A4r

To the worshipfull
and right vertuous yong Gentylman,
George Mainwaring
Esquier: Is. W. wissheth happye
health with good succsesse in all
his godly affayres.

When I (good M. Mainwaring)
 had made this simple
Nosegaye: I was in minde to
bestow the same on som dere frind,
of which number I have good occasion
to accompt you chiefe: But waying with my
selfe, that although the Flowers bound in the same
were good: yet so little of my labour was in them
that they were not (as I wysht they should) to bee
exteemed as recompence for the least of a great number
of benefits, which I have frōom time to time (even
from our Childhood hitherto) receaved of you: yet
least by me, you might be occasiōonned to say, as Antipater
 said [Gap in transcription—damaged2 letters] Demades of Athens, that
he should never [Gap in transcription—damaged3 letters] him with geveing, I woulde to
shew my selfe satisfied, gratifye your Guifts, and
also by the same, make a confession: that by deedes
you have deserved benefits: which as Diogenes A.ijii. saith) A4v
saith) is more worth then the geving or unworthy
receaving of many: But ceasing to seeke by benefits
(which to do is not alotted me) to accquit your curtesies,
I come to presēent you like the pore man which
having no goods, came with his hands full of water
to meete the Persian Prince withal, who respecting
the good wyll of the man: did not disdayne his simple
Guift: even so, I being willinge to bestow some
Present on you, by the same thinking to make part
of amendes for the much that you have merited, to
perfourme the dutie of a friend, to expresse the good
wyll that should rest in Countrie folke, & not havyng
of mine owne to discharg that I go about (like
to that poore Fellow which wente into an others
ground for his water) did step into an others garden
for these Flowers: which I beseech you (as Darius
 did,) to accepte: and though they be of an others
growing, yet considering they be of my owne
gathering and makeing, doe respect my labour and
regard my good wil, and not onely receave them, but
vouchsave to be a protector of them from the spightful,
which (perhaps) wil env[Gap in transcription—one to two charactersdamaged] that I either presented
you, or gathered them, before they had done one,
or both: and so might spoyle the Nosegay, and not
to let it come so happili unto your handes, as I wish
it mai. And though the Garden of your godly mind
be full fraught with vertuous Flowers, which I know A5r
know in your infancie to take roote, and which all
may see now to florish, with an undoubted hope of
their yeelding fruite hereafter: yet ordaine to smell
to these, and when you come into a pestilent aire that
might infect your sound minde: yet favour to these
slips in which I trust you shall finde safety: And
yf you take pleasure in them, I shal not only be occasioned
to endevour my selfe to make a further viage
for a more dayntier thing (then Flowers are) to present
you withall: but also have good hope that you
wil accept this my labour, for recompence of al that
which you are unrecompenced for, as knoweth god:
who I beseeche geve unto you a longe and a lucky
lyfe with increase of all your vertuous studies.

From Abchurch Lane, the
1573-10-1010. of October. 1573.
By your welwillyng
Countriwoman.

Is.Isabella W.Whitney

A.v. ¶To A5v

The Auctor to the Reader.

This Harvest tyme, I Harvestlesse,

and servicelesse also:

And subject unto sicknesse, that

abrode I could not go.

Had leasure good, (though learning lackt)

some study to apply:

To reade such Bookes, wherby I thought

my selfe to edyfye.

Somtime the Scriptures I perusd,

but wantyng a Devine:

For to resolve mee in such doubts,

as past this head of mine

To understand: I layd them by,

and Histories gan read:

Wherin I found that follyes earst,

in people did exceede.

The which I see doth not decrease,

in this our present time

More pittie it is we folow them,

in every wicked crime.

I straight wart wery of those Bookes,

and many other more,

As Virgill, Ovid, Mantuan,

which many wonders [Gap in transcription—damaged3 letters]e.

And to refresh my ma[Gap in transcription—damaged3 letters] muse,

and cheare my brused brayne:

And for to trye if that my limmes.

had got their strength agayne

I walked A6r

I walked out: but sodenly

a friend of mine mee met:

And sayd, if you regard your health:

out of this Lane you get.

And shift you to some better aire,

for feare to be infect:

With noysome smell and savours yll,

I wysh you that respect.

And have regard unto your health,

or els perhaps you may:

So make a dye, and then adieu,

your wofull friends may say.

I thankt him for his carefulnes,

and this for answer gave:

I’le neither shun, nor seeke for death,

yet oft the same I crave.

By reason of my lucklesse lyfe,

beleeve me this is true:

In that (sayd he) you doo a misse,

than bad he mee adieu.

For he was hastyng out of Towne,

and could no longer byde:

And I went home, all sole alone,

good Fortune was my guyde.

And though she never hath denyde,

to hoyce mee on her Wheele:

Yet now she stood me in some stede,

and made mee pleasures feele.

For she to Plat his Plot mee brought,

where fragrant Flowers abound:

They A6v

The smell whereof prevents ech harme,

if yet your selfe be found.

Amongst those Beds so bravely deckt,

with every goodly Flower:

And Bankes and Borders finely framde,

I mee reposde one howre.

And longer wolde, but leasure lackt,

and businesse bad mee hye:

And come agayne some other time,

to fill my gasing eye.

Though loth: yet at the last I went,

but ere I parted thence:

A slip I tooke to smell unto,

which might be my defence.

In stynking streetes, or lothsome Lanes

which els might mee infect:

And sence that time, I ech day once

have viewd that brave prospect.

And though the Master of the same,

I yet dyd never see:

It seemes he is a Gentylman,

and full of courteseye:

For none that with good zeale doth come,

doo any one resist:

And such as wyll with order get,

may gather wilst they list.

Then pyttie were it to destroy,

what he with payne did plant.

The moderate heere may be suffizde,

and he no whit shall want.

And A7r

And for my part, I may be bolde,

to come when as I wyll:

Yea, and to chuse of all his Flowers,

which may my fancy fill.

And now I have a Nosegay got,

that would be passing rare:

Yf that to sort the same aright,

weare lotted to my share.

But in a bundle as they bee,

(good Reader them accept:

It is the gever: not the guift,

thou oughtest to respect,

And for thy health, not for thy eye,

did I this Posye frame:

Because my selfe did safety finde,

by smelling to the same.

But as we are not all alyke,

nor of complexion one:

So that which helpeth some we see,

to others good doth none.

I doo not say, it dyd mee help,

I no infection felt:

But sure I think they kept mée free,

because to them I smelt.

And for because I lyke them well,

and good have found therby:

I for good wyll, doo geve them thée,

fyrst tast and after trye.

But yf thy mind infected be,

then these wyll not prevayle:

Syr A7v

Sir Medicus with stronger Earbes,

thy malladye must quayle.

For these be but to keepe thee sound,

which if thou use them well:

(Paynes of my lyfe) in healthy state

thy mind shall ever dwell.

Or if that thy complexion,

with them doo not agree:

Refer them to some friend of thine,

tyll thou their vertue see.

And this I pray thee, whether thou

infected wast afore:

Or whether with thy nature strong,

they can agree no more.

That thou my Nosegay not misuse,

but leave it to the rest:

A number may such pleasure finde,

to beare it in their brest.

And if thy selfe wolde gather more,

then I have herein bound:

My counsell is that thou repayre,

To Master Plat his ground.

And gather there what I dyd not,

perhaps thy selfe may light:

On those which for the fitter are,

then them which I resighte.

Which if thou doo, then render thanks,

to him which sowed the soyle:

If not, thou nedes must him commend,

when as thou viewst his toyle.

In A8r

In any wise, be chary that

thou lettest in no Swine:

No Dog to scrape, nor beast that doth

to ravin styll inclyne.

For though he make no spare of them,

to such as have good skyll:

To slip, to shere, or get in time,

and not his braunches kyll:

Yet barres he out, such gréedy guts,

as come with spite to toote.

And without skill, both Earb & Flower

pluck rashly by the roote.

So wishing thee, to finde such flowers,

as may thee comfort bring:

And eke that he which framd the Plot,

with vertues styll may spring.

I thee commend to mighty Jove,

and thus I thée assure:

My Nosegay wyll increase no payne,

though sicknes none it cure.

Wherfore, if thou it hap to weare

and feele thy selfe much worse:

Promote mee for no Sorceresse,

nor doe mée ban or curse.

For this I say the Flowers are good,

which I on thee bestow:

As those which weare them to the stalkes,

shall by the sequell know.

One A8v

One word, and then adieu to thee,

yf thou to Plat his Plot

Repayre: take héede it is a Maze

to warne thée I forgot.

Finis. quod Is.Isabella W.Whitney

T. B. in commendation of the
Authour.

Marching among the woods of fine delighte

Where as the Laurell branch doth bring
increase

See loe, of Ladies fresh, a solem sight:

I viewd, whose walkes betokened all their ease:

And how in friendly wise, it did them please:

While some did twist the Silke of lively hewe

Some others slipt the Braunch for prayses dew.

Nor musing did not rest, nor scorne my sight,

nor prest in haste to breake their silence I

But as at first, they held their whole delight:

and casting mirth, said Friend that passest by:

did never wrethes of love thee binde perdy

As thus: who framde her Plot in Garlands wise

So orderly, as best she might devise.

Not B1r

Not yet (quoth I,) but you might force the same

whose face doth staine the colour red as Rose:

No Virgill this, nor Ovid eke may blam,

For Beautie pressing as the Cunduit floes,

Was cause that Paris greatest loves arose:

who lov’d before, though never touched soe,

As Ovid showes, with many writers moe.

But Ladies sure, my love consistes in this

my whole delight, and pleasure all I take

To decke the wight, that worthie praises is:

and sure my great good wyll must never slake

From Whitney: loe, herein some partie take

For in her worke is plainly to be seène,

Why Ladies place in Garlands Laurell greene.

She flattering Fate too much, nor skies doth trust:

suche labor lîeth finisht with the lyfe:

She never did accompt Dame Fortune just,

that tosseth us with toyes and plunges rife:

But her defieth, as Auctor of her stryfe:

She doth not write the brute or force in Armes,

Nor pleasure takes, to sing of others harmes,

But mustred hath, and wrapped in a packe

a heape of Flowers of Philosophie:

No braunche of perfect wisdome here doth lacke,

But that the brused mynde, refresht may bee,

B.i. And B1v

And that it is no fable, you shall see:

For here at large the sequell will declare

To Cuntrey warde, her love and friendly care.

The smelling Flowers of an Arbor sweete,

An Orcharde pickt, presented is to thee:

And for her seconde worke, she thought it meete,

sithe Maides with loftie stile may not agree:

In hoape hereby, somthynge to pleasure thee,

And when her busie care from head shall lurke,

She practize will, and promise longer worke.

Now happie Dames, if good deserveth well,

her praise for Flowers philosophicall:

And let your Branches twyned that excell

her head adorne: wherin she floorish shall:

And berrie so, restes alwaies at your call,

The purple blew, the red, the white I have,

To wrappe amyd your Garlands fresh & brave.

Finis. Tho. Bir.

¶A sweete B2r

A sweet Nosgay,
Or pleasant Posye: contayning a
hundred and ten Phylosophicall
Flowers, &c.

The I. flower.

Such freendes as have ben absent
long

more joyful be at meeting

Then those which ever presēent are

and dayly have their greetyng.

The II

When peryls they are present, then

doth absence keepe thee free:

Whereas, if that thou present werte

might dangers light on thee.

The III.

The presence of the mynd must be

preferd, if we do well:

Above the bodyes presence; for

it farre doth it excell.

B.ii. The B2v

The IIII.

Yet absēence, sōomtimes bringeth harme,

when Freends but fickle are:

For new acquaintāance purchase place

and old doo lose their share.

The V.

What profit things that we posses

doo by their presence bring

We can not know: til by their lacke,

we feele what harmes do spring.

The. VI.

For to abound in every thing,

and not their use to know:

It is a pinching penury:

wherfore, thy goods, bestow.

The VII.

A saying olde, once out of sight,

and also out of minde:

These contraries, that absent frends

much joy at meeting finde.

The VIII.

Well yet, for the Antiquitie,

it grew amongst the rest:

And true it proves, by those whose
minds

Oblivion hath possest.

The B3r

The IX.

Care not how mani things thou hast

but have a great regarde:

That they be good, for quantytie,

doth merite no rewarde.

The X.

Yet so thou must increase thy stock

as cleare thine owne it be:

And neither fleece thy friend, nor seke

thy neighbours beggerye.

The XI

We easely may abuse the great

and chiefest thing of all:

But hard it is to use a right,

such as are trifles small.

The 12.

Our eares we must not ever ope,

to each mans accusation:

Nor without tryall, trust too much,

to any ones perswation.

The 13.

A fault right greater seemeth far,

on the accusers part:

Then it on the Defendants doth

much more should be his smart.

B.iii. ¶The B3v

The 14.

Thy friends admonysh secretly,

of crimes to which they swarve:

But prayse them openly, if so be,

their deeds do prayse desarve.

The 15.

In every check, use some faire speach

for words do sooner pearce

That playnly passe, then those which
thou

with rughnesse might reherse.

The 16.

Admonisht be with willingnesse,

and paciently abyde

A reprehension, for such faults,

as friends in thee have spide.

The 17.

Those precepts which in youthfull
yeares

are printed in thy brest:

Wyll deepest dive, and do more good

then ever shall the rest.

The 18.

You must not suffer youth to raing

nor stray abrode at wyll:

For libertye doth lewdnesse breed,

wherfore prevent that yll.

¶The B4r

The 19.

The vigor of our youth, no whit

doth differ from the Flower:

Which for a time doth florish fayre,

and quickly lose his power.

The 20.

Whilst thou art yong, remember that

thyne Age approcheth fast:

And folow thou the steps of such,

whose lyfe doth ever last.

The 21.

In youth to thee such learning get

as it may make thee wise:

So people shall in elder yeares,

come seeke thy sage advise.

The 22.

The inclinations of our youth,

desyres that thence doth spring:

Foreshew what fruict in future tyme

our ripened age wyll bring.

The 23.

No hope of goodnesse can be had

of hym, who spends his prime,

In living so lycentious,

that he respects no crime.

B.iiii. ¶The B4v

The 24.

That mind which sensual appetites

in youth doth blyndly guyd:

To Age do bodyes yeld deformde,

because they wandred wyde.

The 25.

How vaine it is for crooked Age

his youth for to requyre:

So ist for youth that childish yeares

would willingly desire.

The 26.

Olde people deeme them nearer death

then those that youthfull seeme

But youth is proaner to his end,

and lesse doth lyfe esteeme,

The 27.

Great cruelty it is for us,

to use a churlysh check

To any, when adversitie,

hath brought them to a wreck.

The 28.

None in adversitie hath help,

except they prospered have

And by that menes have purchast frends

of whom they ayde may crave.

¶The B5r

The 29.

If miserie thou wouldest not know,

live dangerlesse thou must

Or els to taste of troubles great

thou shalt, though thou wert just.

The 30.

Prosperitie wyll get thee friends,

but povertie wyll crie

For then, except they faythfull are

apace from thee they flye.

The 31.

Tis better with the truth offend,

then please with flatteryng words

For truth at lēength shal kepe thee safe

when tother cuttes lyke swords.

The 32.

To all men be thou liberall,

but use to flatter none,

Nor be familyer but with few

which nomber make but one.

The 33.

A fawning frende wyll at the length

a frowning foe approve

The hate of such is better sure,

then their deceatefull love.

B.v. ¶The B5v

The 34.

She that is an Adulteresse

of evylles is a sea:

Her wickednesse consumes her selfe

and husband doth decay.

The 35.

Men doo by emulation,

of others, prove the same

In every yll as custome is,

so commonly we frame.

The 36.

Those strokes which mates in mirth
do geve

do seeme to be but light:

Although somtyme, they leve a signe

seemes grevous to the sight.

The 37.

All men thou shalt thine equal make

if thou such playnesse use

As thou not fearest, nor yet art feard,

nor art, nor doest abuse.

The 38.

Whylst haires are hidden craftely

Age doth himselfe bewray:

For wyll we, nyl we, h’eele appeare,

when youth is chaste away.

¶The B6r

The 39.

Children are lykened to the spring

and Stripplings to the Sommer.

And yongmēen, thet ar Autumpne like

and olde men wery winter.

The 40.

Have thou accesse alwayes to such

let such resort to thee:

As temper all their talk with truth,

and are from envie free.

The 41.

When Bretheren be at varience,

how should the enemyes gree?

When frends fall out among them:
selves

who shal their dais men be?

The 42.

A friendly mind, accoumpt it for

the neerest of thy kyn:

When al shal fayle, it sticks to thee,

what ever chaunce hath byn.

The 43.

Affection is of force so stronge,

that other qualities:

He deemeth to be lyke himselfe,

and doth no worse surmise.

¶The B6v

The. 44.

Let thine affections ruled be,

least that they do thee rule:

For then no strength wil thee availe

nor back canst thou recule.

The. 45.

The sorowfull do think it death,

to linger in this lyfe:

And wish to be desolv’d therof,

therby to stint their stryfe.

The. 6446.

What s’ere it bee that doubtful is,

grauntes health th’aflicted tyll:

He utterly denyes that he,

to health restore him wyll.

The. 47.

The Plowman is accompted smal

his reputation none:

Yet of the members in a Realme

of chiefest he is one:

The. 48.

☞At dice playing, he that excelles

and counningstly can play:

In my conceat, for wickednes,

may beare the price away.

¶The B7r

The. 49.

Prease not too hie, but have regarde

yf thou should chaunce to fall:

From hie might kyl, frōom mean might
hurt

alow stand sure thou shall.

The. 50.

The man that is ambicious,

doth lose such honour oft:

As he hath got, whēen Fortune pleasd.

to set him up aloft:

The. 51.

When Potentats ambicious are,

the poore men, they are wrackt,

When Realmes devide within them
selves

no cities are unsackt.

The. 52.

He that is voyd of any friend,

him company to keepe:

Walkes in a world of wyldernesse,

full fraught with dangers deepe.

The. 53.

Judge of a friend ere friendship be

but when thou hast him tryde:

Then maist thou trust,; eke beleeve

as thou his doyngs spyde.

¶The B7v

The 54.

The falt which in thy frend, thou seemst

to suffer, or permit:

Thou gilty art, therof thy selfe,

not punishing of it.

The 55.

So oft as faithfull friends depart

so oft to dye they seeme:

To seperate, the griefe is great,

but absence is extreeme.

The 56.

☞Accompt so ever of thy friend,

As he thy foe may frame

So beare thee, that in enmytie,

he thee procure no shame.

The 57.

To all men use thou equytye,

show faith unto thy friende

In every thyng that thou pretendst,

do styll respect the ende.

The 58.

By benefits unto thy friende,

show thyne abilytie:

And that thy foes may know the same

thine Injuryes let flye.

¶The B8r

The 59.

Al things with frends in cōommon are

at least it should be so

That pleasures might imparted bee

so like wise grief, or woe.

The 60.

The poore, they have no frends at al

for to participate,

The sorow and the griefe they finde

in their most wretched state.

The 61.

In loving, ech one hath free choyce,

or ever they begin,

But in their power it lyeth not,

to end when they are in.

The 62.

The angry lover flattereth

himselfe with many lyes:

And fondly feedeth on such toyes

as fancy doth devise.

The 63.

Ech lover knoweth what he lykes

and what he doth desire,

But seld, or never doth he know,

what thing he should require.

¶The B8v

The .64.

In time, may love, by peecemeale
weare

and wither cleane away:

But presently to pluck his rootes,

in vayne you do assay.

The .65.

The lovers teres, wil soone appease

his Ladyes angry moode:

But men will not be pacified,

if Wemen weepe a flood.

The .66.

As Poets fayne, the Gods thēemselves

in love could use no wyt:

Then mortall men may be allowde,

such follyes to commit.

The 67.

The yongmen when they are in love

may profit gaine therby:

But in the oulde, it is a fault

for they should love defye.

The 68.

If love have geven thee a blow,

and that thou art unfound,

Make meanes that thou a plaster have,

of them which gave the wound.

¶The C1r

The 69.

When secret love once kindled is,

twill burne with fiercest flame:

The surest way to be beloved,

is fyrst to doo the same.

The .70.

The lover which doth looke aloft.

and doth submission hate:

Shal have a slip, or answered be,

that he is come to late.

The .71.

Who s’ere thy be, the lawes of love

hath guided for a season:

It is a doubt, that never more.

they will be ruld by reason.

The 72.

☞The cough it is so cumbersome,

that none the same can hide:

So love ful fraught with foolish toies

may easely be espyde.

The 73.

The formost step to wisdome is,

from love to keep thee free:

The second for to love so close,

that none the same may see.

C.i. ¶The C1v

The .74.

An olde man when he is in love,

of him this may we deeme:

Of all hard haps and chaunces fel,

he hath the most extreeme.

The .75.

The love of wicked persons must,

be got by wicked meanes:

Make thine accompt, when thou hast
done

and geve the devil the gaines.

The .76.

Affection fond deceaves the wise

and love mase men such noddyes

That to their seluuves they seeme as
dead

yet live in other boddies,

The .77.

A vertuous man, that hath the feare

of God: before his eyes:

Is sure in safetie for to walke,

for all his enemyes.

The .78.

No credit geve, or not to much,

to that which thou doest heare,

If that out of a troubled minde

thou spyest it to appeare.

¶The C2r

The .79.

The bow that ever standeth bent

too far wyll never cast

The mind which evermore is slack,

doth badly prove at last.

The .80.

Such minds, as are disposed wel

brings wanderers to the way:

And redy are with helping hand,

to such as go astray.

The .81.

Of worldly things, the chiefest is

a well contented mind:

That doth dispise for to aspyre,

nor gapeth gifts to fynde.

The .82.

If thou doest yll, it forceth not

what mind thouu shewest therto,

Because thy mind cannot be seene,

but that which thou doest do.

The .83.

A lothsome sight, God knowes it is

a fickle mind to see:

It shuld be pure for to reject,

that vile impuritie.

C.ii. C2v

The .84.

Our yeares & dayes war worse and
worse

more grevous is our sorow:

He thats unfyt to mend to day,

wyll worser be to morow.

The .85.

The present dai we cannot spend

as we the same should do

Except to count it as our last,

we frame our selves unto.

The .86.

As ours do please some other men,

so theirs doo us delight:

Which shews our yl cōontented mind

that often works us spight.

The .87.

He that with his owne weapon is

dispatched of his lyfe:

Twice slayne he is, because himself

was kyld with his owne knyfe.

The .88.

Those promises which are forgot,

be not for aye neglect

They may perfourmed be at last,

and have their full effect:

¶The C3r

The .89.

A miserable griefe it is,

by him to have a harme

On whōom we dare not once cōomplaine

nor can our selves him charme.

The .90.

Their sight is weake, that waxeth dim

to see another blinde

And very little comfort shall,

th’ afflicted by them finde.

The .91.

A pleasure yll, and profyt none

it is, delight to make,

In th’use of any neighbours goods

for which they paynes did take.

The .92.

He is not much deceiv’d, whose sute

full quickly hath denyall

Nor can he say, that he had cause,

to linger for the tryall.

The .93.

Full hard it is, and hazard great

to keepe for any while:

A thing that ech one lusteth for

for some wyll thee beguile.

C.iii. ¶The C3v

The .94.

Do not accompt that for thine owne,

which may from thee be take:

But much exteeme such tresure, as

wyll never thee forsake.

The .95.

The day doth dally so with us:

that we can never know:

For, what to wish, from what to flie

what workes us weale or woe.

The .96.

He doth not soone to ruyne come

that feares it ere it fall:

But may provide it to prevent,

if Fortune graunt he shall.

The .97.

Ask nothing of thy neighbour, that

thou woldst not let him have:

Nor say him nay, of that which thou

woldst get, if thou didst crave.

The .98.

If that thonu minded are to geve

aske not if they wyll have it

For so, they eyther must denye

or seeme that they do crave it.

The C4r

The .99.

It gloryous is, to geve all things

to him that naught doth crave:

So lykewise let him nothing get

that every thing would have.

The .100.

Whilst that thou hast fre libertie

to do what lykes thee best:

Thou soone mayest se into thy selfe

what disposytion rest.

The .1001101.

That Lawyer, which is chose to
plead

for rich & mighty men:

Must either let the trueth go by,

or lose their friendship then.

The .1002102.

A little gould in law wyll make,

thy matter better speede:

Then yf thou broughtest of love as
much

as might in kindreds breed.

The .1003103.

Gold savours wel though it be got

with occupations vile:

Yf thou hast gold, thou welcōome art,

though vertue thou exyle.

C.iiii. ¶The C4v

The .1004104.

Such poore folke as to law do goe,

are dryven oft to curse:

But in meane while, the Lawyer
thrusts

the mony in his purse.

The 1005105.

A hasty tonge, which runs at large

not knowing any measure,

It is a wicked thing that makes

the minde repent at leasure.

The .1006106.

Two eyes, two ears, & but one tong

Dame nature hath us framed

That we might se, and heare much
more

thēen shuld with tōong be named.

The .1007107.

Kepe wel thy tong, & kepe thi frind

yll usde, it causeth foes

In uttryng things, commit to thee

thou faithfull friends doest lose.

The .1008108.

Seke not ech man to plese, for that

is more then & God bids do:

Please thou the best & never care,

what wicked say therto.

¶The C5r

The .1009109.

Of wicked men to be dispraysd,

for prayse do it accompt:

If they commend, then art thou mad

so doth their credit mount.

The .10010110.

When as the wicked are in midst

of all their jolitye:

Misfortune standeth at the dore,

and skornes the same to see.

Finis.

A soveraigne receypt.

The Juce of all these Flowers take,

and make thee a conserve:

And use it firste and laste: and it

wyll safely thee preserve.

By Is. W. Gent.

¶A farewell to the Reader.

Good Reader now you tasted have,

and smelt of all my Flowers:

The which to get some payne I tooke,

and travayled many houres.

C.v. I must C5v

I must request you spoyle them not

nor doo in peeces teare them:

But if thy selfe doo lothe the sent.

geve others leave to weare them.

I shall no whit be discontent,

for nothyng is so pure:

But one, or other will mislyke

therof we may be sure.

Yf he for whom I gathered them,

take pleasure in the same;

And that for my presumption,

my Friends doo not mee blame.

And that the favour take effecte,

in such as I doo know:

And bring no harme to any els,

in place where it shal goe.

And that when I am distant farre,

it worne be for my sake:

That some may say, God speede her well

that dyd this Nosegay make.

And eke that he who ought the Plot,

wherein they same dyd grow:

Fume not to see them borne aboute,

and wysh he did mee know.

And say in rage were she a man,

that with my Flowers doth brag,

She well should pay the price, I wolde

not leave her worth a rag.

If as I say, no harmes doo hap,

but that this well may speede:

My C6r

My mind is fully satisfyed,

I crave none other meede.

So wishing thee no worse then those,

of whom I think none yll:

I make an end and thee commend,

the liveing Lorde untyll.

Finis. Is. W.

Certain familier
Epistles and friendly Letters
by the Auctor: with Replies.

To her Brother. G. W.

Good Brother whēen a vacāant time

doth cause you hence to ryde:

And that the fertyl feelds do make,

you from the Cittie byde.

Then cāannot I once from you heare

nor know I how to send:

Or where to harken of your health

and al this would be kend.

And most of me, for why I least,

of fortunes favour fynd:

No yeldyng yeare she me allowes,

nor goodes hath me assind.

C.vi. But C6v

But styll to friends I must appeale

(and next our Parentes deare,)

You are, and must be chiefest staffe

that I shal stay on heare.

Wherfore mine owne good brother
graunt

me when that you ar here:

To se you oft and also hence,

I may have knowledge wheare

A messenger to harke unto,

that I to you may wryte:

And eke of him your answers have

which would my hart delight.

Receave of me, and eke accept,

a simple token beare:

A smell of such a Nosegay as

I do for present beare,

Unto a vertuous Ladye, which

tyll death I honour wyll:

The losse I had of service hers,

I languish for it styll.

Your lovyng (though lucklesse)
Sister,

Is. W.

¶To C7r

To her Brother. B. W.

Good Brother Brooke, I often looke,

to heare, of your returne:

But none can tell, if you be well,

nor where you doo sojurne:

Which makes me feare, that I shall heare

your health appaired is:

And oft I dread, that you are dead,

or somthyng goeth amys.

Yet when I thinke, you can not shrinke,

but must with Maister bee:

I have good hope when you have scope,

you wyll repaire to mee.

And so the feare, and deepe dispaire,

that I of you then had

I dryve away: and wysh that day

wherein we may be glad.

Glad for to see, but els for mee:

wyll be no joy at all:

For on my side, no lucke wyll byde,

nor happye chaunce befall.

As you shall know, for I wyll show,

you more when we doo speake,

Then wyll I wryt, or yet resyte,

within this Paper weake.

And so I end, and you commend,

to him that guides the skyes:

Who graunt you health, & send you welth,

no lesse then shall suffice.

Your loving Sister.

Is,Isabella W.Whitney

¶An C7v

An order prescribed, by Is.Isabella W.Whitney
to two of her yonger Sisters
servinge in London.

Good Sisters mine, when I

shal further from you dwell:

Peruse these lines, observe the
rules

which in the same I tell.

So shal you wealth posses,

and quietnesse of mynde:

And al your friends to se the same,

a treble joy shall fynde.

1. ¶

In mornings when you ryse,

forget not to commende:

Your selves to God, beseching him

from dangers to defende.

Your soules and boddies both,

your Parents and your friends:

Your teachers and your governers

so pray you that your ends,

May be in such a sort,

as God may pleased bee:

To live to dye, to dye to live,

with him eternally.

2.¶Then C8r

2. ¶

Then justly do such deedes,

as are to you assynde:

All wanton toyes, good sisters now

exile out of your minde,

I hope you geve no cause,

wherby I should suspect:

But this I know too many live,

that would you soone infect.

Yf God do not prevent,

or with his grace expell:

I cannot speake, or wryte to much,

because I love you well.

3. ¶

Your busines soone dispatch,

and listen to no lyes:

Nor credit every fayned tale,

that many wyll devise.

For words they are but winde.

yet words may hurt you so:

As you shall never brook the same,

yf that you have a foe.

God shyld you from all such,

as would by word or Byll.

Procure your shame, or never cease

tyll they have wrought you yll.

¶See C8v

4. ¶

See that you secrets seale,

tread trifles under ground:

Yf to rehersall oft you come,

it wyl your quiet wound.

Of laughter be not much,

nor over solemne seeme:

For then be sure th’eyle coumpt you
light

or proud wil you exteeme.

Be modest in a meane,

be gentyll unto all:

Though cause thei geve of contrari

yet be to wrath no thrall.

Refer you all to hym,

that sits above the skyes:

Vengeance is his, he wil reveng,

you need it not devise.

5. ¶

And sith that vertue guides,

where both of you do dwell:

Geve thanks to God, & painful bee

to please your rulers well.

For fleetyng is a foe,

experience hath me taught:

The rolling stone doth get no mosse

your selves have hard full oft.

Your D1r

Your businesse being done,

and this my scroule perusd,

The day wyll end, and that the night

by you be not abusde.

I some thing nedes must write,

take paynes to read the same:

Hencefoorth my lyfe as wel as Pen

shall your examples frame.

6. ¶

Your Masters gon to Bed,

your Mistresses at rest.

Their Daughters all with hast about

to get themselves undrest.

See that their Plate be safe,

and that no Spoone do lacke,

See Dores & Windowes bolted fast

for feare of any wrack.

Then help yf neede ther bee,

to doo some housholde thing:

Yf not to bed, referring you,

unto the heavenly King.

Forgettyng not to pray

as I before you taught,

And geveing thanks for al that he,

hath ever for you wrought.

D.i. good D1v

Good Sisters when you pray,

let me remembred be:

So wyll I you, and thus I cease,

tyll I your selves do see.

() Is.Isabella WWhitney.

To her Sister Misteris A. B.

Because I to my Brethern wrote,

and to my Sisters two:

Good Sister Anne, you this might wote,

yf so I should not doo

To you, or ere I parted hence,

You vainely had bestowed expence.

Yet is it not for that I write,

for nature dyd you bynde:

To doo mee good: and to requight,

hath nature mee inclynde:

Wherfore good Sister take in gree,

These simple lynes that come from mee.

Wherin I wish you Nestors dayes,

in happye health to rest:

With such sucesse in all assayes,

as those which God hath blest:

Your D2r

Your Husband with your prety Boyes,

God keepe them free from all annoyes.

And graunt if that my luck it bee,

to linger heere so long:

Til they be men: that I may see,

for learning them so strong:

That they may march amongst the best,

Of them which learning have possest.

By that tyme wyl my aged yeares

perhaps a staffe require:

And quakyngly as styll in feares,

my lims draw to the fire:

Yet joy I shall them so to see,

Yf any joy in age there bee.

Good Sister so I you commend,

to him that made us all:

I know you huswyfery intend,

though I to writing fall:

Wherfore no lenger shall you stay,

From businesse, that profit may.

Had I a Husband, or a house,

and all that longes therto

My selfe could frame about to rouse,

as other women doo:

But til some houshold cares mee tye,

My bookes and Pen I wyll apply.

Your loving Sister.

Is. W.

D.ii.
¶To
D2v

To her Cosen. F. W.

Good Cosin myne, I hope in
helth

and safety you abyde.

And sore I long, to here if yet

you are to wedlock tyde.

Yf so you to be, God graunt that well

both you and she it spend:

If not when s’ere it haps, I wish

that God much joy you send.

And when you to the Cuntry come

or thither chaunce to send:

Let me you see, or have some scroll,

that shall of you be pend.

And this accompt as nature binds

and meryts yours deserve:

I Cosin am, and faithfull friend,

not minding once to swerve.

So wishing you as happy health,

as ever man possest:

I end, and you commyt to him

that evermore is blest.

Your poore Kinsewoman, Is.Isabella WWhitney.
¶A D3r

¶A carefull complaynt by the
unfortunate Auctor.

Good Dido stint thy teares,

and sorrowes all resigne

To mee: that borne was to augment,

missfortunes lucklesse line.

Or using styll the same,

good Dido doo thy best:

In helpyng to bewayle the hap,

that furthereth mine unrest.

For though thy Troyan mate,

that Lorde Æneas hight:

Requityng yll thy sted fast love,

from Carthage tooke his flight.

And fowly brake his oth,

and promise made before:

Whose falshode finisht thy delight,

before thy haires were hore.

Yet greater cause of griefe

compells mee to complayne:

For Fortune fell converted hath,

My health to heapes of payne.

And that she sweares my death,

to playne it is (alas)

Whose end let malyce styll attempt,

to bring the same to passe.

O Dido thou hadst liv’de,

a happye Woman styll,

If fickle fancie had not thrald

thy wits: to retchlesse wyll.

D.iii. For D3v

For as the man by whom,

thy deadly dolors bred:

Without regard of plighted troth.

from Carthage Citie fled.

So might thy cares in tyme,

be banisht out of thought:

His absence might well salve the sore,

that earst his presence wrought.

For fyre no lenger burnes,

then Faggots feede the flame:

The want of things that breede annoy,

may soone redresse the same.

But I unhappy moste,

and gript with endles griefes:

Dispayre (alas) amid my hope,

and hope with out reliefe.

And as the sweltyng heate,

consumes the War away:

So doo the heapes of deadly harmes,

styll threaten my decay.

O Death delay not long,

thy dewtye to declare:

Ye Sisters three dispatch my dayes

and finysh all my care.

() Is.Isabella W.Whitney

¶In D4r

In answer to comfort her, by shewyng
his haps to be harder.

Friend IsIsabella be now content, & let my sorowes
quell

the extreame rage, & care thou restest in:

For wayling sprights, ne furies fearce in hell:

nor grisley soules, that styll in woe have bin:

Have ever felt lyke stormes that I sustayne,

frownst so I am, and duld in deepe dispaire,

That sure (mee thinks), my extreme raging payne:

might gaine thee helth: & set thee free from fere.

For Dido, thou, and many thousands more,

which living feele the panges of extreme care,

Though tottered much; and torne in peeces smal:

whom ever griping death doth never spare.

Nor he, that falsley, Carthage Citie fled,

so fraught with wiles, nor ye such sorowes tast:

By thousand partes, as I who rightly sed:

do pine as wax before the fire wastes.

I freece to yce, I heate with perching son,

and torne with teene, thus languishing in paine,

Doo feele my sorowes ever fresher run:

to flowing cares, that endles sorowes gaine.

For what, for whom, and why this evyll woorks

frind Is.Isabella W.Whitney, time, nor silence; may it show

But once ere many dayes, my care that lurks,

shall blowne be, and thou the same shalt know.

D.iiij. Tyll D4v

Till then, with silly Dido be content,

and rip no more, thy wronges in such excesse:

Thy Fortune rather, wills thee to lament,

with speedy wit, til hope may have redresse.

* Finis. () T. B.

¶A Replye to the same.

The bitter force of Fortunes frowardnesse,

is painted out by B. his changed hew:

Report bewrayes, that tirants doublenesse,

which I by triall, prove (alas) to true.

constraynde I am, on thy mishaps to rue:

As oft as I consider thine estate,

Which differs far, from that thou wast of late.

Where be thy wonted lively lookes becom?

or what mischāance hath dimd thy beauty so

There is no God that deales such doutful dom

No Jubpiter hath brought thee down so low:

thy haples fate, hath wroght thy overthro

For as Saturnus reaves the Berryes joy,

So Fortune strives, to further thine annoy.

O Fortune falce, O thrice unstedy joyes

Why doth not man mistrust thy sutle shoes

Whose profers prove in time to be but toies

is this the fruit that from your blossom groes

then may you rightly be cōompard with those

Whose D5r

whose painted spech, professeth frindship stil

but time bewrayes the meaning to be yll.

For time that shewes, what erst I could not see

Hath brought about, that I suspected least:

Complayning still on our simplicitye

Who hedlong runs, as doth that carles beast

til hūunters snares, have laid his lims to rest

For whēen we lest mistrust & drede deceit

Then are we snard, with unsuspected bait.

As lately unto thee it did be fall,

whose hap enforceth me to rue thy chance

For thou that florisht earst at beautyes stal:

Hath felt the force of froward Fortunes lance

Compeld to furnish out misfortunes dance

See heere the suertie that belongeth aye,

To mortal joys wheron the world doth stay

But live in hope that better hap may light,

For after stormes Sir Phebus force is seene

So when Saturnus hath declarde his might:

And Winter stints to turne the worlde to teene

then plesāant Ver shal cloth the ground in greene

And lusty May shall labour to restore,

the things that Winters spit had spoyld before

Thēen shal the Berrey cleave her wonted hew,

and eke my B. that long hath tasted payne

When Fortun doth her former grace renew

shal hoysted be to happye state agayne

D.v.v In D5v

Delightyng oft among his friends & Kin,

To tell what danger earst his lyfe was in.

Which happye sight of mortal creturs, who

shal more rejoyce, then I thy friend to see

And while dame fortune, yeelded not therto

but doth proceed: to prove her spite on thee

yet shalt thou not so yll beloved bee,

But that thy Fame, for ever florish shall,

If Is.Isabella her Pen, may promise ought at all.

Farewell.

Is.Isabella W.Whitney to C. B. in bewaylynge
her mishappes.

Yf heavie hartes might serve to be

a sacrifice for sinne:

Or els, if sorowes might suffice,

for what so ere hath byn:

Then mine Oblacion, it weare made,

Whiche longe have lived in Mourners trade.

The dryrie daye in dole (alas)

continuallye I spende:

The noysome nightes, in restlesse Bedde,

I bring unto his ende:

And when the daye appeares agayne,

Then fresh begyn my plaints amayne.

But D6r

But this I feare. wyll sooner cease:

the nomber of my sinne:

Then make amendes, for former misse,

that I have lived in:

Because I take not pacientlye

Correction in adversytie.

Wherfore (my God) geve me that gyfte,

As he dyd Job untyll:

That I may take with quietnesse,

what soever is his wyll:

Then shall my lucklesse lyfe soone ende,

Or frowarde Fortune shall amende.

And for because your sound advice,

may ease me in distresse:

For that two wittes may compasse more

then one, you must confesse:

And that, that burthen dothe not deare,

whiche frende wyll somtyme helpe to beare.

Therfore, in this perplexitie,

To you deare frende I write:

You know mine endlesse miserie,

you know, how some me spite:

With counsell cure, for feare of wracke,

And helpe to beare, that breakes my backe.

So D6v

So wishing you in health to bide,

and troubles not to taste

And geving tendance for your ayde,

which I requier in haste

I cease: and humbly me commend,

To the conducting of my Friende,

Your unfortunate Friend. Is.Isabella W.Whitney

¶In answer by C. B.
To Is.Isabella W.Whitney

Your lamentable letter red,

and finding by the same:

That you my skillesse counsel crave,

to bring you to some frame:

Suche as it is, I redy preste,

Both am, and wyll, to doo my best.

And where as thou in sorow soust

doest pyne thy selfe away:

I wysh thee for to conquer care,

least she bring thy decay:

Those fretting fyts, that thou art in,

Offends the Lord, augmenteth sin.

The heavy hart: and mind opprest,

he never doth reject:

And at what hower we lament,

he doth us styll respect.

Yet D7r

Yet that for sin thou shuldst thee kyll,

Wold both thy soule and body spyll.

But tis not altogether sinne,

that makes you sorow this:

It is because that Fortune she,

doth frowne on you iwis:

Wherfor if you my counsell lyke,

Turne of your teares, and cease to syke.

Impart thy woes, and geve to mée,

the greatest of the same:

Pluck strength thee to: and cherish thée,

to modest mirth now frame:

Then friends and you may worke so well,

That Fortune shal your foes expell.

Yf eveil words and other wants,

have brought thee to this woe:

Remember how that Christ him selfe,

on earth was even so:

Thy Friends that have thee knowne of long,

Wil not regard thy enemies tong.

The vertue that hath ever béene,

within thy tender brest:

Which I from yeare to yeare, have seene,

in all thy deedes exprest:

Doth me perswade thy enemies lye,

And in that quarell would I dye.

¶That D7v

That wisedome which thou doest posses,

is rare for to be founde:

Thy courtesie to every one,

so greatly doth abound.

That those which throwly thée do know,

Wil thee defend from any foe.

Wherfore as earst I write to thee,

pluck up that hart of thine:

And make accompt for friendship, or

for service: els of mine.

I wyl nat fayle for friend or foe,

Thy vertues they doo bind me so.

Thus wishing God to be your guide,

and graunt you Nestors lyfe:

With health and haps, so good as earst,

had any mayde or wyfe.

I end and rest in what he may,

Your friend unto my dyeing day.

By mee C. B.

To my Friend Master T. L. whose good
nature: I see abusde.

Dyd not Dame Seres tell to you?

nor same unto you shew?

What sturdi forms have bin abrod

and who hath playd the shrew.

I thought D8r

I thought the Godesse in your feelds

had helped with your crop:

Or els the same iil you had knowne,

her trump would never stop.

But sith I se their silentnesse,

I cease the same to write:

Least I therfore might be condemd

to do it for a spite.

But this I wish that you my frind

go chuse some vertues wife:

With whōom in feare of God do spend,

the residue of your lyfe

For whylst you are in single state

none hath that right regard:

They think all wel that they can win,

and compt it their reward.

With sorow I to oft have seene,

when some wold fleece you much

And oft in writting wolde I say

good friend beware of such.

But all my wordes they weare as
wind

my labour yll was spent:

And in the end for my good wil,

most cruelly was shent.

Yf D8v

Yf I were boxt and buffeted,

good wyll shall never cease:

Nor hāand, nor tōong, shal so be charmd

to make me holde my peace.

Wherfore I warne you once againe

be warie of your selfe:

For some have sworne to lyke you
well

so long as you have pelfe.

Yf warnings styll you do reject,

to late your selfe shal rew:

Do as you lyst, I wish you well,

and so I say adewe.

Your Wel Willer.

Is.Isabella W.Whitney

¶An other Letter sent to Is.Isabella W.Whitney by
one: to whom shee had written
her infortunate state.

Your Letters (Cosin) scarsley seene,

I catcht into my hand:

In hope therby some happy newes,

from you to understand.

But whēen I had survaid the same, & waid the tenor
well

A hevy heap of sorowes did, mi former joyes expel.

I did E1r

I do rejoyce, as doth the Swanne, who redy for to dye,

with buryall songe salutes, her hard and dolefull desteny.

Indeed, I se & kno to wel, how fortune spites your welth:

And as a tirant Godesse, doth disdain your happie health.

Whose poyson serpentine I trust, in tyme shal wasted bee,

For time amends the greatest misse, & sets the captive free.

Wherfore (good Cosyn) as before, so now my barren quill

Disdayneth not in simple sorte, to utter his good wyll.

And to discharge the dutie that belōongeth to a frend,

Whose welth, I wold to God wer such, as might your case amēend

But luck prevēenting every meane, that might your harms redresse

Denieth power to me that do, a frēendly mind possesse

Yet Cosyn, rest in perfect hope, to see the happy day,

That shal unlade your heped grief, & drive your cares awai

And sith the con̄unsel of the Gods surpasse the humayne wit.

Remēember what the ᶈproverb saith: “hereafter coms not yet.”

And pōonder wel that Shipmāans case, whose deth, the tossing tyde

Doth threaten oft: assaulting sore his shakēen Ship with pride

Yet whēen Neptunus staieth, & calmes the Seas again,

His joyes more ample are by farre, then theirs that did cōomplain

He tels at home with jocund mind amōong his friends & kyn

The danger great, & deep dispair, that erst his life was in:

Triūumphing over Neptunes spite, whose force he felt before:

And joyes to vew the Seas, when he obtained hath the shore

So whēen the floods, of Fortunes spite that swel with foming rage

Shal stīint their struglīing strif, & whēen their malice shal aswage

Then may you gain, & long enjoy the Haven of good hap:

For Nurses chide ful oft, before they lull their child in lap.

E.i. And E1v

And take delight perhaps to tel, what trobles erst I knew,

Whose bare rehersal might enforce, a stonie heart to rew.

Why shuld we thēen, with such disdain: endure the chastismēent

Wherbi, perhaps, the Gods in us, som further harms p̄prevent

And sith no creature may deserve, Dame Junos graces well,

Whi shuld we grudg, & blame the gods, whose goodnes doth
excel

Wheras our dutie bindeth us, their doyngs to allow:

Whose actions all are for the best, whēen we perceive not how

We rather should with quiet minde, abide the dated time,

Wherin the Goddes shal us accompt, as worthy for to clime.

Whiche after trial shal betide, to those that suffre smarte:

For: “he doth yll deserve the sweet, that tasteth not the tarte”

Which argueth those that for a while, doth bide the brūunt of paine

To be the owners of good hap, when Fortune turnes againe

Whose nūumber, I beseech the Gods your self may furnish out,

And that his eies may see you plaste, amid that happi rowt

Whose great good wil shal never dy: althogh the wāant of time

Hath don me wrong, & ever doth: in shortning of my rime.

Your most lovyng Cosyn. G. W.

Is.Isabella W.Whitney beyng wery of writyng,
sendeth this for Answere.

No lesse then thankes, I render unto you,

What though it be a Beggers bare rewarde

Accept the same: (for Cosyn, this is true,

Tis all I have: my haps they are so hard:

As one beareth lyfe, is so from Fortune bard,

But E2r

But this I know, and hope it once to finde

God can, and wyl, exalt the humble minde.

This simple verce: content you for to take

for answer of your loving letter lardge,

For now I wyll my writting cleane forsake

till of my griefes, my stomack I discharg:

and tyll I row, in Ladie Fortunes barge.

Good Cosin write not nor any more replye,

But geve me leave, more quietnes to trye,

Your Cosin Is.Isabella WWhitney.

The Aucthour (though loth to leave the Citie)
upon her Friendes procurement, is constrained
to departe: wherfore (she fayneth as she
would die) and maketh her wyll and Testament,
as foloweth: With large Legacies of such
Goods and riches which she moste aboundantly
hath left behind her: and therof maketh London
 sole executor to se her Legacies performed.

¶A comunication which the Auctor had
to London, before she made her Wyll.

The time is come I must departe,

from thee ah famous Citie:

E.ii. I neuer E2v

I never yet to rue my smart,

did finde that thou hadst pitie.

Wherfore small cause ther is, that I

should greeve from thee go:

But many Women foolyshly,

lyke me, and other moe.

Doe such a fyred fancy set,

on those which least desarve,

That long it is ere wit we get,

away from them to swarve,

But tyme with pittie oft wyl tel

to those that wil her try:

Whether it best be more to mell,

or utterly defye.

And now hath time me put īin mind,

of thy great cruelnes:

That never once a help wold finde,

to ease me in distres.

Thou never yet, woldst credit geve

to boord me for a yeare:

Nor with Apparell me releve

except thou payed weare.

No, no, thou never didst me good,

nor ever wilt I know:

Yet E3r

Yet am I in no angry moode,

but wyll, or ere I goe

In perfect love and charytie.

my Testament here write:

And leave to thee such Treasurye,

as I in it recyte.

Now stand a side and geve me leave

to write my latest Wyll:

And see that none you do deceave,

of that I leave them tyl.

The maner of her
Wyll, & what she left to London:
and to all those in it: at her departing.

I whole in body, and in minde,

but very weake in Purse:

Doo make, and write my Testament

for feare it wyll be worse.

And fyrst I wholy doo commend,

my Soule and Body eke:

To God the Father and the Son,

so long as I can speake.

And after speach: my Soule to hym,

and Body to the Grave:

Tyll time that all shall rise agayne,

their Judgement for to have.

E.iii. And E3v

And then I hope they both shal méete.

to dwell for aye in joye:

Whereas I trust to see my Friends

releast, from all annoy.

Thus have you heard touching my soule,

and body what I meane:

I trust you all wyll witnes beare,

I have a stedfast brayne.

And now let mée dispose such things,

as I shal leave behinde:

That those which shall receave the same,

may know my wylling minde.

I first of all to London leave

because I there was bred:

Brave buildyngs rare, of Churches store,

and Pauls to the head.

Betweene the same: fayre streats there bée,

and people goodly store:

Because their keeping craveth cost,

I yet will leave him more.

First for their foode, I Butchers leave,

that every day shall kyll:

By Thames you shal have Brewers store,

and Bakers at your wyll.

And such as orders doo observe,

and eat fish thrice a weeke:

I leave two Streets, full fraught therwith,

they neede not farre to seeke.

Watlyng Streete, and Canwyck streete,

I full of Wollen leave:

And E4r

And Linnen store in Friday streete,

if they mee not deceave.

And those which are of callyng such,

that costlier they require:

I Mercers leave, with silke so rich,

as any would desyre.

In Cheape of them, they store shal finde

and likewise in that streete:

I Goldsmithes leave with Juels such,

as are for Ladies meete.

And Plate to furnish Cubbards with,

full brave there shall you finde:

With Purle of Silver and of Golde,

to satisfye your minde.

With Hoods, Bungraces, Hats or Caps,

such store are in that streete:

As if on ton side you should misse

the tother serves you seete.

For Nets of every kynd of sort,

I leave within the pawne:

French Ruffes, high Purles, Gorgets and
Sleeves

of any kind of Lawne.

For Purse or Knives, for Combe or Glasse,

or any needeful knacke

I by the Stoks have left a Boy,

wil aske you what you lack.

I Hose doo leave in Birchin Lane,

of any kynd of syse:

For Women stitchte, for men both Trunks

and those of Gascoyne gise.

E.iiii. Bootes E4v

Bootes, Shoes or Pantables good store,

Saint Martins hath for you:

In Cornwall, there I leave you Beds,

and all that longs thereto.

For Women shall you Taylors have,

by Bow, the chiefest dwel:

In every Lane you some shal finde,

can doo indifferent well.

And for the men, few Streetes or Lanes,

but Bodymakers bee:

And such as make the sweeping Cloakes,

with Gardes beneth the Knee.

Artyllery at Temple Bar,

and Dagges at Tower hyll:

Swords and Bucklers of the best,

are nye the Fleete untyll.

Now when thy Folke are fed and clad

with such as I have namde:

For daynty mouthes, and stomacks weake

some Junckets must be framde.

Wherfore I Poticaries leave,

with Banquets in their Shop:

Phisicians also for the sicke,

Diseases for to stop,

Some Roysters styll, must byde in thee,

and such as cut it out:

That with the guiltlesse quarel wyl,

to let their blood about.

For them I cunning Surgions leave,

some Playsters apply.

That E5r

That Ruffians may not styll be hangde,

nor quiet persons dye.

For Salt, Otemeale, Candles, Sope,

or what you els doo want:

In many places, Shops are full,

I left you nothing scant.

Yf they that keepe what I you leave,

aske Mony: when they sell it:

At Mint, there is such store, it is

unpossible to tell it.

As Stiliarde store of Wines there bee,

your dulled mindes to glad:

And handsome men, that must not wed

except they leave their trade.

They oft shal séeke for proper Gyrles,

and some perhaps shal fynde:

(That neede compels, or lucre lurss

to satisfye their mind.

And neare the same, I houses leave,

for people to repayre:

To bathe themselves, so to prevent

infection of the ayre.

On Saturdayes I wish that those,

which all the weeke doo drug:

Shall thyther trudge, to trim them up

on Sondayes to looke smug.

Yf any other thing be lackt

in thee, I wysh them looke:

For there it is: I little brought

but no thyng from thee tooke.

E.v. Now E5v

Now for the people in thee left,

I have done as I may:

And that the poore, when I am gone,

have cause for me to pray.

I wyll to prisons portions leave,

what though but very small:

Yet that they may remember me,

occasion be it shall:

And fyrst the Counter they shal have,

least they should go to wrack:

Some Coggers, and some honest men,

that Sergantes draw a back.

And such as Friends wyl not them bayle,

whose coyne is very thin:

For them I leave a certayne hole,

and little ease within.

The Newgate once a Monthe shal have

a sessions for his share:

Least being heapt, Infection might

procure a further care.

And at those sessions some shal skape,

with burning nere the Thumb:

And afterward to beg their fees,

tyll they have got the some.

And such whose deedes deserveth death,

and twelve have found the same:

They shall be drawne up Holborne hill,

to come to further shame:

Well, yet to such I leave a Nag

shal soone their sorowes cease:

For E6r

For he shal either breake their necks

or gallop from the preace.

The Fleete, not in their circuit is,

yet if I geve him nought:

It might procure his curse, ere I

unto the ground be brought.

Wherfore I leave some Papist olds

to under prop his roofe:

And to the poore within the same,

a Boxe for their behoofe.

What makes you standers by to smile.

and laugh so in your sleeve:

I thinke it is, because that I

to Ludgate nothing geve.

I am not now in case to lye,

here is no place of jest:

I dyd reserve, that for my selfe,

yf I my health possest.

And ever came in credit so

a debtor for to bee.

When dayes of paiment did approch,

I thither ment to flee.

To shroude my selfe amongst the rest,

that chuse to dye in debt:

Rather then any Creditor,

should money from them get.

Yet cause I feele my selfe so weake

that none mee credit dare:

I heere revoke: and doo it leave,

some Banckrupts to his share.

They E6v

To all the Bookebinders by Paulles

because I lyke their Arte:

They evry weeke shal mony have,

when they from Bookes depart.

Amongst them all, my Printer must,

have somwhat to his share:

I wyll my Friends these Bookes to bye

of him, with other ware.

For Maydens poore, I Widdoers ritch,

do leave, that oft shall dote:

And by that meanes shal mary them,

to set the Girles aflote.

And wealthy Widdowes wil I leave,

to help yong Gentylmen:

Which when you have, in any case

be courteous to them then:

And see their Plate and Jewells sake

may not be mard with rust.

Nor let their Bags too long be full,

for feare that they doo burst.

To evry Gate under the walles,

that compas thee about:

I Fruit wives leave to entertayne

such as come in and out.

To Smithfelde I must something leave

my Parents there did dwell:

So carelesse for to be of it,

none wolde accompt it well.

Wherfore it thrice a weeke shall have,

of Horse and neat good store

And E7r

And in his Spitle, blynd and lame,

to dwell for evermore.

And Bedlem must not be forgot,

for that was oft my walke:

I people there too many leave,

that out of tune doo talke.

At Bridewel there shal Bedelles be,

and Matrones that shal styll

Soe Chalke wel chopt, and spinning plyde;

and turning of the Mill.

For such as cannot quiet bee,

but strive for House or Land:

At Th’innes of Court, I Lawyers leave

to take their cause in hand.

And also leave I at ech Inne

of Court, or Chauncerye:

Of Gentylmen, a youthfull roote,

full of Activytie:

For whom I store of Bookes have left,

at each Bookebinders stall:

And parte of all that London hath

to furnish them withall.

And when they are with study cloyd:

to recreate theyr minde:

Of Tennis Courts, of dauncing Scooles,

and fence they store shal finde.

And every Sonday at the least,

I leave to make them sport.

In E7v

In divers places Players, that

of wonders shall reporte.

Now London have I (for thy sake)

within thee, and without:

As comes into my memory,

dispearsed round about

Such needfull thinges, as they should have

heere left now unto thee:

When I am gon, with consience,

let them dispearced bee.

And though I nothing named have,

to bury mee withall:

Consider that above the ground,

annoyance bee I shall.

And let me have a shrowding Sheete

to cover mee from shame:

And in oblivyon bury mee

and never more mee name.

Ringings nor other Ceremonies,

use you not for cost:

Nor at my buriall, make no feast,

your mony were but lost.

Rejoyce in God that I am gon,

out of this vale so vile.

And that of ech thing, left such store,

as may your wants exile.

I make thee sole executor, because

I lov’de thee best.

And thee I put in trust, to geve

the goodes unto the rest.

Because E8r

Because thou shalt a helper neede,

In this so great a chardge,

I wysh good Fortune, be thy guide, least

thou shouldst run at lardge.

The happy dayes and quiet times,

they both her Servants bee.

Which well wyll serve to fetch and bring,

such things as neede to thee.

Wherfore (good London) not refuse,

for helper her to take:

Thus being weake, and wery both

an end heere wyll I make.

To all that aske what end I made,

and how I went away:

Thou answer makst: like those which heere,

no longer tary may.

And unto all that wysh mee well,

or rue that I am gon:

Doo me comend, and bid them cease

my absence for to mone.

And tell them further, if they wolde,

my presence styll have had:

They should have sought to mend my luck:

which ever was too bad.

So fare thou well a thousand times,

God sheelde thee from thy foe:

And styll make thee victorious,

of those that seeke thy woe.

And (though I am perswade) that I

shall never more thee see:

Yet E8v

Yet to the last, I shal not cease

to wish much good to thee.

This, 1573-10xx. of October 3,

in Anno Domini:

A Thousand: [Gap in transcription—one characterflawed-reproduction]. hundred seventy three

as Alminacks descry.

Did write this Wyll, with mine owne hand

and it to London gave:

In witnes of the standers by,

whose names yf you wyll have.

Paper, Pen and Standish were:

at that same present by:

With Time, who promised to reveale,

so fast as she could bye

The same: least of my nearer kyn,

for any thing should vary:

So finally I make an end

no longer can I tary.

Finis. by Is.Isabella W.Whitney