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SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
THE FAREWELL. GOE, soule, the bodie's guest, Vpon a thanklesse arrant : Feare not to touch the best ; Thy truth shall be thy warrant:
Goe, since I needs must dye,
And giue them all the lye. Say to the court, it glowes And shines like painted wood; Say to the church, it shewes What's good, but does no good:
If court and church reply,
Then giue them both the lye. Tell potentates, they liue Acting, but oh! their actions Not loued vnless they giue; Nor strong but by affection :
If potentates reply,
Giue potentates the lye. Tell men of high condition, That manage the estate, Their purpose is ambition, Their practice onely hate;
And if they once reply,
Then giue them all the lye. Tell those that braue it most, They beg for more by spending,
Who in their greatest cost
And if they make reply,
Then giue them all the lye.
And wish them not reply,
For thou must giue the lye.
And as they shall reply,
Giue euery one the lye.
And when they doe reply,
Straight giue them both the lye. Tell Physicke of her boldnesse; Tell Skill it is preuention ; Tell Charity of coldnesse; Tell Law it is contention :
And as they doe reply,
Then giue them still the lye.
And if they will reply,
Tell Arts they haue no soundnesse,
If Arts and Schooles reply,
Giue Arts and Schooles the lye.
And if they doe reply,
Spare not to giue the lye.
Stab at thee he that will,
There will I kiss
And drink mine everlasting fill
AN EPITAPH. (Said to have been written the night before his Execution.)
EUEN such is Time, which takes on trust
God, th’ æternal God, noe doubt is good to the
godly, Giuing grace to the pure, and mercy to Israel
holy: And yet, alas! my feete, my faynte feet gan to be
slyding, And I was almost gone and fall'n to a dangerous
For my soul did grudg, my hart consumed in an
ger, And myne eyes disdayng'd, when I saw that such
men abounded With wealth, health, and joy, whose myndes with
myschif abounded, Theyr body stowt and strong, theyr lyms still
lyuely apearing, Neyther feare any panges of death, nor feele any
sicknes: Some still mourne, they laughe: some lyue un
fortunate euer, They for ioy doe triumphe, and taste aduersity
neuer ; Which makes them with pryde, with scornful
pryde to be chayned, And with blood-thirsting disdaigne as a roabe to