_The Siege of_ Leith. _A Farewel to the World_. _A feigned Fancy of the Spider and the Goat_. _A doleful Discourse of a Lady and a Knight_. _The Road into_ Scotland, _by Sir_ William Drury. _Sir_ Simon Burley'_s Tragedy_. _A Tragical Discourse of the Vnhappy Mans Life_. _A Discourse of Vertue_. Churchyard'_s Dream_. _A Tale of a Fryar and a Shoomaker's wife_. _The Siege of_ Edenborough-_Castle_. _Queen_ Elizabeth'_s Reception into_ Bristol. These Twelve several Treatises he bound together, calling them _Church-yard's Chips_, and dedicated them to Sir _Christopher Hatton_. He also wrote the Falls of _Shore_'s Wife and of Cardinal _Wolsey_; which are inserted into the Book of _the Mirrour for Magistrates_. Thus, like a stone, did he trundle about, but never gather'd any Moss, dying but poor, as may be seen by his Epitaph in Mr. _Cambden's Remains_, which runs thus; Come _Alecto_, lend me thy Torch, To find a _Church-yard_ in a Church-porch: _Poverty_ and _Poetry_ his Tomb doth enclose, Wherefore good Neighbours be merry in prose. His death, according to the most probable conjecture, may be presumed about the eleventh year of the Queen's Reign, _Anno Dom._ 1570. * * * * * _JOHN HIGGINS_. _John Higgins_ was one of the chief of them who compiled the History of _the Mirrour of Magistrates_, associated with Mr. _Baldwin_, Mr. _Ferrers_, _Thomas Churchyard_, and several others, of which Book Sir _Philip Sidney_ thus writes in his _Defence of Poesie_, _I account the_ Mirrour of Magistrates _meetly furnished of beautiful parts_. These Commendations coming from so worthy a person, our _Higgins_ having so principal a share therein, deserves a principal part of the praise. And how well his deservings were, take an essay of his Poetry in his induction to the Book. When Summer sweet with all her pleasures past, And leaves began to leave the shady tree, The Winter cold encreased on full fast, And time of year to sadness moved me: For moisty blasts not half so mirthful be, As sweet _Aurora_ brings in Spring-time fair, Our joys they dim as Winter damps the air. The Nights began to grow to length apace, Sir _Phoebus_ to th'Antartique 'gan to fare: From _Libra_'s lance, to the _Crab_ he took his race Beneath the Line, to lend of light a share. For then with us the days more darkish are, More short, cold, moist, and stormy, cloudy, clit, For sadness more than mirths or pleasures fit. Devising then what Books were best to read, Both for that time, and sentence grave also, For conference of friend to stand in stead, When I my faithful friend was parted fro; I gat me strait the Printers shops unto, To seek some Work of price I surely ment, That might alone my careful mind content.