Vile _Auaricia_, how hast thou inchaunted The Noble mindes, of great and mightie Men? Or what infernall furie late hath haunted Their niggard purses? (to the learned pen) Was it _Augustus_ wealth, or noble minde, That euerlasting fame, to him assinde? If wealth? Why _Crœsus_ was more rich then hee; (Yet _Crœsus_ glorie, with his life did end) It was his Noble mind, that moued mee To write his praise, and eeke his Acts commend. Who ere had heard, of _Alexanders_ fame, If _Quintus Curtius_ had not pend the same? Then sith by mee, their deedes haue been declared, (Which else had perisht with their liues decay) Who to augment their glories, haue not spared To crowne their browes, with neuer-fading Bay: What Art deserues such Liberalitie, As doeth the peerlesse Art of Poetrie? But _Liberalitie_ is dead and gone: And _Auarice_ vsurps true _Bounties_ seat. For her it is, I make this endlesse mone, (Whose praises worth no men can well repeat. Sweet _Liberalitie_ adiew for euer, For _Poetrie_ againe, shall see thee neuer. Neuer againe, shall I thy presence see: Neuer againe, shal I thy bountie tast: Neuer againe, shal I accepted bee: Neuer againe, shall I be so embrac't: Neuer againe, shall I the bad recall: Neuer againe, shall I be lou'd of all: Thou wast the Nurse, whose Bountie gaue me sucke: Thou wast the Sunne, whose beames did lend me light: Thou wast the Tree, whose fruit I still did plucke: Thou wast the Patron, to maintaine my right: Through thee I liu'd; on thee I did relie; In thee I ioy'd; and now for thee I die. What man, hath lately lost a faithfull frend? Or Husband, is depriued of his Wife? But doth his after-daies in dolour spend? (Leading a loathsome, discontented life?) Dearer then friend, or wife, haue I forgone; Then maruell not, although I make such mone. Faire _Philomela_, cease thy sad complaint; And lend thine eares, vnto my dolefull Ditty: (Whose soule with sorrowe, now begins to faint, And yet I cannot moue mens hearts to pitty:) Thy woes are light, compared vnto mine: You waterie Nymphes, to mee your plaints resigne. And thou _Melpomene_, (the Muse of Death) That neuer sing'st, but in a dolefull straine; Sith cruell Destinie hath stopt her breath, (Who whilst she liu'd, was Vertues Soueraigne Leaue _Hellicon_, (whose bankes so pleasant bee) And beare a part of sorrowe now with mee. The Trees (for sorrowe) shead their fading Leaues, And weepe out gum, in stead of other teares; Comfort nor ioy, no Creature now conceiues, To chirpe and sing, each little bird forbeares. The sillie Sheepe, hangs downe his drooping head, And all because, that _Bounty_ she is dead.