 | The Italian Taylor, and his Boy |  |
Cant. 8.
Argument
Who challenges ignobly,A gift aboue request,
This is the fruite that's got thereby,
Whose vertue is exprest,
To staine and spot, though it be pure:
Euen so it comes to passe;
Who wisely thinkes himselfe secure,
Doth often proue an asse:
As will the sequell shew to all,
What to this Doctor did befall.
They in their iudgement see,
This Fruite was from some power sent,
Vpon the earth to bee:
To giue it prayses due.
The King sayes first: “It is the Bride
“To Beautie, faire and true;
“And was more louely to the eye,
“Then clusters of ripe Grapes,
“Whose pressure yeelded Wine, whereby
“The heart from sorrow scapes:
“Or like the woman to the man,
“When she in ornament,
“Lookt like the glorie of the Sunne
“Amidst the Firmament.”
The Nobles by, rapt in the prayse;
One spake for all the rest,
As they in counsell sate and gaise,
While Wisedome is exprest.
“To mee (sayes Grauitie) it seemes,
“As Turtles, when they meete,
“Whose good agreeing, iudgement deemes
“Hath non parele to greete:
“So is my heart vnto this Fruite,
“Annexed with such ioy,
“As well my tongue cannot dispute,
“Whose coulour is Le roy.”
The modest Princesse knowing well,
The shape, her loue to bee,
Begins to shadow, and expell
Her griefes, and thus sayes shee.
“My Fathers iudgement is diuine
“Which thought it was a Bride;
“Euen so thinke I, and would t'were mine,
“It were my mayden pride:
“It shall be mine in vse:”
“T'is (quoth the King) and doth befit
“Thy beautie virgin truse.”
These prayses kild the Doctors heart
He knew it was his Boy
That thus disguis'd, did seeke to thwart
The pride of all his ioy,
Lookt like the angry cloudes in blackes,
Which threaten shewers of raine;
Yet ride vpon the mouing rackes,
As it would to the maine:
Euen so did he, his sullen fit
Was now the maine of all,
For he deuises by his wit,
How vengeaunce best might fall.
Speake your opinion (sayes the King:)
But he sayd little to te,
Till on the sodaine he doth spring
And kickt it with his foote:
The Curnels flue about the roome,
That euery stander by,
The King & Princesse past their doome
He did deserue to die,
To spoyle the beautie of a fruite,
Sent there by miracle:
Of whose rare being to dispute,
Did craue an Oracle.
The doomed arts-man straight turnes thrice
When they togeather flocke,
And by his cunning, in a trice,
Appear'd a crowing Cocke:
Crowes out that all might heare;
The other Cockes as loudly singes,
That then were something neare.
The King cals to his Lords for ayde,
To coniure downe the Diuell;
The Princess and the Lords dismayde,
Did blesse themselues from euill:
All in a hurly burly now,
The Princesse knew right well
The sequell answerd to the vow
Her rubie Ring did tell.
Whispers her Father, thus she sayes:
“Your Maiestie shall see
“A comecke iest, and worthy prayse,
“If you will credite mee.
“I am acquainted in some part,
“To all this misterie:
“Beseeke you then haue quiet heart,
“And note the Historie.”
By this, the Cocke that prunde himselfe
Was iolly in his iette,
Growne proud his shape should catch the elfe,
That did his fortunes lette,
All greedy picks the curnels fast;
Whereby the Boy did know
T'was time to shift, his life was past,
If he were eaten so:
He sodainly turnes to a Foxe,
To scape his Maisters power:
Skips heere, leapes there, with friskes and mocks,
Last doth, the Cocke deuower.
| The Italian Taylor, and his Boy | |