as that the Lady Anne Howard, eldest daughter to Iohn Duke of Norfolke, was wife to Sir Edmund, 20 mother to Sir Edward, and grandmother to Sir William and Sir Thomas Gorges Knightes. And therefore I doe affure my felfe, that no due honour done to the white Lyon, but will be most gratefull to your Ladifhip, whofe husband and children do so neerely participate with the bloud of that noble family. So in all dutie I recommende this Pamphlet, and the good acceptance thereof, to your honourable fauour and protection. London this firft of Ianuarie.
Your Honours humbly euer.
Hat euer man he be, whose heauie mynd
With griefe of mournefull great mishap oppreft,
Fit matter for his cares increase would fynd:
Let reade the rufull plaint herein
expreft,
Of one (I weene) the wofulft man aliue;
Euen fad Alcyon, whose empierced breft,
Sharpe forrowe did in thousand peeces riue.
But who fo elfe in pleasure findeth sense,
Or in this wretched life dooth take delight,
Let him be banisht farre away from hence:
Ne let the facred Sifters here be hight,
Though they of forrowe heauilie can fing;
For euen their heauie fong would breede delight:
But here no tunes, faue fobs and grones fhall ring.
In ftead of them, and their fweete harmonie,
Let those three fatall Sifters, whose sad hands
Doe weaue 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, 20
And grifly Ghosts to heare this dolefull teene.
In gloomie euening, when the wearie Sun,
After his dayes long labour drew to reft,
And sweatie fteedes now hauing ouer run
The compast skie, gan water in the west,
I walkt abroad to breath the freshing ayre
In open fields, whofe flowring pride oppreft
With early frofts, had loft their beautie faire.
There came vnto my mind a troublous thought,
Which dayly doth my weaker wit possesse,
Ne lets it reft, vntill it forth haue brought
Her long borne Infant, fruit of heauinesse,
Which the conceiued hath through meditation
Of this worlds vainneffe, and lifes wretchedneffe,
That yet my foule it deepely doth empassion.
So as I muzed on the miserie
In which men liue, and I of many most,
Most miserable man; I did espie
Where towards me a fory wight did cost,
Clad all in black, that mourning did bewray :
And Jaakob ftaffe in hand deuoutly croft,
Like to fome Pilgrim, come from farre away.
His careleffe lockes, vncombed and vnfhorne,
Hong long adowne, and beard all ouer growne,
That well he seemd to be fome wight forlorne;
Downe to the earth his heauie eyes were throwne
As loathing light and euer as he went,
He fighed soft, and inly deepe did grone,
As if his heart in peeces would haue rent.
Approa/ching nigh, his face I vewed nere,
And by the semblant of his countenance,
Me feemd I had his person seene elsewhere,
Moft like Alcyon feeming at a glaunce;
Alcyon he, the iollie Shepheard fwaine,
That wont full merrilie to pipe and daunce.
And fill with pleasance euery wood and plaine.
Yet halfe in doubt, because of his difguize,
I softlie sayd, Alcyon? There withall
He lookt a fide as in difdainefull wife,
Yet stayed not: till I againe did call.
Then turning back, he saide with hollow found,
Who is it, that dooth name me, wofull thrall,
The wretchedst man that treads this day on groūd?
One, whom like wofulneffe impreffed deepe,
Hath made fit mate thy wretched cafe to heare,
And giuen like cause with thee to waile and wepe:
Griefe finds fome ease by him that like does beare,
Then stay Alcyon, gentle shepheard stay
(Quoth I) till thou haue to my trustie eare
Committed, what thee dooth fo ill apay.
Cease foolish man (faide he halfe wrothfully)
To feeke to heare that which cannot be told:
For the huge anguish, which dooth multiplie
My dying paines, no tongue can well vnfold:
Ne doo I care, that any should bemone
My hard mishap, or any weepe that would,
But feeke alone to weepe, and dye alone. /
Then be it fo (quoth I) that thou art bent
To die alone, vnpitied, vnplained,
Yet ere thou die, it were conuenient
To tell the caufe, which thee thereto constrained:
Least that the world thee dead accufe of guilt,
And fay, when thou of none fhalt be maintained,
That thou for secret crime thy blood hast spilt.
Who life dooes loath, and longs to be vnbound
From the strong shackles of fraile flesh (quoth he)
Nought cares at all, what they that liue on ground
Deeme the occasion of his death to bee:
Rather defires to be forgotten quight,
Than question made of his calamitie,
For harts deep forrow hates both life and light.
Yet fince fo much thou feemft to rue my griefe,
And car'ft for one that for himselfe cares nought,
(Signe of thy loue, though nought for my reliefe:
For my reliefe exceedeth liuing thought)
I will to thee this heauie cafe relate,
Then harken well till it to end be brought,
For neuer didft thou heare more haplesse fate.
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