University of Virginia Library

Egloga octaua.

Coridon. Cornix.
Cornix:
Both place and tyme my Coridon
exhorteth me to synge,
Not of the wretched Louers lyues,
but of the immortall kynge.
Who gyues vs pasture for our beasts
and blesseth our encrease:
By whom, while other cark and toyle
we lyue at home with ease.
Who keepes vs down, from climyng hye
wher honour breeds debate,
And here hath graunted vs to lyue
in symple Shephards state,
A lyfe that sure doth fare exceade,
eche other kynd of lyfe:
O happy state, that doth content,
How farre be we from stryfe?
Of hym therfore, me lyst to synge,
and of no wanton toyes,
For hym to loue, and hym to prayse,
surmounts all other Ioyes.
O Shephards leaue Cupidoes Camp,
the ende wherof is vyle,
Remoue Dame Venus from your eies
and harken here a whyle.
A God there is, that guyds the Globe,
and framde the fyckle Spheare,
And placed hath, the Starres aboue,
that we do gase on here,
By whō we lyue, (vnthākful beasts)
by whom we haue our health,
By whom we gayne our happy states
by whom we get our wealth.
A God: that sends vs that we nede,
a God: that vs defends.
A God: from whom the Angels hye,
on mortall men attends.
A God: of suche a Clemencie,
that who so hym doth loue
Shall here be sure to rest a whyle,
and alwayes rest aboue.
But we, for hym do lytell care,
His Heasts we nought esteme,
But hunt for thyngs that he doth hate
most pleasaunt those do seme,
(Unthankfull mysers) what do we?
what meane we thus to straye?
From suche a God, so mercyfull,
to walke a worser waye?
Maye nought his benefyts procure?
maye nought his mercyes moue?
Maye nothynge bynde, but nedes we must?
gyue hate to hym for loue?
O happy (ten tymes) is the man,
(a Byrde full rare to fynde)
That loueth God with all his hart,
and kepes his lawes in mynde.
He shalbe blest in all his works,
and safe in euery tyme,
He shall swete quietnes enioye,
whyle other smarte for Cryme.
The threatnyng thaūces of the world
shall neuer hym annoye,
Whē Fortune frowns on foolish men
he shalbe sure to ioye.
For why? the Aungels of the Lorde,
shall hym defende alwayes,
And set hym free, at euery harmes,
and hurts at all assayes.
Euen he that kept the Prophet safe,

Dauid.

from mouthes of Lyons wylde,
And he that once preserued in Flags,

Moses.

the sely suckyng Chylde,

Elias.

The God that fed, by Rauens Byll,
the Teacher of his worde,
Shall hym (no doubt) in safetie kepe,
from Famyn, Fyre, and Sworde.
Not he, whom Poets old haue faynd,
to lyue in Heauen hye,

Iupiter.

Embracyng Boyes: (O fylthy thyng)
in beastly Lecherye.
Nor Iuno she: (that wrinkled Iade,)
that Quene of Skyes is calde,
Nor soleyn Saturn Churlysh Chuffe,
with Scalpe of Cancre bald.

Mars.

Nor fumyng Foole, with fyery face,
that moues the fyghters mynd.

Cupido.

Nor Uenus she: (that wanton wench)
that guyds the Shoter blynd,
Can the defende: as God wyll do,
for they were synfull fooles,

Nomeius.

Whō fyrst ye blynd hye wytted Greks
brought in to wyse mens Scooles.
No none of these, but God alone,
ought worshyp for to haue,
For they for all theyr Honour ones,
rest yet in stynkyng Graue.
eare hast thou heard, the happy state
of them that lyue in feare,
Of God: & loue hym best: now lyst,
his foes reward to heare,
And fyrst know thou that euery man,
that from this God doth goe,
And folows lust, hym he acountes,
to be his deadly foe,
This myghty Kyng of whom we talk,
as he is mercyfull,
And suffers long, reuengyng slow,
So when we be thus dull,
That we wyl not perceaue in tyme,
the goodnes of his grace,
His fauour straight, he doth withdraw
and tournes a way his face.
And to him selfe then doth he say,
How long shall I permit
These stubburne beastes, for to rebell?
and shall I loue them yet,
That hate me thus? or haue I nede
theyr louynge mynds to craue?
I aske nomore but onely loue,
and that I can not haue.
Well, wel, I wil not care for them,
that thus do me dyspyse,
Let them go lyue, euen as they lyst,
I turne awaye myne eyes.
When God hath thus sayd to him self,
Then doth the braynlesse foole,
Cast Brydle of, and out he runnes,
neglectynge vertues Scoole,
Then doth the Deuyl geue him lyne,
and let him rune at large,
And Pleasure makes his Mariner,
to row in vyces Barge,
Then vp the Sayles of wilfulnes,
he hoyses hie in hast,
And fond Affection blowes hym forth,
a wynd that Pluto plast,
Then cuttes he swyft, the seas of sin,
and through the Chanell deape,
With Ioyful mynd, he fleets a pace,
whom Pleasure bryngs a sleape,
Then who so happy thinks hym selfe?
who dreames of ioy but he?
Tush, tush, sayth he: to thynk of God,
In age suffiseth me,
Now wil I passe my pleasaunt youth,
Such toyes becomes this age,
And God shall followe me sayth he,
I wyll not be his page,
I wyll be prowd, and looke a loft,
I wyll my body decke,
With costly clothes, aboue my state
who then dare gyue me checke?

Coridon.
Garments som time, so gard a knaue,
that he dare mate a Knyght,
Yet haue I sene a Nec in hemp,
For Cheeking often lyght.

Cornix.
The Peacocks plume shal not me pas
that nature finely framde
For coulord sylkes shal set me fourth,
that nature shalbe shamde,
My Sworde shal get me valiant fame,
I wyll be Mars out ryght,
And Mars you know, must Venus haue,
to recreate his spryght.
I wyll oppresse the symple knaue,
shall Saues be sawsy now?
Nay: I wyll teache the nedy Dogges,
with Cappe to crowche, & bow.
Thus fareth he, and thus he lyues,
no whyt estemyng God,
In health, in ioy, and lustynes,
free from the smartyng Rod,
But in the midst of all his myrth,
whyle he suspecteth least,
His happy chaunce, begyns to chaūge
and eke his fleetynge feast,
For death (that old deuouryng Wolf)
whom goodmen nothyng feare,
Coms saylyng fast, in Galley blacke,
and whan he spyes hym neare.
Doth boorde hym strayght, & grapels fast
and than begyns the fyght.
In ryot leaps, as Captayne chiefe,
and from the Maynmast ryght,
He down ward comes, and surfet than,
assayleth by and by,
Then vyle diseases forward shoues,
with paynes and gryefe therby,
Lyfe stands aloft, and fyghteth hard,
but pleasure all agaste.
Doth leaue his ore, and out he flyes
then death approcheth fast.
And giues the charge so sore, yt needs
must lyfe begyn to flye,
Thē farewell all. The wretched man
with Caryen Corse doth lye,
Whō Deth hymself flyngs ouer bord,
amyd the Seas of syn,
The place wher late, he swetly swam
now lyes he drowned in.
Contynuall torment hym awaytes,
(a Monster vyle to tell)
That was begot of Due Desert,
and raygneth now in Hell,
With gredy mouth he alwayes feeds
vpon the Syndrownd soule,
Whose gredy Pawes, do neuer ceas,
in synfull fluds to prowle.
Loe. This the ende, of euery suche
as here lyues lustylye
Neglectyng God thou seest. in vyce,
to lyue. in syn do dye.
What shuld I speke of al theyr harms
that happens them in lyfe?
Theyr Cōscience prickt, theyr barren blud
theyr toyle, theyr grief, theyr stryfe,
With mischiefes heaped many a one,
which they do neuer trye,
That Loue & Feare the myghty God,
that rules and raynes on hye,
To long it weare, to make discourse;
and Phebus downe descends,
And in the Clowdes his beames doth hyde
which tempest sure portends,
Looke how the beastes begin to fling,
and cast theyr heades on hye,
The Hearon shew mountes aboue the Clouds
ye Crowes ech wher do cry
All this showes rayn, tyme byds vs go
com Coridon awaye,
Take vp thy Staffe, fetch ī thy beasts
let vs go whyle we maye.

Coridon:
Cornix agreed, go thou before,
yon cursed Bull of myne
I must go dryue: he neuer bydes,
among my Fathers Kyne.