From Tottel's Songs and Sonnets, 1557

A praise of his love

Give place, ye lovers, here before
That spent your boasts and brags in vain;
My Lady's beauty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Than doth the sun the candle light,
Or brightest day the darkest night.

And thereto hath a troth as just,
As had Penelope the fair;

For what she saith, ye may it trust,
As it by writing sealed were.
And virtues hath she many moe
Than I with pen have skill to show.

I could rehearse, if that I would,
The whole effect of Nature's plaint,
When she had lost the perfect mould,
The like to whom she could not paint;
With wringing hands how she did cry,
And what she said, I know it, I.

I know she swore with raging mind,
Her kingdom only set apart,
There was no loss, by law of kind,
That could have gone so near her heart;
And this was chiefly all her pain,
She could not make the like again.

Sith Nature thus gave her the praise,
To be the chiefest work she wrought;
In faith, methink! some better ways
On your behalf might well be sought,
Than to compare, as ye have done,
To match the candle with the sun.

HENRY HOWARD EARL OF SURREY

EARL OF SURREY and RICHARD EDWARDES

From Tottel's Songs and Sonnets, 1557

The means to attain happy life

Martial, the things that do attain
The happy life, be these, I find:
The riches left, not got with pain;
The fruitful ground, the quiet mind;

The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule, nor governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance;

The mean diet, no delicate fare;
True wisdom joined with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress:

The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night.
Contented with thine own estate,
Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.

HENRY HOWARD EARL OF SURREY

From The Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1576-1578
Amantium Iræ

In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept,
I heard a wife sing to her child that long before had wept :
She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest,
That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at her breast.
She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child;
She rocked it and rated it, till that on her it smiled:
Then did she say, Now have I found this proverb true to
prove,

The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.

Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write,
In register for to remain of such a worthy wight;
As she proceeded thus in song, unto her little brat,

Much matter utter'd she of weight, in place whereas she sat ;

And proved plain there was no beast nor creature bearing life, Could well be known to live in love without discord and

strife:

Then kissed she her little babe, and swore by God above, The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.

She said that neither king, ne prince, ne lord could live aright, Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood and their might;

When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take no place,

Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace, And leave their force that failed them, which did consume

the rout,

That might before have lived their time and nature out: Then did she sing as one that thought no man could her

reprove,

The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.

She said she saw no fish, ne fowl, nor beast within her haunt, That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt; Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed, And force the fight to fall to play, in pasture where they feed; So noble nature can well end the work she hath begun, And bridle well that will not cease, her tragedy in some: Thus in her song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove, The falling out of faithful friends, is the renewing of love.

I marvel much, pardie, quoth she, for to behold the rout, To see man, woman, boy, and beast, to toss the world about ; Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile,

And some embrace others in arm, and there think many a wile;

Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and some

stout,

Yet are they never friends indeed until they once fall out. Thus ended she her song, and said, before she did remove, The falling out of faithful friends, is the renewing of love.

RICHARD EDWARDES

From Epitaphs, 1570

To a Gentlewoman

That always willed him to wear rosemary (a tree that is always green) for her sake, and in token of his goodwill to her

The green that you did wish me wear
Aye for your love,

And on my helm a branch to bear,
Not to remove;

Was ever you to have in mind,
Whom Cupid hath my Feer assigned.

As I, in this, have done your will,
And mind to do,

So I request you to fulfil

My fancy too.

A green and loving heart to have,
And this is all that I do crave.

For if your flowering heart should change
His colour green,

Or you at length a Lady strange
Of me be seen;

Then will my branch, against his use,
His colour change for your refuse.

As Winter's force cannot deface
This branch his hue;

So let no change of love disgrace
Your friendship true.

You were mine own, and so be still;
So shall we live and love our fill.

Then may I think myself to be
Well recompensed,

For wearing of the Tree that is
So well defenced

Against all weather that doth fall,

When wayward Winter spits his gall.

And when we meet, to try me true
Look on my head;

And I will crave an oath of you,
Where faith be fled?

So shall we both assured be;

Both I of you, and you of me.

G. TURBERVILLE

From Puttenham's Art of English Poesy, 1589

The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,

And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy. For falsehood now doth flow, and subject faith doth ebb, Which would not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the

web.

But clouds of toys untried do cloak aspiring minds

Which turn to rain of late repent, by course of changed

winds.

The top of hope supposed, the root of ruth will be,

And fruitless all their graffed guiles, as shortly ye shall see. Then dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds, Shall be unseeled by worthy wights, whose foresight falsehood finds.

The daughter of debate, that eke discord doth sow,

Shall reap no gain where former rule hath taught still peace to grow.

No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port,

Our realm it brooks no stranger's force, let them elsewhere

resort.

Our rusty sword with rest shall first his edge employ
To poll their tops that seek such change and gape for joy.

QUEEN ELIZABETH