 | Eglogs, Epytaphes, and Sonettes |  |
Egloga sexta.
Felix. Faustus.Felix.
O Faustus , whom aboue the rest,
of Shephardes here that kepe,
Upon these holts, yt nōbre great
of waight ye fleesed shepe:
I euer haue estemde: and coūted eke,
the chiefest Frende of all,
What great mishap, what scourge of minde
or griefe hath the befall?
That hath the brought ī such a plight
farre from thy wonted guyse?
What meanes this coūtenaūce all bespret
wt teres? these wretched eies
This mournynge looke, this Uesture sad
this wrethe of Wyllow tree,
(Unhappy man) why doste thou wepe
what chaunce hath altered the?
Tell tell, me soone, I am thy frende,
Disclose to me thy gryefe,
Be not afrayde, for frendes do serue,
to gyue thyr Frendes relyefe.
The wofull cause of all my hurte,
good Felix longe agoe,
Thou knewst full well: I nede not now
by wordes to double woe,
Synce that (alas) all hope is past
synce gryefe, and I am one,
And synce the Ladye of my lyfe,
(my faute) I haue forgone,
What woldst yu haue me do (oh frend?)
to Ioye? in suche dystres?
Naye pleasures quyte I banish here,
and yelde to Heuynes,
Let gryefes torment me euermore,
let neuer Cares awaye.
Let neuer Fortune turne her wheale
to gyue me blysfull daye.
Loue hath me scourged: I am content
lament not thou my state.
Let spyght on me take vengeaunce nowe
let me be torne with hate.
Let her enioye, her happye lyfe,
a Flowre of golden hewe,
That closeth when the Son doth set,
and spreads with Phebus newe.
this famouse Flowre swete:
Let Wyllows wynde aboute my hed,
(a Wrethe for Wretches mete)
Felix.
Fye Faustus, let not Fancie fonde,
in the beare suche a swaye,
Expell Affections from thy mynde,
and dryue them quyght awaye.
Embrace thine Auncient Lybertie,
let Bondage vyle be fled:
Let Reason rule, thy crased Brayne,
place Wyt, in Folies steade.
Synce she is gone, what remedye?
why shuldest thou so lament?
Wilt thou destroy thy self with tears
and she to pleasures bent?
Gyue eare to me, and I wyll showe
the remedies for Loue
That I haue learned longe agoe:
and in my youth dyd proue.
Such remedies as soone shall quenche
the flames of Cupids Fyre,
Suche remedies as shall delaye,
the Rage of fonde Desyre.
the blynded God to please,
And wylt not seke, by Reasons Rule,
to purchase thyne owne ease,
Long ranst thou not thy frends enioy
but byd them all farewell.
And leaue thy lyfe, and giue thy soule
to depest fluds of Hell.
Leaue of therfore, betymes and let
Affection beare no swaye,
And now at fyrst the Fyre quench
before it further straye,
Eche thyng is easely made to obaye,
whyle it is yong and grene,
The tender twyg, that now doth bend
at length refuseth cleane.
The feruent Fyre, that flamyng fyrst,
may lytell water drenche,
When as it hath obtayned tyme,
whole Ryuers can not quenche:
Forsake the Town, (my Faustus deare)
and dwell, vpon this playne,
And tyme shall heale, thy festryng woūd
& Absence banysh Payne.
For this doth dowble strength,
To Louers flams, & makes thē rage,
tyl all be lost at length,
Here in thes felds, are pleasaūt things
to occupye thy brayn,
Behold: how spryng reuyues agayn,
that winter late had slayne,
Behold: the plesaunt Hylles adournd,
with dyuers colours fayre,
Geue eare to Scillas lusty songes,
reioysynge in the ayr,
What pleasure cāst thou more desyre,
then here is for to se:
Thy lusty yewes, with many a lam,
Lo: whear they wayt on the,
Thynke not vpon that cursed face,
that makes the thus her slaue
But well regard the pleasaunt lyfe,
that here thou seest me haue,
Whan I long tyme a go, did feale,
the flames of Cupids fyre,
These meanes Lo than I practised,
to cure my fond desyre.
How fond a thyng it seamd,
To let my heart lye there in chaynes,
where I was nought esteamd.
And how with flames I burnt for her,
that passed nought for me,
And how, these eyes encreast my harmes
that fyrst her face did se,
With pensyfe heart full fraight with thoughts,
I fled frō thence away,
And though that Loue bad tourne my steppes,
yet wold I neuer stay,
But from that foule infectyue ayer,
wher first I tooke my sore,
I hyed in hast, and shund the place,
to se for euer more.
Eache letter that I had receyued
from her, I cast away,
And tokens all, I threw them down,
to my no small dysmay.
Then busyed I my selfe in thyngs
that myght me moste delyght,
And sought the chiefst means I could,
to helpe my weryed spryght.
and Hylles that thou doste se,
Somtime I wold betraye the Byrds,
that lyght on lymed tree,
Especially in Shepstare tyme,
when thicke in flocks they flye,
One wold I take, and to her Leg,
a lymed Lyne wold tye,
And where ye flock flew thickest, there
I wold her cast awaye,
She strayght vnto the rest wold hye,
amongst her Mates to playe.
And preasyng in the mydste of them,
with Lyne and Lyme, and all,
With cleuyng wyngs, entangled fast
they downe togyther fall.
Somtyme I wold the lytel Fysh:
with bayted Hooke beguyle:
Somtyme the craftye Foxe I wold,
deceyue for all his wyle:
Somtyme the Wolfe, I wold pursue,
somtyme the fomyng Boore:
And whan with labour all the daye,
my weryed Lyms were soore.
no Dreames dyd me afraye:
Tormented nought with care, I past
the lyngryng nyght awaye.
And thus I cleane forgot: in tyme,
the dotyng Dayes I sawe,
And freed my self, to my great Ioye,
from Yoke of Louers Lawe.
More of this same, I wyll the tell,
the next tyme here we mete,
And strōger Medycines wyll I gyue,
to purge that Uenym swete.
Beholde the Daye is slypt awaye,
and Starres do fast appeare,
Loe where Calisto Uirgin ones,
doth shyne in Skies so cleare.
Loe where olde Cepheus walks about,
with twynyng Serpent bye,
We wyll no lenger heare abyde,
But hence wyll homwarde hye.
Finis Eglogæ sextœ.
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