A floorish vpon fancie As gallant a glose vpon so triflinge a text, as euer was written. Compiled by N.B. Gent. To which are annexed, manie pretie pamphlets, for pleasant heads to passe away idle time withal. By the same authour.

¶ A letter sente by a Gentlewoman in verse, to her Husband being ouer sea.

WHat greater gréefe, then léese a chéefest ioy? Then why liue I, that lacke my cheefe delight? My friend I meane, for whom thus in annoy, In weary wyse, I passe both day and night. For loe, a friend in déepest of distresse, To friend doth yéeld, of euery gréefe redresse.

His company doth often driue away; Such dolefull thoughtes as mought tormente the minde: With friend, a friend, to passe ech dolefull daye, Of comforte greate, may many causes finde. A friend sometime, but with is only sight, His dolefull friend doth many times delight.

No greater ease is to some heauy harte, Yea, when it is with greatest gréefes opprest: Then trusty friendes, to whome for to imparte, Such cause of gréefe, as bréedes it such vnrest. For ofte by telling of a dolefull tale, The tongue doth ease, the breast of mickle bale.

If harte be glad, what myrth can then be more? Then when true friendes doe méete with merry cheare, The gréefe forgotte, of absence theirs before, By presence had, doe soddaine ioyes appeare. What shall I say? as I begone I ende, No ioye to loue, no gréefe to losse of friend.

Then my sweete friend in this my déepe distresse, Let me inioy thy company agayne: For thou alone must purchase my redresse, And ease my harte, that thus doth pyne in payne. Thou arte the friend, that euen but with thy sight, Mayest me poore soule, thy dolefull friend delight.

What now can ease my pyning pensiue harte, Thus day and night with tormentes sore oppreste: Then vnto thée, my friend for to imparte, Such cause of gréefe, as bréedes me such vnrest. For ofte by telling of this dolefull tale, My tongue will ease, my brest of mickle bale.

If thou werte here, my harte that now is sadde, To thinke on thée whose absence bréedes my wo: With thoughts on thée, would soone become so glad, As should forget those gréefes that gripe me so. And as before, so now agayne I ende, I feare to dye, for want of thée my friende.

Thou arte my friend, chiefe fr••end, and onely Feare, My Iemme of ioy, my Iewell of delight: God onely knowes, for thy swéete sake my deare, How I in dole doe passe ech day and night. Come therefore, come, with spéede come home agayne, To comfort her, that thus doth pine in payne.

¶Thy louing Wyfe and faythfull friend, And so will bide, till life doe end.