138 The hooke of Hunting 



They eafe an akyng Tooth, they breake the mmblyng winde, 

 Which grypes the wombe with colliques panges, fuch is their noble kindt 



They quenche the fkaldyng fire, which ilcorched with his heate, 

 And fkinne the fkalt full cleane agayne, and heale it trimme and neate. 



They poyfon do expell, from Keyfar, ^^"Sy or ^eene^ 

 When it by chaunce or deepe deceypt, is fwallowed vp vnfeene. 



But wherefore fpend I time, in vayne at large to prayfe. 

 The vertues of my harmelefle homes, which heape my harme alwayes? 



And yet fuch homes, fuch heare, fuch teares as I haue tolde, 

 I mew and caft for mans auayle, more worth to him than golde. 



But he to quyte the fame, [0 Murdrlng Man thereuihyles) 

 Perfewes me iHll and trappes me ofte, with fundrie fnares and guyles. 



Alas lo now I feele colde feare within my bones, 

 Whiche hangs hyr winges vpon my heeles, to haften for the nones 



My fwifteft ftarting fteppes, me thinkes flie biddes me byde, 

 In thickeft Tuftes of couerts clofe, and fo my felfe to hyde. 



Ah rewfull remedie, fo fliall I (as it were) 

 Euen teare my lyfe out of the teeth of houndes whiche make me feare. 



And from thofe cruell curres, and brayneficke hauling Tikes, 

 Which vowe foote bote to foUowe me, bothe ouer hedge and dykes. 



Me thinkes 1 heare the Home, whiche rendes the reftlelTe ayre, 

 With fhrylleft founde of bloudie blaft, and makes me to defpayre. 



Me thinkes I fee the Toyle, the tanglings and the ftall, 

 Which are prepared and fet full fure, to compafle me withall : 



Me thinkes the Fofter ftandes full clofe in buflie or Tree, 

 And takes his leuell ftreyght and true, me thinkes he fliootes at me. 



And hittes the harmelefle Harte, of me vnhappie Harte, 

 Which muft needes pleafe him by my death, I may it not aftarte. 



Ahlas and well away, me thinkes I fee the hunte, 

 Which takes the meafure of my Slottes, where I to treade was wont : 



Bycaufe I fliall not mifle, at laft to pleafe his minde, 

 Ahlas I fee him where he feekes my latefl: layre to finde. 



He takes my fewmets vp, and puts them in his home, 

 Alas me thinkes he leapes for ioye, and laugheth me to fcorne. 



Harke, harke, alas giue eare. This geare goeth well (fayeth he) 

 This Harte beares deyntie venifon^ in Princes diJJoe to be. 



