethe,' i.t. to scoff, to sneer.
Fleete -« skim, II. c, p. 59/z, L 18.
Flesh-monger, II. b, p. 17/1. 1. 16.
Flicker, v. , flycker = flutter, I. A, p. 14/1, L a6 ; p. 14/3,
1. 3 ; /, p. 16/1, L 18 ; II. X, p. lo/i, L dz. So
Chaucer, Knight's Tale. ' How many larks for a
penny, if every star in the elements were a flickering
hobby' (Latimer, Remains, p. 339). See Peele's
Arraignment of Paris, i. 7.
Flickt, adj. — painted, 11./, p. s/z, 1. Z7. Query--mis-
print for ' sllckt ' = rubbed with. Cf. Puttenham's
Arte of English Poesie, pi 093 (Arber).
Flight (of falcons), II. h, p. az, No. 58, 1. xz.
Flightt shotte, flight = arrow, II. c, p. zo/z, L 33.
Flincher, II. c, p. Z4/3, 1. 36.
Flirt, sb, = reproof, I. a, p. Z9/Z, 1. 3 : p. Z9/3, L Z9.
Flirt, flyrt, I./ p. 33/3, 1. 5.
Flocke (bed), II. i, p. zz/i, 1. 4.
Flonge, — flung, I. a, p. z8/z, 1. Z5.
Flooke s a flounder, I. x, p. Z3, st. zaa.
Floong, v., I. a, p. 8/3, 1. zz.
Flourd s flowred, I. b, p. 8/z, L za.
Floure, sb. s floor, I. i, p. 8/3, L 33.
60
Flouted, v.. floute, flowted, I. i, p. zz, st. 89 ; /, p. Z9/1.
1. 36 ; II. c, p. 56/3, L 3 ; /. p. 7/3, 1. 35.
Ftoutt, sb., flowt. I. e, p. 7/z, 1. 3 ; p. zz/z. 1. 3 ; / p.
az/3, L 36 ; II. c, p. ss/z, 1. 7.
Flowen, I. «, p. 3Z/3, 1. 7.
Flowting-jadce, I. s, p. Z3, st. Z05.
Find a flood, I. p, p. 4/z, 1. zz.
Fluent, II. h, p. 6, No. 3. 1. 5.
Flyen, IL c, p. 39/z. 1. 34.
Flyrt, sb., I. a, p. 8/z, 1. Z9 ; p. z8/z, 1. 09.
Foggy, II. / p. 7/z, L Z9. Fuller (Pisgah Sight, bk.
III. pt. iii. : a xii. 1 3.) distinguishes between foggy
and fiat. 'l*hose who oif a sudden grow rather
foggy than fat by feeding on sacrilegious morsels,
do pine away by degrees,' etc. Here ' foggy ' is —
bloated, and ' fat ' = well-nourished. Thomas
Adams (i. 4a) speaks of ' the foggy epicure in his
soft chafa' after a lull meal, fost asleep^'— filthily soft.
Foile, v., I. 0, p. za/s, L 39.
Foile, j^.^the * foil ' of a diamond Is the leaf or compo-
sition (feuille) used to enhance its brightness : prob-
ably the ' foil ' of a crown ' is » disgrace or tawdry
counterfeit : then there is ' foyle ' — technical term
in wrestling answering to a ' foul ' in boating, some-
thing which ends a match in an imperfect manner,
I. /, p. s/a. 1. Z3 ; IL d, p. za/z, IL Z9, 35 ; 0, p. 6/a,
L 40 ; r, p. s/8, L zs ; J, p. ^z, L 6.
FoUy-gaye. I. «, p. 9/a, 1. oo. Cf. Shakespeare's ' Child-
hood hmooence.' (Mids. N. Dr. iii. a.)
Fond, adj., fonde, I. a, p. zo/a, 1. 34 ; P« n/it 1. 34 !
d, p. 9/z, I. 43, etc
Fondlie, fondly, II. k, p. 45, No. 45, 1. zz ; Jt, p. 8/3,
L3S.
Fondnesse, II. d, p. 6/x, L 3Z.
Foole, the, IL k, p. 33, No. 7, 1. 6 ; p. 44, No. 43, L Z5,
etc.
Foole-catcber, II. / p. 5/3, 1. 33.
Fooles-head, L a, p. 34/3, 1. 6.
Fooles holiday, I. g, p. zo/a, 1. 35 ; p. z9/3, 1. 8.
Fooles Paradies, paradice, I. m, p. 7/3, L 30 ; II. k, p.
47, No. 50, 1. Z5 ; /, p. Z4/Z, L 4Z. 'A foole's Para-
dise is a wise man's HelL' (Fuller, H. St. p. 339.
FooUfying, v., II. m, p. 8/9, L 38.
Foorthwith, I. a, p. zz/z, L 39.
Foorth s forth, I. a, p. Z3/3, 1. 38 ; p. 3Z/3, 1. Z4, etc.
Foote, V. ^ to dance, I. a, p. 5Z/3, L 4.
Foote, sb. (to know the devil by his foot), I. b, p. zo/s,
1. 30.
Foot-baU, IL /, p. 8/z, 1. 44.
Foote-doth -« mule or hone ornamented with, II. d, p.
7/z. 1. 50 ; u, p. 9/z, I. 40. See Nares, s,v.
Foot-man, IL t, p. 9/z, 1. 44 ; p. zz/z, L Z5 ; «r, p. z6/3,
Lza
Foot-pace=s manner of walking, II, h, p. 4Z, No» a8, L 6.
Forlwrbod? IL c, p. 5/z, 1. 97. Is it — fbrtMaraiioe 7
or forbidding? t.#. falsehood «-forborbood.
For -• so as to prevent— ^naed by Beaumont and Fletcher
and other contempocariesy^w^maiSrr. I. 0, p. 38/z,
1. 34 ; ^. p. zz/3. 1. Z4.
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33
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Foroe (of foiee) I. «» p. ss/t, L 33 ; p. Sj/A, 1. 55.
Forced. bcAUtle, 11. n, p. 9/z, L a^ Ct ' FeeUed Age
in forced tricks of yoath,' So eUewbcre ift BratoiL
As 'Beauty' was ao generally Adorned, OM can
understand ' forced beauty.'
Foretop. sorrel = sorrel (front lock of) hair, i,i, chest*
nut cotour (see ' Sonel '), I. m, p. 9/j, 1. 47, and
note.
Fore-ages. II. /, p. 4/1, L 3,
Fore-front, I. ^« p. i8/x. I 33.
Fore-hocfle. I. #« p. 8/8. L ta ; II. «, p. 7/a. 1. 34 ; p. 9/<i
L36.
Fore-speakers, IL k, ^. io/i| 1. 31.
Forks, II. b, p. Z7/fl, L a ; «. p. 13/t, L 44.
Forlome, «r.. 1. 1^, p. la/a, L 31 2 /, p. i4/a» L X4 ; p.
i$/i, 1. 3 ; p. 9^a, L so.
Forma pattperie,«^y stress of rhyme : forma panperis
is a l^gal phrase. I. /, p. 5, It. 5.
Forme, sb,, I, a, p. 17/1. L 59.
Fomaoe, II« 4. p. zi/a, L 44.
Fomish, v,, II. ^, p. x8/i, L a8,
Fonaine, forrain, IL n, p. 5/x, L ^4 ; p. xa/Si 1* t^
Forsooke =ei forsaken, I. b, p. 7/a, 1. 5a.
Forwardnes, L 0, p. 25/1, L i.
Foure-ear'd Asse ^ a double ass» I< s, p. xo» 6t« 8g^
Fourmes •- forms, II. /. p. 14/x, L 9.
Fowle — foul, I. bt p« xa/i, L 49 ; 11./. p. 8/1, IL 39. 41.
Fox-furd, 1. €t p. 7/fl, L z.
Foyne, sb., 1. 1, p. la/i, L X ; /. p. zo/i» L 5 here s
either a thrust, or the weapon with which the thntst
is made, the foil ' fofaiing sometimes, sometimes
striking,' (Hall, Im. World, bk. i. p. 8.) SoShak«*
speare. Fr. 'foigne.'
Foysted. 11, g, p. lo/a. 1. 43.
Fmnck-handed, II. i, p. 8/1, L 39.
Franke-hearted, II. f, p. 58/z, L i.
Franzie, fransy, I. #, p. 5/z, L ty ; /, p. 18/si, htg\ g,
p. 8/r, L 8 ; A. p. ii/a, 1. 8 ; t , p. s/a, L 51 ; *, p.
7/2, L 3, etc
Fraught, sb., 11. f, p. 7/1, L fty.
Fray, v., fraying, fiaies, fraide, I. «, p. 13/a, L 6 ; II. c,
p. 39/a, 1. a6 ; p. 40/a. L 13 ; p. 47/3^ i 7 ; A p.
19/3, L 41.
Fraye, j*., fray, I. «j, p. a8/a, 1. 43 ; g, p. la/1, 1. ft ; p.
la/a, L 19.
Freat. v., freate » to fret, I. a, p. ay/i, 1. 15 ; p. 99/a,
1. 14.
Freatting, i^., 11. c» p. i8/a, 1. 98.
Free-hearted, 11. < , p. 8/z, 1. 39.
Freend, I. a, p. zi/i, 1. 40 ; II. e, p. ii/8| L 6 ; p. 15/1,
L 3z, etc
Freendly, II. r, p. 9/9, 1. 18 ; p. zi/^ L 17, etc.
Freenship, I. a» p. 58/z, L 16.
Frendi hoods, I. a, p. 30/1, 1. 86.
Fnesh, 1^., II. /, p. 7/z, 1. iz.
Frett, sb., II. ^, p. 7/1, L aS.
Frie, v., frye, I. a, p. 35/1, L 9; / p. 8/1, L 49 ; p. 9/1.
1. z6 ; an, p. 10/9, L 88.
Frigot — irigatf , II. 1, p. 7/1, 1. 30--not lis in our Royal
Navy, but a swift Tassel piopeUed with sails and
oars ; here '^ a vessel ganuiSif.
Frinde, I. b, p. Z9/9, L a.
Frindely, I. b, p. lafa, h 40.
Friskall s Fnacol, a curvet,II. g, p. 8/a, L 3. (Nacca»
Frise, IL /, p. 7/1, L 15.
Froogges s frogs, I. a, p. 96/9, L 15.
Fnzict, sb., fruides, tAnskion form iMlufrmOm, L «,
p. la/a, L 95 ; p. 39/8, L 49 ; r, p. 4/9, L 36 ; p.
5/i« 1* 53 ; P- ^i« ^ 18' ^^
Frump, v., frumpe, I. g, p. lo/a, L 3.
Frumpe, sb.t IL tf, p. 5^9, L 5 ; p« 60/1, 1. 17 ; ai. p.
6/1, L z8 : 'our payment is a frown, a sooff. a
frump ' (Greene's James iv., ii. a) -• oantamptnons
speech or bahariour.
Frixstrate, adj,» IL /, p. xx/a, 1. 35.
Frying-panne. IL «f, p. 8/z, L la.
Fubs reheat, deceiver, IL g, p. xi/a, L si ; A, p. xx.
No. 91, 1. X.
FuInesse=foulnesse, II. e, p. 43/9, L a (from bottom).
Fume, v., I. a, p. 6/a, L 87 ; p. 7/1, 1. 45 ; b, p. xo/x» 1.
36 ; p. is/i, L 7. cte.
Fume. ii^. — smoke, IL r, p. x4/a, L xy.
Fumes, v. = rages, I. a. p. X3/1, 1, 85 ; IL 1. p. X4/ft>
L8.
Fnmkins, Mistris Fumkins, I. «, p. 8/x, L x.
Funerals, I. k, p. 8/x, L 95. This word wns frequently in
phiral, as 'nuptito' now is (but there must be two
pnrtics to nuptials).' Craik (Engl, of Shakespeaze)
says thnt Shakespeare always has 'nuptial,' the
only two eseeptions being in Pericles v. 3, the text
of which is vety ootrupt, not to speak of the dotibtfiil
authorship, and Othdto, li. a, ia the 4to, where all
the folio copies have *nttptiaL' Cf. Lat. iunera :
French, fimerailles.
Furmenty, IL A p. 9/a, L 41.
Furnish, v., furnishing, IL d, p. 8/x, L 5 ; A, p. 83. No.
70, La.
Furniture, trappbigs of hone, IL tr, p. 6/z, L 98.
Furres, sb. « fiarze, I. /, p. 93/9, 1. x6.
Fuist SB first, L a, p. 97/9, II. 3, 94.
Fustian, ttdj, — gibberish talking— intended to Impress,
IL r, p. 9/9, 1. xa Cf. ii. Henry nr. 11. iv. « fustian
rascaL'
Fusty, fiistie, I. b, p. x6/9, L xx ; IL ^. p. X8/9, 1. 9z ; A.
pb 96, No. 89, L 8 ; k, p. 8/z, L Z5.
Fyelde — field, I« is, p. 49/1, L xa.
Fyiberds — filberts, L a, p. X9/9, L 3X.
Fysting, Mjf., IL/. p. 6/x, 1. 89. Ct, German flsten and
English fyyst in Prompt. Pttv.
Fytte. a., L a, p. 96/x, L xy ; p. 97/9^ L 7.
Gaddk, v., gad, I. tf, p. 88/8, L 55 ; 1. p. 8/1, st. 5Z.
GiDde, adj., gall'd, L g, p. zo/a, 1. 36 ; II. d, p. xi^x. 1.
5a ; /, p. xo/a, L 88 ; X, p. 8/9. 1. 14.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
23
GAliard, galUtrd* II. b, p. 9/1, L 90; p. 90/1, L ti ; 4,
p. 9/1, L 43 ; ir, p. z^a, L 6b
Galimawfry, II. b, p. 9a/z». L z.
QaU, v., gaUed, I. s, p. zo/i, st 75 ; IL/ p. 4/i> L 6.
QfOlde, o^r., agaUdeluiclnley wm winch, L <, p. 4/x> L
7, to reader.
Oallaiit. gallaant, L a, p. 94/if iL 35* 37* 40k>
Gallantlie. I. a, p. 17/z, L 38.
Gallowes mind, I. r, p. 5/2, 1. i.
Gan, v., L «, p. 42/1, L 60 ; p. 48/a, L 34.
Qanden wooU, I./, p. 23/1, 1. 47. CC * feather-lieaded.'
Garbidge, II. j, p. 9/1, 1. 47.
Gard, j^.. gards ^ guardt, I. <t, p. lo/a, L 17 : P« 9/i>
L 40 ; ^, p. z9/z, L 53.
Garde, v., I. b, p. zq/z, 1. 6 ; f, p. 6/z, L 40.
Garded, adj,, guarded, I. #, p. 5/z, 1. za
Gardes, x^. = facings or trimmings or txuids 6f dress, I.
«. P- iS/x. I- IS J n. r, p, zz/z, L Z7.
Qascoyne wines, II. k^ p. Z5, Na 9S, 1. zi.
Gate, ib,t I. tf, p. as/z, 1. 34 ;/. p. a4/z, 1. x6.
Gaudes, gauds, I. a, p. 6/z, I. 45 ; P* Wl* 1* '5 : ^I- ^*
p. 4Z, No. 98, 1. 8 ; 1, p. za/3, 1. 4.
Gaunlet, I. m, p. 5/a, 1. a8.
Gay •• gaiety.
*' O how I griere, detr Eaith, that (given to gays),
M(Mt of best witfl contemn thee now a dasn-"
(Sylvester's Da Bartas, Third Day, First Week.)
Gaye, sb,, I. a, p. a8/z, 1. aa
Gayle, II. e, p. 45/z. 1. a6.
Gase, stood at gaxe — staring, I. /, p. Z3/a, L 8.
Gasetu, II. j. p. 9/a, 1. 33.
Geare, geere. sb,, I. a, p. 6/a, 1. 40 ; II. c^ p. 7^1 1* ^ »
p. 4a/a, 1. Z4 ; p. 43/z, L 37.
Gearing, j*.. I. /, p. a3/a, L 36.
Gentill, of gentill birth. II. /, p. 7/a. 1. za.
Gentill — gentile, II. /, p, za/z, L Z4.
Gendewoman, v., II. c, p. 4a/a, 1. 4Z.
Gesso, /^.—guests, I. a, p. 9/1, L zo ; ^, p. Z7/Z, n. Z9,35.
Gesse, v. ^ to guess, I. a, p. z4/z, L 45 ; p. 33/a, L 4,
to p. 5/1, 1. 4, etc.
Geste. sb., I. tf, p. 34, title.
Ghesse, II. >l, p. 33. No. 8, L 3.
Ghests. II, A p. lo/z, L za ; p. iz/z, 1. 4a, etc.
Gibberish, II. k, p. 44, No. 43, 1. z8.
Giddie headed. I,/ p. ao/a. 1. 48.
Gig— correct note in loco: used frequenUr as — a top.
See Beaumont and Fletcher's Humorous Lieut, iv.
v., II. r, No. 39, p. Z3/z, L Z3.
Giglet, I. a, p. 37/a, I Z7.
Gill — a wanton woman, or women generally, I. /, p.
7/a, L 3. Hudibras 11. it 709, where Dr. Grey
curiously explains gills to mean 'gin hooters or
owls.'
Gfame. v., I. a, p. sg^z, 1. 56.
Oinnea, **., I. g, p. za/a, 1. a8 ; / p. is/z, 1. 93.
Qis (by Gis), I. a, p. 30/a, I 3.
Gladdes, v., glad, L j, p. Z3, st SZ9 : /. p. 5/z, 1. 34 ; p.
Z9/a, L 4 ; < p. 6/a, I. 44.
Glasse — gloss, II. /, p. zo/a, 1. 30.
GUbbc, gUb, I./, p. Z9/i, I z6 ; II. A, p. Z3, No. 97, 1.
Gloire— noticeable form, II. q, p. 9, Resolution, 1. Z3.
zo ; /, p. zs/z, L Z7 ; «r, p. z6/z, L 99.
Gloroos — glorious, II. d, p. 7/z, L 9.
Glosing, adj,^ II. c, p. 48/z, 1. 40.
Glotouny. glotony, II. /. p. 6/z, 1, 47 ; p. 6/a, L 54-
Goddesse>being, I. d, p. z9/a, L z8.
Godes •- God's, II. v, p. 5/«, L 39 ; p. 6/z, L 7-
Godsons, I./, p. a3/a, 1. 34.
Gogge, x^., II. g^ p. zz/a, /. aa.
Golden crosse, L ^ , p. 5/z, L 38.
GoldoD hony-bees, I. #, p. 8/z, L za.
Golden hooke, to fish with, 11, ^, p. 8/a, L Z9.
Gondolo, II. /, p. za/a, 1. 4Z.
Good being ; so St. Matthew xvil. 4, in place of the
Authorised Version, * it is good for as to be here.'
Tyndale, Cranmer, Geneva, and Rhdms have
'good being.'
Good cheape, I. i, p. 8/z, 1. 6 ; It e, p. 37/z, L 37 ; P-
So/z, L 36 ; i(, p. zs. No. 36, L Z3 ; t, p. 7/a, L 51.
Good-man, II. *, p. zs/z, 1. sa ; p. Z3/a, L 47.
Good man goose, II. r, p. 7/a, L 44.
Good wifie, I./, p. a6/z, 1. zz ; 11./ p. 6/a, 1. 43.
Goose-cappe, goos-cappe, L / p. ac^a, L 54 ; ^» P- zo,
st.75-
Goose faire, 11. 1, p. 7/z, I. 97.
Gooseman, II, g, p. 7/a, L 33 ; A, p. zj/t. L az.
Goose-rest, II. ^, p. z8/a, L 6.
Goose, shooing the, II. A, p. 5/z, L za Pattenham
(Arte, etc., p. 397, Arber) speaks of a woman who
wept for pity to see a gosling go barefoot. The
more coomion form of the proverb is, * It is as little
pity to see a woman weep as to see a gosling,' etc
This came to be a proverbial saying for vain
labour: —
* As fit a dght it were to tee a gooae ahodde or a saddled ccwe
As to hear the prattling of any soche lack Strawe.'
(New Costooi, I. L 1573.)
' According to the old provert>e, I have bin shooing
of goslings ; I have spent my labour and breath to
little purpose.' (Howell's Parly of Beasu, p. Z38,
z66a) Puttenham does not speak of a particular
woman. ' By the oonsmon provert)e, a woman will
weepe for pide to see a gosling goe barefoote.'
(Art of Eng. Poesie. bk. iiL a 94.) In Whalley
Ghurch (Lancashire) one of the seats in the fine old
oak stalls has a carving of a blacksmith shoeing a
goose. HalliweU says i- to be tipsy, but not
applicable here.
(jorgets, I. a, p. z5/z, I 5Z.
(Soshawke, II. /, p. zc/z, L 3Z.
(jossips, II. b, p. Z9/a, 1. 40 ; tf, p. 6/z, 1. 3Z ; g, p. za/i,
1. 46 ; h, p. zo. No. Z5, L 9Z ; i, p. Z3/Z, 1. zy ; f,
p. 8/z, L 97 ; p. zo/z, I. 9 ; J, p. zo/a, U. 39, 49.
Gossips cake, II. /, p. 9/a, L 4a
Gould — gold, I. e, p. 8, st 85 ; r, p. 5/z, L z. .
(Soulden, gowMen, I. r, p. 4/z, L 39 ; /, p. Z4/a, 1. 41.
Goutria =s Land of C3out, II. j, pb 8/a, 1. 9.
Gouemesse, L 0, p. Z4/Z, I 3B.
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GLOSS ARIAL INDEX,
Graoefull s= full of grace, II. 0, p. 14/9, L 17.
Graceih, L r, p. 3/a, 1. 41.
Graffes, sb., I. a, p. 6/a, L 59.
Graine, knane in graine s dyed in scarlet, or thorough
knave, I. e, p. 9/1, L 8.
Gramercie, gramercy, I. A P- 5/1* L n ; H. c^ p, 9/a, L
48 ; p. ii/i, n. 24, 33, etc. ; / p. 9/2 1. 6, etc.
Granam as grand-dame or grand-mother, L n, p. zo/a,
1-37.
Grandam, II. f, p. ii/a, L 5.
Grast « graced, I. b. p. aa/i, 1. 55.
Gratting, v, = grating, gnashing, I. ^, p. 14/3, 1. 31.
Gratuitie, I./, p. 5/1, 1. 47.
Gratulation • an offering, II. k, p. 13/1, L 4. Cf.
'compliment' In Dickens's 'Hard Times,' Mrs.
Spariet insists on her salary being called 'an
annual compliment.'
Graues-end barge, I./, p. 18/3, 1. 37.
Graunt, v., II. c, p. 37/1, 1. 4 ; p. 37/3, 1. 37, etc.
Grauelde, adj.t I. b, p. 6/3, 1. 30.
Grauelled, v., grauelleth, II. k, p. 13, No. 98, L za ; s,
p. s/i, 1. 36.
Gray -headed, I. a, p. 53/1, L z.
Great— by great — wholesale, II. /, p. Z3/Z, L 45.
Greaze the bullock's rib — to be able to give her wooer
money, I. e, p. 8/z, 1. 36. To ' grease the fist ' is
still « to bribe.
Gree. v. - to agree, I. g, p. za/z, L 36 ; «, p. 8/z, L 8 ;
II. p. 30/1, 1. 39.
Greene, adj\, I. a, p. z3/z, L 3Z ; p. z6/z, 1. 3; ^, p.
8/1. L 39 ; II. A, p. 44, No. 40, 1. 3.
Greenest, I. o, p. 8/3, 1. 40.
Greene-fish, II. b, p. zo/a, L 4Z.
Greene rushes, II. g, p. 5/z, L z. This may be an
opening salutation from the custom of strewing the
floor with fresh rushes when guests were expected.
Green-sicknesse, 11./, p. 6/3, L 49.
Greece, sb, - grit. I. a, p. 58/3, 1 Z9.
Greetings, II. t, p. zz/3, 1. zz.
Orevid, v., I. e, p. 3, st. 7.
Qriest, sb. - grist, I. a, p. ^6/3, L a.
Grieves, sb, = griefs, I. /, p. ao/z, L aa
Griezy, gresie, I. b, p. 33/3, L 38. So Spenser F. Q. I.
ix. 35; VHls griesie locks,' where folio of z6zz reads.
'griesly.'and 11. vi. z8, 'that great griesylake,'
; where, similarly z6zz reads ' griesly '—early form
from Fr. gris. But qu. ^ greasy, i.€, humid?
Gnfte = graft, I. b, p. Z4/3, L za
Grigge, 11. h, p. 33, No. 6, 1 z. A0/ the fish (originally)
but a corruption of Greek. See Nares, i.v. Greek.
Griping, adj,t 1. o, p. 8/3, L 6.
Grislie. I. d, p. zo/z, 1. 36.
Griue, v., I. b, p. a7/z, L 45 ; 11. /, p. 9/z, L 39 ; n. p'
8/3, 1 4a
Grizell, patient, II. /, p. zs/z, L z.
Groate, I. a, p. 30/z, 1. z6 ; p. 58/z, L 8 ; </, p. zo/z, 1.
37 ; II. A, p. 33. No. 68, 1. Z4 ; p. 36, No. 15, 1. 3Z,
etc.
Grocer. II. /, p. 6/3, L 97.
Grode, v. — grew, I. a, p. zz/3, L ao. MMtzner quotes
the form from Mandeville, Piers Plou^^unan, etc
Groe — grow, I. /, p. 5/z, L 3Z.
Grogeram, II. «, p. Z3/Z, L 30.
Groome, L ^, p. za/a, L 44 ; /. p. 5/9, L 46 ; II. ■. p.
7/a. J. SO.
Grue, r. - grew, I. b, p. Z7/z, L sz ; p. a6/a, 1. 34 ; f,
p. Z9/Z, L 34.
Gruntle, v., I. «, p. 6/z, L aa It is used of pigs in the
'Rehearsal.'
Gfutch, V. •m grudge, grumble, II. ^ p* 37, No. z6, I.
SO.
Grutch, sb, » grudge, I. a, p. 37/z, L 9z ; p. 37/a. L 8 ;
p. S9/1. 1 58.
Gryvea — griefs, I. /, p. Z4/Z, L a.
Guarded, v., II. jt, p. za/z, 1. Z4.
Guardes, sb., II. jt, p. za/z, IL 9» z8. See ' gards.'
Guards «- facings : ' The place was proper not for the
plain but guarded gown ' (Fuller^s Ch. HisL z. p.
89, IF 34) f.i. for a lawyer not a divine. So in Jon-
son's Magnetic Lady, i. i., and Ward's Balm ot
Gilead, near en± Cf. wdt and gard, s,v.
Gudgeons, gapmg after, II. «, p. zz/a, L 5.
Gndgin. gudgeons, I. f, p. Z3/3. L 6 ; p. zj/z, L 94 ; II.
b» p. 8/3, L zo ; A, p. 33, No. 67, L zo ; /, p. Z3/1,
L Z7 ; J, p. s/z, ,. 35. Cfl Merchant of Venice.
Along with 'gulls,' II. s, p. 5/z, last line.
Gue-gaw, I. j, p. Z3, st. zaz.
Gugin -• gudgeon, I./, p. z8/a, L 3Z.
Guift, sb,, guifte, II. a, p. 7/3, 1. z8 ; 0, p. i»fi, L Z9.
Guineuer, Queene, II. /, p. 7/a, L Z4.
Gull, guls. I./, p. Z8/3, 1. 3Z ; p. z9/a, 1. 99 : p. 93/z, L
46 ; p. 94/3, 1. 35 : ^. p. ^i» L 7 : U. A, p. 9, No.
zz, L 99 ; /. p. 8/3, L 3z.
Guiles, II. X, p. 5/z, L 35.
Gulls, V. s swallow greedily, i,t. a swallow and then a
sudden stop, I. x, p. za, st. zoa ; II. u, p. 6/a, L ncx
Cf. a Game at Chess (Dyce's Middleton, iv. 380).
' The fwalkyw of my coucieooe
Hath but a nanrow panage . . .
If I had got seven tbotuand poundt by oflices.
And gtdlid dawn that, the bore would have been bigger.'
See Nares also, x.f., where the word is derived from
the Latin gula. I. x, st. zoa, L 3, and note.
Gynne, II. /, p. zz/z, I 47.
H
Hab or nab, I. a, p. 39/3, 1. zz.
Haberdine, II. A, p. 34, Na 74, L 7 — not ' salt cod '
shnply, but an ' Island ' (qu. Icdand ?) or foreign
cod (of course therefore ' salted ' as it appeazed in
England).
Habit, habite, L A, p. 5, 1. z, z6 (note) ; 0, p. 8/a, L 19.
Habit =8 dress, not — ' constitution ' as in note in ioec,
I. A, In Auth., p. 5, 1. z.
Hackeling, atiy, -« cutting or chopping, I. a, p. 34/a,
1.97.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
25
Hackling, I. a, p. 97/a. L 3.
Hackney, adj,^ I./, p. 96/3, 1, i ; ^. p. 7/3> 1- 3-
Hackney, hackny, hackneys* 11./, p. 6/a, L ao ; A, p. 41,
No. 90, 1. II ; lit, p. 6/a, L 43 ; II. r, p. 6/a, L 31 ;
p. 13/1, 1. II ; J, p. s/a, 1. 17 ; p. 8/a, L 15,
Hackney-iade ss a hired horse, in modern language a
hack, I. M, p. 8/1, 1. 45 ; II. A, p. 44, No. 43, 1. la
Nares, j.v., quotes authorities to show that there
were no hackney-coaches in London till 1635. The
word in that sense is not in Johnson's Dictionary
though it was inserted by Tod± Haydn says, in
1635 a Captain Bailey started four hackney coaches
in London ; the number soon increased, etc.
Hackney saddle, I. j, p. 6, st. 17.
Had I wist, I. a, p. a8/a, L 46 ; p. 55/3, L 31 ; p. 57/3,
1. SO ; *, p. 16/1, L 16 ; f, p. 9/1, 1. 14 ; /. p. 19/1, L
4; p. 19/a, 1. 7; p. 3(Vi. I. 35 ; P^ a3/«» L 7 ; ^.P-
ii/i, 1. 33 ; p. ii/a, 1. 48 ; h, p. 11/3. L 16 ; m^ p.
6/3, L 7 ; <7, p. i^i, 1. 39 ; A p. 4/1, L 10 ; x, p. 9»
St. 58 ; p. 13, St. 137 ; /, p. 6/1, L 14 ; II. c, p. 60/3.
L a9 ; A, p. 10, No. 16, L 5 ; p. is. No. 34, 1. 35 ;
p. 13, No. 38, L 39 ; p. 49, No. 58, L 6 ; A, p.
ii/i, L 41 ; pp. 1 1/3, 1. 3.
Hainous — heinous, II. r, p. 45/a, L 31.
Haire (against the haire). I. j, p. 5, st. 7 ; II. d, p. is/i,
1.37.
Haire braine, I. a, p. 5/3, L 33 ; p. 9/1, L 18 ; pw 9/b, 1.
19.
Halfemewed • half-cast, sloughed. II. /, p. 11/3, 1. 11
(from bottom).
Halbert, know a halbert from a hedging bill, I, m, p.
8/1. 1. 7.
Haled, v., 11. nt, p. 8/3, 1. 8.
Halfe qans, II. j, p. 5/a, 1. la. Cf. Measure for
Measure, iv. iiL
Halfes — shares, II. c, p. 45/3, 1. 3 (from bottom).
Half horn mad — viciously or outrageously mad, II. x,
p. ii/i.
Halke, v, — to hawk, I. <, p. 5/3, 1. 37.
Hallow, I. d, p. 13/1, 1. 37.
Halter blest, I. /, p. 33/3, L 10.
Hammering, adj.. I./, p. 19/1, L 5.
Hammers of his head, I. ^, p, ii/i, L 39 ; m, p. 7/3, 1.
17 ; », p. 9/3, L 36.
Handfast, II. tf, p. 57/3, 1. 53.
Hand-fasted, II. 1, p. 8/3, L 14.
Handsome •==■ in sense of handsome is as handsome
does, and also « handy ? I. ^, p. 6/1, 1. 30 ; II.
^. P- 37/a. L 13.
Handsomely, hansomely, II. c, p. 38/3, 1. 49 ; /, p. 8/1,
1.48.
Hanging clothes, I. a, p. ii/i» L 47.
Hangmans monky, II. A, p. la. No. aa, 1. 14.
Hangmans wardrobe, II. r, p. ii/a, 1. la.
Hant, V. — to haunt, I. i, p. 5/1, 1. 43.
Happen, v., to happen on^ II. /, p. 16/1, 1. 3.
Happieth, v., I. «, p. ii/i, 1. 18.
Harde, hard, v. ss heard, I. ^, p. 9/1, 1. 35 ; p. 14/a, U.
3. IS. etc.
Hardines. II. k, p. 7/1, 1. 39.
Hare brain. See ' Haire bnune.'
Harkened alter, H. j, p. 4/1, L 3.
Harmeful (hameliil), I. b, p. 13/a, 1. 9.
Hart, hearte, sh. — heart, I. h, p. 9/1, L 31 ; r. p. 4. st.
13. etc.
Hart of grace ss heart of grace, II. </, p. 34/3, L as.
Hart-side, j*., I. a, p. 13/1, 1 3.
Hastie pudding, II. h, p. la/i, L 7.
Hauty, I. d, p. 4/1, L 13.
Hay, a ranked or ringed dance, I. /, p. 9/3, L 5.
Hayre, knew the world to a hayre, II. u, p. 9/3, L 10.
Heard, v. - to herd, II. /, p. 13/1, 1. 39.
Heard, j*., II. /, p. 13/3, 1. 37.
Heard-man, I. », p. 6/1. 1. 10.
Heare, j*. - hair, I. a, p. 13/3, L 36 ; ^, p. 13/3, 1. a6 ;
p. 14/1, 1. ao, etc.
Heart-sfeke, I. g, p. lo/a, L 13.
Hearte of oak, II. f, p. 8/3, L 15 (from bottom).
Heaue, v., I. d, p. 4/1, L 13.
Heauen — haven, I. h, p. 15/3, 1. 34.
Hedborough, II. i, p. 13/a, 1. 47.
Hedd, I. /, p. 13/1. 1. 31.
Hedges, v., I. k, p. 8/1, L a.
Hedge wines, II. g^ p. lo/i, L 7.
Hedging-bin, know a halbert from a hedging-bill, I. ot,
p. 8/1. L 7.
Hedging gloue, I. m, p. 5/a, 1. a8.
Hedside— misprfait for • Bedside,' L «, p. 13/1, 1. 15.
Heeles = till he have been put in the stocks, I. /, p.
aa/i, L 3.
Heels, turn up =» die—' toes up ' is the modem slang,
II. Cy p. 4a/3, L 16 :—
* Her« lies the body of Debonh Dcot,
She kicked np her heels, and away she went.'
(Old Epiuph that has 'a name 'but query
about the 'local habitation t'
Hdffer, II. k, p. 8/1, 1. 17.
Hdgh ho wele, I. a, p. 31/1, 1. 34.
Hell-hound, II. 0, p. 33/3, 1. 33.
Hell-wide, II. g, p. 6/3, 1. 38.
Hent, V. «■ seize, I. a, p. 35/1, 1. 14.
Herauldry (of heaven), II. q, p. 9/1, ]. 6.
Her, A^beames (speaking of the Sun), II. /, p! 13/3, 1. 3
—following the oldest English and Teutonic usage.
Cf. Grimm's Deutsche Grammatik, iii. 349.
Here, v. = to hear, I, /, p. 30/3, L 34.
Hey-cock, II. k, p. 13/1, L 45.
Hey-de-gey, hddegy, 1. 1, p. 7/3, 1. 53 ; j, p. 6, st. 16.
See Nares imder ' Haydigyes ' for a full note.
Heynous, I. r, p. 3/1, 1. 40.
Hey vp Holbome, II. h^ p. 41, No. 39, L 10.
Hide,J^., L/, p. 19/3,1.31.
High, v., = betake, hie, I. b, p. 16/3, 1. 35.
High Exchange (and see Low Exchange), I. a, p. 15/t,
1. 46.
High flying. I. q, p. 5/1, 1. i.
Highnesse, sb. s= height, I. 0, p. 14/1, ]. 34.
High shooes, II. A, p. 49, No. 59. L 17. • Ignoble
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
sectaries and high-shooe Clowns ' (Haoket't XXk (»C
Arcfabp. Wi]]iams, ll. 165).
Hight, v., I. A p. flo/i, 1. 34 ; p. ao/a, 1. 6.
Hildings, betiding, I. #. p. 90/1. 1. 1 ;/ p. 9x/a. L 14 ;
II- A P* 43/11 ^ 49> In Qroene's Friar Bacon (p.
157) is applied to a worthless horse.
Hiltef, II. #, p. B/a, I s^.
Hill, I. a, p. as/a, 1. 4a, and ootew^nir noU is wrong,
Gasooigne (Hazljtt's aditipn, I. 40X). haa 'Why
striue I with the streame, or boppe against the bill '
= an ongraoefal phrase nwaning to trjr to go vp bill
with a lame leg-— figumtiveljr of course.
His. Dedalus his heira, J. A, p. 6/1. L 8. Cf. md.. p.
7/3, L 4. • Death his ' tt/rf^mnUr*
Hitst of V. — hittest on? X, e, p, xa/a, 1« 19.
Hi«toriocr«pbi«i 11, ^, p. 15/9. L t.
Hobgoblin, II. j, p. lo/a, L aa.
Hobbies, II. x, p. 5/a. L i%» In Poelo's Josts n light
wonuui is oaQod ' a ibo hobby**
Hobby horse, hobbi, hobbia, I, #, p. 8/s, L 39; H. d,
p. xi/a, 1. 44; /• p. 6/a, 1. at ; /, p, 7/a. 1. afl ; A.
p. 33, No. 7, 1. 5 ; p. 33. No. 8, 1. iz ; p. 44, No.
43, 1. 14. With reference to ' Hobbio horse and
Maid lyiarian ' cf. MassiQgor's ' A Very Woman*
(iii. X.)
' How Uka aa evariaatang Morris daaoa it looks
Nothing but hobby hone and Maid M arian.'
Hodge, II. r, p. xi/i, L 6,
Hodge podge, II. r. p. zz/i, I 6.
Hog minions, 11.^, p, 8/1, 1. 50.
Hogshead, II. s, p. 8/a, 1. 19.
Hob I II. A p. I4/J'J- 17.
Hoice, hoise, hoised, hoyse, hoissed, I. #, p. is/«, L 33 ;
p. x6/i, I so; *. p. 8/x, l 9 ; II. rf, p. a3/«» !• 43 J
A, p. 34. No. XX. 1. 7 ; •1 p. S/». U 8S«' A P- 7/1.
I.a8.
Holiday face, 11. A, p, xx. No. az. L 7*
HoUy s holy, I. b, p. lo/x, 1. 47 ; p, 19/1, L 4a ; IL a,
p. 6/a, 1, 49.
Holsom, holsome - wbotesoma. I. b, p. 8/x, 1, xi ; 11.
0* V' 4/1. 1- 9-
Holsomely, II. /, p. X4/9. 1 34-
Holsommest. holsomest, X. a, p. 4l/l> I. 56 ; p, 4x/ai U*
35.53; II. A, p< s/3. L 7-
Home-made, I. A, p. 7/x. 1. 19.
Home-span, spunne, I. x, p. xa, St. io6 ; .IL g, p« 8/z,
1. 31 ; '. p-9/ii 1. 13\ *.p«4/i. 1- »; *» p« 8/a, 1 39*
Hony-dewes. II. /, p. 6/a, L 34.
Hongerly » hungrily, I. a, p. 4x/a, I. X9* So angerly-*
angrily. Macbeth, ill. vi. etc.
Hoodwinke. v., II. u, p. ii/a, L 4X.
Hood (to go in her hood), II. /, p. xz/a> 1* a8.
Hooke or crooke, II. c, p. 11/3. 1 47, O. Faery QuMQ
V. 3. 37, et aHH-^^ox unfrequent in Glisabethan
writers. The two following aro from playa of
Greene's published a little earlier than this worJc of
Breton's. ' By hook or crook I must and wW have
both ' (Ori, Furioso, p. 9a, 1594) ; ' By hook or crook
promotion now is sought ' (James iv. iv. 5, xs^S),
Cf. biter example in Hudibras, HI. x, 1091, ■» in
one way or another. See Mr. Robert Robcru et
Boston's * Apophthagmea of Erasmns translated by
Nicolas UdaU,' X564 (1877). m wbidi the sajing
occurs. I gladly spare room for tbit^' An aUnsion
to the custom of gathering i«ch wood in foteats as
could be got with a ko^k or %cro^: that is» the dry
and withered bcanebee which might be btoken off
with a long booked attck, eomewfaat Uke n sbep-^
herd's crook { and »icb branches and underwood as
might be cot with a hook, somewhat like a reaper's
•k^kle, but broader in the blade and stronger ; it is
yet at common as the sickle, and nothing is more
usual in rural districts than to bear a man told to
"go and hook out " such a bank or comer.'
« Nor wmaofler this boko.
By k^okt ^ ksf ctvpiktt
FryQt0dfor to be
Dyoe's Skeltoa's C^Um Clout.
Cf. Raphe Robynson's transw of Mae's Utopia
X55X (also admirably leprodooed by Mr. Roberts).
Hoorders, I. d, p. xo/x, L a6.
Hoongsi hung, II. ^, p. ao/i, L 91.
Hop-gardens, hopp-gwdeos, IL A, p. •4. No. 76, 1. 3;
p. 85. Na 77»1*3-
Hoppe, v., I. a, p. 35/3, 1. 4a.
Hops, sb„ I. w. p. 9/x, L 7.
Hoppy horse -« hobby horse, I. f . p. 6/x, L 54.
Home, booke of home, I. k, p. xi/a, 1, xy.
Home-booke, II. b, p. 17/a, L 39 ; J, p. ^a, L sx ; v, p.
9/1. 1. 6*
Home^efe, IL «i, p. 6/3, 1. xo,
Horn-mad, II. /, p. xi/x, L 33.
Homer, j^., one who works in bom. II. #, p. 9/a, L 5.
Homes -• cuckold taunt, to make homs at, IL as, p.
7/a. 1. 89.
Horse » hoarse, I. «, p. x^x, L X7.
Horse wooden s ship. Cf. Plautus Rud. I. v, so ' equo-
ligneo,' and Homer Odysi. 4. dXte faww ; Nashe
(Lenten Stuffe) says, ' men post after the herring '
on a wooden horse, IL r, p. 9, (Worthie Mereb).
Horse. »., horsed, II. j, p. 9/e, L 47.
HorsoKJOurssr, H./, p. s/i. 1. 33 ; /. P- S/«» 1. X7.
Horse-flesh, II. g, p. 7/3, 1. x8.
Horseleach, leech, IL </, p. 13/3, L e6 ; «*, p. xe/a, L 41.
Horse leachers, II. /, p. 9/3, L 53.
Horse lipped, IL^. p. y/a. 1. 4S-
Horae-loafe, II. b, p. xs/x, I 54.
Horse nest ss troublesome repetition of an old tale «?
oqr mare's nest. See Halliwell, /. v, I. a, p. 6/a. 1. 5.
Horse of pride, I. j, p. xs, St. X49.
Horse of sendee, I./, p. as/a, L 34.
Hose, j^., II. <, p. xa/a, 1. 6.
Hose-garters, IL b, p. 9/3, L 13.
Hose, heart inhis^we q)eak of having our heart in our
boots, or befaig ready to sink Into crar boots, II. r.
Pb 9/1, (Va Sold).
Howldea, « houkl, ^ bold, I. a, p. as/x, 1. la ; /, p.
X4/x,L3a; p. X4/3, 1. xx.
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GLOSSARtAL INDEX.
27
Howkte, 11. g, p. x5/d» L 14.
Howletes, L b, p 6/x, 1. M:
Houghes, I. a, p. 9i6/a, L xs*
Hoyseth. II. A p. 7/x> L x8 (firoa bottom).
Huddle (old Huddle), II. k, p« 45, No. 44. L xS.
Hue and cry, II. k, p. 33, No. 7, L 14.
Huflb-G*ppe» 'gimeed with buff cap tennt and thunder-
iuf tbretts ' (Hall's Sftt L UL 17). I./, p. ao/x, L X5.
Huftietuftio, H. i, p. tx, No. aa, L x.
Hugger up, I. «, p. xx/x, L 9.
Huggle, v., II. t, p. X3/1, 1. 7.
Hunune a&d baw. I. «, p. 6/x. L a8.
Humbleues, humblenesae, I. ^» p« 7» st 70 ; 0, p. X9/X,
L 24 ; II. 1/. p. 7/a. L 17 ; P. xfi/x« L S3-
Humour, II. k, p. aa, Na 66^ L 9* See our Memorial
Introduction (II. Critical) On this word*
Humor'd, tf^'. , I. a, p. 7/a, L 47.
Humorous « angry, II. A, p. X9, No* 50. L x.
Hundretb, II. d, p. X7/a. L 03 ; ^, p. 7/x, 1. sx ; p. 9/x,
L 49 ; '•. P- 9/«. 1- S-
Hunney « honey, I. it p. xi/a, L 90.
Hurlie burlie, II. c, p. 6^x, L 46b Arber's Transcript
of Stat. Reg. (11. 781. A.D. X583)fiimisbesa(resh
illustration :— 'fearing some burly burly to follow,
departed away.'
Husband, sb* — husbandman, II. i, p. 5/9, L 3 ; A, p.
7/a. 1. 43-
Huswife, huswives. I.^, p. 7/a, L 3 ^ *"• P- W^i I. 99 ; ^.
p* 6/x, L 26; II. r» p. 44. L 34;/ p. 6/x,L 51; k,
p. xo. No. 15, 1. ax ; m, p. 6/a, L 36 ; /, p. 6/a, L
as ; /. p. xa/i. 1. X7 ; 1. p. xa/x, L aa.
Huswiferia, huswifery, II. c, p. 59/x, 1. 43 ; /» p. x4/a,
L 47 ; r. p. xa/a, 1. 39.
Huswifeth, v., IhJ, p. xi/a. 1. xa
Hutofa, jb„ II. t, p. lo/x, L 39.
Hylding (and see hilding), I. a, p. 39/a, 1. a ; U. /, p.
14/x. L X4.
Ice, to break the ice. II. g, p. 4/x, 1. 5.
Idle-headed. I. <. p. 6/a, L aa ; a. p. 5/x, 1. 8 ; j. p. 6,
St. IX.
Idle-humour'd, I. /, p. 9/a. 1. 39.
Idle-times, II. c. p. xx/a, L ay.
Idldy, II. r, p. 13/1, L x.
Ideot. sK I. ^, p. 5/a, 1. 33.
Idole— query s efdwXor, image, figure? I, A, p. X3/X,
L 7. Chapman (Bussy d'Ambois, iv. I) says that
woman * are the most pvfeet idols of the moon.' *
images or likenesses.
Ignorant, sb.» an ignorant, II. i, p. 5/x. L 99.
Ul-conoaited, I. A, p. 6/x, L a.
Ilfamouredlie, II. c, p. 4a/a, L 4X.
lUavored, II. c, p. xa/a, 1, xy.
lUiEiuoredly, II. i, p. 9/x, 1. 41 ; j. p. 8/1. 1. 7.
lUttding. tf^f., IL a. p^ x6/a, 1. ax.
Imbasing. st„ II. c, p. as^a, L X8.
Imbrace, v., II. a. p, 6/1, 1. 33.
Imbraoement, II. ^ , p. 8/x, L 7.
Imbrasings, I. a, p. xx/x, 1. x8.
Imbrodery, II. m, p. 6/x, L 43.
Imbroydred, o^r.. I. ^ . p. 8, st 85.
Impaire, v, imtr. » decay, vob neuter, I. a, p. o8/a, L
34; *, p. 15/1,1.5.
Impeach, v., I. «i, p. 8/a, L X4.
Impes, J*., I./ p. xx/a, L xa
Ifl&ploymant, IL ^, p. ao/a, L ax ; A. p. a3, Na 66, L
xa ; p. as, Na 78, L xi ; r, p. xx/x. L 4a
Impostume, II. a, p. lo/i, L 37.
Impreiie, in heraldry. IL ^, p. 9/x, I xj.
In capita, IL A, p. 44. Na 43. 1- aa J •'i P- 7/*. L •7-
Inch of Mndoe, II. c, p. a6/a, L 3.
tt, IL *. p. as, Na 79. L a.
nt, v., L 6, p. x9/a, 1. 3^ ; a. p. 9/^. l- 3i-
i, IL ^, p. x6/a, L 3.
laoomprehansibla «s immeasoxable, h 0, ^ x8/a, L ao ;
<r,p. 7/a,L a; p.9/a, L x ; IL a. p. s/a. I 7 ; ^. p.
5/a, L 30 ; p. 7/x, L 19. See Bib. Bng.. p. xos-
Incomprehension » Indusion, L A, p. xs/a, L a.
Indeuours, ji^., II. A, p. as, Na 78, L xd.
Indillerencie * in good sense, IL /, p. 9/x, L 7.
Indtflerem, good -* equally good. IL t, p. ^a/x, L 35 )
/, p. 7/a, L 7.
Indifferentlie. and ly. I. k, p. x6/X (note) ; IL tf, p. X3/1,
L47.
Indignitie, IL /, p. 4/1, L 7 ; P. 7/i, L ai : p. 7/a. L 5.
etc.
Indiscretion » want of discernment, IL a, p. 8/3, 1. 34.
Indure, v., IL A, p. 35, Na 79» L la ; m, p. 6/x, L 43.
Infamous* 1. «. p. X3/1, 1. 05.
Inieet. j^., L j, p, 15, st 148.
Infinitenes, 1. 0, p. xg/a, L xa.
Infortonities, IL A> p. 9^ No. X4» 1. a.
Infragible« IL 4, p. 34, Na xx, L x8.
InfringeaUe, infringdblei IL A, p. 5a, Na 67, L 14 ; /,
p. x3/a, L 37.
Inezpected, IL A, p. xx/i, L 3a
Ingredience » entrance, L 9, p^ xs/x, L x6.
Ingression, IL d, p. xj^x, L xi.
Inheritant = inherent? II. 0, p. 8/x, L 3.
Inioy, u, L 0, p^ 33/3. L 43 ; p. y^t, L 5. etc.
Inkeeping, IL i, p. i8/a. L xa
Inkhome, L a, p. 13/3, L xa
In-liers. II. /, p. 7/x, 1. ao.
Innocent, sb, » a fool, idiot, 1. 1, p. 6, St. 13.
Inough K enough, 1. a, p. 4/x, L a6, Pref. p. 13/x, 1.
X3 ; p. 36/1, L 33 ; ^* P" a/a* L 13 : ^I- '» P- «a/3, 1.
14. eta
Inquest, I. tf, p. 8/a, L 33.
Inricht, v., enriched^ II. d, p. 7/a, L aa ; a, p. xa/a, 1.
38.
Inrottles, v., I. «, p. 8/a, L 33.
Insensible. II. a, p. xx/a, IL 89^ 46.
Insight! 11. /, p. xx/x, L x ; /, P* x^a, L 37.
In some a in sum, 1. b, p. 17/x, L 36 ; «, p. x3/a, 1. 4.
Instance«>motive.-a SbidLespearean use, L k, p. 13/3, 1. 7.
Instant. a<(/. - present, 1 1, c, p. 57/a, L 3.
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28
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Insteede, I. 0, p* 41/x, L 391
Insue, v., I. a, p. 33/a, L 36 ; p. 49/1, L 9i.
Intempenuicie, II. / p. 14/3. L yx
Intend, v. s to be intent upon, I. «>, p. 5/3, L 33.
Intitled, intituled, IL 0, p. 33/1, 1. 33 ; /» p. 8/3, L 4.
Intrapt, v., L a, p. 7/z, L 14.
Intreatp v. = to treat, L f , p. 7/3, L 49 ; IL Jl, p. 35,
No. 14, 1. 7 ; V. p. 5/1, L la Intreot with * entreat
. or beseech. Cf. Bib. Eng., p. 133. 11. c, p. 15/3,
L 5 ; '» p- 37/1. L 7
Innited at, II. ^ p. 18/3, L 31.
Inward * intimate, I. g, p. 8/a, L 3 ; II. Jl, p. 13, No.
^* L 3 ; '> P* 7/flf L 7- Job ziz. 19 : * David was
fina«nf with God.' (Adams, L 135.) Pepys, under
date Aug. 33, z668, relates how the Duke of York
' did with much inwardness tell me what was doing.'
Dr. Henry More speaks of Cudworth and others as
his* inward iiiends.' See also Fuller's H. War, bk.
II. a 36.
Inward-blushing, I. «, p. 8/3, L 15.
Ipsa-quse, I. d, p. 13/1, L 9.
L O. v., to write L O. U., II. «, p. 9/1, 1. 13.
Irremoueable, II. A, p. 44, No. 41, L zo ; ^, p. 8/3, L 4a.
Isop, isope, I. a, p. zz/3, 1. 31 ; /, p. 3/x, L 83 ; II. c,
p. 39/3, L xo.
Item, I. dt p. X3/X, L 39.
Iuie4msh, taveni sign, and see Bush, I. d^ p* 9/1, L 4.
Jack (in music), I. 0, p. X3/Z, L 59.
Jacke, Jack « coxcomb, I. f , p. 7/x, L 3 ; p. zo/z, L
XS ; g* P' 7/'» !• »S ; M« *. P» i8/z, L 57. • I hare
not seen a dapper Jack so brisk,' Marlowe, Edward,
II. L 4.
Jacke, at iacke, II. /, p. zo/a, 1. 38. Qu.— variant for
'Juke ' and — sleeping, v. Juke.
Jacke a Lent, I. q, p. 6/z, L 53. .
Jacke a Lute, I. j, p. 6, st z6.
Jacke and Gill, I. j, p. 9, st 67.
Jacke of both sides, II. b, p. 8/3, L 33 ; i, p. 8/9, L 6.
Jacke of Lent, II. /, p. za/x, 1. 33.
Jacke will be a gentleman, II. f, p. 4^3, L 38. C£
Richard III., x. iiL 7a.
Jacke-an-Apes, I. 0, p. zo/x, L 49 • P* >o/3> IL 3* 54 : P-
17/3, L 39 ; p. z8/x, L 33 ; p. 19/x, L zs ; p. 3z/z, L
4X ; €, p. 8/1, L 8 ; ^, p. zo/z, L 33.
Jackeanapeses, IL r, p. 57/9, L 34 ; <f, p. Z3/Z, L 3Z ; p.
z^x, 1. az ; A, p. 34. No. 9, L 7, No. zo, L 9 ; r, p.
Z3/Z, L 93 ; *, p. 7/x, L 7 ; p. xa/x, U. 8, Z3.
«J^e, J^., hagge— not usually applied to males, I. ^, p.
•* • lo/z, L 3 ;/, p. Z9/X, L 33 ; p. 33/x, L xs ; p. 95/9.
L as; P- a6/a» I- » i*^. P* 7/1. L 40; p. xx/a, L 30;
OT, p. 8/1, L 45 ; '. P- «3. «. «a9 ; IL ^. P* »/"» ^
flo, 35 :/ p. 7/x. L 34 : p. xz/3. L 53.
Jagges, ib. (article of dress), I. 0, p. z5/z, L Z5.
Jarre, at » at variance, II.«, p. za/a, L 33. ' Rule and
sovereignty set us at Jar.' (Pede's ' Edward i.,' p.
403.)
Jdosy. L 0, p. 40/z, 1. sx ; p. S5/a, 1. 97.
Jdousnesse, IL q, p. z8/x, I 33.
Jdousie, II. JT, p. Z3/9, L 9.
Jentle, adj,, L 0, p. z8/9, L 93.
Jennet, L/ p. 93/z, L Z5,
Jerke, v., I. «, p. 9/9. L za
Jerkes, j^., ierlce s devices : usually beatings, L 0, p.
7/9, L 46 : ^, p. Z7/9, L Z9 ; IL J, p. Z3/9, L 9z.
Jerkins, A,, ierken, 1. j, p. 9, st. 63 ; IL b, p. 9/z, 1. 47 ;
p. z8/x. L 47 ; », p. 7/z, L Z3 ; IL r, p. 8/x, L 34 ;
/, p. 7/z, L zs.
Jet, v., letting — strut, to strut nuher than walk wan-
tonly, 1. 0, p. 6/z, i. Z3 ; p. 33/3, L 33 ; «, p. 9/3,
L zo ; ^, p. zo/z, L 93 :—
' He wMn a lotd't revorence oa his bade,
And Midas-like he/W# at the court.'
(Marlowe's Edw. 11., L 4.)
In Greene's James iv., iiL 3. the Queen bdng ad-
vised to assume male disguise says, ' What shall I
jet in breeches like a squire?'
Jew (reproachfully). IL h, p. 93, Na 71, L & * I were a
Jew if I should decdve him.'
Jewes trumpe, IL *. p. 5/1, 1. 33.
Jigge, J*.. I. M, p. 7/z. L Z9 : IL /, p. zo/z. 1. 34.
Joane, I./, p. ai/a, 1. 4a
John a Suks, II. g, p. 9/x, L 34. Qa.--eRor for Stiles,
or — John-fr-plough from sull a ptough, or it may
be from Suls, Fr. for elder-tree.
John hold my staffe «- parasite, II. «>, p. 7/9, L 99.
John Sir » ignorant priest. ' Instead of a fidthlul and
painful teacher, they have a poor Sir John,
which hath better skill in playing at tables, or in
keeping of a garden, than in God's word. ' (Latimer^s
Sermon, p. 3x7.) Cf. this with Macanky's 'young
Levite,' who ' might not only be always ready in
fine weather for bowls and in rainy weather for
shovdboard, but might also save the expense of a
gardener or of a groom. Sometimes the reverend
man nailed up the qprioou, and sometimes he cur-
ried the coach horses.* (Hist of Bng. c 3.) \. g,
p. 5/9, L 98.
John-a^nods, noddes, I. «, p. 8/x, L z ; ^, p. zz/z, L z ;
IL *, p. 8/1, L 5.
Joice, Mb, s juice, I. 0, p. Z7/9, L 45.
Jone (his old Jone), IL c, p. 48/9, L 4Z.
Jone Juggk, IL h, p. Z9, No. ^. L x.
Joy =s give joy to, verb active, usually verb neuter. I.
h P^ 7/a, L 43.
Joyants, j;^. — joints, II. j, p. 9/9, 1, xz.
Joye — ornament, nidi-nack, IL f, p. 4Z/9, L zz.
Joynctes, «</., I. 0, p. 98/z, L 97.
Joynd stoole, I. f, p. 6/z, L 9.
Joyning up, v., — reconciling. IL ai, p. 7/z, L 40.
Joynt stoole, I./, p. 93/z, L 99.
Judidous, IL ^, p. 4/a» IL 93, 35 ; p. ^z, L 99 ; r, p.
7/9, L Z4.
Juke, at hike — hawking term » obdormire, t.f. the
birds go to deep. II. /, p. Z5/9, 1. Z3.
Jumpe, ff., IL^, p. z3/z, L Z3.
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Google
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
29
Junckets, iunkets, I. b, p. 13/1, L 3 ; 11. f, p. z6/8, 1. 14.
Jarymen, II. k, p. zo/i, 1. aa.
Jylliflowen, I. a, p. zi/a, 1. 36.
Kat, n. i, p. zi/a, L 15.
Kay - key, II. ^, p. 17/1, L 13.
Keake, v., keaking. I. «, p. 6/z, L 13 ;/ p. a6/i, L aa ;
II. h, p. 49, No. 58, L a ; /, p. ix/a, L 14 ; p. 13/1,
1.3.
Keaking, sb„ II. x, p. 13/3, 1. 8.
Kecke, keckt, v., II. j, p. 13/1, L 17 ; p. Z3/a, L 4.
Keep cut =s keep within bounds, I. m, p. 9/a, L 4a
Keisar, II. e, p. 13/1, 1 ao.
Kenning, sb,, I. A, p. 14/1, L 5a.
Kertle. kertik, kertell, I. «, p. 8/1, U. 4, 3a ; II. /. p.
8/1, 1. I.
Kenies, II. k, p. 15, No. 35. L 8 ; Na 36, L 8.
Kestrell, I. / p. 36/3, L 4.
Kibes s a cut or chap on the bed, I. gt p. 8/3, L 3a. 'It
is not the velvet slipper that can heal the klbe-heeL'
(Brooke's Serm. iii. 179.)
Kie, sb.t II. k, p. la/z, L 41.
KiU, sb. - kiln, II. b, p. 19/a. L 5a.
King of Portugal, 11./, p. 7/z, 1. 53.
King Pippin, I. «, p. 9/3, 1. 5a
King or Keisar, II. c, p. 13/z, L az. So Spenser fl^
quenter,
Kinde, sb., I. a, p. zo/z, 11. 45, 50 ; / p. a6/3, 1. 4 ; 9, p.
8/z, I. 46 ; p. zz/z, L 3, etc
Kind s kin, I. /, p. 7/3, 1. Z9.
Kindly choaked — with the same thing that he had
chosen : the instrument of his death was after the
'kind ' of bis wish. See Bib. Eng., p. z6z. I. i»
p. zo/z, 1. 35.
Kindely, adv,, kindly, I. k, p. lo/a, L 35 ; 0, p. za/z, L
8 : p. Z3/Z, 1. 4 ; '. P- 13/a. ^ »•
Kinred, I. x, p. 5. st. s ; II. o» p. az/a, L 4r.
Kirtle, I. a, p. 30/z, 1. aa
Killings, II. s, p. 6/z, 1. 36.
Kittes, I./, p. 3x/3, L 37.
Knackes, sb., I. a, p. z5/z, L za ; p. 58/a, 1. 39 ; II. u,
p. 9/z, 1. ao.
Knagges. I. », p. zo/a, L 37.
Knapping, v, — snapping at, as in the Psalm, ' Knafptih
the spear in sunder,' II. «>, p. 6/z, L 39. See Nares,
j.v.
Knaue, I. a, p. Z3/Z, L 5 ; 11./ p. 8/z, I 3.
Knaue, v., I. «, p. 7/3, 1. zz.
Knaue of Chibbes, I./ p. 35/3, L a8.
Knauish, I. a, p. Z5/Z, 1. zz.
Knees, of my soule and heart, II. a, p. 5/z, L 5, tialiH,
Cf. Prayer of Manasses, Bib. Eng., p. 363,
Knick-knackers, II. j, p. 6/3, L a8.
Knitting— ^u. knitted ? I. ^, p^ z4/a, L 3Z.
Knoule, v.,— -by stress of rhyme, I. a, p. 30/3, L 38.
Knowen, I. a, p. a9/z, 1. 38 ; p. 35/z, L 8 ; ^, p. Z4/a, L
49 ; p. sVii 1* 5i» etc.
Koope, v., II. c, p. 4z/z, L 5z. Query— if this does not
mean, chaffer away so that she may not have the
use of it? Or is it a misprint for 'keepe ' or »
ooop, v., to shut up.
Kow, I.^, p. 9/a, L xo.
Labosinthk, laborinth, I. n, p. 9/z, 1. 35 ; 11. /, p.
6/a, L S3 ; p. zz/3. L 49 ; /, p. Z7/3, L sz.
Labouzous, I. m, p. 9/3, L zz.
Laboursome, II. f, p; zz/z, 1. 18.
Laced, v., II. A, p. 43, No. 33, 1. 38.
Laced mutton, II. c, p. 63/z, L z8 ; ^, p. zz/z, L 45.
Lack-latine, Sir John, I. f , p. 6/3, L 34. ' Some will
say our cunue is naught, an ass-head, a dodipols,
a lack-latin' (Latimer's Serra. p. 304).
Lady, v., to lady it — to affect the manners of a lady, I.
f, p. zo/z, L z6.
Laiemen » laynnen, I. b, p. Z7/Z, 1. 48 ; 0, p. zs/a, I.
z8.
Laier, sb„ rabbits of one laier, II. g, p. 8/z, L 49, See
Racket's Life of Williams, a z66.
Laire, at laire, II. x, p. 6/z, L 9.
Lampe, tasted the, II. q, p. 4/z, L 3, in authorem.
Landresse, see launderesse, I. j, p, 9, st 61.
Lang debiete, II. x, p. 9/z, L Z5.
Languisomg, v., II. d, p. zs/z, 1. 3Z.
Lanthome, 1./, p. 7/a, I 33.
Lapidaries = Jewellcars, IL b, p. 9/z, L 89.
Larum, I, b, p. z9/a. L Z4 ; II. ^, b. a6/x. L 53.
Lash, v., (to lash it out), I. a, p. 57/3, L sz.
Lattice, red — alehouse, IL /. p. iz/a, L 4, and note.
See Nares, i.v.
Lanncing, v., II. r, p. 7/z, L zs.
Launderesse, II. «, p. 8/3, 1. 33.
Laundrer, launderers, launders, 11. c, p. S9/Xt L 30 : /,
p. z3/z, L zo ; p. zz/z, 1. sa.
Lawde, j*., I. *, p. a8/z, I 361
Lawne, j*., I. a, p. zz/z, IL S3. S7 \ P- xs/'. L 49-
Lawnde ^ lawn, glade or park, I. /, p. zz/a, L iz.
' Akte w« rui the deer, and through the ItnmuU
Stripped with our nags the lofty frolic bucks.'
(Gnene'f Friar Baoon, opening) : Venus and Adooia, L 813.
Layman, see Laiemen.
Layre — lair, IL /, p. 6/a, L a8.
Laiie bones, I. f, p. za/z, 1. 3Z.
Leace, x^., I. b, p. zs/z, L az.
Lead, v, - led, I. rf, p. zo/z, L Z3 ; 11. c, p. 9/z, L 3a.
Leapes, sb. — wicker baskets, II. /, p. zo/z, l 33.
Leame, v, = to teach, I. a, p. 57/3, L 58 ; ^, p. 5/3,
I 4z ; <», p. zz/z, L a4 ; p. zs/z, L 9 ; U. a, p. za/a^
L 33, etc.
Learned, is learned ■■ has, II. /, p. 8/a, 1. Z4.
Leas, I. e, p. 7/3. L 33.
Least * lest, II. c, p. zs/a, I 33.
Leaud «- lewd, 11./ p. Z4/Z, I. z6.
LeaueD stakes, 11. h, p. 4Z, No. 39, L 9.
Led, ji^. — lead (metal), I. g, p. za/z, L 33.
60
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Google
30
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Leeke ^ like, I. a, p. 50/1, L 5a.
Leeke, v. — to like, «.«., to pleast, L h, p. az/a, I 98.
Leere, v., leerde* I. bt p. .zo/i« 1. 19 ; /, p. ai/i, L 46 ;
n, p. 6/2, L 45 : I. 0, p. 7/a. 1. 7 ; II. g, p^ 7/1.
L a6, etc.
Leeres, sb,, II. A, p. 47, No. 50, 1 la
Leering, adj., I. m. p. 9/a, L 5 ; 11./, p. 6/a, 1. i ; /, p.
Leering, v.. 11./, p. 7/a, 1. 34.
Leese, v, — to lose, I. a, p. 35/1, 1. 17 ; </, p. 14/1, 1. 36 ;
M, p. 5/2, 1. a6 ; p. 8/a, L 46 ; 0, p. 7/z, L ai, etc.
Lceve — lief, IL t , p. 5/1, L 29.
Legerdemaine, IL g, p. 8/3, L 29 ; A, p. 18, No. 45.
Laa
Legge, to make a legge ^ to bend the leg or knee in
obeisance, IL f , p. 42/3, L 40 ; «, p. za/a, 1. z.
Of frequent occurrence, «.^., Jonson's Tale of a
Tub, iv. I ; Hudibras, Hi., L 35a ; Cowpcr^s Yearly
Distress, ' So in they come, each makes a \tig*
Earlier (Fox, iii. z), 'inferior parasites . . . who
make their revenue out of legs and faces.'
Legged, »., IL g, p. 6/2, L 33.
Let, v., I. a, p. 35/2, title.
I^t, a„ I. b, p. 8/z, 1. z8.
Lettys. 1. a, p. 54/2, U. 39, 43, etc.
Leude, adj., L b, p. a7/z, 1. 39.
Leuying, v. — aiming, II. «, p. 6/z, L 43.
Level, taking — taking taxes or dues, I. g, p. 8/a, 1, 40.
HaUlwell says to < level ' is to tax (i.v.)
Lewd — ignorant, I. 0, p. 6/z, L aa
Lewdly, I. /, p. az/a, 1. 33.
Licoris, adj., II. /, p. Z4/3, L 35.
Lief — life, II. v, p. 3, IL za, 33.
IJght - Ut, IL », p. 9/3, 1. 35.
Light of — light on : ' of ' — on four lines later, et frtq.,
I. h, p. 9/3. L 35. Cf. Bib. Eng. p. 85.
Lightsome, I. /, p. 7/3, 1. zz.
Like, v., likte, I. a, p. 7/1, L 54 ; P- S'/a. U. a. 43 1 A P-
4/z, 1. 9 ; II. K p. ai. No. S9. L i3-
Like, v., to like of, L a, p. Z7/Z, L a ; II. f, p. 60/a,
I. 33.
Limed, v, (and see ' Lyme '), II. e, p. 5/z, 1. 3a ; r, p.
Z3/Z, 1. 93.
Lime-rod, II. /, p. 7/a, 1. Z5.
Lirames— -qu. misprint for 'limmers * «- vagabonds ? IL
/, Hamest, p. 7. L 5. Or is it = limbs, as we say
' lasy bones ' ?
Limons, II. c, p. 38/3, L i.
Linage, sb. « lineage, II. h, p. Z3, No. 33, 1. Z4 ; «, p.
S/z, 1. S3 ; n, p. 7/z, 1. z6, etc
Ling, i*., II. b, p. Z0/3, 1. 40 ; *. P' a4i No. 74, 1. 6 ;
No. 75, L 7.
Linguist, v., II. n, p. 7/z, 1. 33.
Lins, V, — to oease--misprinted ' Uu,' I. a, p. Z3/Z, 1. a6 ;
II. €, p. 6/3, 1. Z7.
Liquorish, II. /, p. 6/3, L 37.
List, v., I. a, p. 9/>* L a7 ; p. 39/3, 1. 39 ; /, p. 33/z,
1.39, etc.
List, J*., II. b, p. Z9/Z, 1. Z3.
Lhe.j^.,L/, p. 7/3, L36.
Uther. adj., II. b, p. 9/z, 1. z6.
Little world, II. b, p. z8/3, L 48.
Liudy — living, II. 7, p. 7/z, L Z7.
Liuelyhood, I. k, p. 8/3, 1. 3.
Livinge-dyinge, I. c, p. 3, st. 7.
Livlye, adj. - living, I. e, p. 4, st. 33 ; p. 7, st. 59 ; p.
8, St. 74-
Uu— qu. misprint for *lin?' II. €, p. tin, 1. Z7.
Loadstane, II. r, p. 6/3, 1. 35.
Loath, v., II. a, p. 7/3, 1. 35.
Lobbe, 1. 1, p. zo/z, L Z3.
Lobcoke, lobcocke, I. a, p. Z5/3, 1. 37 ; p. z6/z, 1. 56 ;
s, p. 9, SL 67.
Lobkin, II. g, p. 8/3, 1. 3 ; 1, p. zo/3, L 37.
Lobligatorie— play on word obligatorie, II. s, p. 8/z,
1. zz.
Lob-loUie, loblollies, II. k, p. 9/3, 1. 38 ; j, p. zz/z, 1. 30.
Lobstart, IL /, p. 8/3, L 43.
Lockt gates, II. /, p. z5/z, L zz (from bottom). See
Scott's Old Mortality, ch. viii. : ' It was a universal
custom in Scotland that, when the family was at
dinner, the outer gate of the Court-yard, if there
was one, and if not, the door of the house itself, was
always shut and locked, and only guests of import-
ance or persons upon urgent business, sought or
received admittance at that time.' Notice also the
capital story in the note at foot of the page : and
cf. Comedy of Errors, ill. z. So also in Breton's
A Mad World (IL i, p. 6/3, L 4), ' finding the dore
shut, I did imagine that the servants were all at
dinner.'
Lode-horse, loade-horse, IL /, p. 7/3, 1. 3a ; p. zo/i,
L33.
Logger-headed, I. *, p. 6/z, L 8 ; /, 34/3, 1. 35 ; g, p.
7/1. 1- I-
Loll, sb., 1. 1, p. zo/z, 1. Z3.
Lombarde Streete, I. a, p. z4/z, I. 46.
Longed, adj., I. k, p. zo/3, L Z4.
Looking labour, II. b, p. 7/3, L 35.
Loose, V. — to lose, loosing, I. a, p. 33/z, 1. 37 ; ^, p.
zz/z, 1. zz ; p. z8/z, 1. 3, etc. etc.
Loosing, ib. — losing, I. 0, p. Z5/3, 1. 8.
Looue, V. — love, I. a, p. 5/z, L 34 ; p. 6/z, I. zz, etc.
Lothebury, * Hee that will Brase his iaoe at Lothebury,
I./. P- 94/3, L 35.
Loue and labour lost, L d, p. lo/a. 1. z.
Loue4x>ome, II. k, p. zz/a, 1. 4Z.
Loudy, €Ldj, — loving, I. 0, p. zz/a, L za.
Lottte, sb., lowte, lout, I. a, p. 4/z, L za, Pref. ; p. zo/a,
!• as ; p. X7/i» 1. 46 ; p. 33/1. 1- 9 ; «» P- w/z. L Z3 ;
/ 34/3. L 35 ; «f. p. 7/z, L 13.
LovUe, I. c, p. 8, St. 74.
Low exchange, and see High exchange, I. a, p. Z4/Z, 1.
6.
Lowre, v., II. /, p. zs/z, L Z5.
Lowse, I. m, p. 8/z, L 5a
Lowsie bush, II. x, p. 9/z, L 5.
Lowtishnesse, I. a, p. i6/z, L 45.
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GLOSS ARIAL INDEX.
31
Lubber, 11. d, p. 13/1, L 99 ; / p, 7/a. L 53 ; if, p. 8/a,
1. a.
Lubberly, II. ot, p. 6/3, L 7,
Lud-gate, II. «, p. 13/1, L 37.
Luld. I. a, p. 60/a, L 3.
Lurch, give the, = cheat ; Uncb ^ steal, I. €, p. ^3, L
97. Fuller's H. War : Hudifaras, P. III. L 646, and
in Gay's Trivia, in. 64.
Lurch-men, II. f, p. la/a, 1. 5a
Lure, 1*., II, c, p. 18/x, L xa ; p. 56/3, L 47 : / P* «/».
1. aa ; p. zz/i, L aa
Luring, v., hawking term, 11. 7, p. 7/1, 1. 5.
Luripups, II. A, p. 34t No. zo, L 4 : Uripoop, II. k.
Letter 10, L 4, and note; See Nafes, i.«. This
example is analogous to that which he quotes firom
Fletcher's Pilgrim, where a girl at her piBoks is
called ' a young lirry-poope.' As the word of old
meant a doctor's scarf, to ' play one's Uripups * may
be compared to the fencer's phrase ' playing one's
prize ;' meaning at first going through the exercises
necessary to obtain a degree, and coming later to
mean something very like playing the fool : perhaps
from the contempt into whidi the oveivsubtleties of
Scholasticism felL Cf. dunce from Duns Scotos.
Lustie-guts, II. h, p. 33, No. 7, 1. za.
Lustlesse, I. /, p. 3/z, 1. 5.
Luxurious, II. y, p. Z4/3, 1. 36.
Lyoquor, II. c, p. 9/z, L 40.
Lymed. v., II. k, p. zo/z, L Z3.
Lyme-hound s hound led in a leash or line, II. g, p.
9/1. 1. 18.
Lyn, v., and see Lins, II. /, p. z4/z, 1. az.
Lytes — lungs, I. 0, p. zi/x, L 9.
M
Maadst, I. a, p. 33/a, IL 33, 37, 3X, etc.
Machauile, machauell, machiuile, machiauil, I. b, p.
17/1. 1. S3 : '. p. 8/z, 1. sa ; / p. as/i. I- 8 ; «. p.
8/1, 1. 7 ; II. b, p. za/a, 1. 47 ; /, p. 7/z, 1. 40.
Machiuilian, machauilian, I, /, p. 4/a, 1. 6 ; r, p. 3/z, L
zz ; II. y, p. 4/z, 1. 8 ; i, p. 6/a, 1. 33.
Madding, I. rf. p. za/3, 1. 35 ; e, p. Z3/Z, L 30 ; / p.
Z8/3, L z8 ; ^, p. 8/9, L 33 ; t , p. 5/3, 1. 50 ; / p.
8/3, 1. Z9 ; II. e, p. 3s/z, 1. Z7.
Madge Howlet, 1. 1, p. Z3, st. Z33.
Mad-head, adj.^ I./ p. aa/z, 1. a8.
Mad-head, sb., II. g, p. 4/z, 1. Z3, To Reader.
Mad-headed, I./ p. 33/a. L zz ,* II. f, p. 5d/z, I. 6.
Magnifico, II. /, p. Z3/Z, 1. 48.
Magot-a-pie, II. i, p. Z3/Z, 11. Z3, 49.
Maide-Marian, marion, I. «, p. 8/z, L 39 ; /, p. a3/z, 1.
37 ; /. P- 8/1. 1-91^. P- 6/z, L 54 ; 1, p. zo, st. 83 ;
Maid Marian, II. b, p. Z7/Z, L z8 ; ^, p. 7/z, 1. 3a ; A, p.
33. No. 7, 1. 5, No. 8, 1. 9 ; A, p. 4Z, No. a8, L 9 ;
p. 44, No. 43, 1. Z3.
Maiden-blush, adj., I. 0, p. 7/3, 1. z.
Maiden hear, I. /, p. 3/3, 1. 30.
Maister workeman, II. », p. Z4/3, 11. 47, 48.
Makers, Ji^., II. /, p. 7/3, L 44.
Mak^ sb, s= mate, I. /, p. Z3/a, 1. 34 ; p. Z9/Z, L Z4.
Mal-content, sb. =» discontent, II. b, p. ao/3, L zs.
Male, shirt of, II. m, p. z3/z, 1. 33.
Malioed, v., II. 0, p. 30/3, 1. 98.
Malkins old mare, II. g, p. 8/z, 1. 35.
Malipart, Sir Morris, II. k, p. za. No. 94, }. z.
Mallard, II. /, p. zo/z, 1. 39.
Malligo, II. X, p. 8/9, L 98.
Malt above the wheate, IL /, Haw. L Z3.
Maltman, I. a, p. 58/a, 1. 49.
Mammaday Pudding (and see 'mummada') II. u, p.
Z4/3, 1. 3Z. Stowe (quoted by Nares, s.v,) mentions
one Mother Mam-pudding, no doubt so called from
her resemblance to the delicacy here alluded to.
Mams, I. a, p. 4/z, L 6.
Manages, II. /, p. z5/z, 1. zz.
Manchet, II. b» p. 9/3, 1. 5Z.
Mane-combe, IL /, p. 8/1, 1. 3Z.
Manerly, I. /, p. 6, st zy.
Man-childe, II. r, p. zs/z, L Z5.
Manish Dogge, II. «, p. Z4/3, L 38.
Man of Gotham, II. r, p. 8/z, L z.
Manie way — in many ways, II. u, p. zo/z, L 9.
Manned, but with a poore boye : ' The gates were shut
and partly man'd, partly boy'd against him ' (Fuller's
Cambr. p. 96, % z6), II. c, p. 38/3, L zz.
Mansion house, I. b, p. 33/3, 1. 38.
Many a one, I. b, p. 9/3, 1. Z4 ; IL g» p. 4/z, L 6, To
Reader.
Many, a many, L s, p. zz. st. 87.
Man'd — tamed, as ' un-manned ' is i^ untamed. See
Nares on the latter word. Cf. Churchyard's verses
in his Jane Shore, * Compell the hawke to sit that
is un-mande,' etc.
Manning, v., mand, I. bt p. zo/a, 1. 3 ; II. r, p. Z5/Z, 1.
za
Map of miserie, II. k, p. 38, Na Z9, 1. 34.
Marchant, I. /, p. 7/z, L z6 ; i, p. 7/3, 1. 39 ; p. 9/3, 1.
X ; /, p. 8/3, L 37, etc.
Margerian, II. x, p. 9/3, 1. Z9.
Marish, I. e, p. 7/z, L 30 ; p. 8/z, 1. 6,
Market matches, II. /, p. 7/z, L 48.
Marrie, marry, II. c, p. zs/z, L 54 ; P- 4S/«. I- «>•
Maskers, II. t, p. zx/3, 1. x.
Masking, adj\, I. b, p. 33/x, L z6.
Master print, I. k, p. 60/z, In Authorem, 1. 5. Cf.
' master spirit,' etc. etc
Mastership, II. /, p. zz/z, L 35.
Mate, I./, p. Z9/3, 1. z5, and p. 90/3, 1. 57. See Bib.
Eng. p. 50, 'a mighty povrer of struggling mates*
Greene's Alphonsus, p. 338), ' that usurping mate '
{ib, p. 334)— disparagingly used.
Mate, v., I. g, p. 5/z, L zo.
Mate (chess), I. /, p. 6/z, 11. zo, Z3.
Mate, sb. •» companion, II. A, p. z3, No, 33, L 9.
Mattocke, I. «>, p. 8/z, L 47.
Maudelina, II. j, p. 9/3, 1. 3a
Maugre, I. e, p. 8/3, 1. sz.
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32
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Matakin, II. A, p. 19, No. 53, 1. 19 ; A p. 9/a, L is.
Manlt, I. a, p. 58/3» L 3z.
Maund, I. gt p. ii/z, L la.
Maurice daunce, II. g, pu 7/z, L 3a.
Mawdlen, I. e, p. 5, st 38.
Mawe — an old game at cards, I./ p. as/^. 1- ^
Mawkin ^ weadi orgiri— still used in the Eastern coun-
ties, I. tt p. 6/z, L a.
May-painting, x^., II. u, p. 6/a, t 51.
May-game, maie-game, II. h, p, 33, No. 7, L 8 ; i, p.
ii/a, I. 30 ; p. la/x, 11. 3, aa.
Maynteyneth, v., II. v, p. 8/z, L zz.
Maze s labyrinth, I. /, p. az/z, L a.
Mated, v., mase, I. d, p. za/a. 1. as ; /, p. Z4/a, L 43 ;
II. f, p. z5/z, 1. z.
Mealefaouse, I. a, pu z6/z, 11. Z3, Z9.
Meale-woman, 11./ p. 6/a, L a6.
Meane, j^., I. n, p. 9/a, 1. a6 ; IL d, p. 5/a, L 7 ; / p.
6/a, L 4.
Meane. adj,^ 1. 1, p. 8, st. 46 ; II. €, p. 14/z, L 30 ; «, p.
zo/a, L as, etc.
Measure, tread a measure^ I./, p. a3/z, L 36.
Meate— applied to milk, I. /, p. 33/a, 1. 39. See Bib.
Eng., p. ZS9.
Meating — measuring, as m St Matthew, vii. a, II. g,
p. 9/a, L 34.
Mediocritie — moderation— a Latlnism, II. h, letter 33,
(1603, text), 1. 3a.
Medow-plot, II. h, p. 34. No. 8, L z6.
Mee thinketh, II. A, p. z8, No. 47, 1 7*
Meere, I. a, p. 49/z, L Z4.
Meete, v., 11./, p. zz/a, L za
Meigrum, II. kt p. 9/a, 1. a.
MeUncholike, melanichoUcke, melancolike, I. a, p. 4s/z,
1. 3s; II. *. p. ao/a, 1. 33 ; c, p. 6a/z, 1. 43 ; *, p.
6/z, L 38 ; /, p. s/i. i* ^o,
Mdch-cow, II. k, p. 7/z, L 43.
Meloncholte, II. f, p. 6z/z, L 38.
Mdowne, II. /, p. 9/a, L 39.
Mencon, II. v, p. 7/a, L as.
Mendment, II. /, p. Z3/Z, L z6.
Menion — minion, I. e, p. zo/z, 1. la
Ment, v., I. 0, p. z8/z, 1. 37.
Merceir, II. r, p. 7/a, L 43.
Merely s merrily, I. a, p. z6/a, L za
Meridianis, II. b, p. ao/z, L 40.
Merline, 11. /, p. 6/z, L 33. Gascoigne has a poem
(edition Hazlitt L p. 356), * written to be sent with
a tyng, wherein are engraved a Pftitrich on a Mer-
line's foot.'
Merrie go sonie, Merry goe sorry = mhrture of Joy and
sorrow, IL e, p. 49/a, 1. Z4 (from bottom) ; d, p.
as/z, L Z7 ; A, p. Z4, No. 30. L z8 ; «, p. 8/a, 1. 37.
' Go ' has a similar place in our expression, ' happy-
go-lucky.'
Merueile, v. = marvel, Fr. merveille, I. a, p. 49/z, L 8.
Met, v., query — mete, I. a, p. Z4/Z, I 44.
Mettd, II. i, p. zz/a, L 44.
Mew, r., 11./, p. 6/z, I zs.
Mew, ji^., II. /, p. 8/a, 1. 34^
Mewed, adj.^ halfe mewed head of deer, II. /, p. zi/a,
I 34.
Mezled, adj,t I. a, p. a6/a, 1. zs.
Mezill, II. A, p. S3/ii !• M-
Miching, I. a, p. ss/^t ^ i3»
Mickle, I. a, p. 3s/z, U. 34, s^ ; II. c, p. 7/z, 1. a.
Middest, II. c, p. 6a/a, L 40 ; », p. z^x, IL 84, 37 ; k,
p. za/z. L 35.
Middle humord, I. q, p. 6/a, L 33.
Miery, I. a, p. a6/a, L Z9.
Miers — mires, I. b, p. 8/a, L z6.
Milk-soppe, adj,, I./, p. a3/a, 1. 33.
Milch cowes, II. nf, p. 7/3, L 43.
Millers mare, II. ^, p. 7/z, L 33.
Milstones, to see into, I. a, p. 34/3, 1. 4.
Mincethswalk ddiberatdy, Isaiah, iii. z6, I. «, p. 9/z,
L 3Z. Cf. Herrick, GkMsarial Index, s,v.
Minikin, II. g, p. 7/z, L zz. Does this shed any light
on the word ' mimock or mimick ' of Midsummer
Night's Dream (4to.) changed to ' mimmick ' in the
folio? See also Lear. ill. 6, 43.
Minkes, minks, I. e, p. zo/z, L zo ; IL c, p. 43/a, L z ;
p. 44/a, L 46 — ^nothing satisfactory on this word is
to be found in our Dictionaries. Richardson
derives it from ' miniken.'
Minions, minion, I. ^, p. z8/a. L 3 ; A P* 9/Xi L 43 ; A,
p. zs/a, 1. a9 ; «, p. 7/a, L 31 J H- ^. P- 43/i. I- 44 ;
g, p. za/z, 1. so ; /, p. 8/a, I S' ! *. P- lo/a, L 4a.
Minister «■ curate in charge ; pastor s rector, often an
absentee, IL », p. Z4/Z, 1. 3Z.
Minsing, adj,t I. b, p. z3/a, L Z4.
Misconoeipted, I. A. p. zo/a, L 5.
Misconceived, v., IL A, p. Z9, No. 53, 1. 3.
Misdeede, I. r, p. 6/a, L a.
Misdemeanures, 1. 0, p. 9/a, L z8.
Mise ss mice, IL k, p. zz/z, L 35.
Miser, adj„ I. ^, p. Z3/x, L 4 ; «, p. zz/3. 1. 33.
Miser, ib. = wretch, IL c» p. 45/a, L z6 ; p. s^l^t !• 8.
Miserable «• miserly, I. m, p. 7/a, L z ; j, st. 94, L z :
' miserable Laban ' (Adams i. a6), ' he that is miserable
to himself will never be liberal to others ' [ib. p. Z9s).
Miser-minded, I. m, p. zo/3, L 37.
Misery s covetousness, miseriiness, I. b, p. zy/z, 1. 45 ;
II. f , p. 8/3, L Z3 ; r, An Unworthy Gentleman, p.
8,14.
Mislike, v., IL c, p. 60/3, 1. 30 ; /, p. 7/3, L 44.
Misliking, misliking of, I. a, p. 33/3, L z.
Misrule, Lord of, IL /, p. zz/z, L 4Z.
Misse, sb„ IL A, p. 33, No. 7, L z8.
Mistaken, adj., II. «>, p. 6/z, h ao; o, p. ao/z, I za.
MisteU, IL J, p. s/z, L 39.
Mistermed, IL a, p. 5/3, L 37.
Misused — misled (see * misword '), No. 69, L 3.
Mis-word, put into mouth of a down, IL A, p. 33, No.
68, 1. 3. See Sylvester's Du Bartas— The Captaines,
L zozs.
Moale-de, I. «, p. s/z, L 34.
Moane, sb,, L A p. 30/3, L 9.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
33
Moate * mote, I. q, p. 7/x, L a ; /, p. 15, tt taa
Moatb, I. /, p. 9/z, L 50.
Moe, mo = more, I. a, zz/a, L 53 ; p. z^a, 1* 39 ; P*
z6/z, L 44. etc. etc.
Moes, v.t II. JM, p. 7/3, L 39.
Moiled, v., moyled, II. f, p. 6/z, L 5 ; /, p. zo/a, 1. 17.
Moity, II. jl, p. 6, No. z, I. 13.
Mole-like, I. q, p. 5/z, 1. 36.
Molt, V, s to moult, 11./, p. 6/z, 1. Z3.
Mome, a., I. 0, p. z9/z, L 39 ; p. a6/a, 1. 3 ; J, p. 7* st.
36.
Monarch, v., I. e, p. 9/a, 1. 30.
Monckish, L b, p. zo/a, L a6.
Mone. j^., I. b, p. 37/1, L 7 ; <^, p. Z3/Z, L a6; II. f, p.
6/a, L zz ; p. a^/i, 1. 39.
Monefull = grievous, calling forth moans, 1. 7, p. za/z,
1.38.
Moneths mind. II. «>, p. 9/z, 1. aa.
Money-master, II. /, p. 6/a, L 3Z.
Moneyed — bribed, or rewarded with money, II. o, p.
Z9/Z, 1. SI.
Mony-men, II. x, p. 6/1, 1. 3Z.
Monkie, pretty monkie, term of endeannent, IL b, p>
16/1, L 35.
Monkie, to play the monkie, I. «>, p. 7/a, L 5.
Moore, **., 11./ p. 6/a, L 4a
Moorish, adj. = moorland, I. g, p. 7/a, L za ; II. g, p.
6/a. 1. 35-
Mooming, I. /, p. 13/3. 1. 34.
Mooue, v., moouing, I. a, p. 31/3, 1. 31 ; d, p^ iz/z, L
6, etc.
Moouer, II. o, p. 8/1, 1. z8 ; q, p. 9/3, 1. 3.
Mopping, I. b, p. z8/i, 1. za
Mopt. v., II. s. p. xz/i, 1. 34.
More halfe asunder, I. a, p. 13/1, 1. 45.
Morice, II. b^ p. z4/z, 1. 34 ; i, p. 11/3, 1. 3Z.
Morice, five pennie morice, II. <f, p. 35/3, 1. 33.
Mome, V, = mourn, I. b, p. 7/z, L 38 ; r , p. 3, st zx
Morris, mods daunce, I. /, p. 30/3, 1. 6 ; p. 33/3, 1. 43 ;
g, p. 8/1, L 9 ; •», p. 7/1, 1. 13 ; J, p. 6, st. 16 ; II.
rf, p. z6/i, 1. 31 ; / p. 6/a. 1. 33 ; ^, p. 7/z, 1. 7 ; A,
P- 33» No. 7, 1. 8 : p. 4Z, No. 38, L zo ; k, p. zi^z,
1. 3 1 A P- 8/a» !• 16.
Morrice-dancers, I. g, p. Z3/3, L 4 ; IL A, p. 33, No. 7,
1. Z7 ; p. 4z, No. 39. 1, za
Monrt>wing, sb., —putting off tiU to-morrow; Greek
aifpltta, I. M, p. 9/1, 1. 39.
Mother (the), II. i, p. 13/3, 1. z6.
Mouse, a man or a, II. /, p^ 15 (Jen) : this also occurs
in Appius and Virginia by R. B., Z575 (Hazlitt's
Dodsley, iv. 138). ' It is but haphazard, a man or a
mouse.'
Moule-catcher, 11./ p. 5/3, L 33.
Monies, 11./ p. 6/3, L 8.
Mought, moughst, v., I. a, p. 7/z, 11. 9, zz ; p. za/z, L
33 ; p. az/i, 1. 19, etc.
Mount Noddy, II. g, p. 6/a, I. a8.
Mouse, mowse, sweet mouse, a term of endeannent, I.
/, p. z8/a. 1. 17 ; II. e, p. 37/z, L z8 ; p. 43/z, 1. 34.
Mowd, v., J, II. p. zz/z, L 34.
Mowing, v., L ^, p. z8/z, L zo ; II. b, p. z6/z, L zz.
Mowles, sb, * moles, I. g, p. za/s, 1. 34 ; '» P* i3> ^•
zaa
Mownte, x^., I. /, p. 33/1, 1 33.
Moyled — dirtied, not toiled, II. /, p. zo (October).
Moyses^ 11. o, p. Z5/3. IL Z3, Z4.
Muoe, sb„ I. /, p. 33/3, L 53. See Fuller's H. State, p.
163.
Much — not at all, expression of contempt— as in
Shakespeare, II. r, p. 47/3, L 33. ' (Vint.) Come,
give it me again. (Rob.) Ah much I when, can
you tell?' (Marlowe's Faustus, iii. 3). See Nares.
J.V.
Much adoe about nothing, I. A, p* 5/3, L 7 ; II. k, p.
7/3, L 33 ; p. z3/z, L z. ,
Much-appawled, II. d, p. 38/3, 1. z6.
Mues — wretdi. Cf. Fuller's Ch. Hist. v. p. 333, IT ^6.
Muffe, J*., I./, p. 34/z, L 53 ; «, p. 13/z, L 39.
Mumbled, v., mumbles, I. b, p. z8/z, L 33 ; II. /, p. 14/2,
I. Z3.
Mumniada pudding, and see mammaday, II. i, p. zo/2,
1.39.
Mummers, II. /, p. zz/3, L z.
Mump = grimace, v., I. i, p. 9/3, 1. zo.
Mungrell, II. b, p. Z3/z, 1. 37 ; r, p. 8/z, L 43.
Muirian s= morion, II. r, p. 9/1, 1. aa
Muskadine, II. g, p. zz/z, L 34.
Musde-boat. II. b, p. 8/a, L 5.
Muscouia, II. /, p. 7/3, L 3a
Muses, sb„ muse, II. d^ p. zz/3, L Z3 ; p. Z3/Z, L 4 ; /.
p. Z5/3, 1. z6.
Muses, in the muses, II. b, p. zs/a, L Z3.
Muses, standing in the, II. d, p. zz/a, L 4Z ; p. Z7/Z. L
za.
Mustachios, II. c, p. 57/a, L 47.
Mustriship, II. e, p. 41/1, L Z5.
Mutiners, mutlner «- mutineer, * Mutine ' as verb was
then common, II. / p. 6/z, L a ; j», p. 8/1, L 6.
Muttons. II. b, p. z7/z, L z6.
Muze, j;^., standing in a muse, I. o. p. 4/z, L za
N
Nailes ! IL ^ , p* 4z/z, L za
Nannicocke, I. /, p. a3/z, L 3.
Napkin, I. a, p. 40/z, I 59 J P- 4o/». ^ ^^
Nappy ale, II. ^, p. 7/a, L z6 ; ^ p. Z4/a. L 7 ; ar, p.
7/z, L 37.
Naturall, sb., naturals, I. a, p. 6/z, I 36 ; p. z7/a, L i8 ;
II. X, p. 6/3, L 4a
Naught = nought, I. a, p. Z4/Z, L 60 ; p* 33/3, L 3a
Naught — evil, L a, p. 39/3, L 3 ; j, p. zo, st 86 ; II.
f, p. 39/3, L 39; P- 6o/ii L 3« » A P- »S/". L Z7 ; /,
p. zo/z, L Z9.
Naughtie, I. j, p. zo, st 8z.
Neare the neere s ne'er the nearer, L a, p. 44/a, L 4.
Neate, I. j, p. zz, st 98 ; II. #, p. 9/z, U. 6, 7 ; 9, p.
za/z, L 36.
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34
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Neck, to give the neck, I. t^ p. 5/a, L 4 ; p. 6/1, L la.
Necked, II. gt p. 6/a, L 33.
Needens, sb,, I. i, p. lo/i, L 15.
Neere «= niggardly, I. /, p. 24/1, L 24.
Neere — near, II. «, p. za/a, L aa
Neere == nearer, 11. e, p. 5/a, L aa.
Neighbour borne, II. it, p. 13/z, L 43.
Neither s nether, II. «>, p. 7/a, 1. 34.
Newes-carriers, I. /, p. ao/a, L 4a.
Ney, V. — neigh, II. v, p. 6/1, 1. 37.
Nice — squeamish, II. A p. 15/1, L 38.
Nicely, II. A, p. 41, No. a8, L 7 ; r, p. 13/1, L a.
Nicked, II. A, p. 10, No. z6, L az.
Niggard, adj,, I./, p. a4/z, I. a8.
Night-eaters — fleas, II. /. p. zo/z, L Z3.
Night-raven, II. 0, p. aa/a, 1. zo.
Nifle, nifles, I. /, p. a3/a, L 34 ; A, p. 7/3, U. z6, 45 ; p.
Z3/3* !• 39* ^^ Chaucer, Sompnoures Ta'e, L 5a.
' with nyfles and with fables.'
Nigh, enough unto himselfe — a sportive expression of
near, i,e, miserly, II. k, p. za/z, 1. zz (from bot-
tom).
Nill, v.. I. ff, p. a8/a. L z6.
Ninny, II. s, p. 8/a, L aa.
Niniute — Nmivile, L 0, p. z6/a, 1. ao.
Ninnihammers, II. j, p. 7/a, 1. 48.
Nip, J*., I. b, p. z8/z, 1. az.
Nittes » lice (see under ' Nittie '), I. ^, p. Z3/Z, 1. z8.
Nittie — lousy, I. ^, p. 8/a, 1. 34 ; II. A, p. 41, No. 39,
1.3.
Noate, sb., I. a, p. 37/z, I. 5 ; ^. p. xz/z, 1. 4 ; /, p. 7/3,
I. 38 ; II. V, p. 6/3, 1. 34.
Nobles, sb, — ^play on word, II. », p. Z3/a, IL az, aa.
Nocke, V. — fit the nock or notch of arrow to string,
II. /, p. 6/3, 1. a.
Nodcocke, nodooke, I. tf, p. z7/a, 1. a8 ; p. aa/z, 1. Z3.
Nares has ' nodge cock.'
Noddle, nodle, II. b, p. Z7/Z, 1. ao ; p. Z8/3, 1. 19 ; c, p.
9/3, L 4.
Noddy, noddie, I./, p. 33/3, 1. 40 ; ^, p. 8/3, 1. 3 ; J, pu
zz, St. 98 ; II. A, p. 34, No. zo, L 6 ; p. 39, No. 9.
L 5 ; nf, p. 8/z, L 36 ; /, p. 6/z, L a ; /, p. zs/a,
1.4a.
Noddy, poore noddy, II. m, p. 61^, 1. 49.
Noddled, v.^the verb uncommon, I./, p. a4/z, L 5.
Noddle-pate, II. s, p. zz/z, 1. 88.
Nome, adj. — numb, I. a, p. 35/3, 1. z6.
Nonce, I. a, p. 38/3, L a8 ; p. 43/z, L 34 ; / p. aa/a,
1- 45 ; P- 24/1. 1- 5-
None-childe «- corruption of ' own child,' nonsuch, none
like it, a darling, II. r, p. Z3/Z, L 4.
Nones — nonce, I. a, p. 54/3, 1. z8.
Noll - head (not as in note), II. /, p. Z4/3, 1. 8.
Nose, to wipe the nose for their knauery, II, A, p. 33,
No. 69, 1. 9.
Nosed, v., II. gt p. 6/a, L 3Z.
Nose-gaie, II. A, p. 9/3, 1. 45.
Nose-gay makers, 11./, p. 7/z, 1. 35.
Notary, II. q, p. 6/z, L 46.
Note-booke, I. s, p. 5, st 4 ; p. 8, St. 53 ; II. r, p. 6/2,
1. 35.
Notes, sb,, I. q, p. 6/a, 1. Z4 ; II. q, p. 5/a, 1. 30.
Norremberge, II. /, p. 9/a, 1. 46.
Nought = naught, evil, I. A, p. 6/3, 1. z6 ; II. e, p. 5/a,
1.37.
Nouriture, 1. 1, p. zz, st. zoz ; II. b, p. Z3/z, L 48.
Novice, II. t, p. z3/a, 1. Z3.
Nowne-childe, II. x, p. 7/3, 1. 44.
Nowne4oue, II. A, p. 50. No. 60, L z.
Nowne adjective, fe^le like a, II. 0, p. z8/z, 1. aa.
No]rsome, II. t, p. z3/a, 1. 13. ^
Nullibi, II. X, p. zo/z, 1. 49.
Nuixle. w.. I./, p. 33/3, I. 53.
Number, a number players, I. 1, p. 5/z, L 43. See Bib.
Eng., p. 85.
Number, a no matter for them, I. m, p. 4, 1. 6 (To the
Reader). Cf. the Latin numems in Horace's Nos
numerus sumus fruges oonsumere nati, etc. -*•
among a number who have no care for them [i,e,
reason and virtue] I doubt not but there are some
will give them their right I matter not what he
says — I care not what he says, and similar ex-
pressions, are not uncommon.
o
O, ' more O then wit can comprehend ' — circular, per-
fect ? II. 0, p. 5/3, 1. 7 of Diuine Poem.
Obscurenesse, II. A, p. 33, No. 3, 1. 9.
Obserue, v. — respect (a Latinism), I. e, p. 4/z,, 1. Z4, To
Reader. See Jonson's Fox, I. z ; and Heylin's Life
of Laud, p. z8a So our A. V. St. Mark vL 90,
though the Greek does not bear it out, or the Geneva
Version's, or Cranmer's ' gave him reverence.'
Oocurrents, sb„ II. d, p. 4/z. L zo; A, p. 34, No. za,
1. Z4 ; «, p. 7/3, L 54 ; p. zz/3, L 34.
Odde — at variance, I. A, p. za/z, penult 1.
Odde shauers, II. x, p. 6/a, L 8.
'Of — omission of 'of in 'a number plague,' I. f, p.
5/z, L 43. See Bib. Eng., p. 85.
Offend — cause to stumble, I. b, p. z5/z, L Z4 (from
bottom).
Offendant, II. A, p. 43, No. 36, L 40 ; /, p. xo/a, L Z3.
Qffensible — offensive, and so in this case overwhelming,
I. /, p. 7/z, 1. 3z. If we used the word now it would
rather signify capable of bemg offended. Cf. ' per-
suasible' for 'persuasive' (z Corinthians ii. 4, in
margin), ' deceivable ' for ' deceptive ' (Ecd. x. 19).
etc.
Oke, sb, - oak, I. a, p. 39/a, L 50 ; II. /, p. 8/a, I. 39 ;
p. 9/z, L z6.
Old leather, II. m, p. 6/a, 1. 54.
One where, L b, p. Z7/Z, L Z3.
Open-eyed, II. b, p. 9/a, I 54.
Orators, II. A, p. 6, No. 3, 1. za
Orders, sb., or rank or precedence, II. u, p. xa/a, 1. 41 ,*
p. Z3/z, 1. X.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
35
Ordinance — ordnance, II. i, p. 10/3, 1. 41 ; p. xx/a, L
44 ; ^, p. 8/a, I 84 ; x, p. s/a, L xi. Cf. Shake-
speare, * In second accent of our ordinance,' where
Globe edition misreads ' ordnance.*
Ordinaries, x^., ordinary, IL /, p. xa/x, L 49 ; «», p. 5/1,
L XI.
Orenges s oranges, II. ^, p. 38/a, L x.
Organes— plural though a single Instrument, I. a, p.
13/2. 1 I.
Orient, I. ^, p. 8x/i. L 3X ; xr, p. xo/a, L 40 ; II. i, p.
37, Na 86, 1 8 ; ^, p. 5/3, L 34 : r, p. s/a, L 8 ; p.
6/3, Na 8. L 3.
OrientaU, II. g, p. 10/3, L 4a
Orphants, II. m, p. 6/1, L 7.
Osteler, II. /, p. x4/a. L 14.
Otbersome, I. ^, p. 18/3, 1 a6.
Otherwayes, IL c, p. 34/x, 1. 35.
Ctherwhere, I. b^ p. 17/1, 1. X4.
Otherwhile, I- b, p. i6/a, 1. 3.
Ouerfoggy flesh, I. b, p. 13/3, L 6.
Ouer foggy «- bloated, I. ^. p. 13/3, 1. 6 (from bottom).
' The foggy epicure ' (Adams, I. 43). Cf. Fuller's
Pisgah, III. 437.
Ought, V. = owed, I. d, p. 5/3, L 38.
Ougly = ug1y, I. 3, p. 9/1, L 8 ; p. 9/3, I 30; p. xo/i,
L x6 : /, p. s/3, L 33, etc.
Outlandish, II. 3, p. 19/3, L 49 ; /. p. 6/3, L 9 ; p. 8/3,
L I.
Outlookers, II. h, p. 43. No. 39, L 8.
Out-match, II. / p. 14/3, L 14.
Out of hande, I. tf , p. 59/3. 1. 69.
Out-scolde. I. f, p. 6/1, L x6i
Out-sight, II. /. p. xi/i, L a.
Out-sing, IL y, p. 14/3, L 13.
Outspume, v., I./, p, ii/i, 1. 34.
Outswimm, IL /, p. 14/a, 1. 11.
Out-toile, II. / p. X4/3, 1. 13.
Outward men, II. 9, p. xo/i, L 40.
Ouer catch, II. x, p. X3/1, 1. la
Ouer fawnd, I. m, p. 7/a, 1. 49.
Ouer gazed, L A, p. 13/3, L 47 ; j», p. 7/1, L 38.
Ouer-go-goe, ouer-goeth, L g, p. 9/1, L 4 ; i, p. ix/i,
L 47 ; p. 14/1, L 38 ; (7, p. 16/1, L 3a
Ouer-gon, gone, gonne — absorbed, L b, p. 7/3, I 46 ;
k, p. xi/x, last line but three ; ot, p. 9/1, L 50 ; «,
p. 7/x, L 34, etc.
Ouer gorge. IL x, p. 9/1, 1. 53.
Ouer glut — over-fed, I. A, p. 9/x, L 3a
Ouer head and cares, IL i, p. xo/i, L 35.
Ouerlooker, 1. t, p. 33/1, L i.
Ouer-lookes, v., I. e, p. 9/1, L 5x ; p. 9/3, L 50 ; /, p.
X4/1. ^ ^
Ouerlovde. L /, p. 31/1, L 35.
Ouer matcht, IL x, p^ X3/1, L 4.
Ouer-readi, IL /, p. lo/i, I 51.
Ouer-runne, L rf, p. s/a, L X9.
Ouersee, v., onerseene — overlooked or left to them-
selves, L b, p. 19/1, I 6 ; IL c, p. 38/1, 1. 33 ; i,
p. 9/1, L 34. The double meaning is well brought
out in Fuller's Holy State, p. 49 : ' Lest his Apothe-
cary should oversee, he oversees his Apothecary.'
Cf. also his Hist of Cambr., p. 63, 1 33. Correct
note in loco,
Ouer sbooes, IL A, p. X3, No. 37, L 41 ; i, p^ xo/i, I 35.
Ouer shute, v., L «t, p^ 8/1, L 14.
Ouershroude, I. ^, p. 33/1, L 15.
Ouersight, x^., I. «>, p. X0/3, L 43.
Ouerthrowen, I. b^ p. 34/1, L 49 ; <f, p. 9/3. L 43, etc
Ouerthwart, L a, p. 43/1, 1 43 I P- 44/a. ^ 27.
Ouer-toyle, I. n, p. 7/1, L 35.
Ouer-troade, I. b, p. 37/3, L 41.
Ouer-trod, trode, I. /, p. 13/1, I 36 ; A, p. 13/a, 1. 36 ;
M, p. 8/2, 1. s ; p. ii/i, L 3 ; X, p. IS, st. 153.
Ouer-watch, 1 1. /, p. s/«i l 35'
Owes, v., L /, p. 8/3, 1. 16.
Owlie, I. c, p. 3. st 4 ; IL A, p. a6, Na 81, 1. 13.
Owle light, IL A, p. 16, No. 40, L xa
Oz-iawed, II. /, p. 7/3, 1. 46.
Oyle of gold, IL n, p. 13/1, 1. 37^
Osiers, IL ^, p. ao/a, L 38.
Pacience, IL v, p. s/3, L 3t.
Packe, V, L a, p. 31/1, L 48.
Paddocke, IL /, p. 7/3, L 43.
Padling, v., II. c, p. 43/x, L so.
Pagent, x3., I. A, p. 13/1, 11. 14, 17.
P&gged, adj., II. /, p. 8/3, L 33. Cf. Greene's Friar
Bacon (p. 171) : —
' And forty Kine with fair and foamished heads.
With ftroudng dugs ^S^Xpag^ to the ground.'
Paid in poste, IL r, p. lo/x, I 3. Here there is prob-
ably an adaptation of the ltalian/0x/a a bet, or stake
in gaming. The meaning then will be that the dis-
honourable merchant consents to be paid a share of
the winnings, alluding to some agreement. Many
of our present commercial terms have been taken
from Italian, and it is pathetic to think of this as
declarative of Italy's decay from her ancient com-
mercial glory. May a greater future await her f
Query— should we read ' to be paide.' See Nares,
x.v. -" in haste, promptly.
PainefuU, I. «, p. 30/1, 11. 5. 17 : *. P- 16/3, L s ; II. c,
p. 46/3, 1. 6 ; /, p. 6/1, L 46, etc.
Pafr of cards — pack. * Have 3rou not good tippling
houses there ? may not a man have a lusty fire there,
a pot of good ale, a pair of cards ?' (Greene's Friar
Bacon, p. 178.) ' Pair ' was used in several phrases
that are now obsolete, t.g, * send me half-a-dozen
pair of knives.' (Howell, Lett 14. B. x, f x and
§ 3. letter ao), ' paur of gallows ' (heading of Esther
v.). We still call a single flight ' a pair of stairs.'
II. /, p. xo (October).
Paire, ». - to impair, L *, p. 9/1, 1. 43 ; p. 9/3. 1. s.
Pale, X*. - boundary, I. g, p. 6/x, 1. 34 ; x, p. 4, to
reader ; p. 7, st. 3s ; /. p. 14/1, 1. 6 ; IL rf, p. 13/1,
1. as, etc.
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36
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Paled, v., I. /, p. 3/1, 1. 17.
Palsey-shaking, II. k, p. xi/i, L 52.
Pamphlets » slight poetical essays rather than prose, II.
/, p. 6/fl, 1. s.
Pandarisme, I. s, p. 13, st. 139 ; II. /, p. 6/1, 1. 96 ; «,
p. is/i, L 43.
Pangues, **. = pangs, I. a, p. 85/1, IL 8, 30, etc.
Panneld, v., pannell, L </, p. 8/3, I 33 ; II. h p» xx»Xi
19.
Pannd s a riding pad or saddle (writhout any equi-
voque). See HalliwelL The story is very old, and
is in the French of Des Periers. II. s, p. xi/i, 1. 9.
Pantable (oathe on). •» a sort of engagement sworn
between pages not to betray one another's escapades,
II. i, p. 9/9, L 17. It is alluded to elsewhere, 4.g,
* By all the tricks that pages pass in time of Parlia-
ment, as swearing to the pantable, crowning with
custards, papeivwhifis to the sleepers' noses, cutting
of tags, stealing of torches, cum muliis aliis, <A
Pleasant Commedie called Looke about You, z6oo ;
Hazlitt's Dodsley, vol vii. p. 4x29.) Cf. Massinger's
H. Combat, ni. 2. where a page says, ' Ere I was
sworn to the pcmtable ' ^ before I became a page ;
so New Way, etc., i. i. : Bash. Lov. v. L
PantoflBes, II. ^, p. 63/1, 1. x6.
Pantler, II. /, p. 7/a, I. la.
Pap, sb., I. tf. p. 7/1, 1. 4 ; p. 7/2, L 34 ; p. ai/i, L 84.
Paper-booke, II. ^, p. 30/3, L 33.
Papers on their heads, II. r, p. 8/3, L a6.
Paradise foole's, — ' a fool's paradise is a wise man's hell '
(Fuller's H. State, p. 339), I. e, p. 9/3, L 391
Paragon, I. », p. 5/1, 1 35.
Paramour, I. 0, p. 5/3, L 15.
Parce, v., II. k, p. 9/z, 1, 47 ; /, p. 15/1, L za
Parce » per se, I. /, p. 34/1, 1. 3 from bottom.
Parcels = parts, paroell, L 0, p. 8/1, L 8 ; II. /, p. 13/1,
1.45-
Parets, parrett, I. i, p. 8/3, 1. 34 ; *, p. 9/1, L 37.
' Parret. . . almond,' II. c, p. 64/3. Mr. Arber promises
a history of the whole Mar-prelate and related books.
Paris-garden, II. A, p. 13, No. 34, L 13.
Parlcc, parly, II. d, p. lo/i. L 47 ; i, p. 11/3, U. 53> 54 •
ff, p. 13/1, 1 39. See Nares, s,v. * parle.'
Parler, II. c, p. 37/1, 1. 3i ; p. 49/r, 1. 44, etc
Participation, unto others =3 the Latin sense of partid-
pare. i.e, to give a share, not take a shar^ as oiu*
participate, II. k, Letter 65, 1. la.
Parting stakes, II. d, p. 35/3, L 34.
Partlets, I. a, p. 15/z, L 49 ; p. 30/z, 1. 36.
Passa measure, II. 3, p. 15/1, L 6 ; v, p. 6/1, 1. 35.
Passage — conduct, an unusual sense apparently ; and
no doubt the word is used for the sake of the allit-
eration. II. r, p. 8, L 18. Cf. ' An Honest Man '
infra (1. 13), and elsewhere passim* Comparing
these places with Packet of Letters (II. k). Letter
8, L 4, it would seem that Breton means by ' passage '
exactly what the Translators of the Bible in Auth.
Version mean by 'conversation.' II. r, p. 8, A
Wortliy Gentleman, p. 8, 1. 18. But in Courtier
and Countryman (II. u) 'passage,' by the analogy
of its use elsewhere in Breton (see on II. r), ought
to mean ' the country life,' otherwise it would be
more naturally here explained — landscape [pay-
sage].
Passmg, ad;., I. a, p. 5/1, L 33.
Passion = suffering, trial, I. Jk, p. 14/3, 1. 13 ; IL Jl, p.
46, No. 46, L 33.
Passionated, I. n, p. 9, title.
Passport, II. c, p. 9/1, 1. 6 (from bottom);
Ptotrie, pastry, I. tf, p. z6/i, 11. 13, 17 ; II. c, p. 59/z,
L 37 ; /, p. 13/1, L 36.
Pastor s pasture, I. k, p. za/i, I 36k
PUch, sd. , patches, said to be derived from a famous fool
of Cardinal Wolsey's bearing that name. I. a, p.
xo/i, 1. 19 ; p. 33/1, L xo ; p. 30/1, L 47 ; p. 33/3,
L 41 ; *, p. 14/3, 1. 33 ; *, p. 8/3. I 40 ; IL c, p.
17/3, L 3 ; A, p. S3/3, L X4.
Patcht, IL/, p. 5/1, L 15.
Patcherie — foolery, from patch, a fool, I. a, p. x6/i, 11.
x8, 30 ; also — dishonesty, i,e, that which is not of
a piece. See Timon of Athens, v. I
Pate, si.t I. tf, p. Z3/3, L X5 ; II. i, p. lofi, L 34.
Patience, pagent =^ sorrow, is so called doubtless, as
offering a stage for display of Patience. I. A, p.
X3/i, L 15.
Patronage, v., II. ^, p. 4/z, 1. X3.
Paunseies, I. a, p. xz/a, L 4X.
Paunting, adj., I. /, p. 30/3, L xa
Paules-steeple height, IL m, p. 9/3, L sx.
Pauen, j^., a kind of dance, IL /, p. xo/x, L 35.
Pawde, v., I. /, p. 6/z, L za;
Pawnes, L j, p. 9, st 6a
Peace, his. We should say now either * has ' or 'its.'
So in the Pilgrim's Progress (Pt. i.), ' You must
also own Religion in his rags as well as when in bis
silver slippers.' II. », p. Z3/3, L 38.
Peeca-meales — a rare form, 1 1, o, p. 8/z, L Z9.
Peake — peck ? Woodcock being a synonym for a fool,
that bird pecking a man's wits might be a periphzasis
for his losing them. I. /, p. 33/3, 1. 4a
Peake. to give the «- give the gleek or the dor. i,t. to
make a fool of him, I. /, p. 33/3, L 4Z. Nares gives
' peak-goose ' as a term of reproach, but says no-
thing of the origin of it Perhaps it is a jocular
variation of ' peacock ' and ' peake ' here simply short
for ' peacock.' Ct Hamlet, ' a verie verie peacock.'
Peacock. 1 1. A, p. 37, Na z6, L 46.
Peasaunt, sd„ pesaunt, pesant, IL c, p. z8/3, L z8 ; p.
38/3, L 33 ; y, p. 8/z, L 37.
Peascods, and see pescod, I. a, p. x6/3, L 4X.
Pedlers stuffe, IL j, p. 9/1, L a.
Peece, s3., I. /, p. Z3/Z, U. z, 4.
Peeces s fire-arms, I. a, p. Z3/3, L 9 ; II. j, p. 9/a, L 48.
Ptece-meales, by,— noticeable form, IL s, p. 8/z, L 19.
Peeking, v., L k, p. 7/z, L 5.
Peepinge, v» » pipilans, I. t, p. z6/z, L X4.
Peering, v., IL/, p. 7/3, L 34.
Peeres of stuffes, II. ^, p. Z8/3, 1. 6.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
37
PMuish (and see Pieuish), I. g, p. 7/s, L 97 ; p. 9/1, L 8.
Pdfe. I. ^. p. Z9/X, L 45 ; f, p. 5^, L 90 ;/, p. 93/x, L
as.
Pdtiks? pdUag? I. a, p. zo/i, L 19.
Pttutenoe, It. c, p. 57/1. L sa
Penne, j^., pen — enclosure, I. m, p. 7^ L la ; r, p.
4/x, L 19 ; IL J, p. 19/a, IL ai, 34.
Pennes, j^. — feathcn, ' the swans whose /mj as white
as ivoryp' etc (Madrigal in Greene's Perimedes the
Blacksmith). L il, p. x^t, L a8,
Penners, ballad penners, II. s, p. 6/3, 1. 55.
Pennie-Morioe, II. d^ p. as/a, L aa.
Pennie RiaU. I. /. p. ^a, I 13.
Penshre. See: Bib. Eng. p. loi. II. a, p. 6/1, L 3a.
Pennyworths, II. A, p. 34, Na 70, L 6 ; p. 34, No. 10,
1.5.
Pepper, in the nose, II. A, p. 50, Na 6^^ 1. za
Peppeid with, II. A, p. Z3, No. 37, L Z7.
Pepper-oome, I. /, pi 6, st. 36:
Perdng, II. b, p. z9/a, 1. 7.
Penlie. L d, p. 6/3, L 5.
Perfectnes, I. 0, p. z8/a, L 9.
Perfeooon, I. /, p. Z4/a, 1. 33 ; p. 9^1, L Z5 ; p. 33/3,
L za
Periwigs, peniwig, II. i, p. xz/3, L 48 ; i, p. 8/3, L 46 ;
/, p. o/i. L xs ; /, p. zi/z, I. 33.
Perlous, I. b, p. 7/z, L 5a
Perseoer, I. A, p. iz/z, L 39 ; /, p. zs/3, L 37.
Peispeutive, I. A, p. z6/z (note).
Perswaded with, II. e, p. z5/a, L Z5.
Pesood, II. A, p. Z3/a, L 45 ; /, p. 9/z, 1. 5.
Pestered 38 crowded, II. c, p. 45/z, 1. 33. Fuller Ch.
Hist. vi. p. 396, IT Z5 ; X. p. zoo, IT 33 i—
* Or Mw the churches and new calendar
Puttf'd with mongrel ninte and relics dear.*
(Bp. HaU't Sat IV. viL 7^)
Pestiferous, IL 0, p. aofa, L 3Z.
Pethar^s, I. n, p. zz/a, L z6.
Petigrees, petigree, I. «, p. 5/z, 1. 3a ; ^f p. 8/x, 1. 6.
Petito, land of, II. u, p. 6/z, L 44,
Pette, J!^., II. c, p. 57/a, L 46.
Petti-fogger, petty, I. *, p. 6/a, 1. 43 ; 11./, p. s/z, L
Z3 ; f , p. Z3/z, L za ; p. Z3/Z, 1. aa
IVtti-fQgging, I. e, p. 7/z, L 3.
Petty Brokers, II. /, p. zo/a, L 35.
Pewter-candlesdcfc, II. A, p. 33, Na 7, L 7.
Fhantasticall, II. c, p. 58/z. 1. z8.
Pheere, I. 0, p. Z3/Z, L Z4.
Philbeard, I. a, p. za/a, L 8.
Philomene » Philomele, I. b, p. 8/a, L 34. So in Gas-
ooigne.
Phisis, I. /, p. 13/z, L 4
Phoeniz, makes all birds but owls •» in comparison, I. «',
p. 6/a, L &
Pibble, I./, p. 33/3. 1. 36 ; f, p. 6/3, 1. 39.
Pfbble stone, I. b, p. 33/3, 1. sa
Pick-puise. II. /, p. 8/z, 1. 3a
Pick tooth, toothe, I. a, p. zs/z, L 55 ; II. /, p. 9/z,
60
Pick thanks, I, /, p. 4/3, 1. 33.
Pickrell. II. b, p, 8/3, L zz ; p. zo/3, 1. 53.
Picture (to call her Picture) reproachful expression, <*.«.
that she owed her beauty to her paint The
Spectator speaks of painted women as ' Picts.' II.
*. P- W". 1- 31-
Pide, I. A, p. 5/z, L 4, in Auth. ; II. c, p. Z4/Z, L Z7 ;/ p.
S/z, L Z5 ; A, p. 34, No. 8, L Z9.
Pide-ooate, and see pyde, I. x, p. 6, st. Z3 ; II. r, p.
zz/z, L zz ; «, p. zz/3, L Z5.
Pide^soat-throng, I. s, p. zz, st zoa
PSdling, adj\, I. €, p. 7/z, 1. 3 ; p. za/z. L 43 ; II. j, p,
S/a^Lsa
Pie. a bird, I. f, p. za/z, L Z9.
Pied, adj\, II. b, p. zo/a, IL Z3, a6 ; c, p. z7/z. L 37 ; r,
p. 8/z, L 34.
Pierce Plowman, II. r, p. 8/3, L Z5.
Piewish (pieuish) (and see Peeuish), 1. 1, p. 9/3, L 43 ;
/ p. Z9/Z, n. 5. zs.
Pieuishly, I./ p. 33/z, L za
PSeuishnesse, I./, p. Z9/3, L 9 ; A, p. 3z/3, L za
Pike-staffe, IL r, p. 9/z, L Z4.
pad. v., L tf, p. s6/z, L z.
Pilferie, II. m, p, g/i, 1. 6.
Pillar, from pUlar to post, II. v, p. 5/z, L 37.
Pincke, pinke, II. g, p. 7/a, L 3a
Pf nckt, V, B peeped silly, I. A, p. z8/z, L Z9.
Pine, V. ir., IL /, p. 6/z. L 36.
Pinne (to hit a pinne), L ^, p. 6/z, L la.
PSnnes, v. «■ pens, I. r, p. 4/z, L 19.
Pinners paper, IL g, p. zz/a, 1. z6.
Pmnis, IL d, p, za/z, 0. Z5, 4Z ; p. a4/z, L 3a
Pipes (put up your pipes), IL A, p. ao, Na 54, L Z3.
Pjppc. I- g» p. 9/1. L 16^
Pirots, L b, p, x6/3, L z6i
Pistles, sb,, IL A. p. 9/z. L z8.
PistoU, ancient. IL A, p. zz, No. aa, L 3.
Pit, L M, p» 7/3, L zz.
Pitch ^ flight of a fidoon, IL c, p. 9/z, L ay.
Pitch and pay, IL ar, p. zo/s, L aa
Pit-fidIes,IL/,p.zz/z.L4S
Pittance, IL «, p. 9/z, L 46.
Placket, IL m, p, 8/z, L 5.
Plage m, region, ' the proper plag of heaven ' (Mariowe's
Tambuilaine. Pt i. iv. se, 4 ; also id. Pt ii. i, sc,
z. L ^, p. zz/a, L 84, and z8/z, L 44. Latfai//dsfa.
Plaged, plagde, L b, p. z8/z, IL 49, 53 ; p. z8/a, L i.
Plainnesse, playnnesse, I. a, p. 34/z, IL 36, 30, 3Z.
Plaine-dealing, I. J. pu 9, st 59.
Plainfr«ong, IL A, p. Z3/3, L 45 { r, p. 37/3, IL zo, 19.
az ; / p. 6/3, L 3a
Plaine, v., playne, L a, p. 3z/z, L Z3 ; /, p. Z9/3, L aa
Plaise-mouth — wide siUy month, L f , p. 5/z, L 34.
' His mouth shiinks sideways Uke a scornful ptaoe '
(HaU's Sat Bk. IV. Sat i. L 70).
Plaits, jA., L a, p. Z3/Z, L 4a.
Planten, IL r, p. 39/a, L 61
Plashes, sb, m, puddles, L b, p. 83/x, L 36 ; ^, p. 6/z,
L 46 ; IL J, p. 5/a, L 3X ; occurs also in L 4 of the
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38
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
poem preserved in EUost Lib. ' By so much spring
water is better than plash water ' (Ward's Sermons,
p. X37) :' for the avoiding of some dirty lave or
plash ' (Aubrey's Misod. p. x66.
Platte, jd., platte of ground (and see Plot), I. 0, p.
39/1, L 25.
Plaadite, I. #, p. ^x. L 14.
Play of Richard the Third, II. r, p. 8/a, I. 15.
Play^writers, L e, p. 13/a, L x.
Pleased-eeeming, II. d^ p. X5/x, L 48.
Plebeyan. sb,, IL q, pi 4/a, L 14.
Pleasure, tr., pleasured, II. b, p. ao/i, I. X9 ; A, p. sa,
Na 64, L 3 ; p. 38, No. 19, 1. xx, etc.
Pleating, I. 0, p. 5/3, L ai.
Plot (of gronul) and see Plotte, I. a. p. 39^1. L X3.
Plough folks, II. /, p. 15/1, 1. a8.
Plough-wright, II. b, p. X7/3, L ao.
Plow laades, IL A p. 6^a. 1. 96.
Ployden, II. r, p. 8/3, L X5.
Pludc pkmer, II. c, p. 6a/x, L 33.
Plume, «., iiUr.t I. /, p. x6/x, L 6.
Poind, fi., poincte, I. a, p. a8/x, U. 35, sS ; p. 41/3, 1.
58.
Point, V, — to ^point, I. s, p. ix. at 91.
Point, care not a — care not a button, II. e^ p. 41/x, L
16 (from bottom) ; jI, p. 41, No. 3X, L 5.
Point (full point), II. o, p. ao/x, L 8.
Pointes, sb., I. a, p. xs/x, L 47 ; j», p. 8/x, L a8 ; II. »',
p. 6/3. L 54 ; '. P- S/i. 1- «S e*c.
Polde, v., I. a, p. 98/a, L 3.
Pollicitations, II. A, p. 5X, No. 64, L 5.
Pome-roie as apple so called, II. ^, p. tg/a, L 34.
Poope noddy, I. x, p. 13, sL xay.
Poorejohn, II. A, p. 34, No. 74, L X5.
Popyniay, popiniaye — a parrot so called, I. «, p. 14/9,
1. 58 ; p. 17/1, I. 6.
Por, sb., II. A, p. 47, No. 49, L ao; Na 50, L la.
Porkets, II. /, p. xo/i. 1. 33,
Porpas, II. /, p. 8/3. L 17.
Porpose Pye, II. tr, p. X4/I9 L b8.
Porrage, II. /, p. X3/X. 1. 3d. p. is/x, 1. ay.
Port de pouero, II. s, p. 9/z, L 34.
Portes — gates, I./, p. as/i. 1. 33.
Posed, V. =B puKsled. IL b, p. xy/i, L 31.
Posies, 1. 41, p. X4/3, 1. 30 ; IL c, p. 10/3, 1. la.
Ebst in, CC Saolcvifle's Fenea and Porrex, v. i.) : —
' Fordiwith thorefbre win I in post depart
To Albany.' IL r, p. io(UBir. March.)
Pot companions, I. m, p. 9/a, L i.
I^-guns. II. s, p. 5/3, L IX,
Pottage, II. ^, p. 59/1, 1. 33.
Pottical. play on word poetical, IL f, p. xi/i, L 361
Pottle, i^., IL », p. 13/a, L 16.
Pottry. IL / p. 6/a, L X9.
Pouch, powch, L e, p. 8/x, L 5 ; 11. g, p. 9/1. L a4.
Poules Church Yarde, I. a, p. X4/a, I. 45.
Poulters, IL /, p. xo/i, 1. x8.
Pound, II. g, p. 6/3. 1. 3.
POundiag, v., II. i^, p. </x, I s«-
Pound-citrons, IL r, p. 38/3. 1. x.
Poute, v.. powte, I. a, p. 37/3, 1. 13 ; II. /, p. 14/1. 1.
43 ; p. xs/x, L X5.
Pourloyne, v., 1. x, p. 9, St. 60.
Powers, V. = pours, I. a, p. xs/3, 1. 31.
Powladc = Pole, II. v, p. 6/3, 1. X3.
Poynt. a poynt for thee and thy villanfes, i.e. a jot or
tittle, IL c, p. X7/3, L X.
Practicke, sb., II. q, p. 6/x. L 4.
Praid — preyed, 1. o, p. 8/x, L 37.
Prate, v., prated, 1. a, p. 6/x, I 49 ; ^, p. 8/3, L 34 ; /,
p. 3x/r. L x6 ; p. a3/x, 1. 46, etc.
Prate, sb., L/ p. X9/3, L X7 ; p. 9q^3, L 39.
Prater, sb., L/.-p. X9/3, L x8.
Platmg, «4f., L/ p. X9/3, t ax ; /, p. 7/x. I. 15-
Pratling, 04^;,, 1. a, p. 34/3, L 8.
Pratled, v., prattles, 1./, p. 34/3, L 37.
Prattle, sb., L/, p. ax/a. L 38.
Prattle basket, I. «>, p. 9/3, I 38. So bawdy-basket -
prostitute.
Pranke, v., IL /, p. x4/x, L 43 ; j, p. 6/1, L 4X.
Pray, ». - prey, IL /, p. 6/8, L 43.
Preaty — pretty, I. a, p. 99/3, L x6.
Precession — going before, L g, p. 7. Now United to
astronomy — precession of the equinoxes. Prol>-
ably Breton here uses it in the sense of prayer,
coining it from ' preces. '
Predzian, I. /, p. xx, st 89.
Predicament, logical term, II. A, p. X4, No. 39, 1. 37 ;
q, p. 7/x, L X.
Predomination, II. / p. 9/3, 1. 38.
Preheminende, preheminenoe, 1. 0, p. x6/x. L 38 ; j, p.
13, St. xxo.
Prentice, adj., IL tf, p. X9/3, L 33.
Prentice, sb., II. d, p. 18/3, 1. 39 ; p. 19/x, L X3 ; «>, pu
5/1. L 23-
Presently, presentlie = immediately, I. <i, p. 3x/x, 1. 3 ;
p. 51/2, 1. 13 ; p. 52/1, \. 58 ; IL tf, p. 19/1, 1. 39 ;
p. 44/3, U. IX, 37, etc.
Preseruacon, II. v, p. 3, I. 19 ; p. 8/x, L 5.
Preseruatiue, sb. • the thing or cause of preservation,
IL a, p. 11/2, \. 54.
President, j^. — ppecedent, 1. m, p. 8/1, L aB ; r, p. 4/x,
L 13 ; IL b, p. 14/1, L 36. etc.
Prescribes, v., I. A, p. 9/x, 1. 39.
Prest, I. d, p. 6/1, L 17.
Presumde = undertook, 1. b, p. xa/i, L 3.. See Bfb.
Eng. p. 275.
Pretend, v, = to portend, I. a, p. 46/1, 1 51 ; p. 48/1, L
37.
Prettie — fine, IL a, p. 13/3, \. is (from bottom), ' two
pretty men crossing a ford. ^Aubrey's Misoell. p.
i«3).
Pricke, v., prickt, I. o, p. xo/x, L 39 ; If. g» p. 9/1, L
17.
Prickes, sb., pricke, L/, p. 96/a, L 3 ; g, p. 6/x, i X3 ;
IL A, p. 46, No. 46, 1, ao ; /, p. xs/x, L 5.
Pricking in a clout, IL A, p. 50, No. 6t, i. &
Prieng, v, I, /, p. 5/3, L 39.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
39
Prigging, adj,, I. m. p. 9/1, 1. 5^
Prime, 1*., I. /. p. 3/a, L i.
Primer, II. x, p. 8/1, 1 9.
Primero, II. c, p. 60/3, L 39 ; ^ P- i'/'* ^ 34-
Primero restes, I. g, p. 12/1, L i.
Princke, v., L j, p. zi, St. 99 ; II. /. p. 6/1, L 41.
Prinking— revived in United States, v., L t, p. 6/1. I
10, and L *, p. 8/1, L 16. See De Vere, s.v. — pert.
It is rather 'pok up/ or prank up or adorn one's self
affectedly with an under sense of get* Cf. under
Princke.
Print (in print) s neatly, tiimly, point devise, with
great exactness, I./, p. az/a. I. 44 ; /, p. zi, st 98 ;
11. A, p. 46k No. 48, 1 za ; r, p. Z3/Z, 1. Z4.
Print (out of print), 11./ p. 7/1, 1. 14.
Prisoning, v., II. b, p. 17/1, L 9.
Pro*»tmn. I. g* P- S/x. L 33.
Proceeding, x^. » procession, II. ^, p. 5/z. 1. 8.
nomoter, sh., II. 1, p. Z3/3, 1. Z7.
Promoting. «$r., I. j, p. 9i st 63.
Proaoaticate, v. - prognosticate, L a, p. 48/1, L 34.
Prooue, w. = prove, I. a, p. 6/x, L 36, etc.
Ptoper, a proper man, L ^, p. a6/i, L 30; IL 4:, p. 47/«.
L as. See Bib. Eng. p. Z58.
Propense, II. k, pi 7, Na 4, L Z4.
Prophaned, IL v, p. s/s, L 5.
Prose-men, I. e, pi z3/z, L 9.
Ptouaader, IL g^ p. za/z, L 53.
Prouaunte, x^., prouant, I. h, p. z9/a, 1. zo; II. r, p.
9/z, L93. This seems to have been generally a tedi-
nicalnnUtaryword. So Scott in Legend of Montrose
cvni. (Dngald Dalgetty), ' now must I go and lay
in prevant myself for the campaign ;' also c xiii. .
' what sort of provant have you got here ; what food,
I mean 7 CL Webster's Northvrard Ho, i. iii. ' main-
tained with provant and dead pay.' There is apnn
on the word in the sense explained in our note in
loco. Vide Nares, s,v. May there not also be a play
en the wonl 'provant'? A provant sword or rapier
is a not unfrequent expression denoting sudi a
common weapon as was served out to the troops :—
' SU^k,—H^ tware it was a Toleda
BabadU,—K poor ptovaat rapier, no better.'
(Every Man in his Homotir, in. I)
' A kaave wiA failfe a broech there . . . with a prov-
ant sword v^ dash your scarlets' (Massingcr's
Maid of Hoa. I. i). The untrained soldier then,
when he sees his provant (sword), calls out for the
other sort of provant, his victuals— having more
stomach for food than for iig^fating.
Prouidenoe, II. <f, p. Z3/Z, L 30.
Prouision =s foresigfat, II. r, p. 6/1, 1. 38 ; p. zo/z, 1. 27.
Prowes •» prowess, IL c, p. dS/a, 1 49.
Proyne, v., I. x, p. 7, st. 38.
Proynfog, adj,, L a, p. S4/z,I 3.
Proyning, 3^., IL r, p. a8/z, L 50.
Puddings ends, I. /, p. azf z, L 3.
Puddfa)g-pie, I. J, p. 7. St. a8.
Puddle-water, II. 0, p. as/z, fl. z8, aa.
Puffing, L f , p. 6/z, L 50.
Puer, play on word, I. n, p. 9/3. 1. z8.
Puld, v., II. n. p. 60/1, 1. 31.
Pumice, II. / p. 7/2, L 5.
Puncke, punke, IL r, p. lo/i. 1. 46 ; », p. 10/^ ^ 3^-
Puntos =» punctilio, to stand upon, IL if, p. zo/a, L 3Z.
Puny, (i^.), punies, I. h, p. zi/a, I. 33 ; IL b, p. zz/z, L
4Z ,• y, p. 7/z, I. 40. Cf. • puisn6 - younger child.
Puples. I. a. p. sz/z, L 7 ; p. S3/z. 1, 30.
Purposes - a kind of riddles, I. /, p. 4/a, L a ; IL r, p.
Z3/Z, L d Cf. Cynthia's Revels (Act iv. sc. L) ' For
sport's sake let's have some .Riddles or Purposes,
hoi'
Puritan, I. x, p. zi, st 89.
Purse-fiill, I. g, p. 6/z, L 6.
Purseline, II. c, p. 6a/z, 1 za.
Put to - apply, IL m, p. zo/a, last line but 7. See
Bib. Eng. p. 89.
Put, not aU their purses eye « staJce their all, I g^ p.
za/z, L 9.
Pu-rulines, IL i, p. 9/a, I. 4.
Pybles, and see Pibble, IL f, p. a6/z, L 39.
Pyed, adj., and see Pied, pide, IL f, pi 6/a, L 34 ; P*
8/2, L 49.
Pyed coats, I. j. p. Z3, sL 1. a8.
QUACKSALUBKS, IL/, p. 5/z, I za ; r, p. 9/a, L aa
Quaild, V. acHvt, quailes, I. h, p. 7/3, 1. 27 ; k, p. 8/z,
1. zz.
Quality, qualitie, I. d. p. 7/2. 1. 6 ; IL g, p. 8/a, L 39 ;
If. p. z4/a, 1. 5a
Quahnes, I. b, p. Z3/Z, L 38 ; IL s, p. 6/z, L 50.
Quazrellings, sh. — discussions, IL/ p. 7/z, L 35.
Quarry, I. / p. 33/a, L Z9.
Quarters (heraldry), IL q, p. 9/z, 1. zz.
Quauers, I. /, p. 4/1, 1 22.
Queasie ^ squeamish, \.g, p. 7/z, L Z7. ' The queasy-
stomacked Brownests cast themselves out of the
Church ' (Samuel Ward's Coal from the Altar, /».)
So Fuller ' queasy stomach ' (Ch. Hist vi. p. 299.
ITza).
Queane, quean, x^., I. r, p. 8/z, 1. a ; p. 9/3, L Z4 ; /, p.
az/z, L Z4 ; ^, p. 7/z, 1. 39 ; IL f, p. 44/^ L 30 ; p.
so/a. L 4, etc
Queasie. \.g, p. 7/i.l- i?-
Quechy s marshy and fdso bushy, I. b, p. 8/a, L 47 ;
/. p. z6/a, 1. 34, 'the damps that rise from out the
queachy plots ' (Peele*s Edward t pi 393) ; some-
tunes = weak or helpless, 'they're poor queechy
things, gells is (Adam Bed^ e. zo).
Queene of Spades, IL g, pi 7/z, L 31.
Queere, L /. p. 5/3, L 48.
Quetait, L /. p. 5/3, L 5.
Quell, sb., L /, p. Z0/3. 1. zz.
Quere, sb, «- quire. I. f . p. 8. st. 8a.
Questing, adj.^ II. /. p. zo/z, L 54.
Qoesie stomackt. IL x, p. 8/a, L 44.
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40
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Quicke, quick, I. a, p. ao/a, I xo ; ^, p. 6/a, L 39 ; p.
ix/2, L 8 ; / pL 9o/a, L 46, etc.
Quickset, I. /. p. 3/1, L xZ.
Quiddities, quidities » subtleties, ' quirks and quiddities
of kive,' L a, p. 17/1, 1. 14 ; ^, p. 17/9, L zi ; «, p. 6/2,
L 51 (Greene's Geoiige a Greoie, p. 255) ; so Mar-
bme's Faustus, i. i.
QnSer, I. h, p. i6f8. L is ; «. p. 7/x. L 37.
Quieres, I. /. p. 4/x, L sa ; p. 6/s, L sa.
Quintessence, I. /, p. ao/a, L 45 ; «, p. 8/a, L 37 ; 0, p.
lo/x, L ID ; II. b, is/i, L 8 ; p. ao/a, L x8, etc.
Quippes, II. e, p. 60/x, L 18.
Quipping, II. b, p. 15/1, L 15.
Quirks, quirkes, I. b, p. 17/3, L zz ; f, p. 6/3, L 51 ; II.
y, p. 6/3. L 49^
Quit, v., quitted, I. ^, p. i6/a, L 14 ; II. c, p. 8/z, t 33 ;
d, p. x6/z, L 18, etc.
Quite, v., quited, l.p, p. 6/3,1 16 ; A, p. lo/s, L 35 ; II.
d, p. 18/3, L X4 : il. p. 33, Na 5, L 19.
Quitides, II. / p. 6/a, L 5a
Quod, v., I. a. p. 54/1, L 31 ; *, p. x6/i. L 34 ; /, p. s/z,
L39.
Quoiting Coat. II. h, p. 47. No. 49, 1. la
RABLBMBNT, rabUement, I. r. p. 5/3, 1. Z9 ; II. g, p.
8/x. 1. 38.
Rabbots, rabbottes, labbettes, I. c, p. 9, st. 98 ; /, p.
13/1* 1< 9 ; P* >6/i« 1- 5 : II* ** P* ^/3' 1- ^5* ^^
Race, V. — rase, I. r, p. 5/1, 1. 47-
Racket, while Death keeps racket. I. q, p. 6/x. 1. 5.
Racking rent, II. n, p. X4/X. 1. 37.
Rackt. I. d, p. 5/3, 1. 19.
Radix, I. ». p. Z3/3, 1. 38.
Ragges — clothes, I. g, p. zi/z. L 43.
Rainard, L n, p. zx/a, I. 41 ; II. x. p. iz/3. L X7.
Rainolde, II. g, p. x3/t, 1. 14.
Rale, sb„ I. /. p. 6/x, 1. 3.
Rainy day, keep something for a, II. ». p. 7/3, 1. 9.
Raking, eidj., I. q, p. 6/x, 1. 53.
Randevows, II. r, p. xi/a, 1. 33.
Randon, I. a, p. 3x/3, 1. 5 ; e, p. 6/1, 1. 17.
Rankt, adj,, I. <», p. 15/1, 1. 36.
Ranne the ring, II. », p. 9/3, 1. X3.
Rare, eidj\ — excellent, II. c, p. 99/3, 1. 35 ; r, p. 13/3.
L 36 ; «. p. X3/3. 1. 40.
Rarenes, II. /, p. xo/x, I. 9.
Rascabilians, II. x, p. 6/3, 1. 18. 'Beware raskahilia '
(Tusser's Husbandry).
Rascaldry. I./, p. si/x. 1. 18.
Rascall, adj., I. b, p. zx/x, 1. 35 ; rf, p. 7/1. t 49 \ H- *».
p. 5/3. 1. 13 ; p. 7/3, 1. 53 ; p. 8/x, 1. 31.
Rascall deere, I./, p. sa/x, L 47 ; g, p. xx/i, 1. xi.
Raspesse, II. /, p. lo/a, L 4.
Rat-catcher, 11./, p. 5/3, 1. 33.
Raungers, I. /, p. 6/x, 1. 3.
Raunsommed, II. c, p. 37/3, 1. 33.
Rauish. II. n. p. 8/x. 1. 31.
Rauishing. adj., II. r, p. 6/3. 1. 35.
Rauiahment, II. q, p. X7/X, L 46.
Ray, J*. »array, I. a, p. lo/i, L 58 ; f. p. 5/z, L 90 ;
n, p. 7/3. 1. 3.
Reakes, sb, — pranks, 1. 1, p. 5/1. L x6 ; II. c, p. 17/a,
L 35 (singular) ; qu. — fnm Latin rixa^ strife.
Realta - Rialto, II. /. p. la/s. L 33. Spelled ' Rialto '
in Marston's ' What You WiU' (I z). 'passe . . .
uptheRialta*
Reaued, I. /, p. aa/s. 1. Z5.
Rebaters — a frUing collar or band, II. b, p. Z9/3, 1. 49L
See Nares under ' rebata'
Reodt, **., II. r, p. 13/1. L 19; p. 48/1, L Z7; p. S7/a,
L4X-
Rechlesse. I. a. p. 39/3, L aa.
Rechlesnes. rechlesnesse, II. €, p. 14/3, L 31 ; p. 15/1.
Reckoning without boast. 11. b. p. x8/i. L 4. Hqriin
(Hist of Reform.) gives as an old English praveib.
' They that reckon without their host are to reckon
twfee.'
Re^ooncdt. sb. m, introspection : edn. 1603 has * conceit.'
II. A, p. X3. Nol 38. L 18.
Recordation. II. A, p. 9. Na 14, L 8.
Reoorde, sb. - recollection. I. a, pu 55/x, L za
Reoorde. v., music, I. n, pu lo/x. L 39.
Recorder, musical Instrument. II. /, p. 6/3. L 33.
Reoofding. v., I. /, p. 18/3. L 33.
Reooured. v., II. /. p^ 15/3. L 46.
Recourse, sb., I. b, p. 34/x, L 43 ; ^, p. ii/z, L i.
Rod, v.. redd. I. /, p. 4/3. L 34 ; p. 17/3. L i ; p. 33/3.
1.3.
Red-hearing. IL s>. p. 3/z, L 5.
Red lattice '^ alehouse. <I. p, p, ii/s, I 4.
Red over. IL /, p. 15/1, L i^
Reede. »., L/, p. a^z. L 37 ; si, p. 7/x, L 38.
Reedy - ready, L a, p. 4x/x, L 45.
Refiaine. v. ir., I. a. p. 33/3, L 11 ; ^. p. 4/3. L 3a:
Relive, v., I. r, pi 6. st. 49.
Remonstrance — re-demonstranoe or renewed sign, IL
A, Letter x, L 3.
Remooue. sb. , IL d, p. 14J1, L 41.
Remoroe. sb. . remorse «- biting back— usually used meta-
phoricaUy, I. «, p. 36/3, L Z5 ; ^. p. zs/x. L 9 ; p.
>5/^t 1- 37 : ^t P* z3/ii 1* 41 » etc.
Rcmoue, x^., II. A. p. X3, No. 87, L 39^
Remunerating, adj., IL A. p. 51. Na 66. L 9.
Renowme, x^. , I. m, p. 6/2, 1 43.
Renowmed «- renowned. L m, pi zi/s. L i ; IL v. p. 6/z»
L 54. Ft. rtnommd.
Rentall. adj., IL i. p. 6, No. a. I Z7.
Repent — make repent, L i, p. 6/x. L a.
Repentante, sb., I, c, p. 7. st 64.
Replexion from replioo — the unfolding or displaying,
unknitting. IL /, p. 6/x, L 6 (from bottom).
Reprooued. IL q, p. 8/x. L 3.
Resolucon. I. /, p. X5/3. L xa
Respectiudy, IL 0, p. xo/x. L ex.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
41
Rest, firom rests — from staking at primero, II. r. p.
60/a, L 7 (from bottom). 'Set up rest'= stand on
the money set up as their probable value, i.t, the
value the setter thought warranted by the diances
of the game of primero ; and so used metaphori-
caOy, II. n p. 8 (Worth. Sold.).
Rests, j^.» in cards, II. r, p. 6o/fl, 1. 40 ; f, p. zi/i, L 56 ;
*. p. 9/a, L SI.
Rests, A,^ restes, in musie. L c^ p. xo^ st io6l
Restie s rusty (restie bacon), I. g^ p. 8/s, L 9^
* Reesed bacon soords shall feast his fiunily '
(Hall, Sat iv. ii 36), which Singer explains
as rusty : but query — fried? Adams (I. 65) speaks
of aoaJs being 'reezed in purgatory.' Thomas
Nabbes in Spring's Glory (1639) has it—' Dost
soome my liboality, thou rasty bacon, tallow-Caced
scullion ? ' See Cotgrave and Sherwood, s.v.
Resty, adj. — restive, restie, I. ^, p. 7/1, L 36 ; IL /,
p. ii/a, L sa ; «, p. 9/1, L 37.
Resty s restive, slow or sluggish, often ' resting/ 1./, p.
7/x, L 5 (from bottom), p. 8/a, I 99. See lYench's
dossary. Or qu.— obstinate ?
Retdilesly, II. c, p. lo/x, I 6.
Retchlesnesse, II. e, p. 14/3, 1. 3X ; p. 15/x, L 13.
Rethoricke, II. t, p. 15/1. 1. 19.
Retire, si., I. a, p. 4/1, L 23. Ptef. ; II. d, p. s/a, 1. 99.
Retriuer, dog, II. /, p. 7/1, L ao.
Revertion, II. /, p. x5/x, I. 48.
Revised, v., II. g, p. 4/2, L aa.
Rewe, II. c, p. 63/1. L la
Rewme. II. g, p. 6/a, L 34 ; p. 7/a, 1. 44.
Rhewme, II. ai, p. 6/1, L 5a ; /, p. lo/z, L 44.
Ribandiy, I. ^, p. 14/1, 1. 39.
Ricfae8-*« singular, II. e, p. 34/1, L 3. See Bib. Eng.,
p. 31.
Rids, xiddes, v. -• gets over, II. A p. 14/9, n. 3, la
Rie, j^., I. ^, p. z6/9, 1. 99.
Rie dowe. I./, p. 90/9, 1. xx.
Rilty tuiky, L ^, p. x6/9, L x8. In Chapman's Qent
Usher v. x. ' I would handle you in rufty tufty
wise,' i.e. rudely, rompingly : also as an exclama-
tkm 'Rufty tufty I are you so froUc?' (Wily Be-
guiled) : rufty-tnfty heads, i.i. dishevelled (Keats,
Cap and Bells, st. 86).
Rimme, II. / p. x3/x, L 3a
Rings, hi their mouths— no light on this elsewhere, un-
less an allusion to ringing pigs ; II. t, p. X4/9.
Rise — risen, I. g, p. xx/s, I 9. See Bib. Eng., p. 59.
Ritch. I. a, p. 43/x, L 54.
Roages, J*., roague. I. *, p. 6/x, L 34 ; II. /, p. 7/9, 1. 53.
Roane — Rouen, II. »*, p. ii/i, L 50.
Roaned, adj\, II. /, p. 6/9, 1. X9.
Roate, I. a, p. 97/1, 1. 5.
Robin Ooodfellow, II. s, p. xo/9, 1. 39.
Robin Hood, Hoode, I. a, p. iz/9, 1. 3 ; p. 99/1, 1. 96 ;
/, p. 90/9, L 50 : A P> 18/9, L 97. K. James i.
Jocularly quoted the proverb concerning him to Dr.
Reynolds a| the Hampton Court Conf. (Fuller, Ch.
Hist X. x8);
Roiall-spirited, II. d, p. 97/1. 1. 33.
Roiles. II. ^. p. 17/x, L 94.
Rolling stone, II. «, p. 8/9, 1. 50.
Roune. v. — ran, I. a, p. 8/x. L 16.
Roode. by, I. a, p. X7/1, 1. 94 ; p. 30/x, L 37, etc.
Rooles. td. — rolls, catalogues. So the 'roole of peace '
is - the roll of the servants of peace, II. «. p. 6/9.
1.33.
Roosted — roasted, II. e, p. 39/9, L 34.
Rosa solis, I. il, p. X3/9, L x8.
Rosen, sd., II. /, p. 9/9, 1. 5a Now a Sootidsm, but
formerly the regular Elisabethan form. Cf. Har-
rison's DescripL of England (Bk. n. c vL p. x6t. of
N. Sh. Soc. edn.)
Rosie cheekt, II. A, p. 6, No. 3. L 4.
Rost, A^., II. c» p. 43/9, L 99.
Roste. v., I. a, p. 4x/x. U. 93, 95 ; IL ^, p. 38/9, L 36.
Roste, v., rast, to rule the roste, L a, p. 37/x, 1. 7 ; ^,
p. 94/x. L 4 ; ^, p. X0/9, L 4,
Rosted horse, a tale of a, II. r, p. 39/9, L 48.
Rosters of men, II. v, p. 5/9, 1. 8.
Roumes, sd., I. a, p. 9/x, L 31.
Round, J*., L *, p. 7/9, L 59.
Rounds, j^. of a ladder, L 0, p. 4/9, L 9x, Pref.
RoundHibout, si., II. m, p. 8/x, L 9X.
Roundelay, rounddelay, I. n, p. 5/9, L 98 ; p. 8/1, L
90 ; p. X0/9, L 8.
Round table - large bustle? I. #, p. 9/x, L 361
Roundly = quickly or sturdily, II. c, p. 30/9, L 36 ; p.
38/a. I 3«-
Roue, v., to roue near the marke, II. i, p. 8/x, 1. 98.
Rouest, v.. rouing, IL d, p. lo/x, L 30 ; p. xo/a, 1. 53.
Roust, J!^., roost, II. /, p. X3/9, L 5.
Rowels, II. r. p. 7/9, L 4a
R0wen-taikl, IL /. p. 7/x, L aa
Rowle, J*. - roll, I. r, p. 4/9, L 45.
Rowse, sd. aflutter or cry, I. k, p. 14/x, L 3a See
Halliwdl, S.V.
Rowst, roust = roost, L e, p. xo/x, L X3.
Rowtes, sd., I. /, p. 5/x, L 3d
Royallise, v., I. 0, p. 4, L 7, Ded. Cf. Richard ill., i. 3.
Ri^rsters, I. a, p. 98/9, L 96b
Rubarb, II. / p. s/i. L 6.
Ruddocks, II. d, p. X7/X, L 33.
Rudsby, L s>, p. 8/x, L 59.
Rue, st.t herb rue, L a, p. 19/9, L 49.
Rue, «., I. a, p. 57/9, L 99 ; /.p. 9o/x, U. 17, x&
Ruing, v., I. i, p. X8/9, L 3a
Ruffes, I. a, p. x5/x, L 5x : /, p. 9x/9, L 44 ; p. 94/1. L
SO ; II. *, p* 9/1. 1. 19 ; p. X9/9, I 48 ; ^. p. 7/1, L
38 ; P* 9/i> L xa* «tc
Ruffins, si.n I. a, p. 6/x, L 59.
Ruffin-like, L / p. 9x/9, 1. 93.
Ruful, I. i. p. X9/9, 1. 37.
Ruifull, L /, p. 9x/i, L 13.
Rume, J^., I. s, p. 8, st. 47.
Runneley, I. /, p. x6/x, L 8.
Rundkt, IL il, p. 99, No. 64, L 19 ; p. 40^ Na 95. L 5.
Runniiv »«ning, gadding astray, II. ^, p. 8/x. L 49.
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42
GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
Running, heads a iBconsiderate, hasty conduct. II. r.
p. 8/x, L 8 (from bottom) — corrects our note.
Rushes, greene, II. g^ p. 5/x, 1. i. Cf. Lyly's Euphuet,
(Aiber, p. 339), ' I am aorry Euphues that we have
no greene Rushes* considering you have beene so
great a stiaunger.'
Russet (plalne russet), II. «» p. ii/a, L 16.
Ruthe, sb., ruth, I. a, p. 5/a, 1. a8 ; b, p. ao/i, 1. 35 ; p.
a6/i, 1. 35 ; / P* ai/ii 1- 45. «<5-
Ruthfull, I. h, p. 34/a, 1. 36 i </, p. X4/1, 1. ai ; 9, pk 6/t,
1.34.
Ruthles, I. r, p. 3, St. II*
Rutting, ai)„ I./, p. ai/i. 1. 59.
Ryfe, I. tf, p. a6/a, 1. 5.
SacheU. n. h, p. 18/1. 1. 45.
Sack, sb., II. b, p. xo/i, L 40.
Sacke, j^., II. A, p. aa, No. 64, L la ; p. aa. No. 65, L
n, etc. ; II. /, p. 7/1, 1. 39 ; p. lo/i, 1. 17.
Sad, II. g, p. ii/a, L 41.
Sadly, II. », p. ii/i. 1. 5.
Sagbutte, It. i(, p. lo/a, I 39.
Saies = tries, I./ p. as/a, L 17. See Bib. Eng., p. i6.
Sainct, A. , sainctes, transition form of Sanctus, I. a, p.
ta/a, L 34 ; /, p. 13/1, L la
Saincted. 9.. II. </, p. 5/1, 1 14.
Saine, tr. s to say, I. m, p. 6/a. L 15. Cf. Raleigh, 'yet
what is love, good shepherd sain 7
Saint Asse, II. 1, p. 8/a. L 33.
St. Christopher shouldred = round shouldered lilce one
bearing a burden, 11. g, p. 7/a, 1. 14.
Sahit Else, II. j, p. 8/3, L 35.
Saint Grineum, II. j, p. 9/1, 1. 4.
Salamanders, II. 0, p^ xa/a, L 13.
Salet, j5., sallet, sallets. I. 0, p. 41/3. 1. ai ; /. p. a6/x,
L sa ; 11. r, p. 59/1, 1. ax ; /, p. 8/1, L 33, etc.
Salve, v., I. /, p. 33/t, ). 14.
Samman trout, II. /, pu i^t, I 37.
fiammon, II b, p. lo/a, L 44.
Sampler, II. c, p. 37/3, L &,
Sanguine, I. m, p. 9/3, L 45.
Sangnine faced, II. b. p. la/x, 1. t.
Sanitate, j^., I. a, pk 14/3, L a.
Sapience, L a, p. 15/3, I 36 ; p. 59/3. I. 43 ; II. w, p.
6/X.I.40.
Sappy, II. /, p. 9/a, L 96.
Sarazins head, II. g\ p. 7/d, I xi.
SanM ss sauced, t. ^, p. t^/t, L la
Sansy, I. a, p. 8/1, L 3.
San^fuard, sb,, II. f, p. 48/3, L x8 ; 1/, p. 9/3, 1, xo ; u,
p. 14/3. L 33.
Sauourly, IL e, p. 41/1, 1.x. ■ How savoutly she feeds.*
(Broome's Jovial Crew, Act Iv.) So Defoe in Col.
Jack.
Sauerie, I. /, p. 3/3, L 7.
daw, i^., 1 tf. p. S7/a, L fl?3.
Sawcinesse, I. tf, p. x6/x, 1. 41.
Say. J*., saye, I. a, p. 17/1, U. 4, 7,
' serge ' (HalUweU).
Scabbe, j^., scab, I. a, p. 33/3, L. a6 ; IL r, p. 50/a, L 5.
Scalde, f .. scald — to scale, dimb, I. a, p. 4/1. L 3$ ;
Argum. p. 9/1, 1. 15.
Scaled — covered with scales, II. k^ p. la, No. 83, L 9^
Scape, v., scapte. I. «, p. 39/a. L 37 ; ^, p. 9/z, L 49 ;
i p. 9/a. >• !•
Scanning, j^., II. A, p. 38, Na X9t L 44.
SchoUers, schoUer, I. 47, p. 19/z, L 38 ; p^ 33/1, L x6 ;
II. r, pu 33/1, 1. 4, etc
Schollership, II. b, p. 37/1, L 53.
Schoolers, I. a, p. 19/1, I. 33.
Science — knowledge, I. x, p. 13, sL 1x7.
Scilence, I. a, p. 59/z, U. 44, 45.
Sdntenels — sentinels, I. 3, p^ 19/3, 1. ax.
Scituation — situation, II. /. p. la/s, L 3a
Sclaunderous — slanderous, I. a, p^ 40/1, 1. 45.
Scoilers, II. v, p. 7/x, L 34.
Sconce, skonce, II. /, p. xi/a, L 31. See Nares, f.v., L
/. p. a-
Scoole, j^., I. a, p. 8/3. L 14 ; pu 9/1, L x.
Score, sb,, skore (to nm upon the score), I. /, p. ai/i,
1. 3a.
Soot and lot, II. ar, p. xo/a, L 17.
Scot-free, II. »', p. 6/1, L 5a
Scribbe, A, — scrub, miser, I. e, p. 8/x, L 35. Nares,
J. v., quotes it from Withal's Dictionary. It also
occurs in Middleton's ' A Mad World my Masters.'
ScuU, V, = to go in shoals, II. b, p. lo/x, 1. aa.
Scullions, scullion, I. «, p. 8/1, L xx ; II. /, p. 6^a» L 41.
Scuruy, adj„ I. «, p. 33/3, L 41.
Sdeigne, I. b, p. 5/3, 1. 33.
Sea-ooale, I. «, p. 7/1, 1. 49.
Sea-coale chimney, II. m. pi 5/1, L 35.
Sea-cole fire, II. b, p. 17/ x, 1. 34.
Sea-cole sanguine — dark red colour, II. k, p. 9/a, 1. 33.
Sea crabbe, crab, IL h, p. ix. No. ax, L xo; as, p. j/'t
1.36.
Sea-singer, II. A, p. 4a, No. 3a, IL 40^ 41.
Searcfafull. IL n. p. zo/a, 1. 44.
Scare (upon the scare)— correct sub-note — trigger, I.
/, p. X9/3, L x6. See Fumess's Var. Shakespeare,
Hamlet, on ' tickle o' the sear.'
Secke, sb, » sack (wine), ¥x.see,VLk, p. ii/x, L 37.
Seeing shop, I. «, p. as/a, L 40.
Sedd, seeklome, L 0, p. 49/a, L 38 ; p. szM 1- 35 : Ap.
4/a. 1. 4a-
Sedy, seelie, sellie, selly, seelly, I. tf. p. az/z, L x ; p.
33/a. L9; p. sg/x. L aa;^, p. 8/x.L 37 ;«*!>• 7/x*
I 48 ; /, p. z8/x, L 19, etc etc
Scene, v., better seene in s Instructed, versed, IL «. p.
6/x. L 39.
Seethe, v., I. a, p. 15/3, L 17.
Selfe wrild humour, IL u^ p. 14/3, L 45.
Sellar, J»., seUer s= cellar, L r. p. 5/x« L 53; IL /, p.
14/3, L xa ; /, p. zx/x, L z8 ; p. 15/z. L 4.
Semblaunce, I. a, p. 17/3, 1. 43.
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GLOSSARJAL INDEX.
41
SemitwiRs. I, K p. 8/a» L 15.
Semper endem, II. v. p. 5/a, L 31.
Sempstor, braodrer, where we abonld My •onpstrHit
buindress, II. r, p. 59/1, 1. 96.
Senoe, A. IL a, p. 7/9, L 4 S «* P* «o/x. L 45 J P- ««/«.
L 3a
Senoeless «• insensible. I. f« p. 5/1, 1. 6 ; 11. », p. 7/1,
L •9 : P* V3/«> L 17*
S«nid«>0, id., II, k, p. 8/t, L i.
Sensible — perceivable by senses, I. o, p. tS/a, I. an.
Sent, j^.i wnte «> loeDt, L #, p. 6/0, L 17 ; p. 19/x, L ay ;
A p. 16/1. 1. 3 ; II. €, p. 43/a, 1. 4a.
Saoven i- setcn, I. d, p. 4/z. L 14.
Septer -* sceptre. L e, p. 8. st 85 ; /, p. 5/z. L %%,
Serpent-like, II. o» p. aa/a, L 34.
Serue, v„ sema your tnm, I. a, p. 4/1, L 17 ; II. >l, p.
xa, Na 35, L 9 : p. ai, Na 59, 1. 3.
Setters, ji^., II. /, p. i^z, L a ; x, p. 6/a, L' 19.
Settinge place, I. /, p. 16/1, L 7.
Settiaff-atickes - ppkiof sticks to 'set' the plaiu of
mffB. I. g» pu ii/a, L 3a.
Seuerance, II. n, p. la/a, L 14.
Shadow «i cowL Cf. Nares, f.v„ with quotation from
Jordan, II. r (An Vnworthy Bishop, p. 7, L xa).
Shake ragg*BB. II. m, p. 4/a, L X4. Cf. Broome's Jovial
Cmv (Act III.), and Scott, * h^was a shake-cgg-like
felkw. be said ' (Gay Mannering, I 369).
Shales, shale, sb., I. a, p. z8/a, \. ^\ t, p. 8/a. I 30 ; /,
p. ao/x, L 47 ; ^, p. 8/1, 1. 5 ; A, p, 16/1, L a.
Shamefastnes, I. a, p. xi/z, L 55.
Sharpe, v, II. /, p. 6/3, L 3.
Shaipe-witted, IL f, p. 8/x, L z6,
Sharpes (mnsic), I. c, p. zo, st. 106.
Sheep-biter dogge, I. m, p. 9/a, L 3.
Sheep-ford, II. b, p. 17/1. L 7.
Sheep beards, I. /, p. 7/1, 1. 36 ; p. ^x, L 48 ; II. b, p.
x6/a, L 18 ; f, pi 43/2. L 39, etc.
Sheepeseyes, II. h, p. 33, No. 7. 1. 13; a, p. 7/1. l.ae.
Sheepes head, I. /, p. 5/1, 1. 16.
Sheere, I. j, p. 8. st. 53.
She-fooles, II. s, p. 6/a, L 43.
Shelfe. I./ p. 33/1, 1. 36 ; ^, p. 6/1, L X3 ; p. 8/3. 1. 53.
Shent, IL c, p. 48/1, L 48. Fuller's Cfa. Hist, xi p. 196,
1 35 ; n. p. 314. t 58 : ' unsbeBft,' Hall's Sat iv.
i. 130.
Shewen, IL c, p. 33/3, L xa.
Shewre, ab., 1. r, p. 3/a. 1. 33,
Shield, V. (God shield), L ^, p. 8/a, L a.
Shifter - cheat, IL ^. p. 13/1, L a6 ; «, p. 13/j, 1. 43.
Shining spirits, IL b, p, ao/x, L ay.
Shipwmcske, II. c p. 8/a, L 8 ; f , p. 8/1, 1 34.
Shocke. v., to gather wheat into shocks, IL ^. p. 59/x.
1. XX.
Shooing of the wikl mare =s a Christmas sport, II. /.
p. II (Xraas.). Sae Bimnd, s.v.
Shooing of the goose. IL s, p. ^t. L 7.
Shoohig home, IL k, p. 35, No. xa, L 35 ; /, p. 7/3, I.
36.
Shop. L 0, p. 9/x, L 34.
Shomad — shorn, I. /. p. ao/x, L §4.
Shought, V. «i shoved? IL s, p. xa/a, L aa.
Shoulerd, j#., % bird, IL t, p. xa/a, L 18. The Avooet
(Platalea leooorodfe) was generally meant then by
' shoveller. ' But qu.— the pdican ?
Shouldred, v., shoulderad, L «, p. 7/1, L a ; IL #, p.
x8/x. L 5x ; /, p. 6/z, L 33.
Shooe-groat, IL k, p. 35, No. xa, 1. a6.
Shove the goose, II. i, p. 5/x, I xa
Showen, L At p. 34/1, L 5a ; <f, p. 9/3, 1. 46.
Shrew, sheepe. It was a proverb, ' Better a shrew than
a sheep,' i.€. better a saolding wife than a silly
apathetic one, I. «,.p. 6/z, L 7.
Shrew (in a good aease)i IL i, p. 40/1, L x.
Shrew, Shrewe, L «, p. 6/z, L 7 ; / p. ao/x, L 54 ; II. e,
p. 5/3, IL 36, 37 ; A, p. 43, Na 39. L 7.
Shrewd, L « , p. 53/z, L 3 ; II. /, p. ^z. I ao ; i , p. 7/r,
L 31 ; A p- 9/x, L 35 ; p. '•/«. 1. 3«-
Shrewdly ^ vehemently, II. <;, p. 50/z, I. aa See hist
reference to Fuller under 'shent.' What is sharp
as a blow or a pain, gives idea of force.
Shricfa-owles, IL «, p. aa/a, L 10 ; /, p. 9/x, L 45.
Shrike. sb„ L /, p. xy/z, L 37.
Shronche, I. b, p. zz/3, L 53 ; p. za/x, L a, ate.
Shrowes. I, g» p. Z1/3, L zy.
Shuffled up, IL m, p. 6/3, L aa
Shut the do», sb., — slattern or dowdy? i.€. unattrac-
tive, L/, p. ao/z,L5s
Shuttlo^ocke, sbnttaU, L a. p. 8/x, L 3a; IL /. p. lo/i,
1.47.
Sib Howlate, U. g, p. z3/a. 1. 17.
Sicker, adj. '^ more sick, IL c, p. 6a/4, L 37.
Side saddle, IL b, p. Z3/3. L 43.
Sidy (and see SiUy), I. a, p. a6/3, L 3.
Sight, V. - sighed. I. b» p. Z4/3, L ay ; p. 15/a, L 39 ;
p. Z7/3, L 37, eta
Sight, sb. - insight, skill, L a, p. xc/z. L 57 ;/. p. as/a,
L 31 ; J, p. Z3, St. zay ; IL r, p. a8/a. L 34 ;-<^
* He that is grounded ia Aatrology.
Enriched with tongues, well seen in minoals.'
(Marlowe's Faustus, I. i.)
Sight of=a number of: in Lancashire pronounced
' seet '^good old EagUsh, but now deemed vidgary
II. r, p. xy/i. L 37. Sae Marali on EngL Lang.,
p. x8x.
Sightly, L >», p. 6/a. I a.
Signe of a man, IL n, p. 8/3, 1. 45.
Stgne (?) II. r, p. 13, No. 43* L 8.
Sike, adj., II. j\ p. X4/X, L 3.
Sildome = seldom, I. n. pi x4/x, L x ; II. b, p. ic/i, L
16 ; g, p. 5/1. 1- 34. etc.
Silly, sidy, sUlie, silie, aiUye, L a, p. 38/a, 1. Z9 ; p,
56/3, 1 33 ; ^, p. X5/3, L 36 ; f, p. 7, st 69, etc. etc
Cf. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner, ' the siUy buckets. '
Siluer crosses, I. b, p. x^a, 1. 14.
Siluer hooke, to fish with. I. g, p. 5/3, L xo ; s, p. 9, st
6a
Siluer sounde. I. b, p. 3x/x, L 37.
Similie, sb. s likeness, IL », p. 5/3, 1. .39.
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44
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Simples, si,, I. A, p. 8/z, L 04 ; j, p. 8, st. 47 ; II. b, p.
la/i, L 33 ; r. p. 9/1, L 35,
Simplfr-witted, I. / p. 33/1, L 7 ; ^, p. 6/3» L 8.
Sincke and Syce — five and tiz of the dic6, t.«. the
numbers on a die, I. a, p. a8/i, L 33. We stiU
pronounoe the six on a die 'size.' So Thackeray
names one of his characters ' Mr. Deuceace.' But
see Naies under ' Cinque-pace.'
Singled — separated, II. d, p. 11/3, L 10.
Stnow, sinnowes — sinew, I. it, p. 7/3, L 33 ; 0, p. zz/i,
L 8 ; /, p. 19/8, 1. 33.
Siprons, II. i , p. 13/z, L 31.
Sir, Old Sir, II. b, p. i8/z, L a8 ; t. p. zi/3, L 4-
Sir Dogbolt Drie bread. IL i, p. 9^2, L 33.
Sir Henrie, II. s, p. 8/3, L si.
Sh-Jenldn, II. i, p. 9/z, L 13.
Sir Jhon, I. g, p. 5/3, 1. a8.
Sir I^wrence, II. j, p. 8/3, L 33.
Sir Morris Malipart, II. k, p. za. No. 34, L z.
Sir Ninny, II. s, p. 8/3, 1. 33.
Sir Swinehead Great Swallow. 11. j, p. 9/z, L 36.
Sir Walter Whet Whistle. IL s, p. 9/z. L 19.
Sith — since, I. </, p. 4/z, 1. iz ; p. 5/z, 1. 40 ; II. ^. p.
7/a. 1- 3 J P- 13/1. 1- H. etc.
Sithe - scythe, II. /, p. 8/3, 1 3 (finom bottom).
Sixt, sixte, L #, p. zo/z, L 3Z ; II. f, p. a^i, L 3.
Skales as scales of a fish, II. / p. ii/z, L 5a
Skarre, v., II. k, p. 10/3, L 49.
Skane^sow, skar, I. s, p. Z3, st 196 ; II. q, p. io/i, L i.
Skittish. I./, p. 3Z/3. L 37.
Skittish humour'd. I. o, p^ 7/3, L Z4.
SkofTed of, II. 0, p. 13/3, L 5a
Skonses, skonoe, I. /, p. Z9/Z, L 5 ; pi 3z/3, L 17 ; p^
a4/z, L 4 ; /.p. 3Z/3. 1 35 ; II. f, p. 4Z/3, L 39.
Sk6re, sb, s score, L ^, p. Z6/3, L z8 ; II. b, p. Z3/Z,
L z&
Skome, v., I. ^, p. 9/3, L 39.
Skoules, a. B shoals, II. /. p. 9/z, L 30 ; p. la/z. L 3.
Skouling, adj,, I. 0, p. 37/1, L aa
Skowles. j;^., II. e, p. 60/z, 1. 17.
Skreiching, sb,, II. r, p. Z3/3, L 9.
Skrippe, I. «, p. iz/3, L 39b
Skull — slioal--stiU used tiy seamen, II. n, p. Z3/3, 1. 43.
SkyUcsse, I. a, p. 8/z, 1. 33.
Slake, v., I. r, p. 7. st 66.
Slappe, sb„ I./, p. a4/z, I 51 ; II. /, p. zo/z, L z»— cor-
rect our note -^ pair of breeches.
Slauer, v., slauers, dauering, I. a, p. 6/3, L 9 ; ^. p. 7/3,
L za
Slauering, adj,, 11. d, p. zz/a, 1. 50 ; ^, p. 9/3, L 38.
Sleering, II. </, pi Z3/Z, L Z4.
Slippe, v., to take slips of plants, I. i. p. 7, St. 38.
Slouch, II. d, p. zz/3, t 49.
Slouen, II. </, pb zz/3, L 49.
Slubberd, adj., II. </, p. zz/a, L 5Z.
Slug, v., I. /, p. 3/t, L Z3.
Slut, sb.t sluts, sluttes, I. a, p. 6/3, 1. 3 ; p. Z9/Z, 1. 35 ;
/, p. 30/3, L 35 ; «», p. 9/a. 1- 38 ; II. i, p. 13/3, 1.
u;y. p.8/1.1. 39; ix z4/3,l. 35; /,p. 10/3,1.38.
Smacke. j^. — a taste or flavour, L a, p. 51/z, 1. 33 ; /
p. 31/3, 1. 5.
Smacking, v., I. <f, p. 15/z, 1. 3.
Smale, I. /, p. ao/a, L z8.
Small-footed, II. t, p. 8/z, L Z7.
Sroally, I. a, p. 30/z, L za
Smell-feast, II. f, p. 6/z, 1. 34.
Smirking, v., and see Smyrking, I. a, p. 37/1, 1. 39.
Smocke, sb., I. / p. 3/3, L 4; p. a4/z, I 31; II. k,
4Z, Na 38, L Z7.
Smocke, though I receive you in your smocke — portion-
less. II. h, p. 7, No. 5, L z6.
Smoile, v., smoyling, I. j, p. zo, st 79; II. r, p. 49/z,
J- 35.
Smoothed, adj,, I./, p. 33/3, L 34.
Smoothing, adj,, I. m, p. 9/z, L 10 ; IL / p. 15/s, L 7.
Smooth-tongued, IL t, p. 8/z, L z8.
Smyrking, adj., L 0, p. 37/z. L 35.
Snappish, IL A, p. 33, No. 68, L z.
Snarles — snares, L /, p. zz/z, L 35. *This was the
question that they would have snarled him with '
(Latimer's Serm. p. 383, and pp. a88, 396).
Snatch, sb,, II. A, p. 47, Na 50, L 3.
Sneuill, I. «, p. 5/a, L 3a.
Suib, v., snib'd «• snubbed, I. /. p. 4/z, L 30 ; IL #, p.
43/z, L 54. So Spenser, and earlier and later.
Snort, v.. snorting, II. b, p. z8/8, L 6 ; / pi 14/3. L 38.
Snortle, v., I. a. p. 6/s, L Z3.
Snowtefair, II. g, p. za/z, L 48.
Snudge, sb., I. a, p. ss/z, L 3a ; p. 55/3, L 44 ; II. i, p.
zz/z, L 6 ; /, p. zs/3. L Z4.
Snuffling, II. d, p. Z3/3, L z.
Sociable ^^ companionable, II. 0, p. as/z, L 35.
Sodaine, soddaine, L «. p. 33/3. L 3o ; p. 3s/z, L 38 ; /,
p. 33/3, L Z3, eta
Sodde, adj,, I. a, p. 36/3, L zs ; ^. p. 8/3, L 3a
Soden, sodeine. L a, p. 7/3, L 47 : *, p. 7/3, L 37.
Sodenly, soddenly, sodainly, L 0, p. 7/3, L 50 ; p. 9/3. 1.
a8 ; p. 4S/i. 1. 48 ; rf. p. 6/1, 1 Z7.
Sokde, v., soken. sokes, I. *, p. S7/Z, L 9 ; /, p. 14/z, I
a3 ; IL ^. p. 3^1. L S
Sokers, IL/, p. 6/z, L d.
Solempne, L a, pi z6/3, L 59.
Solempnely, I. 0, pi 49/3, L 3a
Solempnize, I. b, p. 30/3, L 39^
Solfa. II. g, p. 7/3, 1 35.
Some (in some) — in sum, L b, p, wc>l^ L 35 : A P>
3q/z, L 35 ; IL 0, pi 3z/3, L 34, etc
Sonny, adf,, I. /, p. Z9/1, L 39.
Soong, I. i, p. 9/z, L 38.
Sooth, vb. Bs make appear true, I. q^ p. ^z, L aa.
Sope, II. «, p. Z4/a, L 9.
SorreU, adj. —sorTell hair, I. /, p. 30/3, L 39 ; m, p. 9/3.
J. 47.
Sorting s associating, I. /, p. 8/1, L Z7. * Their poison
is got by oompanying with thcan, they hurt by sport-
ing but worse by sorting,' (Adams, I. 76.)
Sotted, v., IL h, p. Z3, Na 37, L 33.
Sotteth, v., 1 1. /, p. 5/3, L 35.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
45
Socdqg, !»., IL 4. p. 13, Na 98, L 95.
Souldier, souldioor, IL c, p, 93, title ; p. ^x, L 4, etc.
Sowoe, 1^., in the aowce. II. ir, p. 7/1, L 39.
Sower, adj., sowre «• sour, I. a, p. 38/x, L 50; ^, p^
93/s, L 33 ; 1/, p. lo/z, L 31, etc
Sower, sb., sowre •« sour, I. b, p. 94/1, L 55 ; d^ p. 9/9,
L 49 ; t, p. 7/a. L 38, etc.
Sowish, I. iw, p. 9/9, L 47.
Sowrenesse, II. /I, p. 44, Na 40, L 99.
Sowst, sowsed, II. b, p. lo/i, L 99 ; p. xi/z, L 7.
Sowst gumerd, II. g, pi xi/x, L 97.
Soyue, v., IL k, p. 9/1, L 48. Qu. — sign.
Spoziiawke — spanow-hawk, IL /, p. x9/i, L 37. See
Rider, s,v,
Sporke, diamond, ' a cliaplet ... set with choice rubies,
sparks and diamonds,' (Greene's Geoige a Greene,
p. 955. ) Dyoe suggests ' ruby spa^s,' which would
make the expression like Breton's, IL ^, (Noble-
man.)
Sparrow-blasting — cuckolding, IL <f, p^ 95/z, L 14 ; A,
p. 34, Na 19, L 91 ; p. 47, Na 50, L 16 ; >i, p. 10/9,
1- 4<B ; /f P- ii/Sf 1- 31* Our note, whOe accuiate
per Si, missed the special use in the text, IL p. on pi
XI. It also occurs in IL k. Letters 19 and 50, and
in GrimeOo's Fortunes ; also in Tom Tell Troth,
(New Shak. Soc., p. 35.)
Spatter, spit and spatter, II. ir, p. X4/X, L 4X.
Spechcock = an eel split length wise and broQed, II. b,
p. xo/i, L 99b Cf. modemly Ingoldsby Legends,
(Knight and Lady).
Speculation, II. k^ p. 11, Na 90, L xi.
Speered, adj., speo^ malt, I. a, p. 58/9, L 59, and
rdatiTe note. The word evidently refers to some
roguish practice. I have met somewhere with the
expression ' speeied com ' •com which has sprouted
before being harvested, and therefore is deteriorated.
Breton seems to hint some inferiority in the article
supplied by the mailman. Tusser's Huswiferle, c
84, L 5, has this :—
' Malt being well speared, the more it will cast,
lialt being well dried, the kmger will Ust.'
In the Glossary of Sussex Dialect by P&rrish (1875),
' spear * is — to sprout out of the ground.
Spet, »., IL f» pi 36/9, L 97; /, p. X3/X, L 94.
Spiall, L M. p. 8/1, L 49.
Spide, I. o, p. 11/9, L 5X.
Spight, sb., I. a. p. 54/9, 1 xa
Spight, v., spigbtes, I. /, pi 95/9, 1. 4 ; IL r, p. X0/9, L 4.
Spightfiill, L 41, pi 54/9, L X.
Spill s spoil, I. h, p. 16/9 (note).
Spill, v., spilling, spilleth, spilt, spilde, I. e, p. X3/9, L
98 ; A, p. 7/1, L xs ; p. 7/a, 1. 93 ; », p. s/x, L x8, etc.
— ^has now lost the meaning of ' destroy. ' We now
only ' spill ' liquids, or are ' spilt ' out of a caniage.
* Unwrap thy woes, whatever wight thou be,
And stint in time to i;;^ thyself with plaint'
(Sackville, Induction, st 15) : spills waste in Ful-
ler's Holy State, p. 171.
Spinners. I. /, p. 13/x. 1. aa.
60
Spittle, sb. — hospital. I. €, p. 7/9, L 15. Spittle some-
times — house of correction ; 'how near Pride and
Riot dwell to the Spital-house,' Lt. prison (Adams, L
X90), albeit also near the ' hosi^taL'
Spittle-men, II. /, p. 6/z, L 8.
Splay footed, IL g, p. 8/1, L 97 ; ^, p. xo/9, l 34.
Splendent, IL k, p. 39, Na x, L 7.
Sprigges, I. b, p. X3/1, L 45.
Spring, v., to spring a partridge, II. / p. xx/x, 1. 95.
Springes, sb. s sprindj^ IL k, p. 5/1, L 9 ; p. xo/x, L
5-
Sprinke, adj., II. g, p. 9/x, L 16.
Sprites, IL e, p. X4/X, IL x6, 91.
Spruse, spmce, 1. 1, p. xx, st. 98 ; II. g, p. X9/9, L 3 ; /,
p. 9/9, L 45.
Squall, sb. — contemptuous expression, II. c, p. 43/1, I.
48.
Square, sb., curious use of word for the mixing of four
ingredients, IL /, p. ix (December), ib. ; r, p. 7/x,
L 45. < Punch ' is said to be from the mixing of
five ingredients ; * Punch ' as in ' Punj-ab ' «= the
country of five rivers — ^pentepotamia.
Square, v., to square it, IL /, p. iz/i, L 6.
Square, to keep the square, II. b, p. X9/1, L X9.
Square, to play square = honestly, I. 0, p. 99/x, 1. 47.
Square, out of square, II. q, p. 6/x, L 30 ; r, p. 8/x, L
30-
Squat, a hare at squat, II. s, p. 6/x, L 9.
Squats, v., I./ p. 93/9, 1. 59.
Squint, to looke a squint, I./, p. 9x/9, L 4&
Squinte eyed, II. g, p. 8/x, L 96.
Squiriles — squirrels, I. c, p. 9, st. 98.
Squiers, of the order of the apple, II. /, p. 6/9, L 15.
Stable, sb., to make a stable of his government, II. s,
p. 6/9, 1. sx.
Stable-talke, I. s, p. xx, st. 98.
Stafford Law, IL c, p. 99/x, L x5— aplay upon the
name like Bedfordshire, Spilsbury, Jedburgh, cum
muUis aliis.
Staind, v., I. a, p. 9x/x, L X9.
Staite, adj., II. g, p. xa/i, L x8.
Stamping steeds, IL c, p. 18/9, L 57.
Stand in stead, v„ IL k, p. 39. No. ax, L 8.
Stands, sb. (of pike), II. n, p. X3/9, L 44.
Staichers, II. /, p. xx/x, L 99.
Starch-wendi, IL/, p. 6/9, L 39.
Starke blind, IL k, p. 49, No. 57, L xx.
Stark mad. L /, p. 8, st. 5x ; II. e, p. 96/1, L 9.
Stavered « starved, finim bdng kept in pound without
food, II. g, pi 6/9, L 9.
Stead, v., IL i, p. 9/x, L 47>
Steares — stairs, I. a, p. 9x/i. L 34.
Steede, in steed, 1. a, pi xx/9, IL 93, a6; IL c, p. 38/a,
L47. cte-
Steede. stead, to stand n steed, L (', p. 7/9, L 8 ; «, p.
xo/x, L XX ; n. ^, p. X9/X, IL X5, 37.
Steeple tire, IL M, p. 41, Na 98, L 8.
Steering, IL d, p. 13/1, L X4— qu. 'fleering ' ?
Stencht. v., IL e, p. 39/1, L 47.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Steppe, of a song. L a, p. 40/x, L 04 (from bottom).
Stapt, v.. stept in years, IL g, p. 9/z, L z6w
Sterne, — helm, I. b, p. x^d, L z,
'the peopls and ih* laad
Which now remain a« ship without a sten.'
(Sackville's Fenex and Pontes, v. a.)
See Massinger'fr 'A Very Woman.' IIL 5. and
Adams, iil 17.
Sterne, v.« sterues, I. a, pu 56/a. IL 33, 40 ; «« p. 8/a. L
z8.
Sticks-sitting, I. g, p. iz/s, L 32— used in plaiting ruffs.
StiU. 1^., II. ^, p. la/a, L 3.
Stincbed, v., II. r, p. 39/1, 11. 35, 40, 43 ; p. 40/z, 1. aS.
Stint. J)»., slmte, L /, p. ax/a, L 47 ; ^. p. 14/1* L a6 ;
II. kt p. 9, No. zi. L 15.
Stint, v., stinteth, I. b, p. %sl^, L 45 ; II. c, p. ap/z, L
Stitches, L ^, p. 9/a, 1. 3Z.
Stockes, a,t II. /. p^ 7/s, i Z9 ; », p. 8/x, L 58.
Stock-fish, II. b, pL xo/z, L 87 ; /(, p. Z3/3, L za ; /. pi
zi/a, L Z3.
Stomacke, sb,, I. tf, p. Z9/a, L 59 ; p. 37/1, L ao; II. c,
p. x8/x. L ao; i, p. la/i, L 49.
Stone, sb., IL f, p. xx/x, IL 43/4. I^obablj an aUasion
to ' travellers' tales, ' and the whA-itomd suppoeed
the prise for lying. Cf. Amorphns and his pa^
Cos, in Jonson's Cynthia's Revels.
Stone-cold, I. b, p. xa/z. L 43.
Stone of Pbilosopbie, II. j, p. zo/a, L 8.
Stood at gaae, II. h, p. 53, No. 67, L 4.
Stoole, sb,^^ seat, II. a, pi lo/z, L 34.
Stoole-baU, 1. j, p. zo, st. 79 ; II. a, pu 7/1. 1. as.
Straddle, IL A, p. 45, Na 44, L Z9.
Stnught-bodied, IL », p. 8/z, L Z7.
Strait, IL /, p. 8/1, L xx.
Straited, L a, p. 9/x, 1. xa
Straoes, v., L /, p. ao/a, L za.
Scrawd, v., L a, p. 46/a, L aa
Strength, v., I. 0, p. 6/a, L 48.
Stroke, v. - struck, stroken, L ^, pi Z3/Z, L 40 ; pi zs/5,
1. 33 J P- a7/i. 1- 8» rtc.
Strooken, v., strooke, L s, p. 5/z, L 44 ; < p. t8/a, L
a8 ; IL c, p. 36/z, L 7.
Strouteth, v., IL ^, p. 57/a, L 45.
Stru'de, 1. tf, p. 52/3, L 33.
Stubbing, IL A, p. 40, No. 37, L xz.
Stnddes, sb., 1. a, p. xc^, L 37.
Studients, studient, j^. -^ student, L ^, p. 4, Ded. ; o, p.
zz/x, IL 40, 47; r, p. 4/z. L 9; IL ^, p. zs|/z. L 6,
etc.
Stuffed, V. • provided with stuff = fiimitnre, II. i, pi 4a,
No. 3a, L 53.
Stump feete, II. A, p. xa, No. aa, L 18.
Sturope footed, II. g, p. 8/1, 1. 45.
Stumps, bestlrreth bis stumps. IL /, p. xo/x. L 39.
Sturre, v., sturres, L a, p. 39/x, L 53 ; <>, pc xs/x, L 8.
Subscribe, r., L «, p. 5/1. L 33 ; ^, p. 5/1, L 17 ; J- p.
X3. St. xz8 ; IL h, pi 3o. No. 56. L 7.
Subscribed, v. - signed, II. h, p. 44, No. 42, 1. 4.
Suckers, succors, of a plant, L a, p. 54/z, Jl 5 : *• P*
zo/z, L ao.
Sugar, IL k, p. 23* Na 7z, I az.
Sugar cake, L/, p. a6/x. L 14.
Sugar-loafe, IL /I, pi 40^ No. as* L 6.
Sugar-men, IL/, p. 7/k* 1- 34*
Sugar-^weete, L /, p. x8/3, L aa.
Sugre, I. a, p. 4X/1, 1. 39.
Sugred, adj„ L a, p. 7/x. L Z3 ; p. x^/i, L 57; p. as/z,
1- 39; P- 3a/». 1- 36; <^i p. 7/1. L 46; A, p. zo/a.
L6.
Suggestion — temptation, I. /, p. a, 1. z6 (from bottom),
and p. 4/a, L 3.
Sunune, his chosen — the number of His elect. L /, p.
7/1. L 4.
Summer, v., II. k, p. xo. No. Z5, L z8.
Sumthing •• somewhat, I. a, p. ^x, L 9.
Sumwfaat, L a, p. 17/3, 1. 49.
Sun like, II. d, p. 33/1, L 3X.
SuperezooUencies, IL/, p. xs/z, L 45.
Supemoditie, IL s, p, 6/3, L 5a.
Super sweete. 1. 1, p. 4/x, 1. 4z.
Supemall, L c, p. 8. st 85; i, p. 4/x. L 8; y. p. 9/x.
LB; A. p. 9/»* 1- «7 ; p. "/i. L 3a-
Supporters* in heraldry, IL ^, p. ^i, L 13.
Suprise, L b, p. 34/3, L 30.
Supriser, L b, p. zz/a, L 3.
SupnirfSedeas, II. f , p. xo/x, L za.
Surceased, IL d, p. 5/3, L 33.
Surgion, II. a, p. 8/3, 1. 3.
Surpressed, 1. a, p. 5x/x^ L 94.
Surueier. ji^., IL r, p. 7/a, L 3.
Suspect, ib,, 1. tf , p. 35/1, L 30 ; p. 33/1, 1. 7 ; ^, p. 8/3,
L 45, etc. etc.
Sutch, L a, p. 6/3, U. 37, 39. etc
Sute, j^., L a, p. xx/x, L 49.
SutliU, L a, p. X9/3, L 36.
Swad, II. g, p. 7/3, L zs.
Swadling clouts. I. j, p. 6, st Z7.
Swagg'ring, adj,» I./, p. 34/1, 1. 5Z.
Swan-like, L A, p. 9/x, L z6.
Swap, »., L a, p. 6/2. L 3.
Swappes, sb. = striker— a novel word— verb used by
Chaucer, I. e, p. tfi, L 43.
Swarues, v., swarue, swarueth • swerve, I, a, p. 5/z.
1. xa ; /, p. ai/x, L 53 ; /, p. s/x. L 40, etc. ; U. a,
p. 13/1, L x8 from bottom.
'And let him norer anffer ne
To swarve or turn aside.'
(Pilgr. Progr.. Pt iL)
Swash, v., I./, p. 3Z/3, L 33.
Swearde, j^. — sword, 1./, p. 3z/a, 1. 45.
Sweete. IL d, p. 8/3, L 38.
Sweeted — sweetened, II. a. p. zx/a, L x.
Sweeteth, v., I. /. p. 14/3. 1. 33.
Sweet-heart, II. /, p. 7/3, L 17; A. p. 34, No. 73, 1. x.
Sweetings, sb„ sweetinge, 1. /, p. 4/x. 1. zo; p. 17/1,
1. 43 ; p. 19/1, 1. 36.
Sweltc, v., L fl, p. 35/3, 1. 41.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
47
Swill a„ II. r, p. X3/9, L z6; /, p. 23/2, L 36.
Swffl. v., I. m, p. 8/1. L 4; IL /. P' M/». 1. •$•
Swine SDOuted. IL^, p. 8/1, I. a6.
Swinge, A., II. j, p. xo/a, L 47.
Swinish, I. ^, p. aa/a, L 43.
Swiser, I. m, p. 8/1, L 4.
Swoope. sb,, II. /, p. 8/a, L 50.
Sworne to the Candlestick, and lee oalled to the Candle-
stick, i.v. Candkstkk, II. c, p. 56/1, L 33 ; pi 57/1,
Swoand, i».. I./, p. 95/1, L 3a; II. ^, p. ao/a, L 19.
Swoonding, ad^., II. a, p. 6/1, L 51 ; ^, p. 7/x, L 49.
Swowne, j^., I. ^, p. z6/a, L a3 ; /, p. lo/a, L la.
Swounde, v», swouiid, II. r, p. 39/1, L 6; p. 43/a, L 53,
etc
Syncke and syoe, see Sincke.
Tabaooo, II. g, p. la/i, L X.
Tttber, I. x, p. zi, st. xoa
Table - book. I. g, p. la/a, 1. t6.
Table i- calculation, I. g, p. ii/a, L 6u
Table-book. II. t . p. 6/a. L 4a.
Table talke, L 1, p. iz, st. 98.
Table, round at her breech— qn. a large bustle?
Tables, game of, II. /, p. 14/8, L 53 ; «, p. 13/1. 1. 18.
Tablets, I. « , p. 14/1, L as.
Taffiiities, taffistj. II. «', p. X3/X, L 99 ; /.p. 9/9, 1. 5a.
Tafbtie feoe, II. h, p. 9/x, L 8. So ' taffety wine ' (vin
de taffbtas) in Ufqubart*s Rabelais.
Tafle, i*., I. a, p» 7/a, L 44; p. ii/i, L 60.
Taint worme, I. t, p. 5/x, IL 27, 33 ; II. </, p. X4/3,
L 37. Cf. Lyddas, L 45, and see Browne, Vnlg.
Errors, bk. in., L 97.
Take, I. a, p. 33/x, L 19 ; p. 37/9, L 96.
Takers, II. t, p. 13/1, 1. a8.
Taking, sh„ takeing (in a taking) — excitement, I. /,
p. 6/a, L 93 ; p. X4/3, L 8 ; II. c, p. 63/3, L x ; <f, p.
16/3, L 35 ; f, p. 8/1, L 43 ; pi 9/a, L 39. etc
Tale of a tub, II. /, p. 7/3. 1. 4 ; j, pi 8/3, L 18 ; p. xo/i,
L43.
TalenU - talons, I. A, p. X4/X, L X9.
Tama goose, IL k^ p. 13/9, L X7.
Tang, i^., I. a, p. 41/^, L 96 ; >l, p. 5/x, L 8 (Ep. Dedy.).
Tansey, tansie, a pudding? flavoured with the heib so
called, I. J, p. 10, St 79 ; IL », p. 7/1, L a6w See
HaUhren for reodpL
Tap-house, IL /, p. xo/i, L 6.
Tiq) wottes dregs of small beer, or reAiae of the tap, I.
0, p. 96/9, L t6. ' Woit ' is the Uquor before or
during fermentation.
Tassell. IL /, p. 9/1, L aa The 'tassell' is *the male
of any hawking Urd, property tUretU: So that
here it is - the Falcon and the Tiercel See
Spenser F. Q., IIL iv. 49^ and Hadibras, Pt if. c
ill 4x4.
TasseO-gentiU « male fidcon, IL h, p. ix/a, L 17.
' Tierod ' mt supra, is the male of any species of
hawk. See ' The Academy,' Nor. a, 1876, for notes
on Shakespeare's ' Tassel-gentle '
Tattle, v., tatUng, L/, p. ax/a. 1. 36; IL /. p. 14/3, L
38.
Tattle, *>., IL <f, p. ii/a, L 53.
Tattling, adj,» tailing, L/, p. ai/a, L 43; >l, p. 10, No.
IS, L 9X ; IL s, p. X0/3, L 39.
Tawny, w., L «•, pi 9/1. L 37.
Taxe, v., taxing, IL /, p. 4/1. L 4: i», p. 4/1, L 5, To
Reader.
Teadious, IL /, pi 13/3, L 19.
Teanores, L «, p. 9/a, L z6.
Teaze, L r, p. 3/1, L 35.
Teazmers, L j. p. 8, st. 53. 'Our suitors, termers,
dienu' (Burton's Anat, Pre&oe, p. 5z ; see also
Eaile's Micr., Na z8, and Fuller's Pisgah Sight,
IL xiL aa
Teasters, IL k, p. 35, Na Z3, L 38.
Tedde, v. ^ spread hay, IL r, pi 59/z, U. 8, 9. (Halli-
well, S.V.) Cf. Thomson's Sninmer, L 36Z.
Teeth, in spigfat of your, IL A, p. 33, Na 5, L 3.
Teinted, adj\, I. ^, p. z6/a, L zz.
Ten, I can not ten s: I do not know, II. c, p. as/z. L s.
So Merchant of Ventee, ' I cannot teU, I make it
breedasfiist'
Temper, 1^., L f», p. za/a, L 49 ; IL A, p. 35, Na Z4. L
a4-
Tempestious, IL o, fK 8/z, L 38.
Tems = Thames, I. g, pi 7/9, L 361
TemtatioD, IL ^, p. z5/z, L 35.
Tenoe, I. /, p. 6/z, L s.
Tenne to one of his pride, IL r, p. zo/z, 1. 24.
Tentor hookes, IL g» p. 9/3. L Z7.
Terme traueUers, II. /, p. 8/z, L 3.
Temis'd, L ^, p. 5/z, 1. 14.
Terra kirida, IL s, p. zo/i, L 47.
Tester, IL k, p. z3/a, L 37.
Then &» then, very frequently, 1. a, pi 6/3, L 43, etc.
etc
Theea to prosper, L g, p. 8/2, L 34 : correct note as
succeed, thrive as in Edward Guilpin's Sldalethela,
pi 29, L 3 (from bottom). Lydia ' so mote I thee
thou art not &ire ' (in our edition correct note)—
frequent in Chaucer. ' So must I thee/ etc.. is a
common asseveration. t.g, Chaucer's None Freest,
Z498Z : Piers Plough., v. a3a Spenser F. Q., 11.
«. as-
Then = than, very frequently. L *, p. 7/x. L 34, etc. etc
Theoricke. si., IL g, p. 6/z. L 3.
Thick, thicke. sfi. — thicket, 1. a, pi 5/3, 1. 33 ; p. 9/1,
L Z9. etc
Thicke eares, II. g, p. g/x, L 53.
Thicke of hearing, IL g, pi 9/z, L 39.
Thicks, v., 1. 1, p. 8/z. L Z7.
Thone « the one, L a. p. z6/a, U. 38, 33. 39 ; A, p. 15,
St z, L 3 (Waggery).
Thorne, to creep to a, 1. a, p. 26/3. U. 33, 36 ; IL A, p.
6/3, I. 89.
Thorough, thorow, 1. a. p. 35/3, L 36 ; p. 50/1, 1. 19 ;
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48
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
II. d, p. lo/i. I 8;/ p. 7/1, L 37; ^. P- 7/1. L 3".
etc.
Thotber - the other, I. A, p. 15/z, L aa ; II. /, p. 14/2,
1.7.
Thought, sb., to take thought, L is , p. 31/1, L 30; IL
<, p. 6/a, L 30 ; A, pw 14, Na a9, L ao ; PL 34, Na
73, L 7 ; p. 46, No. 46, L 33 ; i, p. 13/a, L 31 ; /,
p. 8/9, L 31.
Thrassbhig sUnes, I. a, p. x6/z, L 53.
Three oomerd tree, I. g^ p. 7/z, L 34.
Three trees, I. a, p. 38/a, L 38. ' What they may do
hereafter under a triple tree is nracfa expected'
(Broome's Jovial Crew, act L).
Threed, i^., L </, pi s/i, I. 36 ; p. 6/9, L 3 ; r, pi 3/z. L
a6 ; ^. p. S/3, L 13 ; II. f, p. 43/1, 1 16 ; /, p. s^x,
L 35, eta
Threed-bare, II. /, p. 6/3, L 34.
Thiiftles, thriftlesse, I. a, p. 5/3, L 33 ; p. 15/3, L 36.
Throue, v., II. 0, p. si/i. L 31.
Throwen, II. i, p. zo/3, L 38 ; 0, p^ 31/1, L 53.
Thrunke ? I. ^, p. 7/1, L 3. In Tim Bobbin, in ' To the
Reader,' a Diak>gue, we find this :-^' A Tealier e
Cnunmils time war tkrunk pooing turmits in his
pingot ' «• very busy and so perhaps * wearied with
work ' — a sense which suits Breton in loco.
Thrust, sb. - thirst. II. a. p. 8/1, L 5.
Thrustle-cock, L </, p. 4/3, L 35.
Thumbes, bite my thumbes, I. if, p. 8/3, U 5.
Tibarne tree, trees, 1. 1, p. xi/a, L 33 ; ^, p. 9/3, 1 15.
Tibbe, I. e, p. 8/1, L 33.
Tibume, II. k, p. 5/3, L 33.
Tickle, adj., I. jt, p. 14/1. L 15 ; II. b, p. x8/x, L 15.
TickUng, adj., II. /, pi 7/1, l 13.
Tick tacke, II. /, p. 17/1, L 34.
Tide, V. s tied. I. a, p. 37/9, L 45.
Till which, II. i, p. 9/3, L sx.
Tilting, IL ir, p. i6/x, 1. 38.
Time. sb. •• thyme. IL c, p. 63/1, L 9.
Timers, II. «, p. 5/3, L 17.
Timpanie, L g, p. zo/x, L 33.
Tincture, L b, p. 5/3, L 15.
Tinke. v., tincke, I. «, p. 7/3, L 48; r. p. 4/1, 1. 33.
' If the verses do but chime and tinck in the close it
is enough to the purpose' (Fuller's Ch. Hist., 11.
p. 167)*
Tinpany. IL m, p. 8/z, L 6.
TipUng, tapling. II. g, p. xx/a, L i.
Tipstaff, IL g, p. 6/x, L 35.
Tipto, I. *. p. 7/«. 1- 37-
Tire, sb., IL ^. p. X9/3, 1 49.
Tire makers, IL /, p. ii/i, L 9.
Tisicke — cough, I. x, p. 8, st 47.
Tit, sb., titles, titte — tom-tit, or one of the * tits,' not a
hedge-sparrow, I. e, p. 9/1, 1. ax ; p. xo/x. I xx ; /,
pw 30/3, L 48 ; p. 3x/x, 1. 43 : p. aa/i. 1. 4^ : /. P-
7/1. 1- 3; ^. p. 4/1. L 4; Ded-. 1- 9; n. A, p. 47.
Na 49, title ; p. 53/x, L 33.
Til - a horse, IL /. p. 7/3, 1. 33 ; 1, p. 5/a, L 17.
Titiimouses = titmice, IL j, p. 6/1, L i ; p. 9/1. 1. 51.
Tittle, L M, p. 7/3. L 3X ; <?, p. s/x, L 19 ; A, p. 13. No.
37, L 9 ; p. 13, Na a8, L xa
To 3s compared to, I. a, p. 40/x, IL 4X to 43, etc. ; d, p.
x3/x, L 40 ; II. i, p. 9/3, L sa
To B too (frequently), L a, p. 7/3, 1x9;^, p. 7/x» !• 3>
etc. etc.
To to = too loo, L b, p. X7/3, L 44. The reduplicated
' too too' occurs so late as in Richardson's Novels.
Tobacco-breath, IL k, p. 4X/1, L xa.
Tone — the one— not a misprint, I. k, p. X5, st i. L 3.
Cf. p. X5, coL a, L 83, ' the tother,' and IL /, p. i4«
coL b. See Nares, s.v.
Top full, II. b, pi x9/x, L 39.
Tother •« the other— not a misprint. L 4. p. X5/1, L aa.
etc.
Tole, V. - draw, IL b, p. x6/x, L x.
Toleying, I. a, p. 58/3, 1 13.
ToU'de, v., L a, p. 58/3, L X4,
Tolling dish, towling, I. e, pi 8/x, L x6 ; ^, p. 7, st 99.
On the Miller's toll, and on the oonnecdon of his
thumb therewith, see N. and Q. 4th Series, iii. xa9,
407. BaOey, s.v. , has toU tray.
Tom a hedge, IL g, p. 9/1 > 1- 35-
Tom toilers, I. a, p. X4/3, 1. 9.
Tom-uoth, I. d, p. 8/3, L 44 ; pi 9/x, L xz. See Udal's
Erasmus' Apop., p. aoa.
Tomkin, I. s, p. xo, st 79.
Tongue spirits, IL k. p. xo, No. 17, L 3a.
Tongueles, II. v, p. 7/1, L x.
Too — to (frequently), I. a, p. x4/a, L 47.
Too too, L tf, p. 19/1, 1. 6 ; p. 98/9, L 47 ; p. 58/3, L
56; r, p. 6, st 47; m, p. 9/x, L a7; "• ^^ P- as/'.
Lx.
Tooke, V. B taken, I. b, p. 35/x, L 37 ; / p. is/a. L 4a
Tooke, V. s betook, IL d, p. X7/X, L xo.
Toong — tongue, L i, p. xx, st xoa
Toothsome, IL 1, p. 9/x, L 44; », p. X4/x« L 55.
Top full, II. b» p. X9/Z, L 39.
Toppe, sb., L *, pi X4/X, L 9.
Tossing of pots, IL h, p. 4X, Na 30, L 4.
Tortus, IL b, p. X0/9, L 48.
Tother, the tother, IL /, p. X4/3, 1. 7.
Touch, to abide touch, IL h, pi 45, Na 45, L 36.
Touch-stone, I. 0, p. x8/3, L 34 ; IL /, p. xx/x, L 47.
Toule, V. = to toll, I. /, p. 6/x, I 33.
Toulying, sb.,h a, p. x6/a, L 5.
Toume, v.. I. a, p. 31/x, 1. 4.
Toume, sb., to serve the toume, I. a, p. 37/a, L 39.
Toward, adj., IL /, p. xa/a, L 7.
Towards = aj^roaching to, II. k, p. 9/x, L 49.
TowUng dish— not met with elsewhere, but see ' toUiog.*
I. s, st 39, L 3.
Towne of garrison, IL it, p. xo/a, 1, 36.
Toy, J*., toyes, toies. L a, p. 6/x. IL 45, 55 ; p.6/a,l8;
p. X0/3, L 33, eta eta
Trace, sb., L <, p. 5/x. L x8.
Trades, sb., tracts, trackt - traces, L a, p. 6/Xi t as ;
pi xo/a, L ao; p. 44/x, I 33; r, p. 3/3, L 10; IL^,
p. 4/x, 1. XI.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
49
Trade, v, * to train* I. a. p. 51/x, L 3 ; p. 5s/a, L 45.
Thules, sh. — pk>U. L ^. p. 17/1. L 53.
Thulesman, I. 0, p» 6/3, L 93.
l>aiiie, s^,, II. o, p. 04/1, L aa
Thuiies» traynct, s^,, I. r, p. 4/1, L so; p. 5/1. L 11.
Thub s money. 'Therefore mitst I bid him provide
tnah, for my master is no friend without money/
II. e, p. 14/9, L 6 (from bottom). (Greene's James
TV. iiL X.) CI also Alph. K. of Arngoo, p. 835.
Tkansgression— now rendered stobbomnem (i Sam. xr.
33), IL Mt p. xz/i» L 161
Thuiaile, s^., IL ^ p. 13/9. U. 4. 8, etc
IVanailed. v,, tmnaUde, I. a, p. xo/z. L ay; p. zs/z, L
49 ; ^, p. 9/z, L z, etc. etc.
TkanaOer — traTdler, I. i, p^ 8/z, L 43 ; p. xo/z, L i, etc
Tnraallers ^ travellers. IL 4, p. 9/a, L afi.
Traueil, v., L i» pi 8/x. U. x. 3. etc
TYanen. si., II. >l, p. xx, No. ax, L 33. etc
Trayne. IL ^, p. xx/a. L 19.
lYaytonrousnesse, I. a, p. x6/x. L 48.
Treatise, IL/ p. xs/x. L 95.
Trendier, 1. a, p. 4Z/3, L aa ; IL a, p. 9/1. L 3 ; ^ P-
xz/z, L zy ; ai. p. 8/a. L z6; /. p. X4/9, L 45. etc
Tkencfamoor, trenchmore, II. ^, p. 6/z, L 4 ; p. 9^z, L 5 ;
p. Z3/z, L 9Z : p. z6/z, L z6 ; p. ao/x, L xa ; ^. p.
^a. L za ; 4, p. 33, No. 8, 1. a ; pi 49, No. 57, L aa.
Trew, I. e, p. 7, st 7a
Trice, with a trice, L /, p. 6/z, L 4 ; II. /, p. 7/1. L ay ;
*. p. Z3/z, I 44.
Tricking, j^. — adorning, II. A, p. 47, Nc 49. L zx.
Tried a proved, IL <:, p. 15/z, L 4.
Trim, adj„ trinmie, trym, II. c, p. Z4/a, L Z5; p. 45/1.
L3.
Trinall-Vnity, IL 0, p. xa/i, L 34.
Tto, L a, p. ao/x, L i.
ThMde, v., I. tf, p. xz/a, L z8.
Trome— query A. S. trum — vafidns, applied in poetiy
to eofor, (boar), heart ; and here as if ' alive and
strong ' ? The woman's question would then be, ' Did
you encounter the boar while alive'? Halliwdlsays
A. &, band or company, but that makes no sense
here. He mistook A. & truma— a different word.
II. tf, pi 4z/x, I 19. Qu.— mispriDt for ' trow * ? or
contraction for ' trow me ' 7 i.t, «• our * I wonder.'
Tromp — trumpet, II. v. p. 7/z, L 19.
IVomp •« trump (card), I. /, p. 6/9, L 34.
Tromperie, trompery, I./, p. ax/x, 1. 9.
Trompet, trompetter, II. r, p. 7/a, 1. 30 ; v, p. 6/1, L 35.
lYoncke, I. ^. p. zx/a, L 54.
Troth troath, I. a, p. 14/9, L 50 ; p. z8/a, L 45 ; /. p.
19/z, 1. 97 ; /, p. z9/z, L 35.
Ttothlesse. I. a, p. 34/9, L 3.
Trottble-townes, I. j, p. 5, st 9. C£ ' peevish trouble-
horses ' (Urquhart's Rabelais, bk. i. c 59 : trouble-
rest (Du Bartas, the Furies, L 398).
Troule, v., II. /, p. z9/i, 1. 43.
Trou]ing» si., I. a, p. 99/z, L 7.
Trouling, at^., L a, p. 37/z, I. 94.
Trow. tr.. L a, p.9^z.L36; p.a7/z,L39; p.3a/i.La6.
Trowles. v., L Jk, p. 8/9, L za GC MQton P. L. vi. L
690, 'troll the tongue and roll the eye* (or better
' troule and roule ' as in zst edn. ).
Tradgeth, IL r. p. Z3/9. L 6.
Trueth, L a, p. 98/z, IL 3. zo ; if, p. zo/z. L 93 ; pi 14/**
L 14, etc
Thill. trulls. L i, p. 8/z, L 8 : p. zo/z, L zx ; IL ^, p.
7/9, L X9; y, pi 8/a. I S3 J •». P^ 8/1, L9; /. P. 6/«.
Lx.
Trully-trippe^ L /, pi 6, St. ao.
Trumperie, trumpety, I. a, p. z6/z, L 3X ; II. s, p. 6/z,
Lsa.
TrnndM)an. L <t. p. 8/x. L 301
Trussed, IL i, p. ^i. L 54.
I'nistleBK. I. a. p. 34/a. title.
Trym, I. a, pi 9/a. L 4a
Tub, tale of a, IL A, pi 45, Na 44, L 3.
Tuch - touch, L i, p. a8/x, L 7; <. P^ ^a* L 4-
Tuch, v., L d, p. x3/a, I xs ; /, p.>x/z, L 41.
Tuch stone. I. i, p, sail, 1. 43.
Tniled. adj., IL /. p. xo/x, L 8.
Tugfa - tough. L a. p. x6/x, L 57.
Tumbler, v. ^.. L «, p. xz/i, L 34.
Tumblers, dogs so called, lLk,p,i6, No. 39b L zz ; if,
p. 7/1. L X4-
Tung, IL a, p. 8/z, L 61
Tunnes, L «, pi lo/x, L 33.
Turned up his hades, IL^, p. 4^a,Lz$i (See Heels).
Tome-spittes, tuiiMpit, L g, p-jzo/x, L>6i
Tuzn-spit, v., I. s, p. Z3, St za8.
Turn-tripe (old Gillian 1\mHiipe). L €, p, 8/z, L 8;
Tush, L ^, p. Z7/9, L 3 ; /, p^ xo. 8t 79.
Tutch, v., L d,p, Z4/9, L a.
Tutch, a., L /, p. 5/z. L 09.
Twagge (olde Twagge), II. i, p. 17/9, L 3Z.
Twearing, no, misprint for 'not wearing.' L A, p. 5/z,
In Authorem, L 3.
Twittle twattle-tittle tattle» or words without purpose
or meaning, IL c, p. 43/z, L 33. Cf. Scott's Pirate.
c vL ' What areye whittio-whattemg about ?' EngL
Dialect Soc Series E Na n. (Z879.) ' twattle ' -
foolish talk.
Tnro-heeld, IL m, p. 8/z, L 6.
Two-logged rats, IL A, p. zo/a, L 57.
Twyrking, IL *, p. S7f^ I 47.
Tyres, si., IL/, p. 6/z. L 95; p. xz/a, \ zz.
Tyrers, IL r, p* X4/1, L 48.
Tyzing, j*., IL A, p. 47, Na 49. L zz.
U
Uncarefnll, L i, p. as/z, L 9 ; II. i, p. 48^ Na 54. L 6.
Uncommendable, IL/ p. 9/a, L 4.
Uncomfortable s causing discomfort, IL r, p. 5/a, L 14.
So Shakmpfare, ' uncomfortable time ' (Romeoand
Juliet, IV. 5).
Unconscionable, L0,p. BI2, L 8,
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
UnoODflidered, IL k, p. 15, Na 35, L 14.
UndeUgbtfiiB, II. r, p. 5/a, L 7.
Underprops* sb.^ I. m, p. g/x, L 7.
Undertane, I. ^. p. 7/s, L 15.
UndoOi I. d. p. 6/1, L 9.
Unfcarfidl, IL «', p. zo/i. L 5a.
Ungloued, v., H. /. p. 8/1. 1. ad
Ungratliiliies, II. «, p. 5/3, L 39. > . -
UngretUms, I. ^, p. zVsi 1- lo*
Unguiltie, II. c, p. 46/1, 1 18.
Unhappily — wraggishly, shrewdly, I. a, p. 53/a, L 4 ;
11. g. To the Reader, L 20, and note ; »A, p. 6/1, L
98. So in the dedicadon of Whetstone's Promos and
Cassandra, 1578, ' For to worke a comedie Undly.
grave old men should instnict : yonge men should
sbowe the imperfections of youth : strumpeu
should be lascivious ; boyes uttkappy and downes
should be disorderlye:' The first referettee may
have ' unhappiness ' underiying it
Unhappy speede » ill success, I. #, p. lo/x, L 4.
Unheedfiilnesse, II. k» p. ay, Na 85, 1. 9.
Unholsome, I. b, p. 6/1, L 83 ; p^ 14/1, L 47 : /, p. 7/'*
L 83 ; II. r, p. 43/9, L 48*
Unhonest, 11./, p. 23/9^ L 53; p. 14/z, L 7; «. p. 9/a,
L 4t ; r, p. 9/a* L 17.
Unhonestie, II. </, p. 4/1, L 7.
Unhuroaine, unhumane, II. o, pi aa/i, 1. 7 ; r, (x 5/a, L
IX.
Unioome, I. tf, p. 9, st 97 ; IL A p. i6/a, L 5a
Universalitie, ' an universalxtie instead of an Universitie,'
II. s, p. lo/i, L 49.
Unkindly, ddj„ L il, pu 6/z, L to; r, p. 4/z, L 33; IL
Ot p. az/i, L 5a
Unknowen, L tf, p. xg/a, L 43 ; IL «, p. 93/9, L 9.
Unlaced — carved, IL «, p. 13/1, L 4.
Unluckinesse, IL a p. 8/9, L aa
Unmatcbable, IL r, p. z9/a, L &
Unmeasurable, IL 0, p. 6/a, L za
Unnemeath, I. a, p. 95/z, L 3a.
Unnoble, mark the ' im,' as also in ' Un-hohest/ pi 9/a ;
IL r, p. 6/9, 1. 38.
Unpadnt, I. if, p. 5/9, L 33.
Unperfect, L tf, p. 4/z, L zo ; <f, p. zo/z, L 5a
Unplac'd, L <f , p. 5/a, L 33.
Unpolished, IL v, p. 3, L az.
Unpossible, L A, p. Z3/3. 1 18.
Unprizeable, IL r. pu 5/9, L 94 ; pi z9/a, L 4.
Unprouided, IL t, p. zo/z, L 5a.
Unquietnesse, IL ib. p. 38, No. zg, L 40 ; m, p. 5/z. L 43.
Unseason'd, etdj,^ unseasoned, L if, p. 9/z, L a8 ; II. A,
p. a6, No. 89, L 9.
Unsweet, IL /. p. zy/z, L 90.
Unthrift, j^.. unthrifts, II. b, p. za/z, L 33 ; i, p^ 7, No.
6f L X7 ; p. 43» ^o* 3^* L Sz*
Unthriftines, II. b, p. ao/z, 1. 23.
Untiled, v., untxlde, I. g, p. 8/z, L a6.
Untimbered, v.. made bare of trees, IL 9, p. 5/a, L Z4.
Unto -i compared to (and see to), I. k, p. 8/a, L z6.
Untrueth, I. a, p. ay/a, L 44 ; p. a8/i, U. 6, Z3.
Untrusty, 1 1. /, p. 5/a, L a from bottom.
Unwares, L «, p. 48/z, I 55 ; tf, p. 9/a, L Z5.
Unwildy. II. b, ^ zo/a, L 5.
Unworthies, sb,, II. r, p. 4/a, L z.
Unworthylye « undeservedly, II. o, p, wof^ L 3X.
Up in the weather (and see Downe the wlnde). II. A, p.
9, Na za, L Z3 ; 9. p. 5/z, I za
Upon -i on the eve of, IL /« p. sa/z, !• Z9.
Upholster, II. /, p. zo/z^ L Z9i
Urchen, urchin, not tisually now applied to girts, II. ^, p.
37/z, L 7 (from bottom), and p. 43/z, L 36, iHd. ; g,
p. 8/z, L 4z ; 1^, p. 6/1, L 45* Richardson, however,
gives an instance from Goldsmith's Good-natured
Man. Several words are restricted by modem usage
to one gender, which formerly were applied to bodi
e,g, witch, harlot, concubine, eta
Use, V. — to frequent, I. 9i, p. 6/1, L z6 ; /, p. 9o/i, L
39 ; i, p. 6/a. L 6.
Utterance, IL A, p. 45, Na 43* 1* •/ ! A P* 6/z, I xx.
Uttered, if., II. k, p. S3/z, L 9.
Uttereth = putteth not, IL 9, p. zo/z, L 33. See Bib.
Eng., pi Z48.
Vaile - vale. IL k, p. 5/3, L zy.
Vaine, sb,t vaines = vein, vayne, 1. a, pi a8/a, L Z3 ; p.
36/a, L 39; ^, p. y/a, L 9; p. zo/x, L 53. eta
Valne-headed, IL /, p. z7/z, L 9.
Vainities, IL /, p. 7/a, I 35.
Vale. IL /, p. 6/a, L 34.
Valedatory, IL A, p. 5z, Na 64, titla
Valiande. L a, p. 33/3, L 3Z ; IL c, p. 19/3, L z8 ; p.
24/1.1.40.
Valure, I. a, p. 18/3, L 47 ; ^, p. 38/z, L a6 ; p. 97/t, L
4Z ; rf. p. Z3/3, I 9 ; IL r. p. 97/9, L 6 ; / p. 6/x, L
39-
Vanished s banished (query misprint?) II. /» p^ zx^ L
43-
Vardingale, IL /, p. lo/a, L 3Z.
Variets, L /, p. zo/9, IL 36, 35 ; 91, p. 9/z, L 43.
Varmin, L 9, p^ zo/i, L 96.
Varmins, Cousin Vannins, IL j, p. 7/9, L 4s
Vaylde, v., II, f, p. X9/Z, 1. xa.
Vayne, Ji^., and see vaine, L r, p. 3, st 3 and 6; /, p.
6/3, 1 zy.
Veiwde. L /, p. Z3/3, L 7.
Veluet-heads, Cf. As You Like it, IL /, p. za/x. L 96.
Venerie, Vanery, IL #, p. 6/z, 1. 9 ; /, p. 7f% L 38.
Vengeable, II. c, p. 40/3, L zz.
Vengeouslie, II. c, p. 4yz, L 49.
Venimous, II. r, p. zi/3, L z6.
Venome — venomous, I. A, p. z3/x, L 47.
Vent, j;^., IL g, p. 9/3, L zz ; p. zo/z, L 4 ; II. k, p. a6.
No. 83, L aa etc.
Vent, v., IL k, p. 44, No. i|8, L 27.
Venting, II. /, p. 6/3, L z.
Venter, v., ventred, ventered, ventring, I. d, p. 6/z, I.
6 ; ^, p. 8/3, 1. 39 ; /, p. 7/3, 1. a8. etc.
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
li
Venum, venniim, Ji^., I. b^ p. 12/3, L 48 ; p. 13/1, L 15 :
/, p. 6/i. L 49; r, p. &fi. tt 4a. 4^
Venumde, adj., I. ^, pi 8/a, 11. 11. 51.
Venums, v., Venniims, I. r, p. 4/a, L a.
VeroIa» I. g, p. 9/1. L 15 ; II. j, p. 8/a, L 9.
Very, a<(f., IL c, p. 63/1, L 4.
Very Very, I. a, p. 6/a, L id.
Vilde s= vile, II. r, p. 4a/a, L 99 ; /, p. la/i, L 47.
Vildnes, II. 9. p. 23/1, L 5a.
\^llainc, i*., II. c, p. 39/1, 1-15.
\^ly - vilely, I. a, p. 30/1, L 34 ; II. tf, p. 14/1, L 17.
Vinter, II. /. p. 6/1, L 53.
Vintner, II. h, p. aa, No. 64, 1. la.
Virgiiiab. viiginalles, I. «, p. 13/z, L 59 ; p. ^o/a, title ;
IL b, p. 14/1, L 35.
Vkler, II. r, p. 37/2, 1. 44. ^
Vltlixig, J*., II. c, p. 37/1, L 7.
Vizard, II. A, p. za. No. 34, L 17.
Voides, V. = quits, avoids, II. /, p. 15/z, 1. 35.
w
Wag, ib., wagge. I. a, p. sa/i, L 4;/, p. 33/3, L 34:
g* p. 9/1, L la ; II. ^, p. 19/1, 1. 50 ; p. ao/i, L 18 ;
kt p. z8, Na 46, L 31 ; p. ao. No. 57, L i, etc.
Wag, v., WBgge, II. h, p. z8. No. 46, L a ; /(. p. 13/1, 1.
z6 ; /, p. 9/z, 1. Z3.
Waggeries, II. *, p. 9/3, L 35 ; p. zo/s, L 39.
Wagge-wanton, II. k, p. 8/a, D. 9, 34.
Wagging, v., IL J, pi zz/z, L Z3.
Waggish, IL K p- 18, No. 46, L Z9.
Wagtaile, sb», == light woman, wagtailes, L j. p. 6, st,
z6 ; II. r, pi za/z, L Z9 ; j, p. 5/3, L 3a
Waide, v., 1. m, p. 5/z« I 3a
Waight, V. = wait, I. a, p. zo/a, L 8 ; IL ^, p. 5/z. L
33, eta
Waighting- waiting. IL ai. p. 8/3, L z6.
Wakes, sb,, wake, IL j, p. 7/z, 1. 3 ; p. Z0/3, L 48.
Walflet oysters, II. /, p. zo/z, L Z9.
Walk (park), I. s, p. 7/z, last line ; II. /, p. Z3/Z, L 13.
Waike, 1. <. p. 8/a, L 3. Cf. Pasquil's Foole's Cap, p.
ao/a, L 46 (1. /) Here also is an example from
Tottel's Miscellany, (Arber, p^ az4.) 'So busily
kme in his hedde it walketh,' eta
Wall, to take the wall, IL/, p. 8/z, L 3.
Wall, gaue the waD, IL g, pi 6/3, L 4a
Walter little wise, L a, p. zz/a, L 4.
Wamble, v.» IL f, p. a6/z, L Z91
Wandes, s^., 1. a, p. 30/a. L 9.
Wanne, v, — won, 1. d^ p. za/z, 1. 33.
Want, v., wanted, L a, p. 38/z, L z ; ^, p. Z9/Z, 1. 48 ;
<t pi 5/3, 1. 36 ; /, p. 4/a, La; IL i, p. Z4, No. 30,
L 4, etc.
Want, sb,, IL A, p. Z4, Na 39, L 3.
Wanton-eyed, IL f, p. 8/z. L 17.
Warden, a sort of pear, IL /, p. zo/a, 1. 7. See my
Herrick, Glossarial Index, s.v.
Wardrope, vmrdrop, L a, p. .Z4/3, 1. 58 ; p. zs/z, 1. 3Z ;
b, p. 8/1, 1. s; II. /, p. 6/a, 1. aa.
Ware, v. =■ to beware, L / p. a6/z, 1. 19 ; /, p. 6/1, 1.
Z4 ; p. z8/z, L z6 ; II. / p. Z5/3, L 8.
Warely = cautiously, IL c, p. 59/3, L 8 :-—
' Who tnuts too much to honoar's highest Throoe,
And warely watch not sly dame Fortune's snarea'
(Seckville, D. of Buck, st z.)
WarUnge = one often quarrelled with (from ' war,*) I.
/, p. Z7/3, L Z9 ; p. 33/z, L 6 ; IL A, p. 43, No. 39,
L Z3. See Ash., s.v.
Warming-pan, IL /, p. 9/2, L 38.
Warrener, warriners, II. h^ p. z6, Na 40, L Z3 ; /, p.
zs/z, L 33 ; /.pi Z0/3, 1. so.
Wash, sb., 1. b, p. 33/a, L 43.
Wassell. IL /, p. zo/a, L 48.
Wat, thriuing wat (contemptuous), 1. «, p. 8/a, L zz.
Waterfiower, IL c, p. 37/3, L 5.
Waterish, IL c, p. 38/3, 1. 5.
Watrie, II. j, p. 9/z, 1. 35.
Watling streete. 1. a, p. z5/z. L 33.
Waxed, L a, p. 35/3, IL Z9. 3z.
Way, v., waye, I. a, p. 35/1, L 37 ; II. c, p. zs/s, L 34-
Way-layers, IL /, p. lo/z, L Z5.
WaylefuU, I. e, p. 5, sL 38.
Weakling, 1. A, p. 9, L zz (from bottom).
Weaponed, v., II. s, p. 9/3, L 47.
Weather, j*., L e, p. 9/z, L 48.
Weather-beaten, 1. j. p. zo, st. 73.
Weather cocke, L/, p. as/z, L z.
Wedlocke, breake, IL Jt, p. Z4/3, L z8. See Bib. Eng.,
p. 367.
Weede, i^., weedes, weed, L tf, p. 43/z, L 55 ; ^. p. 9/z,
L Z3 ; </. p. Z3/Z, L 33 ; IL 1. p. z3/z, L 33.
Ween*d, v., weene, L r, p. 3/3, L 33 ; IL ^, p. za/a, L a8.
Weeping-ripe, II. rf, p. 35/3, L 4. See my Herrick,
Glossarial Index, j.v.
Wdes, v., weied, I. k, p. 8/z, L 9 ; II. ^, p. 33/2, L 47.
Welarday, IL k, p. zo/a, L 34.
Welkin, IL k, p. 8/z, L 35.
WeU, sb, -* fountain, 1. b, p. ao/z, L 4Z.
Well is mee, IL a, p. 9/3, L 33 from bottom. See Bib.
Eng. p. 369.
Well-a-waie, T. /, p. 33/3, L 37.
Well giuen, I. «, p. 5/s, L 4. Shakespeare, z Henry IV.,
III. iL Z96, 'virtuously given.'
Well-mouthed, IL /, p. 6/3, L 36.
WeU-willers, 1. b, p. 3o/z, L z8 ; II. c, p. iQ/a, L Z3 ;
/, p. 4/z, 1. 9.
Well-willing, IL q, p. 4/z, L 18. To Reader.
Welted. L <, p. 6/z, L zd
Weltes, welt or gard, j*., I. a, p. zs/z, L Z5 ; 11. r, p.
zz/z, L Z7. 'Mark you, masters, here's a plain
honest man, without welt or gard ' (Greene's Friar
Bacon, p. Z77) : ' Take it plainly, without welt or
gard • (Fuller's H. State : Ridley).
Wery — weary, 1. « , p. zo/z, L a8.
Wethering, adj, — withering, drying, 1. r, p. 6, st 48.
Latimer uses it of land brought into good order by
weather, sun, etc' (Sermons, p. 65).
Wethring, v., I. b, p. z7/z, 1. 19.
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52
GLOSSARIAL INDEX,
Wey, tf.. weying. I. b, p» 6/a, I 37; p. a3/«. L 5« ; ^'i P-
xo/i, L 49, etc.
What — why» I. a» p. 31/2, 1, z. See Dyoe's Beattmont
and Fletcher, ix 165.
What do you lacke, II. c, p. 16/2. 1. a8.
What lacke yoa, ye, II. b, p. 16/3, L 25 ; 1, p. za/x,
L 30 ; *, p. 9/1. 1. 9 ; A p. 14/1. 1- 30.
Whay, i^. « whey, I. a, p^ 96/a, 1. 12.
Whedes, wit that runs on, I. g, p. 8/2, 1. 24 from
bottom.
Whee]e4)arTow, II. ^, p. 9/x, 1. 25.
Where — whereas, II. g, p. 6/2, 1. 53 ; >i. p. lo/z, 1. 34.
Whereas — where — not whereat, I. a, p. 43/3. 1. 25 ; p.
46/2. L 38;/, p. 6/z, L 8; /, p. Z4/Z. I 37; II. c,
p. 36/2, L 38.
Whether — whither, L /, p^ 33/a, L la ; II. /, p. za/i,
L33.
Whetherto, I. b, p. 27/2, 1. 34.
Whet Whisde, Sb Walter, IL s, ^ 9/1, L Z9.
Whiffe, sb,, II. A, p. 35, No. za, 1. 34 ; /, p. 7/a, L 6.
Whigge, IL c, p. 43/z, L 14.
Whining Crosse — weeping cross, II. ^ p. zs/z, L za
Whippet, II. bt p. zs/z, L 3X.
Whisper talkes, II. /, p. 6/3, L Z9.
White, sb, — ifbftct~^f my love, L a, p. zz/z, L 6 ; ^, p.
7/z, L n ; IL «, p. zz/z, L 6.
Whit-leather, IL m, p. 7/z, L 5»— so Tusser, * tough as
whit-leather '— proyerbial saying «• leather dressed
with alum and salt
Whitloe, II. f, p. zz/z, L 55.
Whole B healthy. IL ^, p. 7/z. L 36.
Whoo, V. s to hoot, L J, p. 6, St. aa
Whoopt, I. /, pi 9/z, L 3z.
Whore>frost s hoar-frost, II. g, p. 7/2, 1. Z4.
Whorson, whoreson, L a, p. 30/z, L 35 ; p. 32/2, L 4Z.
Whot » hot. L a, p. a6/z, L aa
Wickeds, sb,,'Ld,p, zo/a, L z6.
Wicked, adj,. L/. p. a6/z, L S3 J A P- 6/a. L 43-
Wide-handed, L/, p. ao/a. L 36.
Wief s wife. II. v, p. 6/a, L 3a.
Wighie, V. «= whinney, II. ir, p. 8/a, L 4.
Widders, L A. p. 9/z, L 49-
Wilde a willed. «.«. desired, I. b, p. zs/z, U. 48, 53.
Wilde goose chase, 1. m, p. 6/a, L 9.
Wight, I. tf, pL zz/x, L 38 ; p. 36/3, L 7.
Wm-foole, IL r, p. zz/z, L 6.
'V^^lfiilnesse, I. a, p. z6/z, L 44.
Will or no s noi€Ms voiens, I. 3, p. 3z/z, L z8.
Willow, all a greene willow, II. b, p. ao/a, L 37.
Willow, to weare the willow. I. q, p. s/St 1* i7-
Wny beguily, IL m. pi 4/i> 1- 35: »• P- n/a, 1. 43-
See Nares, s,v.
Winch or wince, v. = kick, not as now shrink from, I. «,
pL 4/z, L 7, To Reader. See Trench's Glossary and
Latimer's Serm., pp. Z39, Z39 ; and Fuller's Ch.
Hist, vi. 363.
Windlesse » out of breath, breathless, II. c, p. ^tf^,
I. Z3.
Winking, adj., L a, p. 37/z, L 31.
V/inter, v. (see also ' summer ')--curious use of ' summer '
as a verb and ' winter ' as a transitive verb, II. k,
p. xo^ Na Z5, L x8.
Wipe, v., to wipe of = to deprive of. I. a, p^ 30/z, L 33.
Wipe, sb. , a wipe over the shins = cut or blow, IL c, p.
39/z, I 38. Cf. Puller's Prof. State (p. 373 Borgia) :
' Many who will not stand a direct reproof . . .
will yet endure to be pleasantly rubbed, and will
patiently bear a jocund wipe ' (Barrow, Serm. xiv.).
Wis -i certainly, IL f, pi Z8/3, L 1$.
Wis, v., L a, p. s6/x, L z8 ; IL ^, p. 3z/a. L z.
Wise women, IL c, p. S9/x, U. 47, ^
Wist — see under ' Had I wist. '
Witch — formerly used of both sexes, I. b, p. zz/a, L z.
' We run hither and thither to witches and sorcerers
whom we call wise men ' (Latimer's Serm., p. 534) :
* the Malteses took St Piaul for a witch ' (Howell.
bk. ia, letter 33).
Wites. sb, - wits, I. /, p. xs/i, i X7.
Witlesse, witles, L o , p. 6/3, L 34 ; p. 7/3, L 36 ; i", p.
9/z, L 4S ; IL €, p. s/a, L 30; A, p. 8, L 3.
Witlesst, ad/„ L a, p. zz/z, L 38.
Wits, sb,, to bring into a wood, II. ir, pi xz/a, L 53.
Witte, sb., wit, IL g, p. 6/z, IL Z3, 40 ; r, p. zo/z. L 3a.
WittaU Asse. I. /. pi 6, st Z7.
Wittall, wittoll, IL / p. s/a. L 30 ; /. p. Z7/Z, 16; m,
p. 7/a, L 30; /, p. zz/z, L 7 ; /, p. s/a, L 4.
Wttie, witty, L b, p. zs/z, I ay ; «, p. 9/z, 1. X3 ; II. c,
p. S9/Z, L 46; p. S9/a. ^ Z9 ; rf. p. 4/z, L zs. etc
See Bib. Eng., p. Z96.
Witty conceited, II. d, p. zo/z, L Z9.
Wiuing, v., wiued, IL /, p. Z4/Z, 1. 38 ; p. zs/x, 1. 4^.
Wisards, and see ' Wysardes ' — wise men— but used
ironically. IL i. p. zo/z. L zz. ^
Wisards, witches and wizards, II. u, p. zz/a, L 33.
Woe-begon them, him, you, thee, me, I. c, p. St St. 36 ;
A, p. 6/a. 1. 33; »^. p. 7/z, 1. Z4,y, p. 7/2, 1. a6; p.
9/z, L 38 ; «, p. Z3/3, L 39 ; /, p. z6/a, L z8 ,* p.
31/3, L Z3 ; pi 33/z, L S^-^in peculiar construction
--query, how to be construed? Is it an instance
of the tendency to form verbs from other parts of
speech » to make him or them woe-begon ?
Wo worth, vroe worth, I. a, p. ss/*t ^ " ; ^t P- 3/h
La6.
Wolde, I. /, p. z8/a, L 7.
Woman-beast, IL r, p. zs/z. 1. 34.
Wonder, adj, — wonderfiill, I. b, p. Z9/3, IL 4. 30. and
p. 33/3, L X4; !». p. 7/3. L 46; o, p. 9/3, L 44.
'Oflfered men wonda* large wages' (Old Eng.
Chron.. p. xs). 'wonder oouetous men' (s^., p. 64.)
Wonderment, I. /. p. 6/3, L Z7.
Wondei^power, sb., I. t, p. s/a* L 13.
Wonder-stone, I. d, p. X3/a, L zs*
Wood, IL c, p. 10/3, L 37.
Wood-oockes— once applied to cuckolds, simpletons.
eta, I. i, p» 8/3, L xo; /, p. 30/3, L 6 ; p. sz/i, L
7 ; p. aa/a, L 4Z ; p. a4/z, U. 41, 53 ; p. a6/3, L az ;
g, p, 8/a, L zo ; p. 9/z, L 8, etc. eta
Wood-cocfc-asse, 1. s, p. zz, st 991
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GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
ii
Wood-cock-pyes, I. s» p. 13, st 193.
Wooden = stupid or qu. mad? (' wod ' )? 11. b, p. 15/1,
J.19.
Wool, to go against the (and see Haire, against the),
IL c, p. 60/a, L 97.
Wool, to gather, IL k, p. 44, Na 40, L 19.
Wool-gathering. woU-gathcring, L A, p. 5/z. L 6, To
Reader ; II. r. p. 5/z, L 93 ; A, p. 34, Na 10, L z ;
p. 43* No. 39. L 6.
Woolues, I./ p. ii/i, L 5.
Wooman— play on word. II. c, p. 58/9, L zs.
Woon, IL c, p. Z9/3, L 3.
Woond, V. s wound, IL /. p. Z9/9, L z.
Woonder. sb,, IL c, p. 94/9, L 99.
Woonderfiil, II. r, p. iz/i, L 53 ; pi Z4/9, L 38.
Woordes, I. a, p. 39/1, L z5, etc
Wooilce, wootkhig. L r, pi 3/z, L 97 ;-pt 3/9, L 7, etc
WoorshipfoU. IL d, p. 4/z. L z.
Woorst. IL c, p. 94/9, L 6 ; p. 40/9, L 8.
Woorthines, IL b, p. z9/z, L 9Z.
Wooithy, I. r, p. 4/9, L zz ; p. 6/9, L 90, etc
World-wide. L m, pu 9/9. L 9.
Worke-maister, master, I. k, p. 9/9, L 49 ; IL f», p. Z5,
U. 8. zo, z6 ; f , p. 9/9, L 43 ; /, p. za/a. L 47.
Cf. EccL aoomil 37.
Woilce mistris. I. o, p. zp/z. L 36.
Wocme. l.g, p. 9/z. I sz ; /, pt s/z, DL Z9. 49 ; IL /.
p. Z0/9. n. 90, 9Z, etc
Wonnefr4neate, IL b, pi za/a, L z.
Wonning. adj., II. /, p. Z0/9, L 9a
Worse, v.— a verb now obsolete, though ' better ' still
surviTes as a verb, IL r. p. z5/z, L z&
Worship, j^.. L «, p. 5/z. L 98 ; /, p. Z5/9, L z ; IL c,
p. s6/a. t 31 : ^. P- 9/x. L 33-
Worshipped, v., IL c, p. 57/9, L 8.
Wosted, I. €, p. 8/z. L 4.
Wot, v., wotst. I. tf, pi 5/9, L 98 ; p. 7/8, L 96 ; IL f
p. 7/z, L Z9 ; g, p. z9/z, L 49, etc
Woulders, sb,, IL e, p. 8/9, L z.
Wowld, L /, p. Z9/Z. L 95.
Woulefes. L r, p. 9, sL 97.
Wracke, sb., IL /, p. Z3/Z. L 9S
Wrakes, sb,, L b, p. z7/z, L Z3.
Wralles, v. IL /, p. Z4/9, 1 zi.
Wrastlc. v., IL /, pi zo/a, L 53.
Wrest, a., I. /, p. 90/9, L 97.
Wretdi, J^. — a term of endearment— since soROwfully
deteriorated, I. d, p. 7/z, L 93 ; IL f, pi 98/9, L 39 ;
p. 39/z, L 3z ; p. 49/z, L Z9. Pfepys often speaks
of his wife as ' poor wretch/
Wrie mouth, adj,, IL <f, p. Z3/Z, L z6.
Wright, v., writmg ss to write, L a, p. 5/9, L zo ; p.
9o/z, L 3z ; c, pi 8, St 86, etc
Wrii^ up — wring out, II, c, p.' 43/z, L 7. ' Up ' has
often an intenshra forces a^. Ps. wnnri. 3; Ptot.
zzL aa
Wry, L A, p. 8/z, In Authocem, I 7.
Wry4>odied. IL /, p. 8/z, L 961
Wry-legged, IL /, p. 8/z. L 46.
Wiy-way, L j. p. Z9, st zz9.
Wunders — wonders, L tf, p. ao/z, L Z4 ; /, pb az/z, L 6.
Wnrkes, v., I. /, p. 99/9, L Z9.
Wuike, sb,t wurkes — work, L /, pu Z3/9, L 7.
Wyld-goose, Blaster, IL k, p. zz, Na 99, L z.
Wysazdes (and see ' VOsards '), L j. p. 6, st 96.
Yb = yea, L «, p. 7/z, L 49.
Yealow ^ yellow, L a, p. zy/z, L 5.
Yeld, v., L /. p. 90/9, U. z8, 961
Yer-ere, IL if, p. zo/z, L Z5 ; p. Z9/9. L 39, etc
This corrects my suspicion in Glossarial Index to
Davies of Hereford that this form was peculiar to
Yitt B yet, L f , p. Z4/9, IL zz, xa.
Ynouife s enough, L a, p. 4/z, L ao, Pref. ; p. 37/z.
1.4.
Ynough s enough, L /, p^ zz/z, L 99 ; IL c, p. 35/z,
L 3,etc
Yonker, IL il, p. 9/9, L 4Z.
Youthly, a4r., L 0, p. 98/z> L 9.
Yrkesome, L tf, p. 95/z, L 9a
Ywis, L tf, p. 36/9, L 7 ; p. 49/9, L 54.
60
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II.-INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES.
Alsop, B., II. /, p. 3.
Allde. £.. I. «, p. 5.
Antwerpe, II. i, p. zx/2 ; jt, p. 13/9.
Ariosto, I. «, p. 7/2.
B
Babington, Anthony, II. /, p. 13.
Bacon, Lord, II. q, p. a, 4, za It is a bit of modern
pedantry to object to the popular title of Bacon,
vis. * Lord Bacon.' It is perfectly justified by
usage of 'Lord' to all peers (short of Dukes)
whatever their rank, e.g, we speak to-day of Lord
Salisbury, Lord Granville, one a Marquis the other
an EarL It is generally used of those most known
and talked about To the less known we generally
give the technically correct title, e.g. Marquis of
Winchester.
Bamfield, Richard. II. q, p. a ; /, p. 16/1, (See under
a R.)
Bartholomew, massacre, II. ^, p. ax.
Bartley, Lady, I. m, p. 4, zi.
Bayard (horse), II. r. p. Z6/2.
Bazilethea s Elizabeth, II. /, p. zo/a ; 1^, p. 5/3.
Bearkes, Randoll, Publisher, I. /, p. 3.
Beaumont and Fletcher, IL n, p. Z5.
Beare, sign of, I. /, p. a.
Beaodere, I. <f, p. a.
R L, IL f, p. 3.
a N. G., I. c, p. a.
a R., IL q, p. a— more likely to have been Richard
Braithwaite.
Bible, sign of, II. «. p. 3.
Blunt, Master Thomas and family, I. k, p. 5, z6.
Bradocke, Richard, Printer, I. h, p. 3.
BrideweU. L j, p. 6/a.
Brydges, Sir Egerton, L a, p. 6a ; A, p. a ; il, p. a ; II.
O p. a.
Brome, Richard, II. /, p. z6/z.
Britten, II. q, pi za
Britaines-Burse, II. ^, p. 3 ; r, p. 3.
Browne. lohn. Printer, L >i, p. 3 ; Il.y, p. 3.
Browne, Sir Thomas, I. (', p. a.
Bruce, James, IL c, p. 64/z.
Budge, lohn, IL r, p. 3.
Buon-a^venture, II. i, p. z4/z,
Busbell, Thomas, I. J, p. 3.
Candib = Crete, IL «, p. xz/a.
Que, Dr., I. b, p. a, 5.
Cataline, IL c, p. 36/3.
Cato, IL b, pi az.
Cicero, IL c, p. 36/3.
Cheapeside, IL /, p. zo/z.
Clim of the Qough, I. g, p. 3.
CoUier, J. P., Esq.. IL «, p. a.
Cosens, F. W., Esq., L d, p. a, z6; /, p. a, zo, zz, za.
Conquest, M[a8ter], L/, p. z6, z8 ; /, p. a.
Crashaw, Richard, IL /, p. 35.
Cradocke, lohn, IL g, p. 4.
Qreede, Thomas, Printer, I. 1, p. 3 ; IL r, p. 3 ; /, p. 3.
Croidon, L m, p. Z3 ; and see Glossarial Index, s.v.
Crooke, lohn, IL p. 4, z3/z.
D
Dallison, Maximilian, IL /I. p. 4.
Dante, I. n, p. 7/a ; II. u, p. 8/3.
Davies, John, of Hereford. I. A, p. 3 ; /I, p. z6/a ; k, p.
15 (^) '* !!• ^» P* 34/31 63/1 and 3.
Davies, Sir John, IL g, p. X4ya ; «, p. zs
Devon, Earl of, I. ^, pi 4.
Derby, Earl of. IL r, p. 1$.
Deane, lohn, L /(, p. 3.
Donne, Dean, IL «', p. z5/z.
Du Plessis, II. b, p. 3Z/3.
Dyce, Rev. Alexander, L ^, p. 3 ; II. #1, p. Z5.
Drayton, Michael, L /, p. za
D. W.. IL ^, p. 3.
EUZABBTH, Q., L k, p. z6/3 : i». p. Z5 ; IL b, p. dx/s ;
/. p. 17; 0, p. Z4; r, p. zs; /, p. Z3.
Este, Thomas, Publisher, L /, p. 3 ; II. a, p. 3. Z3.
Falknbx, Francis, Publisher, I. «,
Fawcet, T., ILAP-3.
Fayebereard, George, IL s, p. 3.
p. 3.
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INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES.
55
Flasket, lohn, I. /, pu s.
Fletcher, Dr. Giles, I. ^, p. 3.
Florio, John, II. 1, p. 3.
Ford, John, II. p, p. 35.
FuUer. Dr. Thomas. II. r, p. a.
Gaobs, William, L ^, p. a, 5.
Gate, Mrs. BfCary, and family, I. ^, p. a, 4.
Gascoigne, Geoige, I. ^ . p. a.
Gellius, Aulus. J. /, p. a.
Giiford. Humphrey. II. /. p^ 16/3.
Gilbertson, W., IL/. p. a.
Giotto, 11. 0, p. 34.
Griflin, Edward, Printer, II. q, p. 3.
Gttillim, I. ^, pi a.
Guise, Dttlce of, I. b, p^ 16/3.
Gun, sign of, II. >i, p. 3 ; /, p. 3 ; m, p^ 3.
OwiUim, lohn, II. ^, p. 3.
H
Haxbert, William, II. ^ p. a, 3a
Hastings, Lady Saia, I. /, p. 4, 6.
Hazlitt, W. C, Esq., I. a, p. a; 0. p. 3; II. ^, p^ a;
/, p. a ; A p. a6i
Herbert, George, I. k, p. i6/z ; /, p. 3 ; /, p. 6/3 ; II. k,
p. SSl^ ; »'. p. 14/x ^nd 3 (3), is/i ; / p. x/i ; y, p.
lo/z and 3 ; r, pi 15/3 ; /, pi 16/1.
Henry. Prince, II. r, p. 15.
HenryVIII..II. v, p.6/3.
Henick, Robert, I. g» p. 3/3.
Holbome hiU, II. k. p. 5/2.
Houghton, Sir Gilbert. II. r, p. 4. 15.
Howard. II. t. p. 14.
Humphrey, Duke. II. /, p. 16/3.
Hutton, Henry, II. /, p. 16/3.
Hurlock, George. II. /. p« 3.
Huth, Henry, Esq., I. a, p. 3 ; ^, p. a ; II. r. p. 3 ; /,
p. 3.
lACKSON. lohn, I. /, p. 3.
Ive, Sir Marie, 11. /, p. a. 16/1.
Isham, Shr Charles, I. at, p. a.
lohnes, Thomas, I. / p. 3.
lones, W., IL «•, pw 3 ; J, p. 3.
lones, Richard, I. a, p. 3. 60 ; d, p; a, 15.
lohnson, Ben, I. a, p. 6a ; k^ p. 5, i6/z ; II. g, p. 14/1 ;
/, p. z8.
IA1C£S sst., I. tf, p. 4, ao ; II. k, p. 14.
K
K[iskb], E[dward], I. A, p. 16/3.
Lakwood and Hottbn, IL /, pp. Z3/1. 14.
Lake, Sir Thomas, II. <», p. 4, 34.
Ling, Nicholas, Publisher, IL </, p. 3 ; /. p. a.
Linewray, Sir lohn, IL <f, p. 4; /, p. 4 ; /, p. 4.
Littleton, I. e, p. 14/1 ; IL i, p. 13/1.
Lownes, H., I. 0, p. 3.
Lyte, IL g, p. 13/a.
M
Machiavblu, L ^, p. 3 ; <, p. 14/3 ; /, p. ^a : M. p.
zx/a ; IL ^, p. za/a ; p. az/z ; /, p^ z6/z.
Madoz, Rev. Ridhard, IL r, p. a.
Magdalens, Marie, head sign of. I. ^, p. 3.
Maodonald, Dc George, II. c, p. a.
Marcus AureUus, II. ^, pi 30/1.
Mairiot, John, IL il, p. 3*
Marvdl, Andrew, IL «•, p. za
Marsh library, Dublin, L il, p. a ; IL /. p. 3.
' Milton, II. t, pb Z5 ; /, pi z^z.
N
N. C, IL ^, p. 3.
N. W., II. *, p. az/z.
Nicholson, Dr. Brinsley, I. ^ , p. a.
Nicholson. Samuel, I. « . p. 30 ; II. tf, p. 34.
Nokes, John of, I. ^, p. 3.
Nowell, Robert, IL <», p. 34.
North, Lord, I. k, p. 5, Z5.
o
Omvbx, II. h, p. 34/x. No. 9, L z. See * As you like
it'(ilL ilL.L Z03).
Otway, Thomas, II. /, p. z8.
Ouvry, Frederick, I. «, p. a.
Oxforde, studients and scholars of, I. b, p. 4.
Painter, L b, p. a.
Parkes, IL t, p. Z4/Z.
Parrot, Henry, II. k^ p. Z4.
Parker, Matthew, IL/ p. a.
Pasqvil, L A, p. 5, z6 (note).
Pastor Fido, I. n, p. 7/3.
Pembroke,|Mary, Countess of, I. b, p. 4 ; ^. p. 3 ; /, p.
3,4; ILtf, p. 3,4.
Pen, M. Griflin, I. g, p. 3/x, 4.
Petrarche, I. Jt, p. 7/3.
Phoenix Nest, I. f , pi 3, 6/z.
P. L.,IL/.p.a.
P. W.. IL e. P^ 3.
Plato, II. b, p. z8/a.
Ploughman, Piers, IL r, p. z6/z.
Ploydon, IL r, p^ z6/z.
Price, Henry, L ^, p. a, 5,
Purslowe, George, Printer, I. i , p. 3 ; IL r. p. 3.
Phimps-HalHwell, Esq., L r, p. a;/, p. a; II. e, p. a;
i». p. Z5.
Pym, John, IL /, pi za.
Purset, Christopher, Publisher, I. 7. p. 3.
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56
INDEX OF NAMES AND PLACES.
R. I.. II. ^. p. 3.
Raworth, Robert, Printer, II. t, p. 3 ; n, p. 3.
Rand, Samad, II. m, p. 3.
Rich. Lady. I. «. p. 6; II. /. p. 35/2.
Roane — Rouen. II. t, p. ii/z.
Robin Hood and Little John. L a. p. 6z ; /, p. ao/s
(See GL Index, s.n.)
Rote and Crown, sign of. I. a, p. 3.
Rowe. Thomas, L m, pi 4, iz.
S. W., II. r, p. 6.
Salmon — misprint for Solomon. I. s, p. 14/2.
Shakespeare. I. a, p. 61/3 ; ^. p. ^a (Hs) ; d^ p. 15 ; «i
p. 13/a ; h, pi 16/1 ; i. p. 16 [bis)\ n, p. 15/1 ; IL
r, p. 63/1, 64/a («*); rf, pi a8/i («f); /. p. 14; A,
P- 54/a. SS/i ; «. p. 14/1 (^*'). 14/a J A P- 18 ; o, p.
34/3 (*ij) ; p, p. 13/3 ; /, pi i6/i («f), 35/1. (See
our Memorial-Introduction on Shakiespereana in
Breton.)
Shelly, John, Esq., Plymouth. I. r, p. 3.
Short, P., II. </, p. 3.
Sidney, Sir Philip, I. d» p. 15/3 ; II. /, p^ zs.
Smithicke, Smethicke, {ohn, I. ^, p. 3.
Sotheby. & L., I. f, p. 3.
Stevenson, Matthew, II. A p. a.
S. V.,L/,p.3.
Strada. II. /, p. 35.
Swift. Dean, II. /, p. z8.
Stailbrd, S., Printer, I. /, p. 3.
Strutt, Joseph. II. /, p. i6/z, z^a.
T. H. Gent, I. >», pi 6.
Tappe, lohn, 11. /. p. 3 ; «>' P- 3 ! ^1 P- 3-
Tasso, I. f», p. 7/3.
Taylor, John, Water-poet, IL /, p. za, a6.
T. L. IL 0, p. 5.
Timon of Athens, II. ^. pi Z3/Z, L Z3 (finom bottom).
Thomson, J. M., Esq., EdinbuiiKhf H. A, p. 3.
Trapp, John, L /, p. a.
Temple Baire, L /, p. 3.
Tibume, II. Jk» p. 5/3.
Tygeres head, aign of, I. #, p. 3.
Tosser. Thomas, IL /, p. z6/z.
Vauqhan, Henry, IL /, p. Z3.
Vnioome, white, sign of, I. /, p. 3^
Vii)ina = Uri^ino, Duchess of, I. ^, p. a.
W
Walton, laak, IL /, pi z6/z.
Ward, Sir Thomas. IL A, p. 55/3.
Watson, Thomas, L ^ , p. 3.
Whitwood, William, IL <, p. s.
White, Edward, IL k, pi 3; A p. 3.
Williams. Francis. Printer. IL /. p. 3.
Wright, lohn, IL «, p. 3 ; «. p. 3-
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1 1 i._p R O V E R B S
AND
PROVERBIAL SAYINGS.
Aniwtals, Birdt, Imsteis, tic.
Bird. — 'A bird is oommonly knowne by his feather/ II.
h, p. xa/i. L 3CX
' They were birds of one feather,' IL h p* z^/^i 1- <?•
'A bird of his own fether would take alter Us own
fli«:ht/ II. d, p. 8/z. L 15.
' It is an evill birde, wiU file iu owne nest/ II. <:, p.
Si/a, L i&
' A bird in the hand is worth two in the bodi/ II.
«. p. S/x. L 3»^
' Enerj bird is knowne by his feather/ IL «, p. 5/1,
124.
Calf. — ' A CaUe in a ctoset is as ill as a Cnckoe in a cage/
II. h, p. xo, L i&
CmX.—* Kat after kinde will be ener good mouse hunt/
IL #. p. xi/a. L IS Ct < As Yon Like It.' IIL
a.
'A cat may lose a Mouse, and catch her agafaie,
but he that loseth time can neuer reoorer it,'
IL /. p. 7/a, L 43.
' It cannot tnme the cat so in the pan,' I. #, p^ y/x,
L35.
'Ale that will make a cat speake,' II. i, p. 50, st
6a
Crow.—' A fonle crowe, to bee persuaded with eloquence
that shee is beloved for her white bill/ IL#,p.
8/a. L 44.
Cok.— ' The Coke of a courser would hardly be brought
to the harrow,* II. d, p. 8/z, L 13.
Crocodile.— 'The Crocodiles teares are the death of the
Travailer,' II. /, p. ii/i. L 52.
Dog.—' Snarling curres will bite a man behmd,' L /, pi
a6/z.
' An old dog bites sorer than a young whe^,' IL A,
p. ro, St 16.
'Like a dogge in a bench-hole/ IL A, p. 47, Ir. 59.
' A staife is soone found to beate a dogge withall/
IL «, p. 6/a, L 9.
'An olde Dogge bites sore,' IL /, p^ 15/1, L la
'When a Dag howles, an Owle sbgs, a woman
scolds, and a Pigge cries, whether for a penny
is the best musicke ? ' II. /, p. y/a, L 19.
' For nener Mastifle cune will be a besy^,
Nor eoer Owle will grow to be an eagle,' I. «, p.
7/1. 1. 43-
Eagle.-' An Ea^ neuer hatcht an Owle, nor of a Lyon
came a Monkie,' IL ^, pi xa/z, L 98.
'An Ea^ will catch at no flies,' — aquila non cap-
tat muscas. IL / p. 8/z, L Z9.
Fish.—' Neither Fish nor Flesh but plaine Red Heating,'
IL iw. pc 3, L 5.
Fka.— ' As ck>se as a Flea in a flocke-bed,' II. 4, p.
zz/z, I 4.
FUes.— 'The stately Eagle gHws not after flies,' L 7, p.
S/1.L3.
'When fooles gi^ie for flies, madde men may go a
fishing,' IL h, p. 7/z, L ai.
Fox.— 'When a Fox pnadieth beware the Geese/ II.
A p. Z3/Z, L 33.
' Not the Foxe that stole the Goose, but the great
foxe that stole the ferme from the gander,' IL
r, p. 8/a. L 3a.
Frog.—' iEsop's frpgge would be as big as the Oxe,
althoui^ she burst for her labour,' IL d^ p. Z4/a,
* A sufficient Bk)cke for FTOgges to leap vppon,' IL
>, p. 9/9, L 3a
Gander.— «Ob 'tis a word to heare a Gander keake,
And an the Geese to giue a hisse to heare,*
L/ p. a6/z.
Ganden wool-' Braines lin'd with Ganders wooU.* I.
/ p. as/z, L 47.
Goose:—' Had you but the wit of a Goose, you would
surely hisse at the Gander,' IL A, p. zz. Ir. az.
' Good Goose eate no more Hay,' IL A, p. 49, Ir.
58.
'As wise as a Goose on Bedkme Greene,' IL m,
P- 4/a. L 33.
' Many a Goslin neuer lines to be a Goose,* IL /. p.
9/1.1.9.
Horse.— 'A tale of a rosted Horse,' IL r. p. 39/a, L 48.
Horse nest -' To laugh at a horse nest,' - modem
' mare's nest,' I. <t, p. 6/9, L 5.
Jade.—' A curtail Jade will shew his hackney tridus,'
L/ p. 96/9.
JadLdaw.— ' A Jackdaw is neuer like a Tassdl-gentill.'
IL b, p. xz/9. L zy.
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58
PROVERBS AND PROVERBIAL SAYINGS,
Lapwing. —' A lapwing would run as soone as it wms
out of the shell," II. d, p. 8/i, 1. 14-
Lorks. — ' The sky willfall and then we shall have Larkes,'
I. /, p. lo/i.
' If the skie £all, we may have larkes,' II. k, p. lo/a,
1.44.
Mouse.—' A mouse in a Cupboard will marre a whole
cheese, and an ill-tongued Woman will trouble
a whole Towne/ II. p, p. 5/a, L 39 ; also Fan-
iasticki (ten o'c.).: ' The lawyer makes his dy-
ent either a man or a mouse.'
OwL—' An Owie will neuer haue an Eagle's flight.' I. /,
p. a6/i.
'An Owle hath no grace with an Eagle.' II. d, p.
14/a, 1. 44.
' When the Owle sings the Nightingale will hold
her peace,' II. A, p. la, h-. 33.
Peacock.—' While the Peacock is gazing at his trayne.
the Foxe will be knitting of his hose-garters,'
II. b, p. 9/9, L II.
Sheep. ->' As rich as a new shome sheepe*' II. A, p. 11,
h:. 31.
Snaile.— ' I now haue found the Snidle out by his slime.'
I. «. p. 9/1. L 37.
Sparrow. — * They were all Sparrows to his Nightingale,'
II. b, p. 19/a, L 45.
Sow.--' Such a one may bap to take a wrong sow by the
eare, that may bite him by the fingers for his
labour,' II. *', p. xa/a, 1. 31.
Swallow.—' One Swallow makes not Sommer/ II. 3, p.
ii/a, L 37. So in Greek.
Swan.— * A friend is like a PhoeniZp and a faithfuU
woman like a blacke swanne*' — ' rara avis in
terris nigroque simillima cygno,' II. g^ p. 5/xr
L 16. Of course a ' black swan * is no longer a
rarity, since its introductkm into Europe from
Australia.
' Good masters are like black Swans,' II. A, p. 34,
h:. zx.
Labour in vain,
' Esteeme a horse, according to his pace,
But loose no wagers on a wilde goose chase.' L nf , p. 6/3.
'Loose not thy poines, to teach an Owle to speake,
Nor striue to wash an Ethiopian white,' I. m, p. 6/a.
' And idle spirits all their humours spend,
In leeking how to make the cuckoe sing,' 1. 1^ p. zo/a.
' I can doe something else, then shove the Goose for my
living,' IL k, p. $/i,\, za
'And sowes his seeds upon the barren saiid,* L /, p.
ao/i, 1. 31.
' Hee is but foolish, rise he nere so soone.
That runnes in haste to overtake the Moone,' I. / p.
39/1, L Z9.
' In an Universalitie. . . there was a deepe studient in
the secrets of Nature, which labouring much to
bring all to nothing, wrought day and night for the
Mooneshine in the water,' IL /, p. lo/i, L 49.
* To breake a bolniib on a coate of Steele/ L ^, p. 5/3,
1.9^
'The rowling stone gathereth no mosse.' IL d, p. 6/a.
L 3a, and m, p. 8/a, 1. sa
' Hee is a fond fisher that angles for a frogge,* II. e, p.
8/a, L II.
' There is no washing of a blacke Moore,' IL at, p. 14/a,
L 16.
Money.
. . . ' tis money makes the man.
Yet shall not money make him yong againe doe what
he can,' L «, p. 55/9.
' It is the money makes or marres the man,' I. e, p. 8/1.
' If she haue the golden honey-bees,' I. e, p. 8/1.
' The nearer that thy purse is polde.
The more still friendship waxeth colde,' I. a, p. aS/a.
' A purse without money is like a body without a soule,*
IL b» p. 18/1. L 91.
' AurumpoiabiU is a strange quintessence,' IL /, p. 7/9,
L6.
' Money makes the olde Mare trot, and the young Tit
amble,' 1 1. /, p. 7/9, L 3a.
' Light gaines make heavie purses,' II. /, lo/i, L 96k
You must haue them [your hands] nointed with the oyle
of gold, before you can fall to any good worke,'
IL at, p. Z3/1, L 37.
DinelL
'To hatch my Eggs up in Diuells-nest,' I. j, p. za/a,
St IZ3.
' For vertue knew the deuill by his foote.' I. b, p. 10/3.
* Ware the dogges that keepe the DiueU dore,' I. /, p.
Much Ado about nothing.
' To make no long haruest of a little come,' IL b, p.
zp/i, L 14.
' Not to make a long haruest of a little come.' IL k, p.
43/3, L 9 ; and also d, p. zi/i, L aa
' To make a long supper of a little meat,' 1 1./, p. 4, L 7.
' Great boast and small roast, makes a cold kitchen.* IL
/, p. 9/3, L za
ffaste.
* Haste makes waste.' L a, p. 4/z, Pref. L a.
' Great haste and little speede,' I. tf, p. 4/9, PretL 14.
' To reape the come ere it be ripe, may prooue more
haste then good speede,* II. d, p. ii/z, L 3Z.
'To galloppe ere he leame to trot,' L/. p. 99/z, L 35.
' More haste the worse speed,' IL <, p. 8/1, L 3.
'Hasty climbers haue sodaine falls,' IL #. p. 9/z, L r6.
' He that lookes before he leaps
Is likest sure to stand,' L a, p. 34/a. L 5.
Fishing.
'And thou shalt angle with no diuels hooke.' I. ai. p.
8/1. L 44.
' So I might get it with the siluer hooke,' I. j. p. 9/z. st
6a
' To fish for honour with a siluer hooke,' L ^, p. s/a, L
za
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PROVERBS AND PROVERBIAL SA YINGS,
59
Cheese from chalk. —
' To think black white, and wrong for right,
And know not dieeac from chalk,' I. a, p. 6/i,
L51.
Milstone. — ' And very fiurre in Milstones for to see,' L a,
Once warned.—' Once weO wamde is as good as twiae,'
I. tf. p. 99/x. L x^
While grass grows. —
* But while the grasse dooth grow, oft times
The silly steede he stenies,' I. a, p. 56/a. L 25.
Good wines.—' Good wines need no Juie-busb,' I. d, p.
9/1.1.4.
'Good wine needs no bush,' II. <, p. 5/1, L 18.
Wilful bUnd.— ' No eye so dowdy, as the willfnll blinde.'
L/ P* 25/2, L 6.
Breech.—' Many a time the Goodwife weares the breech,'
L /, p. a6i, L zx.
Puddle.—' To see a Puddle bonour'd like a Poole,' I. f,
p. a6/i, L 31.
Knaue.— 'There is no packe of Gardes without a
Knane,* L/. p. 26/1, L 51.
Dead men's shoes.—' Too long hoping after dead men's
shooes,' I. ^. pi 9/^ L 17.
Castle of conceit—' Build not thy Castle of Conceit too
high,' I. iif , p. 5/3, L 23.
Spare diet—' The sparing diet b the spirits feast,' I. m,
p. 6/2, L aa
Child. — 'A childe may be won with an apple when a
costennonger will not be pleased without a
whole Orchard,' IL b, p. 7/2, L 24.
Home is home.—' Rather looe a Mole-hill of thine owne
than a Moontaine of thy neighbours,' II. 3, pi
18/1, L 19.
' Home is home, be it neuer so homdy,/ II. d, p.
6/2. L 31.
Maxims, etc,
' Faint heart neuer won faire lady,' II. r, p. ia/2. 1 2.
' Ouer shooes, ouer bootes,' 11. /, p. 6/2. 1. 36.
' The neerer the church the further from God,' II. e, p.
S/i^. 16.
'Wishers and woulders, are neuer good householders,'
II. <, p. 8/2, L s.
' A merry companion is a wagon in the way,' II. «, p.
8/2,18.
' When theeues fall out, true men come by their goods,'
IL «• p. 8/2, L xz.
' Nothing venter nothing haue,' II. /, p. 9/2, L 23.
' It is an iU winde that bloweth no man to good,' II. g,
p. zo/x, L 20.
' The small grasse of the field fills the bame full of hay.
and the poore mens money fills the rich mens
pone,' IL g, p. X0/2, L z.
' You must not speake fai the clouds to them that are
acquainted with the moone,' IL k, p. zo, Ir. z8.
'Spight of your teeth,' IL k, p. 33, Ir. s
' To put Pepper in the nose,' II. k, p. 50, Ir. 6a.
' Make deane your dishes and your platters.
But talke of no Princes matters,' II. /, p. 6/a, 1. 2.
' Who looketh hye, may haue a chip £ail in his eye,' II.
y, p. 6/2, L zo.
' It is Art to hide Art,' = Aztis est celare Artem. IL ;.
p. 7/a. i. I-
Small things. — ' Many droppes of water will drive a
mill,' II. jf, p. z3/a, L 38.
ni name.— 'Hee who hath an euill name is halfe
hanged,' II. o, p. 22/2, L 2^
Marriage and hanging. — ' Marriage and Hanging goe
by destinie,' IL m, p. 5/2, 1. 2a
Evil mind. — 'The euill mind is more foule than the
blackest foce,' IL « , pi 9/z, L 33.
Lie.— 'A lye runs farre before it be staled,' II. /, p.
zz/a, L 29.
Bk«d in bone. — ' What is bred in the bone will neuer out
of the flesh,' IL r, p. z5/z, 1. zy.
Cooke. — ' If the Cooke doe not lacke wit, hee will sweetly
licke his fingers,' IL /, p. zi/z, I. az.
Nut to crack. — ' Spoile not thy teeth with cracking such
a nut,' I. m, p. 9/2, 1. 42.
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:'».<3^i».ei».ei*r<m<3i*r^^^
IV.-ERRATA ET CORRIGENDA.
VOL. I.-VERSE.
a. A PloorUk wpon Pancie,-—^, lo/i, L 19, * pehikg '
ahoald be ' pelting ' ; p. 13/1, L 15, 'hedside ' should
be 'bedside' oeitaiDly ; p. 17/2. L 41. 't' dropped
oat from end of ' Dispight ' ; p. 33/a, 1. zz (from
bottom), insert ' read '— «fter ' whether she could ' ;
p. 3s/a, L 7, Feare. sb, = Pheere, p. 52/a, L z6 (from
bottom), read ' trained up ' for ' traded up.'
*. A Pilgrimage to Paradisg,—^, 5, Lines ' In dosdem
Amantem/ 1. z, for ' singis ' read ' fingis ' ; L 6, for
'tantem' read 'tantaoL' In Henry Price's Lines,
L 3, for 'in' read ' tu ' ; p. 9/z, L aa, for 'favour'
read ' savour ' ; p. lo/a, I. 13, query— read ' like to
a fiery light '? p. iz/z, 1. ao, read ' And patience ;
p. la/i, 1. az, ' leame the cunning ' s ' thee/ ue.
teach thee ; p. 14/a, L zo, ' griite ' ^^ grafte ; and
' n ' dropped from ' Vngratious ' ; L 4a, ' withal ' as
with all ; p. zs/a, 1. a4, relative note, read heauen <^
haven ; L 3Z, 'an one' — anone ; p. z6/z, L 53, for
'nine 'read 'mine.'
c. CounUss of Ptmbrok^s Passion,— St, zi, read ' in-
fruit ' ; St. 98, L 3 — occurs also in Pass. Shep., p.
6/z, L z ; St. Z05, ' e ' dropped fit>m ' whence.*
d. Arbor of Amorous Devises. — P. a, 1. za, read ' Beau-
cleric ' ; p. 4, 1. Z7, read ' Diana's face ' for ' Danae's
fece ' ; p. s/a, 1. Z4, qu.— ' my ' for ' thy '? p. 6, in
Complaint, 1. a, requires ' love' instead of ' lotte' ; p.
7/1* 1* 3* ' Fame same I was not borne ' — ' same '
must be a misprint — query ' Fame, Say ' ? p. 8/z,
1. z5, for T read F, i,€, for ' Time ' read ' Fine ' ;
p. 8/a, L 3 from bottom, read ' all ' instead of ' a* ;
last line, ' I ' dropped out ; p. zi/a, L 4, of a Poeme
ends with ' Too ' for ' to ' ; p. za/z, 1. a6, read ' my'
for 'me'; p. Z3/Z, L 5, 'hallow' qu. 'hollow.'
(' Complaint ') ; ib,\, 8, read ' That ' for ' And ' ; p.
Z3/Z, L 6 (from bottom), read 'Jem ' — Gem— in-
stead of 'Item.'
€, PasfuiTs Madcapp€,^^, 5/a, L z6, query— for the
first 'loue' read 'lothe'? p. 9/z, 1. Z5, read
' Croesus ' for * croesuc ' ; L 48, query ' but ' lack-
ing? p. zo/a, L 5, for 'leame' read 'leave'; pi
a6/i. 1. »» qu.— ' world * for ' word ' ?
/. PasquiFs Poole's Cappe.-^V. zg/z, 1. 3Z, for • chase '
read 'chafe'; p. az/z, L 46, for 'Went' read
' when ' ; p. a4, 1. z, insen ' off' alter ' put ' (?) p.
a6/z, last line, for ' may ' read ' many.'
g, PasquiFs Posset eiie,-^p, 5/a, L 3Z, for ' him ' read
' he ' ; p. 6/a, last line, read ' vnto the heamis,' etc. ;
p. 7/z, L Z3, ' be ' requires ' Bee (insect) ; for ' An '
read 'And'; p. 7/a, L 8, read 'Bee' for 'Bees';
p. za/z, L 3Z, for 'women' read 'woman.'
k, AfeloMcAolike Humours, — P. 5, ' lu AutMorem,* read
' not wearing ' — ' t ' got attached to ' wearing ' ; p.
Z4/a, *ASmiU/ I z, for ' leane ' read 'leaue.'
i, A Solemne Passion,— V, 8/a, 1. 8, for 'loue' read
'life.'
y. Raniskt Soule, etc,— p. za/z, L Z4, for ' the ' read
' they ' ; p. 9/z, L Z7, for ' louely ' read ' lonely ' or
'lively'? p. zo/z, 1. 38, 'also'- 'also.'
l SouTs Harmony, — P. 4/a, 1. 16, hyphen 'aiter-
payne'; I. 3Z, 'And' is caught from next line:
read 'That'
m, Mothev's Blessing,— V, zo/z, 1. 44, for 'with' read
'without' or query— 'With still beginmng' or
' without-beginning, neuer-endlng, etc ?
n. Passionate Shepherd,— "P. 7/a, L z, as pohited out in
locOf read ' tooth ' for ' truth ' certainly ; and p. 9/a
1. aob for ' now ' read ' not.'
0, SouUs Immortal Crowne,—^, 6/a, L 3Z, for ' oue '
read 'lone'; p. z5/z, L z, for 'forwardnes' read
'frowardnes'; p. z9/a, L a7, imperfect— supply
' alone ' after ' whom.'
s, i would and I would not, — St yz, L a, read perhaps,
' winde nor weather ' ; st Z36, L 6, for ' he ' read
' be ' ; St Z43, ' Salmon ' — Salamon, i,e, Solomon.
t, Dagbdils and Primroses, — P. 3/a, L a, for ' nueer '
read ' neuer ' ; p. 9/a, A Report Song, last line—
for ' doo ' read ' doon ' or ' done ' ; p. 14/1, 1. a.
for ' groues ' read ! grones ' ; p. z5/z, L Z7, ' wites '
s wits ; L as, for ' no ' read ' so ' ; p. aa, No. a7,
St. 3, L 6, ' eye ' is probably a mistake of our MS.
for ' glory ' ; p. a3. No. 30, 1. 8— a mutilated line-
read perhaps, ' But deed to end that hath bene
done,' etc.
VOU II.— PROSE.
a, Auspicante Jehoua,—^, 6/z, last Une but one, 'where-
with ' = ' where with.'
b. Wits Trenchmour,—^, 9/a, L 4, for 'firme' read
' ' finna ' ; p. za/a, L Z5, for ' male . . . alterio ' read
' malle . . . altois ' ; p. z5/a, L 6, read ' his ' for
'her' ; p. z8/z, L az, 'sine' requiredaiter 'corpus.'
€, Wiloj Wit, eU,—P, 5, L Z9 of Epistle— read 'for-
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ERRATA ET CORRIGENDA.
61
borhood ' ; p. 11/9, L x6, for ' waQdn^ ' read
'waking'; p. 16/1, L 31, and note — I withdraw
emendation 'do' for 'to' (see dossarial Index
under ' wilde ' ) ; p. 30/1. L 4, read ' that would
destroy.' etc. ; p. 56/z, last line, supply 'be ' after
' to ' ; p. 58/1, L 37, for ' Fore ' read ' fere ' ; p.
6a/i. L 22, read ' too ' for ' two.'
d, Sirangi Fortumis,—^. 7/1, L 40^ for 'sigfates' read
perhaps ' fightes ' ; p. la/i, L 18, read probably ' per-
haps Hoi finde ' ; p. 15/1, L 31, read ' languishing. '
t. Crossing of Froveris, — P. 6/a, L 17, read * lin ' for
•liu.'
g. Wonders Worth Hearing.—^, 5/1, L 13. for
' friends ' read perhaps ' friend ' ; p. 8/a. L la, * Dwle '
misprint for ' Owle ' ; p. xa/ip L 18, and note. I
suspect ' staite ' should have been ' straite ' —
straight, not bent with age.
k. A Poste with a Packtt, Oc-^K la. Letter 23, L 9, for
' scaled ' read ' sealed ' ; p. 14, Letter 31. L 4, query
not * superstitious ' but ' suppositious ' ? p. 19. Letter
50t L 8, for * your ' read ' our ' ; p. 49. Letter 49, L
90. and 50, L za and note. Probably ' por ' is a
misprint for ' pot '—the phrase with omission of
the article ( ' go to pot ' ) is stUl in use. Alas ! if
it really is derived from the ftmereal urns of crema-
tion!
i. GHmelto's Fortunes,— P. s/i. L a9. for ' Brata ' read
' Beata ' ; p. lAJx, L 41, ' Kie ' and rdative note.
Query—' Ric ' (' selling of Wheate and spending of
Rie') - parslmonioas lirfaigr p. 15/1, L 7 fnote),
' coin ' misprinted ' com.'
/. Oldi Man's Lesson,— 'P, 15/1, L z, read ' louing to '
for ' to louing ' ; p. 16/1, I, 14, read perhaps ' so
hath not ' ; p. 17/1, L 34. for ' with ' read ' without.'
Note p. 15. and top of p. 16 — ^in confusion. Two
speeches following are given to Pan. Perhaps the
first should be divided in first line, p. 15.
n, A Murmmrer,—^. 6ji, 1. 8, 'altogether* - 'al
together ' ; p. 8/3, 1. 11, ' a even 'for 'an even '
unless ' even ' be a misprint for ' level ' ; p. zo/i, 1.
9p read 'ways' for the second 'way' ; p. zx/z, 1.
ay. read ' least ' ; p. zz/a. last line, read ' preserva-
tion,' and in note on p. Z3, read ' shoal.'
0, Divine Considerations,^^, 8/z, L 9, read ' a£fected '
for ' effected ' = wished for; p. zz/z, L z6, read
perhaps ' we could give,' etc
p, Wifs PHvaU Wealth,-'^, zz/i, 1. 7, the last letter
of ' Wittol ' has dropped out.
q. Characters upon Essaies, — P. 6/a, 1. Z7, ' of ' is super-
fluous.
r. Good and Badde,—?, 8, A Worthy Gentleman, I 5,
for ' unwillingly ' read ' unwittingly ' ; p. zo, Good
Man^ L Z9, put comma after 'grace,' not after
' trauaile ' : p. za, A Quiet Woman, 1. 9, for
' helpe ' read ' helthe ' ; p. Z4, An Old Man, 1. 16,
for • word ' read ' words.'
s. Strange News.—P, 9, L Z5, ' Langdebiete ' a misprint
apparently for ' Langdebefe.'
«. Courtier and Countryman,— P, zz/a, L Z3, for ' lift '
read 'list.'
END OF VOL. IL (PROSE.^
FINIS.
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THOMAS AND ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE, PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY.
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