THAT PLEASURE IS MIXED WITH EUERY PAINE.

VENEMOUS thornes that are so sharpe and kene,
Beare flowers we se, full fresh and faire of hue,
Poison is also put in medicine,

And vnto man his helth doth oft renue :

The fire, that all things eke consumeth clene,
May hurt and heale: then if that this be true,
I trust some time my harm may be my health,
Sins every woe is ioyned with some wealth.

A RIDDLE OF A GIFT GEVEN BY A LADIE.

A LADY gaue me a gyft she had not;
And I receiued her gift which I took not;

She gaue it me willingly, and yet she would not;
And I receiued it albeit I could not.

If she giue it me I force not;

And if she take it againe she cares not.

Conster what this is, and tel not;

For I am fast sworne, I may not.

THAT SPEAKING OR PROFERING BRINGS ALWAY SPED

ING.

SPEAKE thou and spede, where will or power ought

helpeth,

Where power doth want, will must be wonne by

welth:

For nede will spede, where will workes not his

kinde,

And gayne thy foes thy frendes shall cause thee finde.

For sute and golde, what do not they obtayne?
Of good and bad the tryers are these twayne.

HE RULETH NOT THOUGH HE RAIGNE OUER REALMES, THAT IS SUBJECT TO HIS OWN LUSTES.

Ir thou wilt mighty be, flee from the rage
Of cruell will, and see thou kepe the free
From the foul yoke of sensual bondage;
For though thine empire stretche to Indian sea,
And for thy fear trembleth the fardeth Thylee,
If thy desire haue ouer thee the power,
Subject then art thou, and no gouernour.

If to be noble and high thy mind be moued,
Consider well thy grounde and thy beginning,
For he that hath eche starre in heaven fixed,
And geves the moone her hornes and her eclipsing,
Alike hath made the noble in his working,
So that wretched no way may thou bee,
Except foule lust and vice doe conquer thee.

All were it so thou had a flood of gold Unto thy thirst, yet should it not suffice; And though with Indian stones a thousand folde, More precious then can thy self deuise. Ycharged were thy backe; thy couetise, And busy byting yet should neuer let Thy wretched life, ne do thy death profet.

WHETHER LIBERTIE BY LOSSE OF LIFE, OR LIFE IN

PRISON AND THRALDOM BE TO BE PREFERRED.

LIKE as the birde within the cage enclosed,
The dore unspared, her foe the hawke without,
Twixt death and prison piteously oppressed,
Whether for to chose standeth in dout;
Lo so do I, which seke to bring about,
Which should be best by determinacion
By losse of life, libertie, or life by prison.

O mischief by mischief to be redressed,
Where pain is best there lieth but little pleasure,
By short deth better to be deliuered,

Then bide in painfull life, thraldome and doler. Small is the pleasure where much pain we suffer, Rather therfore to chuse me thinketh wisdome, By loss of life libertie, then life by prison.

And yet me thinkes although I liue and suffer, I do but waite a time and fortunes chance; Oft many thinges do happen in one hower; That which opprest me now may me aduance; In time is trust, which by deathes greuaunce Is wholy lost. Then wer it not reason

By death to chuse libertie, and not life by prison.

But death wer deliuerance where life lengths
paine,

Of these two ylles let see now choose the best,
This bird to deliuer that here doth plain;
What say ye louers, which shal be the best?
In cage thraldome, or by the hawke opprest;
And which to choose, make plain conclusion
By losse of life libertie, or life by prison.

AGAINST HOURDERS OF MONEY.

(From the Greek Epigram.)

FOR shamefast harme of great and hatefull nede,
In depe dispaire, as did a wretch go,

With ready corde out of his life to spede,
His stumbling foote, did finde an horde, lo,
Of gold, I say, where he preparde this dede
And in eschange, he left the corde tho.

He that had hid the golde, and found it not,
Of that he found, he shapt his neck a knot.

DISCRIPTION OF A GONNE.

VULCANE begat me, Minerua me taught,

Nature my mother, craft nourisht me yere by yere; Thre bodies are my foode; my strength is in naught. Anger, wrath, wast, and noyse, are my children dere. Gesse frende, what I am, and how I am wraught, Monster of sea or of lande, or of els where:

Know me, and vse me, and I may thee defend, And if I be thine enmy I may thy life ende.

WYATE BEING IN PRISON TO BRIAN.

SIGUES are my foode, my drink are my teares;
Clinking of fetters would such musike craue,
Stink, and close ayre, away my life it weares;
Poor innocence is al the hope I haue,

Rain, winde, or wether, judge I by my eares, Malice assautes that righteousnesse should haue. Sure am I, Brian, this wound shall heale againe, But yet, alas! the skarre shall still remaine.

OF DISSEMBLING WORDES.

THROUGHOUT the world if it were sought,
Fair words ynough a man shall finde;
They be good chepe, they cost right nought,
Their substance is but only winde :

But well to say, and so to mene,
That swete accord is seldom sene.

OF THE MEAN AND SURE ESTATE.

(From Seneca's Chorus.)

STOND Who So list upon the slipper wheele,
Of hie estate, and let me here reioyce,
And vse my life in quietnesse eche dele,
Unknowen in court that hath the wanton toyes,
In hydden place my time shall slowly passe,
And when my yeres be past withouten noyse,
Let me die olde after the common trace;
For gripes of death doth he too hardly pass;
That knowen is to all, but to myself, alas!
He dyeth unknowen, dased with dreadfull face.