The Copy of a letter, lately written in meeter,
by a yonge Gentilwoman: to
her unconſtant Lover.
With an Admonitiōon to al yong
Gentilwomen, and to all other
Mayds in general to beware
of mennes flattery.
Newly joyned to a Loveletter
ſent by a Bacheler, (a moſt faithfull
Lover) to an unconſtant
and faithles Mayden.
Imprinted atLondon, by
Richarde Jhones dwelling
in the upper end of
Fleetlane: at the
Signe of the
The Printer to the Reader.
What lack you Maiſter mine?
ſome trifle that is trew?
Why? then this ſame wil ſerve your turne
the which is alſo new.
Or yf you minde to reade,
ſome Fables that be fained:
Buy this ſame Booke, and ye ſhall finde,
ſuch in the ſame contained.
Perchaunce my wordes be thought,
uncredible to you:
Becauſe I ſay this Treatiſe is,
both falſe and alſo true.
The matter of it ſelfe,
is true as many know:
And in the ſame, ſome fained tales,
the Auctor doth beſtow.
Therfore, bye this ſame Booke,
of him that hære doth dwell:
And you (I know) wyll ſay you have
beſtowed your mony well.
I.w. To her unconſtant Lover.
As cloſe as you your wedīing kept
yet now the trueth I here:
Which you (yer now) might me have told
what nede you nay to ſwere?
You know I alwayes wiſht you wel
ſo wyll I during lyfe:
But ſith you ſhal a Huſband be
God ſend you a good wyfe.
And this (where ſo you ſhal become)
full boldly may you boaſt:
That once you had as true a Love,
as dwelt in any Coaſt.
Whoſe conſtāantneſſe had never quaild
if you had not begonne:
And yet it is not ſo far paſt,
but might agayne be wonne.
If you ſo would: yea and not change
ſo long as lyfe ſhould laſt:
But yf that needes you marry muſt?
then fare well, hope is paſt,
And if you cannot be content
to lead a ſingle lyfe?
(Although the ſame right quiet be)
then take me to your wife.
So ſhall the promiſes be kept,
that you ſo firmly made:
Now chuſe whether ye wyll be true,
or be of Sinons trade.
Whoſe trade if that you long ſhal uſe,
it ſhal your kindred ſtayne:
Example take by many a one
Whoſe falſhood now is playne.
As by Eneas firſt of all,
who dyd poore Dido leave,
Cauſing the Quene by his untrueth
with Sword her hart to cleave,
Alſo I finde that Theseus did,
his faithfull love forſake:
Stealyng away within the night,
before ſhe dyd a wake.
Jason that came of noble race,
two Ladies did begile:
I muſe how he durſt ſhew his face,
to them that knew his wile.
For when he by Medeas arte,
had got the Fleece of Gold
And alſo had of her, that time,
al kynd of things he wolde.
He toke his Ship and fled a way
regarding not the vowes:
That he dyd make ſo faithfully,
unto his loving Spowes,
Now durſt he truſt the ſurging Seas
knowing himſelfe forſworne:
Why dyd he ſcape ſafe to the land,
before the ſhip was torne?
I think king Aeolus ſtayd the winds
and Neptune rulde the Sea:
Then might he boldly paſſe the waves
no perils could him ſtea.
But if his falſehed had to them,
bin manifeſt befor:
They wold have rent the ſhip as ſoone
as he had gon from ſhore.
Now may you heare how falſenes is
made manyfeſt in time:
Although they that cōommit the ſame,
think it a veniall crime.
For they, for their unfaithfulnes,
did get perpetuall Fame:
Fame? wherfore dyd I terme it ſo?
I ſhould have cald it ſhame.
Let Theſeus be, let Jaſon paſſe,
let Paris alſo ſcape:
That brought deſtruction unto Troy
all through the Grecian Rape.
And unto me a Troylus be,
if not you may compare:
With any of theſe parſons that
above expreſſed are.
But if I can not pleaſe your minde,
for wants that reſt in me:
Wed whom you liſt, I am content,
your refuſe for to be.
It ſhall ſuffiſe me ſimple ſoule,
of thee to be forſaken:
And it may chance although not yet
you wiſh you had me taken.
But rather thēen you ſhold have cauſe
to wiſh this through your wyfe:
I wyſh to her, ere you her have,
no more but love of lyfe.
For ſhe that ſhal ſo happy be,
of thee to be elect:
I wiſh her vertues to be ſuch,
ſhe nede not be ſuſpect.
I rather wiſh her Helens face,
then one of Helens trade:
With chaſtnes of Penelope
the which did never fade.
A Lucres for her conſtancy,
and Thiſbie for her trueth:
If ſuch thou have, then Peto be
not Paris, that were rueth.
Perchance, ye will think this thing, rare
in on woman to fynd:
Save Helens beauty, al the reſt
the Gods have me aſſignd.
Theſe words I do not ſpek, thinking
from thy new Love to turne thee:
Thou knowſt by prof what I deſerve
I nede not to informe thee.
But let that paſſe: would God I had
Caſſandraes gift me lent:
Then either thy yll chaunce or mine
my foreſight might prevent.
But all in vayne for this I ſeeke,
wiſhes may not attaine it
Therfore may hap to me what ſhall,
and I cannot refraine it.
Wherfore I pray God be my guide
and alſo thee defend:
No worſer then I wiſh my ſelfe,
untill thy lyfe ſhal end.
Which life I pray God, may agayne,
King Neſtors lyfe renew:
And after that your ſoule may reſt
amongſt the heavenly crew.
Therto I wiſh King Xerxis wealth,
or els King Creſſus Gould:
With as much reſt and quietneſſe
as man may have on Mould.
And when you ſhall this letter have
let it be kept in ſtore?
For ſhe that ſent the ſame, hath ſworn
as yet to ſend no more.
And now farewel, for why at large
my mind is here expreſt?
The which you may perceive, if that
you do peruſe the reſt?
Finis Iſ. W
The admonition by the Auctor, to all yong Gentilwomen: And to al other Maids being in Love.
Ye Virgins that from Cupids tentes
do beare a way the foyle
Whoſe hartes as yet with raginge love
moſt paynfully do boyle.
To you I ſpeake: for you be they,
that good advice do lacke:
Oh, if I could good counſell geve
my tongue ſhould not be ſlacke?
But ſuch as I can geve, I wyll,
here in few wordes expreſſe
Which if you do obſerve, it will
ſome of your care redreſſe.
Beware of fayre and painted talke,
beware of flattering tonges:
The Mermaides do pretend no good
for all their pleaſant Songs.
Some uſe the teares of Crocodiles,
contrary to their hart:
And yf they cannot alwayes weepe,
they wet their Cheekes by Art.
Ovid, within his Arte of love,
doth teach them this ſame knacke
To wet their hāand, & touch their eies:
ſo oft as teares they lacke.
Why have ye ſuch deceit in ſtore?
have you ſuch crafty wile?
Leſſe craft thēen this god knows wold ſoone
us ſimple ſoules begile.
And wyll ye not leave of? but ſtill
delude us in this wiſe?
Sith it is ſo, we truſt we ſhall,
take hede to fained lies.
Truſt not a man at the fyrſt ſight,
but trye him well before:
I wiſh al Maids within their breſts
to kepe this thing in ſtore.
For triall ſhal delcare his trueth,
and ſhow what he doth think:
Whether he be a Lover true,
or do intend to ſhrink.
If Scilla had not truſt to much
before that ſhe dyd trye:
She could not have ben clene forſake
when ſhe for help did crye.
Or yf ſhe had had good advice
Niſus had lived long:
Now durſt ſhe truſt a ſtrainger, and
do her deare father wrong.
King Niſus had a Haire by fate
which Haire while he dyd kepe:
He never ſhould be overcome
neither on Land nor depe.
The ſtraūunger that the Daughter lov’d
did warre againſt the King
And alwaies ſought how that he might
them in ſubjection bring.
This Scylla ſtole away the Haire,
for to obtaine her wyll:
And gave it to the Straunger that,
dyd ſtraight her father kyll.
Then ſhe, who thought her ſelf moſt ſure
to have her whole deſyre:
Was cleane reject, and left behind
When he dyd whom retyre.
Or if ſuch falſhood had ben once,
unto Oenone knowne:
About the fieldes of Ida wood,
Paris had walkt alone.
Or if Demophoons deceite,
to Phillis had ben tolde:
She had not ben tranſformed ſo,
as Poets tell of olde.
Hero did trie Leanders truth,
before that ſhe did truſt:
Therfore ſhe found him unto her
both conſtant, true, and juſt.
For he alwayes did ſwim the Sea,
when ſtarres in Skie did glide:
Till he was drowned by the way
nere hand unto the ſide.
She ſcrat her Face, ſhe tare her Heir
(it greveth me to tell)
When ſhe did know the end of him,
that ſhe did love ſo well.
But like Leander there be fewe,
therfore in time take heede:
And alwayes trie before ye truſt,
ſo ſhall you better ſpeede.
The little Fiſh that careleſſe is,
within the water cleare:
How glad is he, when he doth ſee,
a Bayt for to appeare.
He thinks his hap right good to bee,
that he the ſame could ſpie:
And ſo the ſimple foole doth truſt
to much before he trie.
O little Fiſh what hap hadſt thou?
to have ſuch ſpitefull Fate:
To come into ones cruell hands,
out of ſo happy ſtate?
Thonu diddſt ſuſpect no harme, when thou
upon the bait didſt looke:
O that thou hadſt had Linceus eies
for to have ſeene the hooke.
Then hadſt thou with thy prety mates
bin playing in the ſtreames
Wheras ſyr Phebus dayly doth,
ſhew forth his golden beames.
But ſith thy fortune is ſo yll
to end thy lyfe on ſhore:
Of this thy moſt unhappy end,
I minde to ſpeake no more.
But of thy Felowes chance that late
ſuch prety ſhift did make:
That he from Fiſhers hooke did ſprīint
before he could him take.
And now he pries on every baite,
ſuſpecting ſtyll that pricke:
(for to lye hid in every thing)
where with the Fiſhers ſtricke.
And ſince the Fiſh that reaſon lacks
once warned doth beware:
Why ſhould not we take hede to that
that turneth us to care.
And I who was deceived late,
by ones unfaithfull teares:
Trust now for to be ware, if that
I live this hundreth yeares,
Finis. Iſ. W.
A Loveletter, or
an earneſt perſwaſion of a Lover:
ſent of late to a yonge Mayden,
to whom he was betrothed.
Who afterward being overcome
with flattery, ſhe ſeemd utterly
to ſwerve from her former
occaſion, and ſo to
By W. G.
A Loveletter, ſent from a faythful Lover: to an unconſtant Mayden.
As dutie wils, ſo nature moves,
thy frend theſe lines to wright:
Wherin thy fraude, (O faithleſſe thou)
I minde to bring to light.
Can plighted faith, ſo firmly plight,
without defect be moved?
Or ſhould the man that faithfull is,
ſo ſlenderly be loved?
Should hate his guerdon thus remaine
in place of thy good wyl?
Should rigor raign within thy breſt
to vanquiſh reaſons ſkyll?
Should faith to falſhod ſo be changed
(alas) the greater ruthe?
When double dealying is preferd,
before a perfect truethe?
Yf caſe ſuch hap, as recompence,
unto your friend you yelde?
What Bulwarke canſt thou clayme,
gainſt Gods thy ſelfe to ſheilde?
Can they that ſit in hauty Heavens
ſuch covert gilt abyde?
Or ar they parcial now deemſt thou?
isJuſtice throwne a ſyde?
Nay juſt are they, and juſtice ſtyll,
as juſt, they juſtly uſe:
And unto them, as giltleſſe then,
canſt thou thy ſelfe excuſe?
No, no, not ſo, for they beholde,
thy double deades, be ſure:
No forged ſtyle, nor flattryng phraſe
their favour may allure.
No gifts, no golde, can them corrupt
ſuch juſtice there doth raigne:
And they that diſobey their heaſtes,
are ſubject unto payne.
Theſe are no novel newes I tell,
the proofe is playnly knowne:
To ſuch as do offend their wils,
their powre forth are ſhowne:
To ſee thy conſcience, gylty is,
thy faithles frawde they ſee:
And thinkſte thou then, this gilt of thine,
can unrewarded bee?
O faith, think not ſo far to wiſh,
from reaſons lymyts pure:
But judg thy ſelfe, what juſtice they
to ſinfull ones inure.
And thy ſelfe ſuch domb, ſhalt geve,
as gilty ſhalt thou find:
Therfore relent, and once agayne,
thy grudging conſcience minde.
Which unto Gods that ſacred are,
as gilty thee bewray:
In place of fraude, let faith & trueth
with thee now beare the ſway.
Revoke and call to memory,
the fruits of friendſhip ſhowne:
Perpend in mind, my tormēents ſtrong
my playnts and penſive mone.
Which ſixe yeares long, as pacionate
to carpyng yoake of care:
I bod for thee, as thou thy ſelfe,
I know canſt wel declare.
Remēember thou the plaints & teares,
which I powrd foorth for thee:
And ponder well the ſacred vow,
that thou haſt made to mee.
Which vow gave comfort to thi frend
that ſubject ſerved to griefe:
Thou gavest thy ſelfe a pledg to me,
thy faith was my releife.
But now what helyſh hagge? (alas)
hath tournde thy love to hate:
Or els what whelpe of Hydras kind
in thee hath wrought debate.
Alas, wilt thou diſpoyle me quight,
of my poſſeſſed joye?
Or wilt thou plunge me headlong thus,
to gulphes of great annoye?
Who would a thought (alas)
ſuch fraude to reſt in thee?
Who wold have deemd withou deſert
thy hart ſhould change from mee?
Whoſe hart hath coucht his tent,
within my covert breſt:
And thine I hopte, of me thy friend,
likewiſe had ben poſſeſt.
But waveryng minds I plainly ſee,
ſo compaſſed with guile:
Pretend by ſlights, the perfect joyes,
of frindes for to exile.
O, ſhuld a pratlying Paraſite, ſo egge
thee with diſdayne?
That thou the preſence of thy friend
through flattery ſhould refrayne?
Not vouching once to ſpeake with him
whoſe hart thou haſt in hold:
Sith likeing fame hath graunted grace
ſhould love ſo ſoone be cold.
Conſider theſe my letters well,
and anſwer them agenne:
For I thy friend in covert zeale,
this time hath cloſd my penne.
Farewel, adieu ten thouſand times,
to God I thee commend:
Beſeching him his heavenly grace,
unto thee ſtyll to ſend.
Thy friend in wealth, thy friend in woe,
Thy friend while lyfe, ſhal flytt me froe:
And whilſt that you, injoy your breath,
Leave not your friend, unto the death:
For greater praiſe cannot be wonne,
Then to obſerve true love begonne.
Finis. W. G.
Imprinted at London, by Richard Jhones.
R W Againſt the wilfull Inconſtancie of his deare Foe E. T.
Which Example may juſtly be a ſufficient warnyng for all Yongmen to beware the fained Fidelytie of unconſtant Maydens.
All youthful Wights at lyberty
whom love did never thrall,
I wiſh that my decay may bee,
a warnyng to you all:
That have a ſoare bred in my Breſt
although it be not ſtrange:
Yet wyll it bryng mee to the Grave
without ſome ſodaine change.
For I by Sute have ſerved one
two yeares and ſomwhat more,
And now I can no longer ſerve
my hart it is ſo ſore.
Whiche hart I let to Uſerie
through gredie fond deſire:
Not doubting to receive home twain
when I would them requyre.
But if that everie Uſerer
had ſuch good hap as I,
There would not be ſo many men
would uſe this Uſerie.
My Debtor hath deceyved mee
for ſhe is from mee fled:
And I am left among the Bryers
to bryng a Foole to Bed.
So that I ſeely man remayne
eche day in doubtfull caſe:
For death doth dayly lye in wayte
to reſt me with his Mace.
And caſt mee into Priſon ſtrong
the Doore is made of Braſſe:
And I might bles my houre of birth
if it were come to paſſe.
For lo my carefull choyce doth chooſe
to keepe mee ſtyll in thrall,
And doth regard my love no more
then Stone that lyes in wall:
Wherby I ſee that Womens hartes
are made of Marble Stone
I ſee how careleſſe they can bee
when penſive men do mone.
I ſowed both pure and perfect ſeede
on fayre and pleaſant grounde
In hope though harveſt brought ſom pain
ſom profit might bee found.
But now the Harveſt ended is
and for my faythfull Seedes
And all my payne and labour paſt:
I have nought els but Weedes.
I thruſt my hand among the Thornes
in hope the Roſe to finde.
I prickt my hand and eke my hart
yet left the Roſe behynde.
Not I, but many more I knowe
in Love do lacke releefe,
But I as cauſe doth mee compell,
do wayle my payne and griefe.
I doubtleſſe can not bee the first
That Love hath put to payne,
Nor yet I ſhall not be the laſt
that Women wyll diſdayne.
If I poore wretch ſhould think upon
the paynes that I have paſt:
Or if I ſhould recount the cares,
that ſhe hath made me taſte
Into Diſpayre it would mee drive,
and cleave my hart in twaine:
Or els bereave me of my Wittes
to thinke upon the payne.
I never ſpent one day in Joye
my carefull hart doth know,
Since first I lent my Love to her
by whom my griefe doth growe.
There are not greater paynes aſſignd
for dampned Ghoſtes in hell:
Then I do ſuffer for her ſake,
that I do love ſo well.
The Pryce that I have paid for love
not many men do gyve.
But I my Bargayne ſhall repent
as longe as I do lyve.
I payde for love and that full deare
yet I receyve right nought,
I never was ſo much deceyved
in any thynge I bought.
If everie woman on her friend
ſuch pitie uſe to take,
Then ſhortly men wyll ron to love,
as Beares unto a ſtake.
But now let Venus fire her forge
let Cupids Shafte be ſent:
They can no more encreaſe my woe
for all my Love is ſpent.
But here good Reader thou maiſt ſee
how Love hath paide my hyre,
To leave mee burnyng in the flame,
compeld to blow the fyre.
But if that thou good frende deſire
to lyve in happy ſtate,
Then ſeeke in time leſt thou miſtep,
Repentance comes too late.
Frequent not Womens company
but ſee thou from them ſwerve
For thy Rewarde ſhall be but ſmal,
whatever thou deſerve.
Take heede for thou maiſt come in thrall
Before that thou beware:
And when thou art entangled once
thou canſt not flie the ſnare.
Take thou not this to be a Jest,
but thinke it to be true,
Before thou prove as I have done,
leaſt proofe do make thee rew.
Yet if thou chaunce to place thy love
take heede what thou doeſt ſaie:
And ſee thou place thy talke in Print
or els beware a fraie.
And thus I ende: not doubtyng but
theſe wordes may well ſuffice,
To warne thy gredie hart of harme
and eaſe thy roving eyes.
Eaſe by Diſeaſe,
hath made me to halt,
Time hath ſo turned
my Suger to Salt.
Finis. R. Witc.
Imprinted at London, by Richard Johnfes.