(One passage (that of the 'Shake-scene') in Greene's Groat's Worth of Wit has been hacked almost to death by the citations and discussions of Shakespearian commentators. But the rest has been but little referred to in comparison; and though it has been reprinted, it is not, to my knowledge, anywhere accessible as a whole, and is very generally unknown. It has, however, high interest, both external and internal, with the additional claim to preference over Greene's earlier euphuist romances and 'conny-catching' pamphlets that it is much shorter than the best of the former, and that nothing stands in the same relation to it as Dekker's Hornbook does to the latter. It wants little more introduction save the reminder that its autobiographic quality is evidently considerable in fact, if not so great as in intention, and that it was not printed till after the author's death.) GREENS, THE PRINTER TO THE GENTLE READERS I haue published heere Gentlemen for your mirth and benefit, Greenes groatesworth of wit. With sundry of his pleasant discourses, ye haue beene before delighted: But now hath death giuen a period to his pen: onely this happened into my hands, which I haue published for your pleasures: Accept it fauorably because it was his last birth, and not least worth, in my poore opinion. But I will cease to praise that which is aboue my conceit, and leaue it selfe to speake for it selfe: and so abide your learned censuring. TO THE GENTLEMEN READERS Gentlemen. The Swan sings melodiously before death, that in all his life time vseth but a iarring sound. Greene though able inough to write, yet deeplyer searched with sickenesse than euer heretofore, sends you his Swanne-like song, for that he feares he shal neuer againe carroll A GROAT'S WORTH OF WIT In an Iland bound with the Ocean, there was sometime a Citie situated, made rich by Marchandize and populous by long space: the name is not mentioned in the Antiquary, or else worne out by times Antiquitie: what it was it greatly skilles not: but therein thus it happened. An old new made Gentleman herein dwelt, of no small credit, exceeding wealth, and large conscience: he had gathered from many to bestowe vpon one, for though he had two sonnes, he esteemed but one, that being as himselfe, brought vp to be goldes bondman, was therefore held heire apparent of his ill gathered goods. The other was a Scholler, and maried to a proper Gentlewoman, and therefore least regarded, for tis an olde said saw: To learning and law, ther's no greater foe, then they that nothing know: yet was not the father altogether vnlettered, for he had good experience in a Nouerint, and by the vniuersall tearmes therein contained, had driuen many gentlewomen to seeke vnknowen countries: wise he was, for he boare office in his / parish, and sate as formally And Latin he had some where learned, which though it were but little, yet was it profitable, for he had this Philosophie written in a ring, Tu tibi cura, which precept he curiously obserued, being in selfeloue so religious, as he held it no point of charitie to part with any thing, of which he liuing might make vse. But as all mortall things are momentarie, and no certaintie can bee founde in this vncertaine world, so Gorinius (for that shall be this Usurers name) after many a goutie pang that had pincht his exterior parts, many a curse of the people that mounted into heauens presence, was at last with his last summons, by a deadly disease arrested, where-against when hee had long contended, and was by Phisitions giuen ouer, hee cald his two sonnes before him: and willing to performe the olde prouerbe, Qualis vita finis Ita, hee thus prepared himselfe, and admonished them. My sonnes (for so your mother said ye were) and so I assure my selfe one of you is, and of the other I wil make no doubt. You see the time is come, which I thought would neuer haue approached, and we must now be seperated, I feare neuer to meete againe. This sixteene This was Robertos offence: nowe returne we to seeke Gorinius, who after he had thus vnequally distributed his goods and possessions, began to aske his sons how they liked his bequestes: either seemed agreed, and Roberto vrged him with nothing more, then repentance of his sin: Loke to thine owne, said he, fond boy, and come my Lucanio, let me giue thee good counsel before my death: as for you sir, your bookes are your counsellors, and therefore to them I bequeath you. Ah Lucanio, my onely comfort, because I hope thou wilt as thy father be a gatherer, let me blesse thee before I die. Multiply in wealth my sonne by anie meanes thou maist, onely flie Alchymie, for therein are more deceites then her beggerly Artistes haue wordes; and yet are the wretches more talkatiue then women. But my meaning is, thou shouldest not stand on conscience in causes of profite, but heape treasure vpon treasure, for the time of neede: yet seeme / to be deuout, else shalt thou be held vile: frequent holy exercises, graue companie, and aboue all, vse the conuersation of yong Gentlemen, who are so wedded to prodigalitie, that once in a quarter necessity knocks at their chamber doores: profer them kindnesse to relieue their wants, but be sure of good assurance: giue faire words till dayes of payment come, and then vse my course, spare none: what though they tell of conscience (as a number will talke) looke but Besides, thou hast an instance by thy threed-bare brother heere, who willing to do no wrong, hath lost his childs right: for who would wish any thing to him, that knowes not how to vse it? So much Lucanio for conscience: and yet I knowe not whats the reason, but somewhat stings mee inwardly when I speake of it. I, father, said Roberto, it is the worme of conscience, that vrges you at the last houre to remember your life, that eternall life may follow your repentance. Out foole (said this miserable father) I feele it now, it was onely a stitch. I will forward with my exhortation to Lucanio. As I saide my / sonne, make spoyle of yong gallants by insinuating thy selfe amongst them, and be not mooued to think their Auncestors were famous, but But now (Ah my Lucanio) now must I leaue it, and to thee I leaue it with this lesson, loue none but thy selfe, if thou wilt liue esteemed. So turning him to his study, where his chiefe treasure lay, he loud cried out in the wise mans words, O mors quam amara, O death how bitter is thy memorie to him that hath al pleasures in this life, and so with two or three lamentable groanes he left his life: and to make short worke, was by Lucanio his sonne enterd, as the custome is with some solemnitie: But leauing him that hath left the world to Lucanio being on a time very pensiue, his brother brake with him in these tearmes. I wonder Lucanio why you are so disconsolate, that want not any thing in the world that may worke your content. If wealth may delight a man, you are with that suffi With this foorth they walke, and Roberto went directlie towarde the house where Lamilia (for so wee call the Curtezan) kept her Hospital, which was in the Suburbes of the Cittie, pleasauntly seated, and made more delectable by a pleasaunt Garden, wherein it was scituate. No sooner come they within ken, but Mistresse Lamilia like a cunning angler made readie her chaunge of baytes, that shee might effect Lucanios bane: and to begin, shee discouered from her window her beauteous inticing face, and taking a lute in her had that / she might the rather allure, she sung this Sonnet with a delicious voice. Lamilias Song. Fie fie on blind fancie, It hinders youths ioy: Faire virgins learne by me, To count loue a toy. When Loue learned first the A B C of delight, And knew no figures, nor conceited phrase: He simplie gaue to due desert her right, He led not louers in darke winding wayes: But now who lists to proue, shall find it nothing so: Fie fie then on fancie, It hinders youths ioy, Faire virgins learne by me, To count loue a toy. For since he learnd to vse the Poets pen, He learnd likewise with smoothing words to faine, Witching chast eares with trothlesse toungs of men, And wrayed faith with falshood and disdaine. He giues a promise now, anon he sweareth no, Who lifteth for to proue, shall find his changings so: Fie fie then on fancie It hinders youth[s] ioy, Faire virgins learn by me, To count loue a toy. While this painted sepulchre was shadowing her corrupting guilt, Hiena-like alluring to destruction, Roberto and Lucanio vnder the windowe, kept euen pace with / euery stop of her instrument, but especially my yong Ruffler (that before time like a bird in a cage, had beene prentise for three liues or one and twentie yeeres at least, to esteame Auarice his deceased father). O twas a world to see how he sometime simperd it, striuing to set a countenance on his turnd face, that it might seeme of wainscot proofe, to beholde her face without blushing: anone he would stroake his bow-bent-leg, as though he went to shoote loue arrows from his shins: then wipte his chin (for his beard was not yet grown) with a gold Roberto smiling at his simplenesse, helpt him to gather vp his dropt golde, and without any more circumstance led him to Lamilias house: for of such places it may be said as of hell. / Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua ditis. So their doores are euer open to entice youth After this Diomedis & Glauci permutatio, my young master / waxed cranke, and the musicke continuing, was very forward in dauncing, to shew his cunning: and so desiring them to play on a hornepipe, laid on the pauement lustily with his leaden heeles, coruetting like a steede of Signor Roccoes teaching, and wanted nothing but bels, to bee a hobbyhorse in a morrice. Yet was he soothed in his folly, and what euer he did, Lamilia counted excellent: her praise made him proude, insomuch that if he had not beene intreated, hee would rather haue died in his daunce, then left off to shew his mistresse delight. At last reasonably perswaded, seeing the table furnished, he was contented to cease, and settle himselfe to his victuals, on which (hauing before labored) he fed lustily, especially of a Woodcocke pie, wherewith Lamilia his caruer, plentifully plied him. Full dishes hauing furnisht emptie Before ye go on with your tale (quoth mistresse Lamilia) let me giue ye a caueat by the way, which shall be figured in a Fable. Lamiliaes Tale. The Foxe on a time came to visite the Gray, partly for kindered, cheefely for craft: and finding the hole emptie of all other companie, sauing onely one Badger; enquiring the cause of his solitarinesse, he described the sodaine death of his dam and sire, with the rest of his consorts. The Foxe made a Friday face, counterfeiting sorrow: but concluding that deaths shake was vneuitable, perswaded him to seeke some fit mate wherwith to match. The Badger soone agreed: so forth they went, and in their way met with a wanton ewe straggling from the fold: the Foxe bad the Badger play the tall stripling, and strout on his tiptoes: for (quoth he) this ewe is lady of al these lands, and her brother cheefe bel-weather of sundrie flocks. To be short, by the Foxes permission there would be a perpetuall league betweene her harmelesse kindred and al other deuouring beasts, for that the Badger was to them all allied: seduced, shee yeelded: and the Foxe conducted them to the Badgers / habitation, where drawing her aside vnder color of exhortation, [he] pulde out her throate to satisfie his greedie thurst. Here I should note, a yoong whelpe that viewed their walke, infourmed the shepheard of what hapned. They followed, and trained the Foxe and Badger to the hole: the Foxe afore had craftily conuaied him Robertoes Tale. In the North parts there dwelt an old Squier, that had a yong daughter his heire; who had (as I know Madame Lamilia you haue had) many youthfull Gentlemen that long time sued to obtaine her loue. But she knowing her owne perfection (as women are by nature proude) woulde not to any of them vouchsafe fauour: insomuch that they perceiuing her relentlesse, shewed themselues not altogether witlesse, but left her to her fortune, when they founde her frowardnesse. At last it fortuned among other strangers, a Farmers sonne visited her fathers house: on whom at the first sight shee was enamored, he likewise on hir. Tokens of loue past betweene them, either acquainted others parents of their choise, and they kindly gaue their consent. Short tale to make, married they were, and great solemnitie was Now by the way we must vnderstand this mother Gunby had a daughter, who all that day sate heauily at home with a willow garland, for that the bridegroome (if he had dealt faithfully) should haue wedded her before any other. But men (Lamilia) are vnconstant, mony now a daies makes the match, or else the match is marde. But to the matter: the bride groome and the At this the yong gentlewoman inwardly vext to be by a peasant so abused, promised if she sawe likelyhood of / his slipping away, that then she would doe according as he directed. All this thus sorting, the old womans daughter was trickly attired, ready to furnish this pageant, for her old mother promised all things necessarie. Well, Supper past, dauncing ended, all the guests would home, and the Bridgroome pretending to bring some friend of his home, got his horse, and to the Parke side he rode, and stayed with the horsemen that attended the Gentleman. Anone came Marian like mistris Bride, and mounted behind the gentleman, away they post, fetch their compasse, & at last alight at an olde wiues house, where sodenly she is conuaied to her chamber, & the bridegroome sent to keepe her company: where he had scarce deuised how to begin his exhortation, but the father of his bride knockt at the chamber doore. At which being somewhat amazed, Quoth Lamilia, and what of this? Nay nothing saide Roberto, but that I haue told you the effects of sodaine loue: yet the best is, my brother is a maidenly batcheler, and for your selfe, you haue beene troubled with many suters. The fewer the better, said Lucanio. But brother, I con you little thanke for this tale: hereafter I pray you vse other table talke. Lets then end talk, quoth Lamilia, and you (signor Lucanio) and I will goe to the Chesse. To Chesse, said he, what meane you by that? It is a game, said she, that the first danger is but a checke, the worst, the giuing of a mate. Wel, said Roberto, that game ye haue beene at alreadie then, for you checkt him first with your beauty, & gaue your self for mate to him by your bountie. That is wel taken brother, said Lucanio, so haue we past our game at Chesse. Wil ye play at tables then, said she? I cannot, quoth he, for I can goe no furder with my game, if I be once taken. Will ye play then at cards? I, said he, if it be at one and thirtie. That fooles game, said she? Weele all to hazard, said Roberto, and / brother you shall make one for an houre or two: contented quoth he. So to dice they went, and fortune so fauoured Lucanio, that while they Lucanio loath to be outcountenanst, followed his aduise, desiring to attend his returne, which he before had determined vnrequested: for as soone as his brothers backe was turned, Roberto begins to reckon with Lamilia, to bee a sharer as well in the mony deceitfully woone, as in the Diamond so wilfully giuen. But she, secundum mores meretricis, iested thus with the scholler. Why Roberto, are you so well read, and yet shew your selfe so shallow witted, to deeme women so weake of conceit, that they see not into mens demerites? Suppose (to make you my stale to catch the woodcocke, your brother) that my tongue ouerrunning mine intent, I spake of liberal rewarde; but what I promised, there is the point; at least what I part with, I will be well aduised. It may be you wil thus reason: Had not Roberto trained Lucanio with Lamilias lure, Lucanio had not now beene Lamilias prey: therfore sith by Roberto she possesseth her prize, Roberto merites an equall part. Monstrous absurd if so you reason; as wel you may reason thus: Lamilias dog hath kilde As Roberto would haue replied, Lucanio approached: to whom Lamilia discourst the whole deceit of his brother, & neuer rested intimating malitious arguments, till Lucanio vtterly refused Roberto for his brother, and for euer forbad him of his house. And when he wold haue yeelded reasons, and formed excuse, Lucanios impatience (vrged by her importunate malice) forbad all reasoning with them that was reasonlesse, and so giuing him Jacke Drums entertainment, shut him out of doores: whom we will follow, and leaue Lucanio to the mercie of What meant the Poets to inuectiue verse, To sing Medeas shame, and Scillas pride, Calipsoes charmes, by which so many dide? Onely for this, their vices they rehearse, That curious wits which in this world conuerse, May shun the dangers and enticing shoes, Of such false Syrens, those home-breeding foes, That from their eies their venim do disperse. / So soone kils not the Basiliske with sight, The Vipers tooth is not so venomous, The Adders tung not halfe so dangerous, As they that beare the shadow of delight, Who chaine blinde youths in tramels of their haire, Till wast bring woe, and sorrow hast despaire. With this he laide his head on his hand, and leant his elbow on the ground sighing out sadly, Heu patior telis vulnera facta meis. On the other side of the hedge sate one that heard his sorrow, who getting ouer, came towardes him, and brake off his passion. When he approached, he saluted Roberto in this sort. Gentleman, quoth hee (for so you seeme), I haue by chaunce heard you discourse some part of your greefe; which appeareth to be more then you will discouer, or I can conceipt. But if you vouchsafe such simple comfort as my abilitie will yeeld, assure Roberto wondring to heare such good words, for that this iron age affoordes few that esteeme of vertue, returned him thankfull gratulations, and (vrged by necessitie) vttered his present griefe, beseeching his aduise how he might be imployed. Why, easily, quoth hee, and greatly to your benefit: for men of my profession get by schollers their whole liuing. What is your profession, sayd Roberto? Truely, sir, said he, I am a player. A Player, quoth Roberto, I tooke you rather for a gentleman of great liuing, for if by outward habit men shuld be censured, I tell you you would be taken for a substantiall / man. So am I, where I dwell (quoth the player), reputed able at my proper cost to build a Windmill. What though the worlde once went hard with mee, when I was faine to carrie my playing Fardle a footebacke; Tempora mutantur, I know you know the meaning of it better then I, but I thus conster it; it is otherwise now; for my very share in playing apparrell will not be solde for two hundred pounds. Truely (said Roberto) it is strange, that you should so prosper in that vaine practise, for that it seemes to me your voyce is nothing gracious. Nay then, said the player, I mislike your iudgement: why, I am as Was not this prettie for a plaine rime extempore? if ye will ye shall haue more. Nay it is enough, said Roberto, but how meane you to vse mee? Why sir, in making playes, said the other, for which you shall be well paied, if you will take the paines. Roberto perceiuing no remedie, thought best to respect of his present necessity, to trie his wit, & went with him willingly: who lodged him at the townes end in a house of retaile, where what happened our Poet you shall / heereafter heare. There, by conuersing with bad company, he grew A malo in peius, falling from one vice to another, and so hauing found a vaine to finger crownes he grew cranker then Lucanio, who by this time began to droope, While he was at his feast, Lamilia came flaunting by, garnished with the iewels whereof she beguiled him: which sight serued to close his stomacke after his cold cheere. Roberto hearing of his brothers beggerie, albeit he had little remorse of his miserable state, yet did he seeke him out, to vse him as a propertie, whereby Lucanio was somewhat prouided for. But being of simple nature, hee serued but for a blocke to whet Robertoes wit on; which the poore foole perceiuing, he forsooke all other hopes of life, and fell to be a notorious Pandar: in which detested To some of his swearing companions thus it happened /: A crue of them sitting in a Tauerne carowsing, it fortuned an honest Gentleman, and his friend, to enter their roome: some of them being acquainted with him, in their domineering drunken vaine, would haue no nay, but downe he must needes sitte with them; beeing placed, no remedie there was, but he must needes keep euen compasse with their vnseemely carrowsing. Which he refusing, they fell from high wordes to sound strokes, so that with much adoe the Gentleman saued his owne, and shifted from their company. Being gone, one of these tiplers forsooth lackt a gold Ring, the other sware they see the Gentleman take it from his hande. Upon this the Gentleman was indited before a Judge: these honest men are deposed: whose wisedome weighing the time of the braule, gaue light to the Iury what power wine-washing poyson had: they, according vnto conscience, found the Gentleman not guiltie, and God released by that verdict the innocent. With his accusers thus it fared: one of them for murther was worthily executed: the other neuer since prospered: the third, sitting not long after upon a lustie horse, the beast suddenly died vnder him: God amend the man. Roberto euery day acquainted with these examples, was notwithstanding nothing bettered, but rather hardened in wickednesse. At last was that place iustified, God warneth men by dreams and visions in the night, and by knowne examples in the day, but if he returne not, hee comes vpon him with iudgement that shall bee felt. For now when the number of deceites caused Roberto bee hatefull almost to all men, his immeasurable drinking had made him the perfect Image of the dropsie, and the loathsome scourge of Lust, tyrannized in his loues: / liuing in extreame pouerty, and hauing nothing to pay but chalke, which now his Host accepted not for currant, this miserable man lay comfortlessely languishing, hauing but one groat left (the iust proportio of his fathers Legacie) which looking on, he cried: O now it is too late, too late to buy witte with thee: and therefore will I see if I can sell to carelesse youth what I negligently forgot to buy. Heere (Gentlemen) breake I off Robertos speech; whose life in most parts agreeing with mine, found one selfe punishment as I haue doone. Heereafter suppose me the said Roberto, and I will goe on with Deceiuing world, that with alluring toyes, Hast made my life the subiect of thy scorne: And scornest now to lend thy fading ioyes, To lengthen my life, whom friends haue left forlorne. How well are they that die ere they be borne, And neuer see thy sleights, which few men shun, Till vnawares they helplesse are vndon. Oft haue I sung of loue, and of his fire, But now I finde that Poet was aduizde; Which made full feasts increasers of desire, And prooues weake loue was with the poore despizde. For when the life with foode is not suffizde, What thoughts of loue, what motion of delight; What pleasance can proceede from such a wight? Witnesse my want the murderer of my wit, My rauisht sense of woonted furie reft; Wants such conceit, as should in Poims sit, Set downe the sorrow wherein I am left: But therefore haue high heauens their gifts bereft: Because so long they lent them me to vse, And I so long their bountie did abuse. O that a yeare were graunted me to liue, And for that yeare my former wits restorde: What rules of life, what counsell would I giue? How should my sinne with sorrow then deplore? Time loosely spent will not againe be woonne, My time is loosely spent, and I vndone. O horrenda fames, how terrible are thy assaultes? but Vermis conscientiÆ, more wounding are thy stings. Ah Gentlemen, that liue to reade my broken and confused lines, looke not I should (as I was woont) delight you with vain fantasies, but gather my follies altogether, and as you would deale with so many parricides, cast them into the fire: call them Telegones, for now they kill their father, and euerie lewd line in them written is a deep piercing wound to my heart; euery idle houre spent by any in reading them, brings a million of sorrowes to my soule. O that the teares of a miserable man (for neuer any man was yet more miserable) might wash their memorie out with my death; and that those works with me together might be interd. But sith they cannot, let this my last worke witnes against them with me, how I detest them. Blacke is the remembrance of my blacke works, blacker then night, blacker / then death, blacker then hell. Learne wit by my repentance (Gentlemen), and let these fewe rules following be regarded in your liues. 1. First in all your actions set God before your eies; for the feare of the Lord is the beginning of wisedome: Let his word be a lanterne to your feete, 2. Beware of looking backe: for God will not be mocked; of him that hath receiued much, much shall be demanded. 3. If thou be single, and canst abstaine, turne thy eies from vanitie, for there is a kinde of women bearing the faces of Angels, but the hearts of Deuils, able to intrap the elect if it were possible. If thou be m[a]rried, forsake not the wife of thy youth, to follow strange flesh; for whoremongers and adulterers the Lord will iudge. The doore of a Harlot leadeth downe to death, and in her lips there dwels destruction; her face is decked with odors, but shee bringeth a man to a morsell of bread and nakednesse: of which myselfe am instance. 5. If thou be left rich, remember those that want, and so deale, that by thy wilfulnes thy self want not: Let not Tauerners and Victuallers be thy Executors; for they will bring thee to a dishonorable graue. 6. Oppresse no man, for the crie of the wronged ascendeth to the eares of the Lord; neither delight to encrease by Usurie, lest thou loose thy habitation in the euerlasting Tabernacle. 7. Beware of building thy house to thy neighbours hurt; for the stones will crie to the timber, We were laide together in bloud: and those that so erect houses, calling / them by their names, shall lie 8. If thou be poore, be also patient, and striue not to grow rich by indirect meanes; for goods so gotten shall vanish away like smoke. 9. If thou be a father, maister, or teacher, ioyne good examples with good counsaile; else little auaile precepts, where life is different. 10. If thou be a sonne or seruant, despise not reproofe; for though correction be bitter at the first, it bringeth pleasure in the end. Had I regarded the first of these rules, or beene obedient at the last: I had not now, at my last ende, beene left thus desolate. But now, though to my selfe I giue Consilium post facta; yet to others they may serue for timely precepts. And therefore (while life giues leaue) will send warning to my olde consorts, which haue liued as loosely as myselfe, albeit weakenesse will scarce suffer me to write, yet to my fellowe Schollers about this Cittie, will I direct these few insuing lines. To those Gentlemen his Quondam acquaintance, If wofull experience may mooue you (Gentlemen) to beware, or vnheard of wretchednes intreate you With thee I ioyne young Iuuenall, that byting Satyrist, that lastlie with mee together writ a Comedie. Sweete / boy, might I aduise thee, be aduised, and get not many enemies by bitter words: inueigh against vaine men, for thou canst do it, no man better, no man so wel: thou hast a libertie to reprooue all, and none more; for one being spoken to, all are offended, none being blamed no man is iniured. Stop shallow water still running, it will rage, tread on a worme and it will turne: then blame not schollers vexed with sharpe lines, if they reproue thy too much libertie of reproofe. And thou no lesse deseruing then the other two, in some things rarer, in nothing inferiour; driuen (as my selfe) to extreame shifts, a little haue I to say to thee: and were it not an idolatrous oth, I would sweare by sweet S. George, thou art vnworthie better In this I might insert two more, that both haue writ against these buckram Gentlemen: but let their owne works serue to witnesse against their owne But now returne I againe to you [t]hree, knowing my miserie is to you no news: and let me heartily intreate you to bee warned by my harmes. Delight not (as I haue done) in irreligious oaths; for from the blasphemers house a curse shall not depart. Despise drunkennes, which wasteth the wit, and maketh men all equal vnto beasts. Flie lust, as the deathsman of the soule, and defile not the Temple of the holy ghost. Abhorre those Epicures, whose loose life hath made religion lothsome to your eares: and when they sooth you with tearmes of Mastership, remember Robert Greene, whome they haue so often flattered, perishes now for want of comfort. Remember gentlemen, your liues are like so many lighted Tapers, that are with care deliuered to all of you to maintaine: these with wind-puft wrath may be extinguisht, which drunkennes put out, which negligence let fall: for mans time of itselfe is not so short, but it is more shortened by sin. The fire of my light is now at the last snuffe, and the want of wherwith to sustaine it, there is no substance left for life to feede on. Trust not then (I beseech yee) Desirous that you should liue, though Now to all men I bid farewell in this sort, with this conceited Fable of the olde Comedian Æsope. An Ant and a Grashopper walking together on a greene, the one carelessely skipping, the other carefully prying what winters prouision was scattered in the way: the Grashopper scorning (as wantons wil) this needelesse thrift (as he tearmed it) reprooued him thus: The greedie miser thirsteth still for gaine; His thrift is theft, his weale works others woe: That foole is fond which will in caues remaine, When mongst faire sweetes he may at pleasure goe. To this the Ant perceiuing the Grashoppers meaning, quickly replied: The thriftie husband spares what vnthrifts spends, His thrift no theft, for dangers to prouide: Trust to thy selfe, small hope in want yeeld friendes, A caue is better than the desarts wide. In short time these two parted, the one to his pleasure / the other to his labour. Anon Haruest grewe on, and reft from the Grashopper his woonted moysture. Then weakely skips he to the medows brinks: where till fell winter he abode. But stormes continually powring, hee went for succour to the Ant his olde acquaintance, to whome he had scarce discouered his estate, but the little worme made this replie. Pack hence (quoth he) thou idle lazie worme, My house doth harbour no vnthriftie mates: Thou scornedst to toile, and now thou feelst the storme, And starust for foode while I am fed with cates. Vse no intreats, I will relentlesse rest, For toyling labour hates an idle guest. The Grashopper, foodlesse, helpelesse, and strengthlesse, got into the next brooke, and in the yeelding sand digde himselfe a pit: by which likewise he ingraued this Epitaph. When Springs greene prime arrayd me with delight, And euery power with youthfull vigor fild, Gaue strength to worke what euer fancie wild: I neuer feard the force of winters spight. When first I saw the sunne the day begin, And drie the mornings teares from hearbs and grasse; I little thought his chearefull light would passe, Till vgly night with darknes enterd in. And then day lost I mournd, spring past I waild, But neither teares for this or that auaild. Then too too late I praisd the Emmets paine, / That sought in spring a harbour gainst the heate: And in the haruest gathered winters meate, Perceiuing famine, frosts, and stormie raine. My wretched end may warne Greene springing youth, To vse delights as toyes that will deceiue, And scorne the world before the world them leaue: For all worlds trust, is ruine without ruth. Then blest are they that like the toyling Ant, Prouide in time gainst winters wofull want. With this the grashopper yeelding to the weathers extremit[ie], died comfortlesse without remedie. Like him myselfe: like me, shall al that trust to friends or times inconstancie. Now faint of my last infirmitie, beseeching them that shal burie my bodie, to publish this last farewell, written with my wretched hand. FÆlicem fuisse infaustum. A letter written to his wife, found with this booke after his death. The remembrance of many wrongs offered thee, and thy vnreprooued virtues, adde greater sorrow to my miserable state then I can vtter or thou conceiue. Neither is it lessened by consideration Thy repentant husband for his disloyaltie. FÆlicem fuisse infaustum. Finis |