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 solempne and Repentant Praier, for former tyme mispent.

OH heauenly Lord, who plaine dost see the thoughts of each mans harte, vvho sendest some continuall plagues, & some release of smart: Pittie O Lorde, the wofull state, vvherein I daily stande, Onely for thy mercies sake, nowe helpe mee out of hande. And as it vvas thy pleasure, fyrst to plague mee thus vvith griefe. So canst thou Lord if thee it please, vvith speede send me reliefe. I must of force confesse O Lorde, I can••t not denie. That I deserue these plagues and vvorse, and that continually, Yet do not thou therfore on me thy iudgement iust extende, But pardon lende, and graunt me grace my life for to amende. And banish (Lord) from mee, delights of vvorldly vanitie, And lende me helpe to pace the pathes of perfect pietie. And truely so to treade the pathes, and in such godly vvise, That they may bring me to the place of perfect Paradise. And not to vvander vp and downe in vvaies of vveerie wo, VVhere vvicked vvyly vvanton toyes, do leade me too and fro. The smacke of Sapience, lykde me not, that pleased not my taste, But fonde delight that vvicked vveede, vvas all my chiefe repaste. VVherin as hooke vvithin the bayte, so do I plainely finde, Some hydden poison lurking lyes, for to infect my minde. But vvherefore doe I finde it nowe? because I nowe doe see, That wanting smart I wanted grace, for to acknowledge thee. But nowe O Lorde, that I so sore doe feele thy punishment: I doe lament my folly great, and all my sinnes repent. And to thy heauenly throane, O Lord, for mercy I appeale, To send me (Lord) some heauenly salue, my grieuous sores to heale.

Behold (O Lord) my sorrowes such, as no man doth endure, And eke my grieuous sicknesse, such as none but thou canst cure. And as thou art a gratious God to men in myserie, So pittie mee that thus, O Lorde, do pine in penurie. And as thou arte a helpe to all that put their trust in thee. So lulde in this my deepe distresse, some comfort lende to mee. And holde O Lord thy heauy hand, and laye thy scourge asyde, For Lord, the grieuous smart thereof I can no longer byde, Forgeue my sinnes, forget the same, beholde my humble harte: VVho onely Lorde doth trust in thee, for to relieue my smarte. And after this my vvretched lyfe: Lord graunt me of thy grace▪ That I in heauen at latter daye, maye haue a ioyfull place.

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