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And that faire lampe which useth to enflame
The hearts of men with selfe-consuming fyre,
Thenceforth seemes fowle, and full of sinfull blame;
And all that pompe to which proud minds aspyre
By name of honor, and so much desyre,

Seemes to them basenesse, and all riches drosse,
And all mirth sadnesse, and all lucre losse..

So full their eyes are of that glorious sight,
And senses fraught with such satietie,
That in nought else on earth they can delight,
But in th' aspect of that felicitie,

Which they have written in theyr inward ey;
On which they feed, and in theyr fastened mynd
All happie joy and full contentment fynd.

Ah, then, my hungry Soule! which long hast fed
On idle fancies of thy foolish thought,
And with false beauties flattring bait misled,
Hast after vaine deceiptfull shadowes sought,
Which all are fled, and now have left thee nought,
But late repentance through thy follies prief;
Ah! ceasse to gaze on matter of thy grief:

And looke at last up to that soveraine light,
From whose pure beams al perfect beauty springs,
That kindleth love in every godly spright,
Even the love of God; which loathing brings
Of this vile world and these gay-seeming things;
With whose sweet pleasures being so possest,
Thy straying thoughts henceforth for ever rest.






Upon the Death of the noble and vertuous Douglas Howard, daughter and beire of Henry Lord Howard,

Viscount Byndon, and wife of

Arthur Gorges, Efquier.





Printed for William Ponsonby.



HAVE the rather presumed humbly to offer unto your Honour the dedication of this little Poëme, for that the noble and vertuous Gentlewoman, of whom it is written, was by match neere alied, and in affection greatly devoted, unto your Ladiship. The occasion why I wrote the same, was aswell the great good fame which I heard of her deceassed, as the particular goodwill which I beare unto her husband Master Arthur Gorges, a lover of learning and vertue, whose house, as your Ladiship by mariage hath honoured, so doe I find the name of them, by many notable records, to be of great antiquitie in this Realme; and such as have ever borne themselves with honourable reputation to the world, and unspotted loyaltie to their Prince and Countrey: besides, so lineally are they descended from the Howards, as that the Lady Anne Howard, eldest daughter to John Duke of Norfolke, was wife to Sir Edmund, mother to Sir Edward, and grandmother to Sir William and Sir Thomas Gorges, Knightes. And therefore I doe assure my selfe that no due honour done to the White Lyon, but will be most gratefull to your Ladiship, whose husband and children do so neerely participate with the bloud of that noble family. So in all dutie I recommend this Pamphlet, and the good acceptance thereof, to your honourable favour and protection. London, this first of Januarie, 1591.

Your Honours humbly ever.


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HATEVER man he be whose heavie mynd, With griefe of mournefull great mishap opprest,

Fit matter for his cares increase would


Let reade the rufull plaint herein exprest,
Of one, (I weene) the wofulst man alive,
Even sad Alcyon, whose empierced brest
Sharpe sorrowe did in thousand peeces rive.


But who so else in pleasure findeth sense,
Or in this wretched life dooth take delight,
Let him be banisht farre away from hence;
Ne let the sacred Sisters here be hight,
Though they of sorrowe heavilie can sing,
For even their heavie song would breede delight;
But here no tunes, save sobs and grones, shall ring.

In stead of them, and their sweete harmonie,
Let those three fatall Sisters, whose sad hands
Doe weave the direfull threeds of destinie,
And in their wrath breake off the vitall bands,
Approach hereto; and let the dreadfull Queene
Of darkenes deepe come from the Stygian strands,
And grisly Ghosts, to heare this dolefull teene.


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