[A sweet nosgay, or pleasant posye] [contayning a hundred and ten phylosophicall flowers &c.]

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

¶To her Brother. G. VV.

GOod Brother whē a vacāt time doth cause you hence to ryde: And that the fertyl feelds do make, you from the Cittie vyde. Then cānot I once from you heare nor know I how to send: Or where to harken of your health and al this would be hend. And most of me, for why I least, of Fortunes fauour fynd: Do yeldyng yeare we me allowes, nor goodes hath me assind.

But styll to friends I must appeale (and next our Parentes deare,) You are, and must be chiefest slaffe that I shal stay on heare. Wherfore mine owne good brother graunt me when y^t you ar here: To se you oft and also hence, I may haue knowledge wheare A messenger to harke vnto, that I to you may wryte: And eke of him your answers haue which would my hart delight. Receaue of me, and eke accept, a simple token heare: 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 seruice hers, I languish for it styll.

¶Your louyng (though lucklesse) Sister,

IS. VV.

¶To her Brother. B. VV.

GOod Brother Brooke, I often looke, to heare of your returne: But none can tell, if you be well, nor where you doo soiurne: 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 hée: I haue good hope, when you haue scope, you wyll repairé to mée. And so the feare, and deepe dispaire, that I of you then had I dryue away: and wysh that day wherin we may be glad. Glad for to sée, but els for mée: wyll be no ioy 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 louing Sister.

Is. VV.

¶An order prescribed, by IS. VV. to two of her yonger Sisters seruinge in London.

GOOd Sisters mine, when I shal further from you dwell: Beruse theselines, obserue 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 ioy 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 gouerners so pray you that your ends, May be in such a sort, as God may pleased hee: To liue to dye, to dye to liue, with him eternally.

2.

¶Then tustly do such deedes, as are to you assynde: Ill wanton toyes, good sisters now exile out of your minde, I hope you geue no cause, wherby I should suspect: But this I know too many liue, that would you soone infect. Yf God do not preuent, or with his grace expell: I cannot speake, or wryte to much, because I loue you well.

3.

¶Your busfnes soone dispatch, and listen to no lyes: Nor credit euery fayned tale, that many wyll deuise. For words they are but winde. yet words may hurt you so: As you shall neuer brook the same, yf that you haue a foe. God shyld you from all such, as would by word or Byll. Procure your shame, or neuer cease tyll they haue wrought you yll.

4.

¶See that your seere is seale, tread trifles vnder ground: Yf to rehersall oft you come, it wyl your quiet wound. Of laughter be not much, nor ouer solemne see me: For then be sure th'eyle coumpt you light or proud wil you exteeme. Be modest in a meane, be gentyll vnto all: Though cause thet geue of contrari yet be to wrath no thrall. Refer you all to hym. that sits aboue toe skyes: Uengeance is his, he wil reveng, you need it not deuise.

5.

¶And sith that vertue guides, where both of you do dwell: Geue thanks to God, & painful hee to please your rulers well, For fleetyng is a foe, expertence hath me taught: The rolling stone doth get no mosse your selues haue hard full oft.

Your businesse being done, and this my scroule pervsd, The day wyll end, and that y^t 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 Mistresse at rest. Their Daughters all whast about to get themselues vndrest. See that their Plate be safe, and that no Spoone do lacke, See Dores & windowes bolted fall for feare of any wrack. Then help yf neede ther hee, to doo some housholde thing: Yf not to bed, referring you, vnto the heauenly King Forgettyng not to pray as I before you taught, And geueing thanks for al that he, hath euer for you wrought.

Good Sisters when you pray, let me remembred be: So wyll I you, and thus I cease, tyll I your selues do see.

(q)

IS. VV.

¶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 mée good: and to requight, hath nature mée inclynde: Wherfore good Sister take in grée, These simple lynes that come from mée.

Wherin I wish you Nestors dayes, in happye health to rest: With such successe in all assayes, as those which God hath blest:

Your Husband with your prety Boyes, God keepe them frée from all annoyes.

¶And graunt if that my luck it hée, to linger héere so long: Til they be men: that I may sée, for learning them so strong: That they may march amongst the best, Of them which learning haue possest.

¶By that tyme wyl my aged yeares perhaps a staffe require: And quakyngly as styll in feares, my lims draw to the fire: Yetioy I shall them so to sée, Yf any toy in age there hee,

¶Good sister so I you commend, to him that made vs all: I know you huswyfery intend, though I to writting fall: Wherfore no lenger shal 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 mée tye, My bookes and Pen I wyll apply.

*Your louing Sister.

IS. VV.

To her Cosen. F. VV.

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 be, God graunt that well both you and she it spend: If not when s'ere it haps, I wish that God much ioy you send. And when you to the Cuntry come or thither chaunce to send: Let me you see, or haue some scroll, that shall of you be pend. And this accompt as nature binds and meryts yours deserue: I Cosin am, and faithfull Friend, not minding once to swerue. So wishing you as happy health, as euer man possest: I end, and you commyt to him that euermore is blest.

Your poore Kinsewoman.

IS. VV.

¶A careful complaynt by the vnfortunate Auctor.

GOOd DIDO stint thy teares, and sorrowes all resigne To mée: that borne was to augment, misfortunes lucklesse line. Or vsing styll the same, good DIDO doo thy best: In helpyng to bewayle the hap, that furthereth mine vnrest. For though thy Troyan mate, that Lorde AENEAS hight, Requityng yll thy stetfast loue, 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 mée to complayne: For Fortune fell conuerted 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 liu'de, a happye Woman styll, If fickle fancie had not thrald thy wits: to retchlesse wyll.

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 salue the sore, that earst his presence wrought. For fyre no lenger burnes, then Faggots feede the flame: The want of things that bréede annoy, may soone redresse the same. But I vnhappy mosse, and gript with endles griefes: Dispayre (alas) amid my hope, and hope without 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 thrée dispatch my dayes and finysh all my care.

(q)

IS. VV.

In answer to comfort her, by shew∣yng his haps to be harder.

FRiend IS. be now content, & let my sorowes quel: the extreame rage, & care thou restest in: For wayling sprights, ne furies fearce in hell: nor gristey soules, that styll in woe haue bin: Haue euer felt lyke stormes that I sustayne, frowust so I am, and duld in deepe dispaire, That sure (mée thinks), my extreme raging payne: might gaine thee belth: & set thee free from fere. For DIDO, thou, and many thousands more, which liuing feele the panges of extreme care, Though tortered much; and torne in peeces smal: whom euer griping death doth neuer spare, Nor he, that falsey, Carthage Citie fled, so fraught with wiles, n or ye such sorowes tast: By thousand partes, as I who rightly sed: do pine as VVAX, before the fire wastes. I freece to YCE, I be ate with perching SON, and torne with teene, thus languishing in paine, Doo feele my sorowes euer fresher run: to flowing cares, that endles sorowes gaine. For what, for whom, and why this euyll woorks frind IS. VV, time, nor silence; may it show But shee ere many dayes, my care that lurks, shall blowne be, and thou the same shall know.

Till then, with silly DIDO be content, and rip no more, thy wronges in such excesse: Thy FORTVNE rather, wills thee so lament, with speedy wit, til hope may haue redressè.

*FINIS. (q)

T. B.

¶A Replye to the same.

THe bitter force of Fortunes frowardnesse, is painted out by Bible changed hew: Report bewrayes, that tirants doublenesse, which I by triall, proue (alas) so true. constraynde I am, on thy mishaps to rue: As oft as I consider thine estate. Which differs far, from that y^u wast of late.

Where be thy wonted liuely lookes become; or what mischāce, hath dimd the beauty so There is no God y^t deales such doutful dom No Iubiter hath brought the down so low: thy haples fate, hath stroght thy ouerthro For as Saturnus reaues the Berryes soy, So Fortune striues, to further thine annoy.

¶O Fortune falce, O thrice vnttedy ioyes Why doth not man mistrust thy sutle shoes Whose profers proue in time to be but toies as this the fruit y^t from your blossom groes then may you rightly be cōyard with those

whose painted speech, professeth frindship stil but time be wrayes the meaning to be yli.

For time y^t shewes, what erst I could not sée Hath brought about, that I suspected least: Complayning still on our simplicitlye Who hedlong runs, as doth y^e carles beast til hūters snares, haue laid his lims to rest For whē we lest mistrust & drede deceit Then ar we snard, with vnsuspected baif.

¶As lately vnto thée it did be fall, whose hap enforeeth me to rue thy chance For thou that florisht earst at beautyes stal: Hath felt y^e force of froward Fortunes lance Compeld to furnish out misfortunes dance Sée heere the suertie that belongeth aye, To mortal ioys wheron the world doth stay

But liue in hope that better hap may light, For after stormes Sir Phebus force is seene So when Saturnus hath declarde his might: And VVinter stints to turne y^e world to teene then plesāt Ver shal cloth y^e groud in greene And lusty MAY shall labour to restore, the things y^e VVinters spit had spoyld before

Thē shal the Berrey cleaue ber wonted hew. And eke my B. that long hath rasted payne When Fortun doth her former grace renew shal boysed be to happye state agayne

Delightyng oft among his friends & kin, To tell what danger earst his lyfe was in.

Which happye light of mortal creturs, who shal more reioyce, then I thy friend to sée And while came fortune, yéelded not therto but doth proléed: to proue her suite on thée yet shalt thou not so yll beloued hée, But that thy Fame, for euer florish shall, If IS. her Pen, may promise ought at all.

Farewell.

¶IS. VV. to C.B. in beway∣lynge her mishappes.

YF beauie hartes might serue to be a sacrifice for sinne: Orels, if sorowes might suffice, for what so ere hath byn: Then mine Oblacion, is weare made, Whiche longe haue liued in Mourners trade,

*The dryrie daye in dole (alas) continuallye I spende: The noysome nightes, in restlesse Bedde, I bring vnto his ende: And when the daye appeares agayne, Then fresh begyn my plaints amayne.

¶But this I feare, wyll sooner cease: the nomber of my sinne: Then make amendes, for former misse, that I haue liued in: Because I take not pacientlye Correction in aduersytie.

*VVherfore (my God) geue me that gyfte, As bedyd I OB vntyll: That I may take with quietnesse, What soeuer is his wyll: Then shall my lucklesse lyfe soone ende, Or frowarde Fortune shall amende.

*And for because your sound aduice, 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 wishing you in health to hide, and troubleshot to taste And geuing 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. VV.

¶In answer by C. B. to IS. VV.

YOur lamentable letterred, and finding by the same: That you my skillesse counsel craue, 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 wyth thée for to conquer care, least the bring thy decay: Those fretting fyts, that thou art in, Offends the Lord, augmenteth sin.

¶The heauy hart: and mind opprest, be neuer both reiea: And at what hower we lament, be doth be styll respect.

Yet that for sin thou shuldst thée kyll, Wold hath 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 lyke.

¶Impart thy woes, and geue to niée, the greatest of the same: Pluck strength thée to: and cherish thée, to modest mirth now frame: Then friends and you may worke so well, That Fortune shal your foes expell.

¶Yf euell words and other wants, haue brought thée to this woe: Remember how that Christ him selfe, on earth was euen so: Thy Friends y^e haue thée knowne of long, Wil not regard thy enemies tong.

¶The vertue that hath euer béene, within thy tender brest: Which I from yeare to yeare, haue séene, in all thy deedes exprest: Doth me perswade thy enemies lye, And in that quarell would I dye.

¶That wisedome which y^u doest posses, is rare for to be founde: Thy courtesse to euery one, so greatly doth abound. That those which throwly thée do know, Wil thée defend from any foe.

*Wherfore as earth I write to thée, pluck vp that hart of thine: And make accompt for friendship, or for seruice: els of mine. I wyl not 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 maybe or wyfe. I end and rest in what he may, Your friend vnto my dyeing day.

By mée

C. B.

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

Dyd not Dame Seres tell to you? nor fame vnto you shew? What sturdi ••••orms haue bin abrod and who hath playd the shrew.

I thought y^t Goddesse in your feelds had helped with your crop: Or els y^e fame iil you had knowne, her trump would neuer 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 whō 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 y^e they can win, and compt it their reward. With sorow I to oft haue seene, when some wold fleece you much And oft in writting wolde I lay good friend beware of such. But all my mordes they weare as wind my labour yll was spent: And in the end for my good wil, most cruelly was thent.

Yf I were hort and buffeted, good wyll shall neuer cease: Nor hād, nor tōg, shal so be charmd to make me holde my peace. Wherfore I warne you once againe be warie of your selfe: For some haue sworne to lyke you well so long as you haue pelfe, Yf warnings styll you do reiect, to late your selfe shal rew: Do as you lyst, I wish you well, and so I say ade we.

Your Welwiller.

IS. VV.

¶Another Letter sent to IS. VV by one: to whom shée had written her infortunate state.

YOur Letter (Cosin) scarley scene, I catcht into my hand: In hope therby some happy newes, from you to vnderstand, But whē I had surnaid the same, & waid the teuor well A beuy heap of sorowes did, miformer ioyes expel.

I do reioyes, as doth the Swanne, who redy for to dye, With buryall songe salutes, her hard and dolefull destiny. In deed, I se & kno to wel, how fortune spites your welth: And as a tirane Goddesse, doth disdain your happie health. Whose poyson serpentine I trust, in tyme shal wasted bee, Let time entends the greatest misse, & lets the captiue free. VVherfore (good Cosyn) as before, so now my barren quill Disdayneth not in simple sorte, so vtter his good wyll. And to discharge the dutie that, belōgeth to a frend, Whose welth, I wold to God wer such, as might your case a∣mēd But luck preuēting euery meane, that might your harms re∣dresse Denieth power to me that do, a frēdly mind possesse Yet Cosyn, rest in perfect hope, to see the happy day, That shal vnlade your heped, grief, & driue your cares a way And sith the con̄sel of the Gods surpasse the humayne wit. Remēber what the {pro}uerb saith: hereafter coms not yet. And pōder wel y^e Shipmās case, whose deth, y^e tossing tyde Doth threaten of reassaulting sore his shakē Ship with pride Yet whē NEPTVNVS staieth, & calmes the Seas again, His ioyes more ample are by farre, then theirs y^e did cōplain He tels at home with iocund mind amōg his friend & kyn The danger great, & deep dispair, that erst his life was in Triūphyng ouer Neptunes spite, whose force he felt before: And ioyes to vew the Seas, when he obtained hath y^e shore So whē the floods, of Fortunes spite y^e swel w^t foming rage Shal stīt their struglīg strif, & whē their malice shal as wage Then may you gain, & long enioy the Hauen of good hap: For Nurses chideful oft, before they lull their child in lap.

And take delight perhaps to tel, what trobles erst I knew, whose bare rehersal might enforce, a stonie hart to rew. why shuld we thē, w^t such disdain: endure the chastismēt wherbi, perhaps, the Gods in vs, som further harms p̄uent Aud sith no creature may deserue, Dame Iunos graces well Whi shuld we grudg, & blame the gods, whose goodnes doth excel Whereas our dutie bindeth vs, their doyngs to allow: Whose actions all ••••e for the best, whē we perceiue not how We rather should with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 minde, abide the dated time Wherin the Goddes shal vs accompt, as worthy for to clime. Whiche after trial shal betide, to those that suffre smarte: For: he doth yll deserue y^e sweet, y^t tasteth not y^e tarte Which argueth those y^e for a while, doth hide y^e brūt of pain To be the owners of good hap, when Fortune turnes again Whose nūber, I beseech the Gods your self may furnish out, And that his eies may see you plaste, amid that happi rowt Whose great good wit shal neuer dy: althogh the wāt of time Hath don me wrong, & euer doth: in shortning of my rime.

Your most louyng Cosyn.

G. VV.

¶IS. VV. beyng wery of writyng, sendeth this for Answere.

NO lesse then thankes, I render vnto you, What, though it be a Beggers bare rewarde Accept the same: (for Cosyn this is true, Tis all I haue: my haps they are so hard: None beareth lyfe, is so from Fortune bard,

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 louing 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 geue mée leaue, more quietnes to trye,

Your Cosin

IS. VV.