Classic Poem

THE ARGUMENT

A S FANCIE bath a SCOOLE
so hath she too a FORT,
Of which, the chiefest points, my selfe
wyll somwhat make report.
The ground wheron it stands.
and the foundation then:
How it is built how it is kept
and by what kynde of men:
What kinde of cheere she keepes
who are her chiefest gesse:
What drink she drinks, who ar her cookes
y t al her meat do dres:
Whom most she loues, who is her foe
& who againe her frend,
And how the Fort may soone be seald.
& ther to make an ende

THE FORTE OF FANCIE

The ground wheron it stands,
is haughtie Harebraine Hyll.
Hard by the Thick I tould you of
wild and wanton will.
The fond Foundation is,
false Fortunes fickle wheele,
Which neuer stands, but stil eche way
is ready for to reele:
Now here, now there againe,
with eueric blaste of winde:
Not as she list, but as it most
doth please Dame Fortunes mind
The House it selfe is calde
The Lodge of luckelesse Loue;
Within the whiche are diuers roumes,
beneath and eke aboue:
The names wherof anon,
I meane at large to showe:
But first, the outside of this House
I must declare, I trow:
The commyng to the same,
the walles, the Gates, and then.
The basc courts, courts & gardens
then, & then the gards of men:
The Porters to the Doores
the Officers within:
And therefore, thus in order
I wyll now my tale begyn
The commyng to the same
is by a great hie way,
Faire beaten plaine, with Fooles footsteps.
and troden euerie day:
The Soyle is pleasant sure,
bedeckt with gallant flowers,
But, being gatherd once, wil scarce
bide sweet aboue two houres:
And in this Soyle, there standes
a Forrest large and wide,
Which is wel stoard w t thicks & woods.
the beasts therin to hide:
Of which great peece of grounde
for to declare the name,
The Forrest (Sir) of Fooles it is:
loe, now you know the same:
And in this Forrest now,
this beaten way doth lie,
Which leadeth unto Harebraine Hyll
the right way redyly.
At foote of this same Hyll,
and round about the same,
There is a Ditche which Deepe
deceipt is calde by name:
Ouer this lies a Bridge,
but trust mee, verie weake:
For when you are in midst therof,
then sodenly twyll breake:
And downe into the diche,
of Deepe deceipt you fall:
Rise againe, as you can your selfe
you get small helps at all:
The Bridge is calde, the breache
of perfect amytie:
Tis made of Hollow harte,
of such as wanted honestie:
Which, being rotten styll,
wyll neuer beare the waight
Of any man, but sodenly,
downe casts hym in Deceight:
Now sir, although you fall,
no bones shall yet be burst,
Nor what so euer hurt you take
you feele it not at furst:
But beyng falne, if you
can make a shift to swym,
Though it be but a stroake or two,
yet may you get up trym
Unto the bankes therof,
and so by shrubs that growe
Upon the bankes, to make a shift.
vp to the gate to goe:
But if you can not swym,
you may catch such a fall,
That you may chaunce, vnto your cost
to catch a bruse withall:
Not swimming as in Seas,
for feare in deepe to drowne,
But swimming sir, in Worldly wealth,
for feare of fallyng downe
But if that you can swym,
then soone perhappes you may,
By shrubs and bushes, to the Gates
make shift to finde a way.
Then beeing at the gates,
there shall you standing finde
A peltikg patch for Porter there
of nature very kinde:
His name is Daliance:
a foolish crafty knaue,
Who needeth not to let you in,
too much intreatie haue.
Welcome, good Sir (saith he)
now trust me, by my fay,
I thinke that you have trauailed
a wery peece of way:
Wilt please you to go in,
and take a little rest?
Thus by the Porter Daliance.
you go in as a guest.
Now if up to the gate
you cannot finde the way,
Then lustely to scale the walles
you must somewhat assay:
Which walles you soone may scale,
if you will take the paine,
Or els may quickly beat them downe
with beetel of your braine:
Few are to make defence,
and such as are will stay
Their hands from dooing harm to you
but rather, make you way
And shall I show in kinde,
what gallauts you shall see?
That for to garde this Forte are set.
and what their weapons bee?
It were a sporte to tell,
to set them out in kinde:
Well, I wyll showe them all as well
as I can beare in minde:
First, loe, a Garde of Geese
and Ganders, in one rancke,
With doutie Duckes and Drakes hard by
vpon an other bancke:
A sight of Asses then,
there stoode in Battell ray,
With Iackeanapeses on their backes:
and they stoode in the way
That leades into the Court:
further you can not passe,
Except you let a Iackeanapes,
to ride you lyke an Asse.
But if you wyll do so,
then may you passe vp straight
Into th' inner Court (forsooth)
where long you shall not waight
But out vnto the doore,
comes out an officer,
And gently (Sir) into the Hall
this man wyll you preferre:
But now sir, wyll you know,
what meanes these Armies so,
That standes to gard Dame Fancies Fort?
well marke & you shal know.
The Gard of Geese are first,
Vngratious Graftes of Youth,
That wallow euery wanton way,
and misse the trackt of trueth.
The Duckes (good Syr) are Doults,
as well both yong as olde,
That in that carelesse Court are set
to keepe a foolysh holde.
The Asses they are Loutes,
of wisdome none at all:
Yet haue a certaine kinde of wit
to play the fooles withall.
The Apes, that rides them now
and rules them euerie way,
& turne their heads which way they list
a thousand times a day
Are Foolysh Apish toyes,
fond heads for to delite:
Not voide of reason vtterly,
though voide of wisdome quite.
Their Weapons are their Tongues,
wherewith they make a crye,
Away I say, away, stand backe
soft Syr, you come not by:
But if so bee they see,
one ridden like an Asse,
Then will they make but small a doo,
but let him gently passe.
Now Syr, thus like an Asse,
he goes to the Hall doore.
And there becomes a Man againe,
and stands an Asse no more:
Yet though his cares grow short.
he is not altered so,
BuThe shall beare an Asses head
where euer so he go.
And be he Man or Asse,
Jacke an apes hee must beare
As long as hee is in that Forte
or els he bides not there.
Now Syr, at the Hall dore,
the Porter Pleasure standes:
He looks for, ere he farther go.
some money at his hands.
He lets in none for thankes,
he must haue money, hee:
He goes not in els, I am sure
for so hee delt with mee
But if hee him rewarde,
he brings him to the Hall,
And there the Vsher, by and by
good Syr hee meetes withall.
Hee entertaines you then,
in such a pleasaunt wise,
As makes you thinke you are arriude
in place of Paradise.
Not long he bides with you
but to the Chamberlaine
Hee brings you vp, where curiously
hee dooth you entertaine
With Bezoles manos,
imbrasings downe to knee:
With Cap of curtesie: and a grace
the brauest that may bee.
This is a gentle youth,
but ere I farther go,
The names of these same Officers,
I plainely meane to show:
The Vsher of the Hall,
is called Vaine delight:
Hee entertaineth none, except
he be some witlesst wight
The Chamberlaine is
called Curiositie.
And fellow with this Vaine delight
and of affinitie:
For at request of this,
his fellow, Fond delight,
Hee brings you where of Fancie faire
you soone may haue a sight:
And if you like him well,
hee workes so in the ende,
ThaThee will in your sute, foorthwith
cause Fancie stande your freend
To Fancie then good Sir,
he brings you, by and by,
And there may you beholde her how
she sitteth gallantlie:
Her Chamber large and long
bedect with thousand toyes:
Braue hanging clothes of rare deuise
pictures of naked boyes,
And Girles too, now and then
of sixeteene yeeres of age:
That will within a yeare or two,
grow fit for mariage.
But they must haue a Lawne,
a Scarfe, or some sutch toy,
To shrowde their shamefastnes withall:
but if it be a boy,
Hee standes without a Lawne
as naked as my naile:
For Fancie hath a sporte sumtime
to see a naked taile.
Besides, in pictures too,
and toyes of straung deuise,
With stories of olde Robin Hood
and Walter little wise:
Some showes of warre long since
and Captaines wounded sore,
And souldiers slaine at one conflict
a thousand men and more:
Of hunting of wilde Beastes,
as Lions, Bores, and Beares:
To see how one an other oft,
in sunder straungely teares.
Of gallant Citties, Townes:
of Gardens, Flowers, and trees:
Of choise of pleasanTherbs, and fruits,
and such like toies as these:
These hange aboute the walles,
the floore now is troade
With pleasant flowers, herbs & sweets,
which in her garde grode.
But now, the names of them
I purpose to descrie:
In steede of Fenell, Syr
the first is Flatterie,
The other Herbe is Sawsinesse.
in steede of Sauourie:
In steede of Basell, now
there lyeth Brauerie:
And for sweete Southernwood againe
is secret Slauerie:
In steede of Isop, now,
there lies Inuention:
And in the steede of Camamill
there lies Confusion:
The Flowers now are these:
in steede of Iylliflowers,
Fayre Iestes: that last not sweete alas,
aboue two or three houres.
For Roses, Rages: which
wyll not so soone decay:
For Paunseies, pretie Practises,
that alter many a way:
For Marygoldes, Mischiefe:
for Walflowers, Wantonnesse:
For Pinckes, Presumption:
for Buttons, Businesse:
For Daysies, Doubtfulnesse:
for Violets, Viciousnesse:
For Primroses, Foolysh Pride:
for Cowslips, Carelesnesse:
With these flowers and Herbes,
with many moe (God wot).
Doth Fancie strow her Chamber floore
whiche I remember not,
Now Syr, in this same roome,
thus brauely bedect,
Syts Fancie in her brauerie:
and Syr in eache respect
So serued in her kinde,
with her fine Chamberlayne.
That not for any thyng she hath
that she needes to take payne
Fine Curiositie,
her Chamberlaine, doth all
The seruice in her Chamber Syr:
but the Vsher in the Hall
He doth her seruice too,
although not all so neere
Her person, as her Chamberlayne:
she houldeth him more deere
The order how she sittes.
is this Syr, in a Chayre,
Fine carued out with Caruers worke
and couerd, verie faire,
With a strange kind of stuffe:
the colour is all green:
Braue fringde and hang'd, with two fine Pearles,
the like but seldom seen:
Now Syr, her Chayre (in deede)
is but a Youthfull brayne,
Whose head is verie greene, in deed:
the Frindge, to tell you plaine
Are Haires upon the head:
the Pearles, they are the Eyes:
Fast set vnto the head (good Syr.)
and loe, thus in this wise
I shewe you Fancies seat:
but if the eyes dyd see,
What great dishonour tis to them,
in Fancies Chaire to bee:
They rather would fall off,
then hang in such a place,
Where they are ruld, when they mought rule
and so to gayne disgrace
But be they as they be,
I shewe you as they be:
Beleeue me, when that you come there
then you your self shall see
Well Sir thus Fancie sits,
before whom you must stand,
Tyll she her selfe do bid you come
and take you by the hande:
And that she soone wyll doo,
for she is curteous;
And where she takes a likyng too,
she is as amorous,
Now, beyng come to you,
these wordes first she wyll say
She wyll be askyng, how at first
you thither found the way?
Wherto, your Answere made,
then she wyll take the payne,
To shewe you all her roomes within
and shee wyll entertayne
You in so braue a sorte.
that you shall thinke, a while,
You are in heauen: with sugred speeche
she wyll you so beguile.
Now, first she leades you in
into her Garden gay:
She shews you flowers, but tels you not
how soone they wil decay:
Shee telles you this braue tree.
a gallant fruict wyll beare,
This is a gallant Princely Plum
and this as braue a Peare:
This is a Pippyn right,
this is a Philbeard fine,
This is a Damson delicate:
but fewe suche fruictes as mine:
When God, he knowes, the Tree
whose fruictes she bragges on so,
Is but a plant of peeuishnes,
and brynges foorth fruits of woe.
Her Plum is but a Pate,
that puffed is with pryde:
Which eyther quickly rotten growes,
or breakes out on som side:
Her Peare is an olde plant,
that bringeth Outwarde ioye
To sight, at least: but, eaten once
wyll choake you with annoy.
Her Pippyn is a Crabbe,
that growes in Sainct Iohns wood:
Which makes a shewe of a faire fruiet
but in taste is not good.
This is a secreate foe,
that seemes a faythfull frende,
But wyll be sure, who trust in him
to faile hym in the ende.
Her Fylberds haue faire shales,
but Kernelles all are gone,
Her Damsons are deceiptfull fruicts,
as hard as any stone:
Harde: how? — not hard in hand
nor very hard in taste,
But beyng swallowd, very hard
for to digest at last.
These Trees, with many mo
which I not call to mynde,
In Fancies gallant Garden plot
you shalbe sure to finde.
Now in this Gardein more
alas I had forgot:
About the midst therof (I gesse)
there standes a prety plot.
Wherin is made a Maze,
all bordered with Wilde breere,
Set all about the bankes with Rue.
that grew there many a yere
Just in the midst wherof,
a huge high Mount dooth stand
Which grew by nature in it place
not made by Gardeners hand:
The hill on the one side,
is made much lyke a Hart
And as like to a Hed againe
vpon the other part.
And in this Mount, there dwels
a number of mad men:
Some mad in hart and some in hed
and euery one his den.
Upon the Hart side, stands
the cave of crueltie,
A currish knaue which with his teeth,
still gnashing, close doth lie
By him hath foule Despight
a fylthy Den lykewise,
Which, in that lothsome lodge of his
Still fretting, dayly lyes
By him horrible Hate
hath eke a kinde of Caue,
Like a foule hole: but good inough
for such a filthy slaue;
Upon the hedside now
lies Melancoly first,
Hee beates his head with studie so,
as if his braines would burst
By him vile Enuy next,
foule fiend with fierie eyes,
Bound abouThed w t Serpent skinnes
in lothsome manner lies.
Right ouer him dooth keepe
fierce Frenzie, in his caue:
Hee frets, hee fumes, he stampes and stares
& neuer lins to raue
Aboue them all, vpon
the top of this same hill,
Dwels Madnes, Maister of them all
and with him, witles Will:
His lodge is like a house,
that had bin built of stone,
That had bin ouerthrowne & nought
left but the walles alone:
It hath a kinde of roofe
but all vncouered:
So that the raine vpon him falles
as hee lies in his bed:
And for the manner now
how he lles, credit mee,
It is the straungest sight mee thinkes
that euer I did see.
His Bedsteed is of Wood,
ingrauen with Vgly faces;
And standes more halfe a sunder burst
in twenty sundry places:
His Bed with fethers stuft,
but all the Downe flowne out:
And those it bide, are stubborne quilles,
y t prick him round about.
Upon an olde crackt Forme
by his Bedside, there lies
Ould instruments of Musicks sound
all broke in wondrous wise
A Lute, with but thre strings,
and all the pinnes neere out:
The belly crakt, the back quite burst
and riuen round about.
His Virginals, with neuer a iack
and [but] halfe the keyes:
His Organes, with the bellowes burst,
and battred many waies
His Fife, three holes in one:
his Harpe with neare a string:
Great pittie, trust me, for to see,
so broken euery thing.
A Pen and Inke he hath,
and Paper too hard by,
But paper quite in peeces torne
pen burst, and Inkhorne drie
He feedes of Fancies fruites,
that in her Garden growe,
He drinks of Drugs of foule Despight
a beastly broth I trow.
He feares no heat nor colde
for if with heate he glow,
The waues of wo wil coole him streight
y t there by tides do flow.
For through this Forrest runnes,
the Seas of sorrow sore:
Whose Waues do beate against this Fort
that bordereth on the shore
And if with colde he quake
the heate of raging ire
Will quickly warme him so, thaThe
shall neede none other fire
In raging Frantick fittes,
he passeth foorth the day
In straunge perplexitles, himselfe
tormenting many a way
Among many mad toyes,
I saw him play one parte
With looke full fierce I saw him holde
a Dagger to his Hart.
Redie to kill himselfe.
and with his heare vpright,
He cryed, he would rather die,
then bide sutche deepe dispight:
At which same crie of his,
me thought that euery one
Within their Caues, all sodeinly
did make a piteous mone:
With which amazed halfe,
not knowing what to say,
By helpe of God, I know not how
but straight I got away
And then I was againe
with Fancie by and by,
Out of the Maze in her Gardeine:
who led me presently,
As she will you likewise,
if you will: backe againe
Into her house: where you will thinke
in heauen for to remaine
The Entrie first, before
you come vnto the Hall,
Is set out gallantly with toyes,
and that of cost not small.
The Pauements are of stone,
which Hard harts haue to name:
They grow all in a minde of man
and thence she hath the same:
About the Entrie walles,
doo hang devises straunge:
And, by the brauerie of the same
much like the Low Exchange.
From Entrie then you come
streight way vnto the Hall;
And that with manie Jewels riche
is hanged round withall.
The roome it selfe is long,
and therewith somewhat wide.
And for the fashion, in my minde
not much unlike Cheapeside:
There hang great store of gaudes
of which the Vsher straight.
Dooth offer to Dame Fancies eie.
and therfore there dooth waight.
Chaines, Jewels, Cups, & pots:
Pearles, precious stones, & Rings,
Fine whistels, Corals, Buttons, Beads
& such like costly things;
Fine Brooches for you Hat.
fine Aglets for your Cap,
Fine Tablets for a gallant Dame.
to hang before her lap
These things, with many mo,
in this same Cheapeside Hall,
Hath Vaine delight to please Fancie
his Mistris minde withall.
Now though she see them all,
her Chamberlain must chuse
WhaThe'best thinkes will like her minde
& what she wil refuse.
That Chamberlaine (you know)
is Curiositie:
He euer chooseth all the ware,
that Fancie fond dooth buye
Now from the Hall, vnto
the Parlor straight you go,
Which, as the Hall, with Jewels riche
is brauely hanged so:
The roome is long, not large
I met it not with feete:
But, as I gesse, in fashion tis,
much like to Lombarde streete:
This roome the Vsher too,
dooth looke too with the Hall:
Well, there within a little while
you quickly will see all:
Which, beeing seene, you passe
into the other roome,
Which called is her Counting house:
wherin when you be come,
There shall you see her bookes.
that treates of many toyes,
And most of them doo show the cause
of louers greefes or loyes.
Some volumes Syr, doo treate
of naught but Vanitate
But very few that speakes a worde
of perfect Sanitate.
Some auncient Authors write
De arte amandi:
Which who so studies throughly
runs mad or ere he die:
And, in the steede of Tullies workes,
written De officijs
There standes Tom tatlers treatise Syr
De fine Brandicijs:
Among the rest are some
Belle discorce d'amore;
And some doo write discourses
De graundisfimo dolore:
Some bookes doo make discourse
of Pride and Foule disdaine
Some letters Amatorie are:
some of Despite againe.
Some Pretie Pamphlets are.
some Posies, Satirs some:
Some doo discourse of Falconrie
and some of Day of Doome;
And they are called Drummes:
and some tell prctie tales
Of Lapwings, Swallowes Eesant cocks,
& noble Nightingales:
Some Songes and Sonets are,
and some are Louers layes:
Some Poets paint The pangs of loue
a thousand sundry waies.
Now with such bookes as these
with other such like toyes,
Dooth Fancie store her Counting house
for to instrucTher boyes,
And girles too, now and than:
at least, if they doo reede:
And in such vaine Discourses most
her selfe delights indeede.
Now Syr, when you haue seene
her fine Librarie there:
She shewes you then her other roomes
& leades you euery where.
But sure her Counting house
of all that ere I see.
Is built as like to Poules Church yarde
as euer it may bee.
Now next she leades you too
her Wardrope of fine cloth,
Of diuers kindes of colours Syr:
what, laugh you Syr of trothe?
Beleeue mee when that you
to Fancies Forte doo go:
And if you come into her Courte
then you shall finde it so.
The colours of her cloath
are faire and verie gay:
White, red, blewe, greene Cernation
Yelow and Popyniay:
Of blackes, but very few:
but other colours store
Of mingled colours, or suche as
I tolde you of before:
Now, she that keepes that roume
is a yonge pleasant Dame,
And Wantonnesse I trow it be
that Fancie calles her name:
Nowe Wantonnesse againe,
shee keepes a pretie knaue
That euery day deviseth styll
newe fashions for to haue
He hath a knauish head,
fine knackes for to inuent,
Wherof good stoare of cloathe in haste
in fashions may be spent:
In gardes, in weltes, and iagges
in laying cloath upon cloath:
And this same youth a Tailor is
for men and women bothe
His name is Fond deuise:
he came of Apish race:
A man, for such a mistris meete
and fit for such a place:
But for Dame Fancie fine,
no garments Syr, he makes:
But first the view her Chamberlaine
Curiositie takes:
And if he like it well
then will she stand content:
If not his labour all is lost,
and cost in vaine is spent.
Now this same Wardrop Syr
is likest, in my minde,
To Watling streete of any place
that euer I could finde.
Now Syr, from thence you come:
when you haue seene all there
You go into her Gallarie,
a roome that I dare sweare,
The like is seldome seene
for gallant setting out:
If one should trauaile euerie day
almost the world about,
For choice of Gallant stuffe,
and fine deuises strainge:
No place so like that ere I see
as is The high Exchange:
Such purses, gloues, and pointes
of cost and fashion rare,
Such cutworks, partlets, sutes of lawne
bongraces, & such ware:
Such gorgets, sleeues and ruffes,
linings for gownes, and calles,
Coiffes, crippins, cornets, billaments,
muske boxes & sweet balles,
Pincases picktoothes, bearde brushes
comes, needels, glasses, belles,
And manie such like toies as these:
that Gaine to Fancie sels.
But yet, of all these toyes,
not one will Fancie buye,
Except they first be looked on
by Curiositie:
But Follie, manie times,
standes at his elbow so,
That makes him choose the worse sometime
and let the better go:
Well, there not longe you-bide
but downe you come againe
Into the Hall beneath good Syr,
where longe you not remaine:
But to the Kitchin streight,
she forthwith leadeth thee:
Where, how she dresseth all her meate
the order thou shalt see.
And what kinde cookes she hath
and how they make their fyre
To roast, to seeth, to broile to bake
and what you will desire:
The roome is narow syr,
in which a Harth all bare,
On which the Cook powers on his coales,
& kindels the with care:
Then layes he to the Spit
if any meate be roast:
And if the fyre be once a flame
then it beginnes to toast.
The meate that mosThe roastes,
for Fancies daintie toothe,
Are Partridges, larkes, plouers greene
& such fine foule (for sooth).
The Coles are made of stickes,
of stuborne youth (God wot)
Which kindle quicklie of themselues
and blowing needeth not:
The kinde of woode is Will,
drie, without Sapience sappe:
The lobcoke Lust, from thriftlesse thick
both bring thi in his lap:
Which wood with lying still
is growne so veric drie,
That with a Sparke of Sporte alasse.
they kindle by and by.
The Cooke is Carelesse calde:
the fowles he roastes, are these:
For Larks, are looks; for Plouers, thoughts:
for Partridge Practises:
The Larkes are Lookes:
which when they liue, doe flie:
But beeing stroken dead they serue
for Fancie, by and by:
The Partridge, Practises:
which, liuing, seeme so good.
That they are put vnto the fyre
to serue for Francies foode:
For as the Partridge keepes
her selfe close to the grounde
Because, by colour of her coate
she may not so be founde:
So Practises, that shift,
to keepe themselues vnseene
Are Foules most fit for Fancies tooth:
and now, for Plouers greene,
Greene thoughts, that flie about:
now here, now there againe:
But if, by chaunce, by Cupids dart
they hap for to be slaine
Then lying but a while,
at this same flaming fire,
They make in deede a meate that most
fond Fancie doth desire.
Now hauing seene all this.
then shall you see, hard by,
The Pastrie, Mealehouse, and the roome
wheras the Coales do ly:
The Coalehouse is a Caue
of care and miserie:
The Pastrie, is a Place
of open patcherie:
The Mealehouse, is a Place
with set mischiefe fraught
For sure, the meale is made of corne
y t is much worse then naught
The Corne is called Rye:
and diuers kindes there bee
Of this same Rye: as you your self
when you are there shall see.
For there is one kinde Rye
is called Knauerie:
Another, Flatterie
with Tretcherie, and Patcherie:
An other Trumperic,
an other Mockerie,
And Baudrie too: and yet the best
is but a kinde of Rye,
Wherof the Meale is made,
that maketh Fancies bread:
And that is baked in the braine
of a hot foolysh head:
The Graine is sowne by sundrie slaues:
of which one, Beastlinesse,
The other Secrete sawcinesse:
another Trayterousnesse:
An other Peeuishnesse,
and another Wilfulnesse,
With Lowtishnesse, and many moe
which I can not expresse:
And reaped by suche slaues,
to Fancie, slaues, in deede,
Which bring the Corne into the Barne
of Beggerie, with speede:
They now that thresh the Corne
are two stronge sturdie knaues;
Who haue great beetles in their hands
in steed of thrasshing staues:
Of whome to tell the names;
first, Lobcocke, little wit,
And wayward Wyl: a good tugh knaue:
he stands, his fellowes sit:
They with their Beetels in
their hands, or heades, at least.
Doo make it readie for the Myll:
then he that grindes the griest
Is Many better sir.
an arrant craftie knaue:
Who, with his toulyng, wyll be sure
a good round gaine to haue
Now sir, this Myll doth stand
vpon an Hyll on hie,
Whose Sayles are driuen by blastes of winde
& so grind merely:
Now Syr, the Corne thus grounde:
to Fancies Fort streight way,
The Myller coms and in the house
there down his Meale doth lay:
Now Syr, when you haue ben
in all those Offices,
And that at Fancies handes, you finde
suche loue and gentlenesse
To shewe you all her House:
but soft, I had forgot
To speake of her Bedchamber fine
which now sir, I wyll not
Let slippe, for any thing:
the Roome it selfe is rounde,
And in the night dooth stand hir Bed.
with Curtens brauely boud.
The Walles hangde all with Hope
on thone side verie faire:
Vpon the other side againe,
darke hangings of dispaire.
Strange pictures by hir Bed:
on thone side fittes of greefe,
On thother side, to euerie pange,
a present sweete releefe.
Upon the one side, sweete accorde.
on thother Dire debate,
Vpon the one side, Naked loue:
on thother, Couerd hate.
On thone side, Prodigies,
with pleasaunt Dames in ioye,
On thother side. Chauing Peascods:
in greefe and great annoye.
These diuers contraries.
with many thousands mo,
When Fancie gazeth on a while
she is amazed so,
That musing so a while,
she slumbreth at the last,
And beeing in a slumber so,
she sleepeth but not fast:
Her Bed is all of Downe,
whereon she lies so soft
As any Ladie in this land:
and aTher Bed a loft,
Are written in faire hande.
and easie for to reede:
(Although I seeme a louelie dame,
I lothsome am in deede)
This solempne sentence,
Who euer so dooth see
And dooth consider the contents
will neuer like of me.
Her Bed is thus bedeckte:
the Curteynes are of Saye,
Not greene, nor yealow, red nor blew
nor white, nor popiniaye:
No Silke, nor Cruel Saye:
what then may be the same?
This Say is calde, saye for thy selfe:
lo, nowe you know the name.
Her Couering, Curious cost:
her Blankets, Louers blisse:
Her Sheets are Shifts: to shroud her selfe
her quilts, are quidities:
Her Pillowes, they are Points:
that Louers leane vpon.
Her Bolster, is a Beggar's Bagge:
when coine and goods are gone
Her Bed she lyes vpon,
is a yonge Mellowe braine:
Where Fancie softlie lyes and sleepes
and neuer feeleth paine.
And of such Beds, she hath
such stoare of choise (by roode)
That (if so be) she like not one.
an other is as good.
Of which, some are so softe,
that she dooth like them so,
That with her lying in them long
they more halfe rotten growe:
And if they be not turned,
or ere they go to farre,
In time, both braine, and head and al
she wilbe sure to marre.
Thus shall you see her Bed
and Chamber, brauely deckte:
And euery roome within her house
set out in each respect
So gallantlie: that as
I saide. I saye againe
You sure will thinke (at first) a while
in heauen for to remaine
Thus, when that Fancie fine,
hath led you rounde about
Her statelie house, in everie roome:
then shall you see a loute
Come with a napkin fine,
about his body bound,
Into the chamber, there where first
Dame Fancie fine you found:
He comes to laye a cloth,
vpon Dame Fancies boorde:
And then to bringe in all her cates:
and trust me (at a worde)
It is so strange a sighte
to see her serued so,
As I shall neuer see the like
where euer so I go.
Her Table is a Forme,
that stands without a frame
And none but she and her compeeres,
can sit vpon the same:
Her Stooles, stande without feete.
I cannot shew you how,
Though I haue seene them (credite me)
I haue forgot them now.
But you shall see them there
if thither you will go.
Now sir, when you are there.
and see this order soo,
Then unto Dinner straight.
she goeth by and by:
There shall you see her fine Compeeres,
that beare her companie.
First, vpper most she sittes,
in a great maiestie:
Then sits there downe by her a Dame
called Ladie vanitie.
Then downe sits her Compeeres,
Follie and Frenzie both:
Such companie, as for to keepe
a wiseman would be lothe.
Her Waitors aTher borde
are Curiositie,
Her Chamberlaine; and next to him
stands Carefulnesse hard by:
The Cooke that drest the meate:
then Nodcoke naturall,
Then Iacke-an-apes and busie Bee
worst manered of them all:
Thus furnisht is this boorde,
with waitors in such sorte:
The meates whereof she feedeth most
I neede not make report:
I spake of them before:
but for her kinde of drinke,
No beere, nor ale, nor wine it is:
and what then doo you thinke?
It is a drinke composde,
of drugges of diuers sortes,
Discourtesie, Disdaine, Dispigh:
and mingled with Disportes
Sappe of faire Semblaunce
with secret Simulation.
With Ioice of herbes of hollow hartes
and faithfull protestation:
These Drugges, with many mo,
puts Fancie in her drinke:
Which though they sumwhat please the tast
yet make the bosom stinke:
And workes so in their heads,
that are not used theretoo,
That maks them more half mad: for greif
they know not what to do
Now syr, this is her drinke:
her meate before you know:
Her servaunts I haue showne you too,
that do attend her so.
Now Syr, when you haue fed
of Fancies fare one day:
I doo beleeue that you will wishe
your selfe, next day away
I promise you (of troth)
I did when I was there:
And I would not be there againe,
for twentie pound. I sweare.
And more then wishing too,
at borde aloude I cride:
I would I were away this fare
I cannot I abide,
Which when that Fancie sawe,
she tooke me from the boorde,
And thrust me out of dores in haste
not speaking any worde.
And flonge me downe the steares
wherewith I caught a fall
That greeued me sore; but yet (me thought)
I stood cotent withal
The vs u er of the Hall,
he tooke me by and by,
And out of doores too in like sorte
he thrust me presently.
Then euery Iacke-an-apes
that rid upon an Asse,
Was ready for to ride me still
as I the Courte did passe.
The Geese and Ganders hist,
the Duckes cride quack, at mee:
Thus euerie one would haue a flyrt
ere I could get out free
The Porter Daliaunce,
he draue me out in haste,
And thrust me downe so hard the Hill
my neck was almost brast
And vp I rose againe,
though brused verie sore,
And ment, if once I gat away
for to come there no more.
Well, limping as I coulde
I hit the beaten waye,
Of fooles foote steps: through Forrest back
that led me so astraye
And back againe I came,
to Learning's narrow lane:
And there I hit The trackt of Truth
that I should first haue tane
That leaues the Forrest quite:
which when I had hit on,
I staide awhile, and there my walke
I gan to thinke vpon:
And thinking so, I saw
a Scholler comming by,
That came from learned Vertue's Schoole:
and, sighing heauely,
I calde him vnto me,
and tolde him of my wo,
Of my sore fall, from Fancies Forte
and how I caught it so
Which when thaThe had harde
he tooke me by the hande,
And beeing verie weake (in deede)
scarse able for to stande:
He led me to a house
of Wisdome: an olde man,
His Father (as he saide) he was:
and there I rested than
This Jentle youth, if I
do not forget the same,
Is Honest Reason: so I thinke
his Father cald his name
Where, beyng but a while
my tale I gan to tell
To hym, of this my gentle walke:
wheraThe laughed well,
And laughing so (quoth he)
go, Youth, here take a booke
And write now for remebrance thine
y t when thou chance to looke
Upon the same againe,
then thou mayst take heede styll,
Of leauyng Wisdome's narrow Lane
and follow wanton wyll:
Loe, thus at his commaund
I wrote it by and by:
And this it was, beleeue me now
or els (at least) I lye.