The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney In Three Volumes |
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 | The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney |  |
159
The Thirde Booke or Acte.
160
[O sweete glove the witness of my secrett Blisse]
O sweete glove the witness of my secrett Blisse,
(Whiche hyding did preserve that beutyes lighte)
That (opened forthe) my sealle of Comfort ys,
Bee thow my Starr in this my Darckest nighte,
Thow that myne eyes theyre Cherefull Sunne dothe misse,
Which Daseling still doste still meyntayne my sighte,
Bee thow Sweete glove, the Anchor of my Mynde,
Till my frayle Barcke his Haven ageane do fynde.
(Whiche hyding did preserve that beutyes lighte)
That (opened forthe) my sealle of Comfort ys,
Bee thow my Starr in this my Darckest nighte,
Thow that myne eyes theyre Cherefull Sunne dothe misse,
Which Daseling still doste still meyntayne my sighte,
Bee thow Sweete glove, the Anchor of my Mynde,
Till my frayle Barcke his Haven ageane do fynde.
Sweete glove, the sweetest spoyles of the sweetest hand,
Fayre hande, the fayrest pledg of fayrer harte,
True harte, whose truthe dothe yeelde to trusty bande,
Cheef Bande I say wch tyes my cheefest parte,
My Cheefest parte, wherein doo cheefly stande
Those secrett Joyes wch heaven to mee imparte,
Unite in one, my state thus still to save
Yow have my thanckes, Let mee youre Comfort have.
Fayre hande, the fayrest pledg of fayrer harte,
True harte, whose truthe dothe yeelde to trusty bande,
Cheef Bande I say wch tyes my cheefest parte,
My Cheefest parte, wherein doo cheefly stande
Those secrett Joyes wch heaven to mee imparte,
Unite in one, my state thus still to save
Yow have my thanckes, Let mee youre Comfort have.
161
[The Merchaunt Man, whome gayne dothe teache ye Sea]
The Merchaunt Man, whome gayne dothe teache ye Sea,
Where Rockes do weyte for them, the wyndes do chase,
Beaten wth waves, no sooner kenns the Bay,
Where hee was bounde to make his Martyng place,
But (feare forgott and paynes all overpast)
Make present ease receyve the better Taste.
Where Rockes do weyte for them, the wyndes do chase,
Beaten wth waves, no sooner kenns the Bay,
Where hee was bounde to make his Martyng place,
But (feare forgott and paynes all overpast)
Make present ease receyve the better Taste.
The Labourer wch cursed earthe up teares,
With sweaty Browes, some tymes wth watery eyes,
Ofte scorching Sunne ofte cloudy darcknes feares,
While uppon Chaunge his fruite of Labor lyes.
But, Harvest come, and Corne in fertile store.
More in his owne hee toylde hee gladdes the more.
With sweaty Browes, some tymes wth watery eyes,
Ofte scorching Sunne ofte cloudy darcknes feares,
While uppon Chaunge his fruite of Labor lyes.
But, Harvest come, and Corne in fertile store.
More in his owne hee toylde hee gladdes the more.
Thus in my Pilgrimage of mated mynde,
Seeking the Sainte, in whome all graces dwell,
What stormes founde mee, what Tormentes I doo fynde,
Who seekes to knowe acquayntes hym self wth Hell,
But, now, Success hathe gott above anoyes,
That, Sorowes weighte, dothe ballance up these Joyes.
Seeking the Sainte, in whome all graces dwell,
What stormes founde mee, what Tormentes I doo fynde,
Who seekes to knowe acquayntes hym self wth Hell,
But, now, Success hathe gott above anoyes,
That, Sorowes weighte, dothe ballance up these Joyes.
162
[The Merchaunt man, whome many seas have taughte]
The Merchaunt man, whome many seas have taughte,
What horrors breedes where wynde Dominyon beares,
Yet never Rock, nor Rage suche terror broughte,
As nere his home, when storme or shelf hee feares,
For Nature hathe that never faylling scope,
Moste loathe to Loose the moste approching hope.
What horrors breedes where wynde Dominyon beares,
Yet never Rock, nor Rage suche terror broughte,
As nere his home, when storme or shelf hee feares,
For Nature hathe that never faylling scope,
Moste loathe to Loose the moste approching hope.
The Labourer whome tryed body makes,
Holde dere his worcke, wth sighe eche chaunge attendes,
But at no Chaunge, so pinching Care hee takes,
As happy shewes of Corne when Harvest sendes,
For, Reason, will greate sight of hoped blisse
Make greate the Losse, so greate the feare to misse.
Holde dere his worcke, wth sighe eche chaunge attendes,
But at no Chaunge, so pinching Care hee takes,
As happy shewes of Corne when Harvest sendes,
For, Reason, will greate sight of hoped blisse
Make greate the Losse, so greate the feare to misse.
Thus tossed in my Shippe of Huge desyer,
Thus toyled in my worcke of Raging Love,
Nowe that I spye the Haven my thoughtes aspyer,
Nowe that some Flower of Fruites my paynes do proove,
My Dreades augment the more in passyons mighte,
Synce Love with Care, and Hope wth feare do feighte.
Thus toyled in my worcke of Raging Love,
Nowe that I spye the Haven my thoughtes aspyer,
Nowe that some Flower of Fruites my paynes do proove,
My Dreades augment the more in passyons mighte,
Synce Love with Care, and Hope wth feare do feighte.
167
[Phaebus Farewell, a sweeter Sainte, I serve]
Phaebus Farewell, a sweeter Sainte, I serve,
The hye Conceyptes, thy heavenly wisdome breede,
My thoughtes forgett My thoughtes wch never swerve,
From her in whome ys sowne theyre Freedoms feede,
And in whose eyes my daily Doome I reede.
The hye Conceyptes, thy heavenly wisdome breede,
My thoughtes forgett My thoughtes wch never swerve,
From her in whome ys sowne theyre Freedoms feede,
And in whose eyes my daily Doome I reede.
Phebus Farewell a Sweeter Sainte, I serve,
Thow arte farr of, thy Kingdome ys above,
Shee heaven on Earthe wch beutyes doo preserve,
Thy Beames I like, but her Clere Rayes I Love,
Thy force I feare, her force I still doo proove.
Thow arte farr of, thy Kingdome ys above,
Shee heaven on Earthe wch beutyes doo preserve,
Thy Beames I like, but her Clere Rayes I Love,
Thy force I feare, her force I still doo proove.
Phebus yeelde up thy Title in my mynde?
Shee dothe possess, thy Image ys defaste?
But yf thy Rage, some brave Revenge will fynde,
On her, in mee who hathe thy Temple raste;
Employ thy mighte, that shee thy fyers may taste.
And howe muche more her wrothe surmounteth thee,
Make her asmuche more base by Loving mee.
Shee dothe possess, thy Image ys defaste?
But yf thy Rage, some brave Revenge will fynde,
On her, in mee who hathe thy Temple raste;
Employ thy mighte, that shee thy fyers may taste.
And howe muche more her wrothe surmounteth thee,
Make her asmuche more base by Loving mee.
169
[Synce that the Stormy Rage of passyons darcke]
Synce that the Stormy Rage of passyons darcke,
(Of passyons darcke made darck by Beutyes Lighte,)
With Rebell force hathe closde in Dongeon darcke,
My mynde ere nowe led forthe by Reasons lighte,
Synce all the thinges wch gives my eyes theyre lighte,
Do Foster still the fruite of Fancyes Darcke,
So that the wyndowes of my Inward Lighte,
Do serve to make my Inwarde powers Darcke.
(Of passyons darcke made darck by Beutyes Lighte,)
With Rebell force hathe closde in Dongeon darcke,
My mynde ere nowe led forthe by Reasons lighte,
Synce all the thinges wch gives my eyes theyre lighte,
Do Foster still the fruite of Fancyes Darcke,
So that the wyndowes of my Inward Lighte,
Do serve to make my Inwarde powers Darcke.
Synce, (as I say) bothe mynde and Sences darcke,
Are hearde, not helped, with pearsing of the Lighte,
While that the Lighte may shewe the horrors darcke
But can not make resolved Darcknes Lighte.
I like this place where at the Least the Darcke,
May keepe my thoughtes from thoughte of wonted lighte.
Are hearde, not helped, with pearsing of the Lighte,
While that the Lighte may shewe the horrors darcke
But can not make resolved Darcknes Lighte.
I like this place where at the Least the Darcke,
May keepe my thoughtes from thoughte of wonted lighte.
170
[Hearke playntfull Ghostes, Infernall furyes harcke?]
Hearke playntfull Ghostes, Infernall furyes harcke?
Unto my wooes, the Hatefull heavens doo sende,
The Heavens conspirde, to make my vitall sparcke,
A wretched wrack, a Glass of Ruyns ende.
Unto my wooes, the Hatefull heavens doo sende,
The Heavens conspirde, to make my vitall sparcke,
A wretched wrack, a Glass of Ruyns ende.
Seeyng, (alas) so mighty powers bende,
Theyre irefull shott ageanst so weyke a Marcke
Come Cave, become my grave, Come deathe and lend,
Receipte to mee within thy Bosome darcke.
Theyre irefull shott ageanst so weyke a Marcke
Come Cave, become my grave, Come deathe and lend,
Receipte to mee within thy Bosome darcke.
For, what ys lyfe to daily dyinge mynde?
Where Drawyng breathe I suck the Ayer of Wooe,
Where, too muche sighte makes all the body blynde,
And highest thoughtes Downeward moste hedlong throwe
Thus then my forme, and thus my state I fynde,
Deathe wrapt in Flesh to Living grave assygnde.
Where Drawyng breathe I suck the Ayer of Wooe,
Where, too muche sighte makes all the body blynde,
And highest thoughtes Downeward moste hedlong throwe
Thus then my forme, and thus my state I fynde,
Deathe wrapt in Flesh to Living grave assygnde.
[Lyke those sicke folckes in whome straunge Humors flowe]
Lyke those sicke folckes in whome straunge Humors flowe,
Can taste no sweetes, the sower onely please,
So, to my Mynde, while passyons daily growe,
Whose fyery Chaynes uppon his freedome seaze,
Joyes Straungers seeme, I can not byde theyre shewe,
Nor brooke oughte ellse, but well acquaynted wooe,
Can taste no sweetes, the sower onely please,
So, to my Mynde, while passyons daily growe,
Whose fyery Chaynes uppon his freedome seaze,
Joyes Straungers seeme, I can not byde theyre shewe,
Nor brooke oughte ellse, but well acquaynted wooe,
Bitter greef tastes mee best, paynes ys my ease,
Sicke to the deathe, still Loving my Diszease.
Sicke to the deathe, still Loving my Diszease.
171
[Howe ys my Sunne (whose Beames are shyning brighte]
Howe ys my Sunne (whose Beames are shyning brighte,
Become the Cause of my Darcke ougly Nighte?
Or howe do I captyved in this darck plighte,
Bewayle the Case, and in the Cause delighte?
Become the Cause of my Darcke ougly Nighte?
Or howe do I captyved in this darck plighte,
Bewayle the Case, and in the Cause delighte?
My mangled mynde huge Horrors still do frighte,
With Sence possest, and claymde by reasons Righte,
Betwixt whiche twoo in mee I have this fighte,
Where, who so wynnes, I putt my self to flighte.
With Sence possest, and claymde by reasons Righte,
Betwixt whiche twoo in mee I have this fighte,
Where, who so wynnes, I putt my self to flighte.
Come cloudy feares, close up my daselled sighte,
Sorow suck up the Marowe of my Mighte.
Dewe Sighes blowe oute all sparckles of joyfull Lighte?
Tyre on Dispayer uppon my Tyered spirite
An ende, an ende, my Dullde penn can not wryte,
Nor masde heade thincke, nor faultering tongue resyte.
Sorow suck up the Marowe of my Mighte.
Dewe Sighes blowe oute all sparckles of joyfull Lighte?
Tyre on Dispayer uppon my Tyered spirite
An ende, an ende, my Dullde penn can not wryte,
Nor masde heade thincke, nor faultering tongue resyte.
[This Cave ys Darcke, but yt had never Lighte]
This Cave ys Darcke, but yt had never Lighte,This waxe dothe waste yt self, yet payneles dyes,
These wordes are full of woes, yet, feele they none,
I darckened am, who once had clearest sighte,
I waste my harte, whiche still new Torment tryes,
I Playne with Cause, my woes are still myne owne,
No Cave, no wasting waxe, No wordes of greef,
Can holde, shewe, tell my paynes withoute Releef.
177
[A Banisshed man longe barrd from his Desyer]
A Banisshed man longe barrd from his Desyer,By inward lettes of them his State possest:
Hidd here his Hopes by whiche hee mighte aspyer,
To have his harmes with wisdomes help redrest.
178
All ys but this, this ys but Laboures hyre,
Of this wee Love, in this wee fynde oure Rest,
Who holdes this fast, no greater Wealth requyer,
Looke furder then, so shalte thow fynde at leaste,
A Bayte moste fitt for hungry mynded guest.
179
[My true Love hathe my harte, and I have his]
My true Love hathe my harte, and I have his,By just exchaunge one for the other given,
I holde his deare, and myne hee can not misse,
There never was a better Bargayne driven.
His harte in mee keepes mee and hym in one,
My hart in hym his Thoughtes and sences guydes,
Hee Loves my Harte, for once yt was his owne,
I Cherish his, bycause in mee yt bydes.
180
My harte was wounded wth his wounded hart,
For, as from mee on hym his hurt did lighte,
So still mee thoughte in mee his hurt did smarte:
Bothe equall hurte in this Chaunge soughte oure Bliss:
My true Love hathe my harte and I have his.
[O wordes whiche falle like Som̄er Deawe on mee]
O wordes whiche falle like Som̄er Deawe on mee,
O breathe more sweete then ys the growyng Beane,
O Toungue in whiche all Hony Liquors bee,
O voyce, that dothe the Thrussh in shrillnes stayne,
Do yow say still this ys her promyse Due,
That shee ys myne, as I to her am true.
O breathe more sweete then ys the growyng Beane,
O Toungue in whiche all Hony Liquors bee,
O voyce, that dothe the Thrussh in shrillnes stayne,
Do yow say still this ys her promyse Due,
That shee ys myne, as I to her am true.
Gay hayer, more gay, then Strawe, when harvest lyes,
Lippes Redd and plum̄e as Cheryes ruddy syde,
Eyes fayre and greate, like fayre greate Oxes eyes,
O Brest in whiche twoo white Sheepe swell in pryde,
Joyne yow with mee, to sealle this promyse due,
That shee bee myne, as I to her, am True.
Lippes Redd and plum̄e as Cheryes ruddy syde,
Eyes fayre and greate, like fayre greate Oxes eyes,
O Brest in whiche twoo white Sheepe swell in pryde,
Joyne yow with mee, to sealle this promyse due,
That shee bee myne, as I to her, am True.
But thow white skynn̄ as white as Curdes well prest,
So smoothe as Slikestone, like yt smoothes eche parte,
And thow Dere flessh as Softe as Woolle new drest,
And yet, as hard as Brawne made hard by Arte,
First Fower, but say, next Fower theyre saying sealle.
But, you must pay the gaige of promist weale.
So smoothe as Slikestone, like yt smoothes eche parte,
And thow Dere flessh as Softe as Woolle new drest,
And yet, as hard as Brawne made hard by Arte,
First Fower, but say, next Fower theyre saying sealle.
But, you must pay the gaige of promist weale.
187
[Doo not Disdayne O streighte upraysed Pyne?]
Doo not Disdayne O streighte upraysed Pyne?
That, wounding thee, my Thoughtes in thee I grave,
Synce that my thoughtes as Streighte as streightnes thyne,
No smaller wounde, (Alas) furr deeper have?
That, wounding thee, my Thoughtes in thee I grave,
Synce that my thoughtes as Streighte as streightnes thyne,
No smaller wounde, (Alas) furr deeper have?
Deeper engraved whiche salve nor Tyme can save,
Given to my harte by my fore wounded eyen
Thus Cruell to my self, how Canst thow Crave;
My Inwarde Hurt shoulde spare thy owteward Rhyne?
Given to my harte by my fore wounded eyen
Thus Cruell to my self, how Canst thow Crave;
My Inwarde Hurt shoulde spare thy owteward Rhyne?
Yet still fayre Tree lyfte up thy stately Lyne?
Live longe, and longe witness my Chosen smarte?
With barrd Desyers, barrd by my self imparte
And in this growyng Barcke, growe verses myne.
Live longe, and longe witness my Chosen smarte?
With barrd Desyers, barrd by my self imparte
And in this growyng Barcke, growe verses myne.
My Harte my worde my worde hathe given my harte?
The Giver given from Gifte shall never parte.
The Giver given from Gifte shall never parte.
[Sweete Roote say thow, the Roote of my Desyer?]
Sweete Roote say thow, the Roote of my Desyer?Was vertue cladd in Constant Loves Attyer.
[Yow goodly Pynes whiche still with brave assent]
Yow goodly Pynes whiche still with brave assent,
In Natures pryde youre heades to heaven warde heave,
Thoughe yow besydes suche graces Earthe hathe lent,
Of some late grace, a greater grace Receyue?
In Natures pryde youre heades to heaven warde heave,
Thoughe yow besydes suche graces Earthe hathe lent,
Of some late grace, a greater grace Receyue?
By her, who was (O blessed yow) content,
With her fayre hande youre tender Barckes to cleave,
And so by yow (O blessed yow) hathe sent,
Suche persing woordes, as no thing else Conceyve,
With her fayre hande youre tender Barckes to cleave,
And so by yow (O blessed yow) hathe sent,
Suche persing woordes, as no thing else Conceyve,
188
Yet, yeelde youre graunte, a Baser hande may Leave,
His Thoughtes in yow where so sweete thoughtes were spent,
For how woulde yow the Mistris thoughtes bereave,
Of wayting thoughtes all to her service ment.
His Thoughtes in yow where so sweete thoughtes were spent,
For how woulde yow the Mistris thoughtes bereave,
Of wayting thoughtes all to her service ment.
Nay, higher thoughtes thoughe Thralled thoughtes I calle
My Thoughtes then hers, who first youre Rhyne did Rent,
Then hers to whome my thoughtes a Lovely thralle
Rysing from Love are to the highest bent,
Where hers whome worthe makes highest over all,
Com̄ing from her can not but Downeward falle.
My Thoughtes then hers, who first youre Rhyne did Rent,
Then hers to whome my thoughtes a Lovely thralle
Rysing from Love are to the highest bent,
Where hers whome worthe makes highest over all,
Com̄ing from her can not but Downeward falle.
[Lyke Dyvers Flowers whose dyvers Beutyes serve]
Pamela.
Lyke Dyvers Flowers whose dyvers Beutyes serve,
To decke the Earthe with this well coloured weede,
Thoughe eche of them his private forme preserve,
Yet joyning Formes, one sighte of Bewty breede
Right so my thoughtes whereon my harte I feede.
To decke the Earthe with this well coloured weede,
Thoughe eche of them his private forme preserve,
Yet joyning Formes, one sighte of Bewty breede
Right so my thoughtes whereon my harte I feede.
Right so my Inwarde partes and owteward glasse,
Thoughe eche possess a dyvers worcking kynde,
Yet all well knitt, to one fayre ende do passe,
That hee to whome these sondry giftes I bynde,
All what I am still one his owne to fynde.
Thoughe eche possess a dyvers worcking kynde,
Yet all well knitt, to one fayre ende do passe,
That hee to whome these sondry giftes I bynde,
All what I am still one his owne to fynde.
Musidorus.
All that yow are still one his owne to fynde,
Yow that are Borne to bee the worldes eye,
What were yt ellse but to make eche thing blynde,
And to the Sunne with Waxen winges to flye,
No, No, suche force with my smalle force to trye
Ys not my skill, nor reache of mortall mynde.
Calle mee but youres, my Tytle ys moste hye?
Holde mee moste youres, then my Longe sute ys signde?
189
For yow doo pass youre self in vertues mighte,
So bothe are youres, I bounde with gaged harte,
Yow onely youres too farr beyond Desert.
[Looke up fayre Liddes, the Treasures of my harte]
Looke up fayre Liddes, the Treasures of my harte,
Preserve those Beames, this Ages onely Lighte,
To her sweete Sence, sweete Sleepe some ease imparte
Her Sence too weyke to beare her Spirites mighte,
And whyle, O Sleepe, thow closest up her sighte,
(Her sighte where Love did forge his fayrest Darte)
O Harboure all her partes in easefull plighte,
Lett no straunge Dreame make her fayre body starte:
Preserve those Beames, this Ages onely Lighte,
To her sweete Sence, sweete Sleepe some ease imparte
Her Sence too weyke to beare her Spirites mighte,
And whyle, O Sleepe, thow closest up her sighte,
(Her sighte where Love did forge his fayrest Darte)
O Harboure all her partes in easefull plighte,
Lett no straunge Dreame make her fayre body starte:
But, yet O Dreame yf thow wilt not Departe?
In this rare Subject from thy Comon Righte,
But wilt thy self in suche a Seate delighte,
Then take my Shape and play a Lovers parte.
Kisse her from mee, and say unto her Sprite,
Till her eyes shyne, I live in darckest lighte.
In this rare Subject from thy Comon Righte,
But wilt thy self in suche a Seate delighte,
Then take my Shape and play a Lovers parte.
Kisse her from mee, and say unto her Sprite,
Till her eyes shyne, I live in darckest lighte.
195
[Whye doest thow haste away]
Whye doest thow haste away,O Tytan fayre, the Giver of the day,
Ys yt to Carry Newes?
To westerne Wightes, what Starres in Easte appeare?
Or doest thow thincke that heare
Ys lefte a Sunne, whose Beames thy place may use,
Yet stay, and well peruse,
What bee her giftes, that make her æquall thee,
Bend all thy Lighte to see,
In Earthly Clothes enclosed a Heavenly sparcke,
Thy Ronning Course can not suche Beutyes marck.
No, No, thy motyons bee
Hastened from us with Barr of shadowe darck,
Bycause that thow the Author of thy sighte,
Disdaynes wee see, thee stayned with others Lighte.
196
[O, Stealing tyme, the Subject of Delay]
O, Stealing tyme, the Subject of Delay,
Delay the rack of unrefraynde Desyer,
What straunge desyer, haste thow my hopes to stay?
My hopes whiche doo but to myne owne aspyer.
Delay the rack of unrefraynde Desyer,
What straunge desyer, haste thow my hopes to stay?
My hopes whiche doo but to myne owne aspyer.
Myne owne (O worde) on whose sweete sounde dothe pray,
My greedy sowle, with grype of Inwarde fyer,
Thy title great I justly challenge may
Synce in suche phrase his faythe hee did attyer.
My greedy sowle, with grype of Inwarde fyer,
Thy title great I justly challenge may
Synce in suche phrase his faythe hee did attyer.
O Tyme become the Charyott of my Joyes?
As thow drawest on, so lett my Bliss drawe nere,
Eche Moment lost parte of my happ Destroyes,
Thow arte the Father of occasyon Deere,
Joyne with thy Sonne, to ease my Longe Annoyes.
In speedy help, thancke worthy freendes appeare.
As thow drawest on, so lett my Bliss drawe nere,
Eche Moment lost parte of my happ Destroyes,
Thow arte the Father of occasyon Deere,
Joyne with thy Sonne, to ease my Longe Annoyes.
In speedy help, thancke worthy freendes appeare.
199
[My Lute within thy self, thy Tunes enclose?]
My Lute within thy self, thy Tunes enclose?
Thy Mistris Songe ys now a Sorowes Crye,
Her hande benomde with Fortunes dayly blowes.
Her mynde amasde can neythers help apply,
Weare these my wordes, as Mourning weedes of woes?
Black Incke become the State wherein I Dye.
And thoughe not my moanes bee not in Musick bounde
Of written greefes yet bee the sylent grounde.
Thy Mistris Songe ys now a Sorowes Crye,
Her hande benomde with Fortunes dayly blowes.
Her mynde amasde can neythers help apply,
Weare these my wordes, as Mourning weedes of woes?
Black Incke become the State wherein I Dye.
And thoughe not my moanes bee not in Musick bounde
Of written greefes yet bee the sylent grounde.
The worlde dothe yeelde suche yll Consorted showes,
With sircled Course, wch no wyse stay can trye,
That Chyldish stuff, wch knowes not frendes from foes,
(Better despysde), bee wonder gasing eye.
Thus Noble golde downe to the bottome goes,
When worthles Corck alofte dothe floating lye.
Thus in thy self, Leste stringes are Lowdest founde,
And Lowest Stoppes doo yeelde the highest sounde.
With sircled Course, wch no wyse stay can trye,
That Chyldish stuff, wch knowes not frendes from foes,
(Better despysde), bee wonder gasing eye.
Thus Noble golde downe to the bottome goes,
When worthles Corck alofte dothe floating lye.
Thus in thy self, Leste stringes are Lowdest founde,
And Lowest Stoppes doo yeelde the highest sounde.
201
[When Twoo Sunnes doo appeare]
When Twoo Sunnes doo appeare,Some say yt dothe betoken wonders nere,
As Princes Losse or Chaunge:
Twoo gleaming Sunnes of splendor like I see
And seeyng, feele in mee
Of Princes hart quite lost, the Ruyn̄ straunge.
Butt nowe eche where dothe Raunge,
202
Who full of guilty Spyte,
Suche Living Beames shoulde her black seate assayle
Too weyke for them, oure weyker sighte dothe vayle,
No sayes fayre Moone, my Lighte,
Shall barr that wronge, and thoughe yt not prevayle,
Lyke to my Brothers Rayes, yet those I sende,
Hurt not the face wch no thing can amend.
[Aurora nowe thow shewest thy blusshing Lighte]
Aurora nowe thow shewest thy blusshing Lighte,
(Whiche ofte to hope layes oute a guylefull Bayte)
That trustes in tyme, to fynde the way a Righte,
To ease those paynes, wch on desyer doo wayte;
(Whiche ofte to hope layes oute a guylefull Bayte)
That trustes in tyme, to fynde the way a Righte,
To ease those paynes, wch on desyer doo wayte;
Blusshe on for shame, that, still with thee do lighte,
On pensive sowles (in stead of Restfull bayte)
Or uppon Care (in steade of Dooyng Righte)
To overpressed Brestes more greevous weighte,
On pensive sowles (in stead of Restfull bayte)
Or uppon Care (in steade of Dooyng Righte)
To overpressed Brestes more greevous weighte,
As oh my self, whose wooes are never lighte,
(Tyde to the stake of Doubte) strong passyons Bayte,
Whyle thy knowne Course observing Natures Righte
Sturres mee to thinck what Daungers lye in wayte
For Mischeefes great, day after day do shewe
Make mee feare still, thy fayre appearing hewe.
(Tyde to the stake of Doubte) strong passyons Bayte,
Whyle thy knowne Course observing Natures Righte
Sturres mee to thinck what Daungers lye in wayte
For Mischeefes great, day after day do shewe
Make mee feare still, thy fayre appearing hewe.
206
[Beuty hathe force to catche the Humane sighte]
Beuty hathe force to catche the Humane sighte,
Sight dothe bewitch the Fancy evell awaked,
Fancy (wee feele) eludes all passyons mighte,
Passyon Rebeld, often Reasons strength hathe shaked,
Sight dothe bewitch the Fancy evell awaked,
Fancy (wee feele) eludes all passyons mighte,
Passyon Rebeld, often Reasons strength hathe shaked,
No wonder then, thoughe Sighte, my Sighte did taynte,
And thoughe thereby my Fancy was infected,
Thoughe (yoked so) my mynde with sicknes faynte,
Had Reasons weyght for passyons ease rejected,
And thoughe thereby my Fancy was infected,
Thoughe (yoked so) my mynde with sicknes faynte,
Had Reasons weyght for passyons ease rejected,
But nowe the Fitt ys past, and Tyme hathe given,
Leysure to weyghe what due Desert requyreth,
All Thoughtes so sprunge are from theyre dwelling driven,
And wysdome to his wonted seate aspyreth.
Crying in mee, I hopes deceyptfull proove,
Thinges rightly prysde Love ys the bande of Love.
Leysure to weyghe what due Desert requyreth,
All Thoughtes so sprunge are from theyre dwelling driven,
And wysdome to his wonted seate aspyreth.
Crying in mee, I hopes deceyptfull proove,
Thinges rightly prysde Love ys the bande of Love.
211
[Let him drincke this, Whome longe in Armes to folde]
Let him drincke this, Whome longe in Armes to folde,Thow doest desyer, and with free power to holde.
214
[Gett hence fowle greeffe, the Cancker of the mynde]
Gett hence fowle greeffe, the Cancker of the mynde,
Farewell Complaynte, the Misers onely pleasure,
Away vayne Cares, by whiche fewe men do fynde,
theyre sought for Treasure.
Farewell Complaynte, the Misers onely pleasure,
Away vayne Cares, by whiche fewe men do fynde,
theyre sought for Treasure.
Yee helples sighes blowe oute youre Breathe to noughte,
Teares, drowne youre selves, for woe youre Cause ys wasted,
Thought, thincke to ende, too Longe the fruite of thoughte
my mynde hathe tasted.
Teares, drowne youre selves, for woe youre Cause ys wasted,
Thought, thincke to ende, too Longe the fruite of thoughte
my mynde hathe tasted.
But thow, sure Hope, tickle my leaping harte?
Comfort, sleepe thow in place of wonted sadnes,
Forefelt Desyer, begynn̄ to savoure parte,
of my Cunning gladnes.
Comfort, sleepe thow in place of wonted sadnes,
Forefelt Desyer, begynn̄ to savoure parte,
of my Cunning gladnes.
Lett voyce of sighes into clere Musick ronne,
Eyes lett youre teares with gasing, now bee mended,
Insteade of thoughte, true pleasure bee begun,
and never ended.
Eyes lett youre teares with gasing, now bee mended,
Insteade of thoughte, true pleasure bee begun,
and never ended.
216
[Vertue Bewty and Speeche, did stryke, wounde, Charme]
Vertue Bewty and Speeche, did stryke, wounde, Charme,
My Hart, Eyes, Eares with wonder, Love, Delighte
First, Second Last did bynde, enforce and Arme,
His worckes Shewes Fruites wth witt, grace and vowes might.
My Hart, Eyes, Eares with wonder, Love, Delighte
First, Second Last did bynde, enforce and Arme,
His worckes Shewes Fruites wth witt, grace and vowes might.
217
Thus Honor, lyking, trust, muche, farr and Deepe,
Held, pearst possest, my Judgment, sence, and will,
Till wronge, Contempt, Deceipt, did growe, steale, creepe,
Bandes, favoure, faythe, to breake, Defyle, and Kill.
Held, pearst possest, my Judgment, sence, and will,
Till wronge, Contempt, Deceipt, did growe, steale, creepe,
Bandes, favoure, faythe, to breake, Defyle, and Kill.
Then greef, unkyndenes, proof, tooke, kyndled, taughte,
Wellgrounded, Noble, Dewe, spyte, rage, disdayne,
But, ah, alas, (in vayne) my mynde, sight, thoughte
Dothe him, his face, his wordes, Leave, shunne, refrayne
For nothing, tyme, nor place can lewse, quenche, ease,
Myne owne, embrased, sought, Knott, Fyer, disease.
Wellgrounded, Noble, Dewe, spyte, rage, disdayne,
But, ah, alas, (in vayne) my mynde, sight, thoughte
Dothe him, his face, his wordes, Leave, shunne, refrayne
For nothing, tyme, nor place can lewse, quenche, ease,
Myne owne, embrased, sought, Knott, Fyer, disease.
219
[The Love whiche ys imprinted in my sowle]
The Love whiche ys imprinted in my sowle,
With Bewtyes sealle and vertue fayre disguysde,
With Inward Cryes puttes forthe a bitter Rowle,
Of huge Complayntes, that nowe yt ys despysde,
With Bewtyes sealle and vertue fayre disguysde,
With Inward Cryes puttes forthe a bitter Rowle,
Of huge Complayntes, that nowe yt ys despysde,
Thus thus, the more I Love, the wronge the more,
Monstruous appeares, Long truthe receyved late,
Wrong sturres remorced greef, greefes deadly sore,
Unkyndenes breedes, unkyndenes fostereth hate.
Monstruous appeares, Long truthe receyved late,
Wrong sturres remorced greef, greefes deadly sore,
Unkyndenes breedes, unkyndenes fostereth hate.
But ah, the more I hate, the more I thincke,
Whome I doo hate, the more I thinck on hym,
The more his Matcheles giftes doo deepely sincke,
Into my Brest, and Loves renewed swym̄,
What Medicyn then can suche Disease remoove?
Where Love drawes hate, and hate engendereth Love.
Whome I doo hate, the more I thinck on hym,
The more his Matcheles giftes doo deepely sincke,
Into my Brest, and Loves renewed swym̄,
What Medicyn then can suche Disease remoove?
Where Love drawes hate, and hate engendereth Love.
223
[What Toungue can her perfections tell?]
What Toungue can her perfections tell?
In whose eche parte all penn̄s may dwell.
Her hayre fyne Laces made of golde,
In Curled knottes Mans thoughte to holde,
But that her forehead sayes in mee,
A whiter Bewty yow may see,
Whiter in deede, more white then snowe,
Whiche on Colde wynters face dothe growe.
In whose eche parte all penn̄s may dwell.
Her hayre fyne Laces made of golde,
In Curled knottes Mans thoughte to holde,
But that her forehead sayes in mee,
A whiter Bewty yow may see,
Whiter in deede, more white then snowe,
Whiche on Colde wynters face dothe growe.
That dothe present those prety Browes,
Whose equall Lynes theyre Angles bowes,
Lyke to the Moone when after Change,
Her Horned face in Heaven dothe Range,
And Arches bee to those fayre Lyddes,
Whose wincke eche Bolde attempt forbiddes.
Whose equall Lynes theyre Angles bowes,
Lyke to the Moone when after Change,
Her Horned face in Heaven dothe Range,
And Arches bee to those fayre Lyddes,
Whose wincke eche Bolde attempt forbiddes.
As for the Starres, whose spheares contayne
The Matcheles prayse even prayse dothe stayne,
No Lampe whose Lighte by arte ys gott,
No Sunne whiche shynes and seeth nott,
Can Liken them withoute all pere,
Save one asmuche as other Clere.
The Matcheles prayse even prayse dothe stayne,
No Lampe whose Lighte by arte ys gott,
No Sunne whiche shynes and seeth nott,
Can Liken them withoute all pere,
Save one asmuche as other Clere.
Whiche onely thus unhappy bee,
Bycause them selves they can not see,
Her Cheekes with kyndly Clarett spredd
Like Christall, underlayde with Redd,
Her Nose and Chynn̄ suche Ivory weares,
No Elephant so perfect beares.
Bycause them selves they can not see,
Her Cheekes with kyndly Clarett spredd
Like Christall, underlayde with Redd,
Her Nose and Chynn̄ suche Ivory weares,
No Elephant so perfect beares.
But who those Ruddy Lippes can mysse,
Whiche Blessed still them selves do kisse,
Rubyes, Cheryes, and Roses newe,
In worthe, in Taste, in perfect Hewe,
Whiche never parte but that they showe,
Of precyous partes the Duble Rowe,
The second sweetely fenced warde,
Her hevenly dewed Toungue to garde.
Whiche Blessed still them selves do kisse,
Rubyes, Cheryes, and Roses newe,
In worthe, in Taste, in perfect Hewe,
Whiche never parte but that they showe,
Of precyous partes the Duble Rowe,
The second sweetely fenced warde,
Her hevenly dewed Toungue to garde.
224
Whence never worde in vayne dothe flowe,
Fayre under these dothe stately growe,
The handle of this pleasaunt worcke,
The Neck in whiche strange graces lurcke,
Suche bee I thincke the sumptuous Towers,
Whiche skill dothe make in Princely Bowers.
Fayre under these dothe stately growe,
The handle of this pleasaunt worcke,
The Neck in whiche strange graces lurcke,
Suche bee I thincke the sumptuous Towers,
Whiche skill dothe make in Princely Bowers.
So true a Taste invites the Eye,
A litle Downeward to espye,
The Lovely Clusters of her Brestes,
Of Venus Babb the wanton Nestes,
Lyke Pummells Rounde of Marble Clere,
Where Azured vaynes well mixte appeare,
A litle Downeward to espye,
The Lovely Clusters of her Brestes,
Of Venus Babb the wanton Nestes,
Lyke Pummells Rounde of Marble Clere,
Where Azured vaynes well mixte appeare,
With Lycoras stalkes of Porphiry,
Betwixt these Twoo a way dothe lye,
A way, more worthy Beutyes fame,
Then that wch beares the Milcken Name,
These Leades unto the Joyous feelde,
Whiche onely still dothe Lillyes yeelde.
But Lillyes suche, whose Native smell
The Indyan Odoures doo excell.
Betwixt these Twoo a way dothe lye,
A way, more worthy Beutyes fame,
Then that wch beares the Milcken Name,
These Leades unto the Joyous feelde,
Whiche onely still dothe Lillyes yeelde.
But Lillyes suche, whose Native smell
The Indyan Odoures doo excell.
Waste yt ys callde, for, yt dothe waste,
Menns Lyves untill yt bee embraste,
There may one see, and yet not see,
Her tender Ribbes well armed bee,
Like Whitest Snowe, in silver Brooke,
Fayre, thorow fayre strykes of heedefull Looke.
Menns Lyves untill yt bee embraste,
There may one see, and yet not see,
Her tender Ribbes well armed bee,
Like Whitest Snowe, in silver Brooke,
Fayre, thorow fayre strykes of heedefull Looke.
In these Delightes the Wandering thoughte,
Mighte of eche syde a stray bee broughte,
But, that her Navell dothe unite,
The Curyous Circle buysy sighte,
A Daynty sealle of virgyn waxe,
Where no thing but Impressyon lackes.
Mighte of eche syde a stray bee broughte,
But, that her Navell dothe unite,
The Curyous Circle buysy sighte,
A Daynty sealle of virgyn waxe,
Where no thing but Impressyon lackes.
The Belly theyre glad sighte dothe fyll,
Justly entituled Cupids Hill.
A Hill moste fitt for suche a Master,
A spottles Myne of Alablaster;
Lyke Alablaster fayre and slyke,
But softe and supple, Sattyn like,
For, suche an use the worlde hathe gotten,
The best thinges still must bee forgotten.
Justly entituled Cupids Hill.
A Hill moste fitt for suche a Master,
A spottles Myne of Alablaster;
225
But softe and supple, Sattyn like,
For, suche an use the worlde hathe gotten,
The best thinges still must bee forgotten.
Yet never shall my Songe, omitt,
Those thighes for Ovids songe more fitt,
Whiche flancked with twoo sugred flanckes,
Lifte up theyre stately swelling Banckes,
That Albyon Cleeves in whitenes passe,
With hanches smoothe as Looking glasse.
Those thighes for Ovids songe more fitt,
Whiche flancked with twoo sugred flanckes,
Lifte up theyre stately swelling Banckes,
That Albyon Cleeves in whitenes passe,
With hanches smoothe as Looking glasse.
But, bowe all knees, now of her knees,
My toungue dothe tell what fancy sees,
The knottes of Joye, the Gynnes of Love,
Whose motyon makes all graces moove,
Whose boughte enchaynde dothe yeeld suche sighte,
Like Cunning paynters shadowyng white,
The gartering place dothe Chyldelike signe,
Shewes easy Printe in Mettall fyne.
My toungue dothe tell what fancy sees,
The knottes of Joye, the Gynnes of Love,
Whose motyon makes all graces moove,
Whose boughte enchaynde dothe yeeld suche sighte,
Like Cunning paynters shadowyng white,
The gartering place dothe Chyldelike signe,
Shewes easy Printe in Mettall fyne.
But, there ageane, the flesh dothe ryse,
In her brave Calves, lyke morning skyes,
That Limittes have in smallest smalle,
Whose eeven descent makes equall falle,
There ofte steales oute that Round cleane foote,
This Noble Cedars precyous Roote.
In her brave Calves, lyke morning skyes,
That Limittes have in smallest smalle,
Whose eeven descent makes equall falle,
There ofte steales oute that Round cleane foote,
This Noble Cedars precyous Roote.
In shewe and sente pale vyolettes
Whose stepp on earthe all Beuty settes,
But, Back unto her Back my Muse,
Where Ledas Swann his fethers [mewes],
Alonge whose Ridge suche Bones are mett
Lyke Comfettes Rounde in Marchepane sett.
Whose stepp on earthe all Beuty settes,
But, Back unto her Back my Muse,
Where Ledas Swann his fethers [mewes],
Alonge whose Ridge suche Bones are mett
Lyke Comfettes Rounde in Marchepane sett.
Her shoulders bee like twoo white Doves,
Pearching uppon square Royall Rooves
Whose gentle rayes suche Luster fynde,
Lyke thynnest Lawne with Tynsell lynde,
And thence those Armes deryved are,
The Phenix wynges bee not so Rare.
Pearching uppon square Royall Rooves
Whose gentle rayes suche Luster fynde,
Lyke thynnest Lawne with Tynsell lynde,
And thence those Armes deryved are,
The Phenix wynges bee not so Rare.
226
For faulteles lengthe, and stayneles Hewe,
Ah, woe ys mee, my woes Renewe,
Nowe Course dothe Leade mee to her hande,
Of my first Love, the fatall Band,
Where whitenes dothe for ever sitt,
Nature her self enameld yt.
Ah, woe ys mee, my woes Renewe,
Nowe Course dothe Leade mee to her hande,
Of my first Love, the fatall Band,
Where whitenes dothe for ever sitt,
Nature her self enameld yt.
For, there with straunge Compact dothe lye,
Warme snowe, moyste perle, softe Ivory,
There falle those Saphyre Coloured Brookes,
Whiche Conduyt like with Curyous Crookes,
Sweete Ilandes makes in that sweete Lande,
As for the fyngers of the Hande,
The Bloody shaftes of Cupids warr,
With Amatistes they headed are.
Warme snowe, moyste perle, softe Ivory,
There falle those Saphyre Coloured Brookes,
Whiche Conduyt like with Curyous Crookes,
Sweete Ilandes makes in that sweete Lande,
As for the fyngers of the Hande,
The Bloody shaftes of Cupids warr,
With Amatistes they headed are.
Thus hathe eche parte his Bewtyes parte,
But, howe the Graces doo Imparte,
To all her Lymmes especiall grace,
Becomming every tyme and place
Whiche dothe even Buty butify,
And moste bewitche the wretched ey.
But, howe the Graces doo Imparte,
To all her Lymmes especiall grace,
Becomming every tyme and place
Whiche dothe even Buty butify,
And moste bewitche the wretched ey.
Howe all this ys but a fayre Inne,
Of fayrer Guest whiche dwelles therein,
Of whose hye prayse, and praysefull Blisse
Goodnes the penn, Heaven Paper ys,
The Incke Immortall fame dothe lende,
As I begān, so must I ende,
No toungue can her perfections tell,
In whose eche parte all pennes may dwell.
Of fayrer Guest whiche dwelles therein,
Of whose hye prayse, and praysefull Blisse
Goodnes the penn, Heaven Paper ys,
The Incke Immortall fame dothe lende,
As I begān, so must I ende,
No toungue can her perfections tell,
In whose eche parte all pennes may dwell.
227
Here endes the Thirde Booke or Acte.
228
THE THIRDE EGLOGUES.
229
[Lett Mother Earthe, now deck her self in flowers]
Lett Mother Earthe, now deck her self in flowers,
To see her Ofspring seeke a good encrease,
Where justest Love dothe vanquish Cupids powers,
And Warre of thoughtes ys swallowed up in peace,
Whiche never may decrease:
But like the Turtles fayre
Live One in Twoo, a well united payre,
Whiche, that no Chaunce may stayne,
O Hymen longe theyre Cupled joyes mentayne.
To see her Ofspring seeke a good encrease,
Where justest Love dothe vanquish Cupids powers,
And Warre of thoughtes ys swallowed up in peace,
Whiche never may decrease:
But like the Turtles fayre
Live One in Twoo, a well united payre,
Whiche, that no Chaunce may stayne,
O Hymen longe theyre Cupled joyes mentayne.
230
O Heaven awake, shewe forthe thy stately face,
Lett not these slombering Clowdes thy Beutyes hyde,
But with thy Cherefull presence help to grace,
The honest Brydegrome and the basshfull Bryde,
Whose loves may ever byde.
Like to the Elme and Vyne,
With mutuall embracementes them to twyne,
In whiche delightfull payne,
O Himen, long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Lett not these slombering Clowdes thy Beutyes hyde,
But with thy Cherefull presence help to grace,
The honest Brydegrome and the basshfull Bryde,
Whose loves may ever byde.
Like to the Elme and Vyne,
With mutuall embracementes them to twyne,
In whiche delightfull payne,
O Himen, long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Yee Muses all whiche Chaste effectes allowe,
And have to Lalus shewed youre secrett skill,
To this Chaste Love your sacred favoures bowe,
And so to hym and her youre giftes distill,
That they all Vyce may kill,
And like as Lillyes Pure,
Do please all eyes and spottles do endure,
Where, that, all Blisse may Raygne
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
And have to Lalus shewed youre secrett skill,
To this Chaste Love your sacred favoures bowe,
And so to hym and her youre giftes distill,
That they all Vyce may kill,
And like as Lillyes Pure,
Do please all eyes and spottles do endure,
Where, that, all Blisse may Raygne
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Yee Nymphes whiche in the Waters empyres have,
Since Lalus Musick ofte dothe yeelde yow prayse,
Graunt to the thinge wch we for Lalus crave
Lett one tyme (but longe firste) Close upp theyre dayes,
One grave theyre bodyes sease
And like to Rivers sweete,
When they through dyvers do togethers meete,
One streame bothe streames conteyne,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Since Lalus Musick ofte dothe yeelde yow prayse,
Graunt to the thinge wch we for Lalus crave
Lett one tyme (but longe firste) Close upp theyre dayes,
One grave theyre bodyes sease
And like to Rivers sweete,
When they through dyvers do togethers meete,
One streame bothe streames conteyne,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Pan, father Pan, the god of silly Sheepe,
Whose Care ys Cause that they in nomber growe,
Have muche more Care of them wch them do keepe
Synce from these good, the others good dothe flowe.
And make theyre Issue showe,
In nomber like the hearde,
Of younglinges wch thy self with love hast reard
Or like the Droppes of Rayne,
O Himen longe theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Whose Care ys Cause that they in nomber growe,
Have muche more Care of them wch them do keepe
Synce from these good, the others good dothe flowe.
And make theyre Issue showe,
In nomber like the hearde,
Of younglinges wch thy self with love hast reard
Or like the Droppes of Rayne,
O Himen longe theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
231
Vertue (yf not a God) yet Goddes cheefe parte,
Bee thow the Knott of this theyre open vowe,
That still hee bee her heade, shee bee his harte,
Hee cleave to her, shee unto hym do bowe.
Eche other still allowe,
Like Oke and Mistelltowe
Her strength from hym, his prayse from her do growe
In wch moste Lovely trayne,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Bee thow the Knott of this theyre open vowe,
That still hee bee her heade, shee bee his harte,
Hee cleave to her, shee unto hym do bowe.
Eche other still allowe,
Like Oke and Mistelltowe
Her strength from hym, his prayse from her do growe
In wch moste Lovely trayne,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
But thow fowle Cupid, syer, to Lawless lust
Bee thow farre hence with thy impoysoned Darte,
Which thoughe of glittering golde shall here take Rust,
Where simple Love, whiche Chastenes dothe imparte,
Avoydes the hurtfull Arte
That needing Charming still,
Suche myndes wth sweete affections for to kill
Whiche beeyng pure and playne,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Bee thow farre hence with thy impoysoned Darte,
Which thoughe of glittering golde shall here take Rust,
Where simple Love, whiche Chastenes dothe imparte,
Avoydes the hurtfull Arte
That needing Charming still,
Suche myndes wth sweete affections for to kill
Whiche beeyng pure and playne,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
All Churlish wordes, shrewde answers, Crabbed Lookes,
All privatenes self seeking Inward spite,
All waywardnes wch nothing kyndely brookes,
All stryfe for Toyes and Clayming Masters Righte,
Bee hence ay putt to flighte,
All sturring Husbandes hate,
Geanst Neighboures good for womanysh debate
Bee fledd, as thinges moste vayne,
O Himen longe theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
All privatenes self seeking Inward spite,
All waywardnes wch nothing kyndely brookes,
All stryfe for Toyes and Clayming Masters Righte,
Bee hence ay putt to flighte,
All sturring Husbandes hate,
Geanst Neighboures good for womanysh debate
Bee fledd, as thinges moste vayne,
O Himen longe theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
All Peacockes pryde, and frutes of Peacockes pryde,
Longing to bee with losse of Substance gay,
With Recklessnes what may thy howse betyde,
So that yowe may on her sure slippers stay
For ever hence away.
Yet lett not Sluttery,
The Sincke of filthe bee Counted huswyfry,
But keeping wholesome meane,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes meyntayne.
Longing to bee with losse of Substance gay,
With Recklessnes what may thy howse betyde,
So that yowe may on her sure slippers stay
For ever hence away.
Yet lett not Sluttery,
The Sincke of filthe bee Counted huswyfry,
But keeping wholesome meane,
O Himen long theyre Cupled Joyes meyntayne.
232
But above all away vyle Jelosy,
The evill of evills just Cause to bee unjust
Howe can hee Love suspecting Treachery?
Howe can shee Love where Love can not wynn trust?
Goo, Snake hyde thee in Dust
Ne dare once shewe thy face,
Where open hartes do holde so Constant place,
That they thy stinge Restrayne,
O Himen longe theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
The evill of evills just Cause to bee unjust
Howe can hee Love suspecting Treachery?
Howe can shee Love where Love can not wynn trust?
Goo, Snake hyde thee in Dust
Ne dare once shewe thy face,
Where open hartes do holde so Constant place,
That they thy stinge Restrayne,
O Himen longe theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
The Earthe ys deckt with flowers, the Heavens displayed,
Muses graunt giftes; Nymphes longe and joyned lyfe,
Pan, store of Babes, Vertue theyre thoughtes well stayde,
Cupids Lust gōn, and, gonn ys bitter stryffe,
Happy Man, Happy Wyfe,
No pryde shall them oppress,
Nor yet shall yeeld to Lothsome sluttishnes,
And Jelosy ys slayne,
For Himen will theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
Muses graunt giftes; Nymphes longe and joyned lyfe,
Pan, store of Babes, Vertue theyre thoughtes well stayde,
Cupids Lust gōn, and, gonn ys bitter stryffe,
Happy Man, Happy Wyfe,
No pryde shall them oppress,
Nor yet shall yeeld to Lothsome sluttishnes,
And Jelosy ys slayne,
For Himen will theyre Cupled Joyes mentayne.
233
[A Neighboure myne, not longe agoo there was]
A Neighboure myne, not longe agoo there was,
(But Nameless hee, for Blameless hee shall bee)
That marryed had a Trick and Bony Lass,
As in a Somer day a Man mighte see,
But hee hym self a fowle unhandsome groome,
And farr unfitt to holde so good a Rowme,
(But Nameless hee, for Blameless hee shall bee)
That marryed had a Trick and Bony Lass,
As in a Somer day a Man mighte see,
But hee hym self a fowle unhandsome groome,
And farr unfitt to holde so good a Rowme,
Nowe whether mooved with self unworthynes,
Or whether Beuty fitt to make a pray,
Fell Jelosy did so his Braynes oppress,
That yf hee absent were but half a day,
Hee gest the worst, (yow wott what ys the worste)
And in hym self newe Doubting Causes nurste.
Or whether Beuty fitt to make a pray,
Fell Jelosy did so his Braynes oppress,
That yf hee absent were but half a day,
Hee gest the worst, (yow wott what ys the worste)
And in hym self newe Doubting Causes nurste.
While thus hee fearde, the silly Innocent,
Who yet, was good, bycause shee knewe none yll,
Unto his Howse a Jolly Shepeheard went,
To whome oure Prince did beare a great good will,
Bycause in Wrastling and in Pastorall,
Hee farr did passe the rest of Shepeherdes all,
Who yet, was good, bycause shee knewe none yll,
Unto his Howse a Jolly Shepeheard went,
To whome oure Prince did beare a great good will,
Bycause in Wrastling and in Pastorall,
Hee farr did passe the rest of Shepeherdes all,
And therefore hee a Courtyer was benamed,
And as a Courtyer was with Chere receyved,
(For they have toungues to make a pore man blamed)
Yf hee to them his Duety mysconceyved,
And for this Courtyer shoulde well like this Table,
The goodman bad his wyfe bee servisable.
And as a Courtyer was with Chere receyved,
(For they have toungues to make a pore man blamed)
Yf hee to them his Duety mysconceyved,
And for this Courtyer shoulde well like this Table,
The goodman bad his wyfe bee servisable.
And so shee was, and all with good Intent,
But fewe dayes past, while shee good maners usde,
But that her Husband thought her service bent,
To suche an ende, as hee mighte bee abusde,
Yet, like a Coward, fearing Straungers pryde,
Hee made the simple wenche his worthe abyde.
But fewe dayes past, while shee good maners usde,
But that her Husband thought her service bent,
To suche an ende, as hee mighte bee abusde,
Yet, like a Coward, fearing Straungers pryde,
Hee made the simple wenche his worthe abyde.
234
With Clumpish Lookes, harde wordes and secrett Nippes,
Grumbling at her when shee his kyndenes soughte,
Asking her howe shee tasted Courtyers Lippes,
Hee forste her thincke, that wch shee never thoughte,
In fyne yt made her gess there was some sweete,
In that wch hee so fearde that shee shoulde meete.
Grumbling at her when shee his kyndenes soughte,
Asking her howe shee tasted Courtyers Lippes,
Hee forste her thincke, that wch shee never thoughte,
In fyne yt made her gess there was some sweete,
In that wch hee so fearde that shee shoulde meete.
When once this entred was in womans harte,
And that yt had inflamde a newe desyer,
There rested then to play a Womans parte,
Fwell to seeke, and not to quenche the fyer,
But, for his Jelous eye shee well did fynde,
Shee studyed Cunning, howe the same to blynde.
And that yt had inflamde a newe desyer,
There rested then to play a Womans parte,
Fwell to seeke, and not to quenche the fyer,
But, for his Jelous eye shee well did fynde,
Shee studyed Cunning, howe the same to blynde.
And thus shee did, one day to hym shee came,
And (thoughe ageanst his will) on hym shee leande,
And oute gan Crye, ah, well away, for shame,
Yf yow help not oure Wedlock will bee staynde,
The goodman starting askte what did her moove,
She sighed and sayde the bad guest sought her love.
And (thoughe ageanst his will) on hym shee leande,
And oute gan Crye, ah, well away, for shame,
Yf yow help not oure Wedlock will bee staynde,
The goodman starting askte what did her moove,
She sighed and sayde the bad guest sought her love.
Hee litle looking that shee shoulde Complayne,
Of that whereto hee fearde shee was enclynde,
Bussing her ofte, and in his harte full fayne,
Hee did demaunde what Remedy to fynde,
Howe they might gett that Guest from them to wende,
And yet the Prince (that loved hym) not offend.
Of that whereto hee fearde shee was enclynde,
Bussing her ofte, and in his harte full fayne,
Hee did demaunde what Remedy to fynde,
Howe they might gett that Guest from them to wende,
And yet the Prince (that loved hym) not offend.
Husband, (quoth shee) goo to hym by and by,
And tell hym that yow fynde I do hym love,
And therefore pray hym, that of Curtesy,
Hee will absent hym self least hee shoulde moove,
A younge Gyrles hart, to that were shame for bothe,
Whereto, yow knowe, this Honest harte were Lothe,
And tell hym that yow fynde I do hym love,
And therefore pray hym, that of Curtesy,
Hee will absent hym self least hee shoulde moove,
A younge Gyrles hart, to that were shame for bothe,
Whereto, yow knowe, this Honest harte were Lothe,
Thus shall yow shewe, that hym yow doo not Doubte,
And as for mee, (sweete Husband) I must beare.
Gladd was the Man when hee had hearde her oute,
And did the same, allthoughe with mickle feare,
For feare hee did, least hee the young man mighte,
In Choller putt, with whome hee woulde not feighte.
And as for mee, (sweete Husband) I must beare.
Gladd was the Man when hee had hearde her oute,
And did the same, allthoughe with mickle feare,
For feare hee did, least hee the young man mighte,
In Choller putt, with whome hee woulde not feighte.
235
The Courtly Shepehearde muche agast at this,
Not seeynge earste suche Token in the wyfe,
Thoughe full of scorne woulde not his Duty miss,
Knowyng, that evell becomes a Howseholde stryffe
Did goo his way, but sojournd nere there, by,
That yet, the grounde therof hee mighte espy,
Not seeynge earste suche Token in the wyfe,
Thoughe full of scorne woulde not his Duty miss,
Knowyng, that evell becomes a Howseholde stryffe
Did goo his way, but sojournd nere there, by,
That yet, the grounde therof hee mighte espy,
The wyfe thus having settled Husbandes Brayne,
Who woulde have sworne his wyfe Diana was,
Watched when shee a furder poynte mighte gayne,
Wch Litle tyme did fittly bringe to pass,
For, to the Courte her Man was calde by name,
Whether hee needes must goo for feare of blame.
Who woulde have sworne his wyfe Diana was,
Watched when shee a furder poynte mighte gayne,
Wch Litle tyme did fittly bringe to pass,
For, to the Courte her Man was calde by name,
Whether hee needes must goo for feare of blame.
Three dayes before that hee must sure departe;
Shee written had (but in a hand disguysde)
A Letter suche whiche mighte from eyther parte,
Seeme to proceede, so well yt was devysde,
Shee sealled yt first, then shee the sealling brake,
And to her Jelous husband did yt take.
Shee written had (but in a hand disguysde)
A Letter suche whiche mighte from eyther parte,
Seeme to proceede, so well yt was devysde,
Shee sealled yt first, then shee the sealling brake,
And to her Jelous husband did yt take.
With weeping eyes, her eyes shee toughte to weepe,
Shee tolde hym that the Courtyer had yt sent,
Alas (quoth shee) thus woemens shame dothe Creepe.
The goodman Redd on bothe sydes the Content,
Yt Tytle had unto my onely Love
Subscription was youres moste yf yow will proove.
Shee tolde hym that the Courtyer had yt sent,
Alas (quoth shee) thus woemens shame dothe Creepe.
The goodman Redd on bothe sydes the Content,
Yt Tytle had unto my onely Love
Subscription was youres moste yf yow will proove.
The Pistle self suche kynde of wordes yt had,
My Sweetest Joy the Comfort of my Sprite,
So may thy Flockes encrease, thy deare hart glad,
So may eche thing (even as thow wisshest) light,
As thow wilt digne to reede and gently Reede,
This Mourning Incke in wch my harte dothe bleede.
My Sweetest Joy the Comfort of my Sprite,
So may thy Flockes encrease, thy deare hart glad,
So may eche thing (even as thow wisshest) light,
As thow wilt digne to reede and gently Reede,
This Mourning Incke in wch my harte dothe bleede.
Longe have I Loved, (alas thow worthy arte,)
Longe have I Loved (alas Love craveth Love,)
Longe have I Loved thy self (alas my harte)
Dothe breake, now toungue unto thy Name dothe moove,
And thincke not that thy answer, answer ys,
But that yt ys my Doome of Bale or Blisse.
Longe have I Loved (alas Love craveth Love,)
Longe have I Loved thy self (alas my harte)
Dothe breake, now toungue unto thy Name dothe moove,
And thincke not that thy answer, answer ys,
But that yt ys my Doome of Bale or Blisse.
236
The Jelous Wretche must nowe to Courte bee gōn,
Ne can hee fayle, for Prince hathe for him sent
Nowe ys the tyme wee may bee here alone,
And give a Longe desyer a sweete Content,
Thus shall yow bothe rewarde a Lover true,
And eke revenge his wronge suspecting yow.
Ne can hee fayle, for Prince hathe for him sent
Nowe ys the tyme wee may bee here alone,
And give a Longe desyer a sweete Content,
Thus shall yow bothe rewarde a Lover true,
And eke revenge his wronge suspecting yow.
And this was all and this the Husband Redd,
With Chafe ynoughe, till shee hym pacyfyed,
Desyering that no greefe in hym bee bredd,
Now that hee had her wordes so truely tryed,
But that shee woulde to hym the Letter showe,
That with his faulte hee might her goodnes knowe.
With Chafe ynoughe, till shee hym pacyfyed,
Desyering that no greefe in hym bee bredd,
Now that hee had her wordes so truely tryed,
But that shee woulde to hym the Letter showe,
That with his faulte hee might her goodnes knowe.
That streight was done, with a many a boysterus threate,
That to the Duke hee woulde his synne declare,
But now the Courtyer gān to smell the feate,
And with some wordes wch shewed litle Care,
Hee stayed untill the goodman was departed,
Then gave hee hym the Blowe wch never smarted.
That to the Duke hee woulde his synne declare,
But now the Courtyer gān to smell the feate,
And with some wordes wch shewed litle Care,
Hee stayed untill the goodman was departed,
Then gave hee hym the Blowe wch never smarted.
Thus may yow see the Jelous wreche was made,
The Pander of the thinge hee moste did feare,
Take heede therefore, how yow ensue that trade,
Least that some Marckes of Jelosy yow beare,
For, sure, no Jelosy can that prevent,
Whereto twoo partyes once bee full Content.
The Pander of the thinge hee moste did feare,
Take heede therefore, how yow ensue that trade,
Least that some Marckes of Jelosy yow beare,
For, sure, no Jelosy can that prevent,
Whereto twoo partyes once bee full Content.
[Who, dothe Desyer that Chaste his wyfe shoulde bee]
Who, dothe Desyer that Chaste his wyfe shoulde bee,
First, bee hee True, for Truthe, dothe Truthe deserve,
Then suche bee hee, as shee his worthe may see,
And one man still Credit with her preserve,
First, bee hee True, for Truthe, dothe Truthe deserve,
Then suche bee hee, as shee his worthe may see,
And one man still Credit with her preserve,
Not toying kynde, nor Causelesly unkynde,
Not sturring thoughtes, nor yet denying Righte,
Not spying faultes, nor in playne Errors blynde,
Never hard hand, nor never Raynes too lighte.
Not sturring thoughtes, nor yet denying Righte,
Not spying faultes, nor in playne Errors blynde,
Never hard hand, nor never Raynes too lighte.
237
As farr from want, as farr from vayne expense,
(The one dothe force, the Later dothe entyse)
Allowe good Company, but keeping from thence,
All filthy Mowthes, that glory in theyre vyce.
Thus done, thow haste no more, but leave ye Rest,
To Vertue, Fortune, Tyme and Womans brest.
(The one dothe force, the Later dothe entyse)
Allowe good Company, but keeping from thence,
All filthy Mowthes, that glory in theyre vyce.
Thus done, thow haste no more, but leave ye Rest,
To Vertue, Fortune, Tyme and Womans brest.
[As I my litle Flock on Ister Bancke]
As I my litle Flock on Ister Bancke,
(A Litle Flock, but well my Pype they couthe)
Did pyping Leade, the Sunne allredy sancke,
Beyonde oure Worlde, and ere I gatt my Boothe,
Eche thinge with Mantle black, the Night did soothe.
Saving the Glowe worme whiche woulde Curteous bee,
Of that smalle Lighte ofte watching Sheepeherdes see.
(A Litle Flock, but well my Pype they couthe)
Did pyping Leade, the Sunne allredy sancke,
Beyonde oure Worlde, and ere I gatt my Boothe,
Eche thinge with Mantle black, the Night did soothe.
Saving the Glowe worme whiche woulde Curteous bee,
Of that smalle Lighte ofte watching Sheepeherdes see.
The Wellkyn had full nigardly inclosde,
In Coffer of Dymme Clowdes his sillver groates,
(Yclipped Starres) eche thing to Rest disposde,
The Caves were full, the Mountaynes voyde of Goates,
The Byrdes eyes closde, closde up theyre Chirping Notes,
As for the Nightingale, wood Musick Kinge,
(Yt August was) hee daynde not then to singe.
In Coffer of Dymme Clowdes his sillver groates,
(Yclipped Starres) eche thing to Rest disposde,
The Caves were full, the Mountaynes voyde of Goates,
The Byrdes eyes closde, closde up theyre Chirping Notes,
As for the Nightingale, wood Musick Kinge,
(Yt August was) hee daynde not then to singe.
238
Amydd my Sheepe, thoughe I sawe noughte to feare,
Yet, (for I no thing sawe) I feared sore,
Then founde I whiche thinge ys a charge to beare,
For, for my Sheepe I feared mickle more,
Then ever for my self, synce I was bore,
I satt mee downe, (for so to goo ne coulde)
And sange unto my Sheepe, least stray they shoulde.
Yet, (for I no thing sawe) I feared sore,
Then founde I whiche thinge ys a charge to beare,
For, for my Sheepe I feared mickle more,
Then ever for my self, synce I was bore,
I satt mee downe, (for so to goo ne coulde)
And sange unto my Sheepe, least stray they shoulde.
The Songe I sange oulde Languette had mee taughte,
Languette the Shepehearde best swifte Ister knewe,
For Clerckly reade, and hating what ys naughte,
His faythfull harte, Cleane mowthe and handes as trewe,
With his sweete skill, my skilless youthe hee drewe,
To have a feeling Taste of hym that sittes,
Beyonde the Heaven, farre more beyonde oure wittes.
Languette the Shepehearde best swifte Ister knewe,
For Clerckly reade, and hating what ys naughte,
His faythfull harte, Cleane mowthe and handes as trewe,
With his sweete skill, my skilless youthe hee drewe,
To have a feeling Taste of hym that sittes,
Beyonde the Heaven, farre more beyonde oure wittes.
Hee sayde the Musick best thilke Powers pleasde,
Was Jumpp Concorde betweene oure witt and will,
Where Highest notes to godlynes are Raysde,
And Lowest sinck not downe to Jott of yll,
With oulde true Tales hee wonte my eares to fille,
Howe Shepeherdes did of yore, howe nowe they thryve,
Spoylling theyre Flock, or while tuixt them they stryve.
Was Jumpp Concorde betweene oure witt and will,
Where Highest notes to godlynes are Raysde,
And Lowest sinck not downe to Jott of yll,
With oulde true Tales hee wonte my eares to fille,
Howe Shepeherdes did of yore, howe nowe they thryve,
Spoylling theyre Flock, or while tuixt them they stryve.
Hee lyked mee, butt pittyed Lustfull yowthe,
His good stronge Staffe my slippery yeares up bore,
Hee still hopte well, bycause I Loved truthe,
Till forste to parte, with harte and eyes even sore,
The worthy Coredens hee gave mee ore,
But thus in Okes trewe shade recoumpted hee,
Whiche now in Nightes deepe shade Sheepe, hearde of mee,
His good stronge Staffe my slippery yeares up bore,
Hee still hopte well, bycause I Loved truthe,
Till forste to parte, with harte and eyes even sore,
The worthy Coredens hee gave mee ore,
But thus in Okes trewe shade recoumpted hee,
Whiche now in Nightes deepe shade Sheepe, hearde of mee,
Suche maner tyme there was, what tyme I nott,
When all this Earthe this Dām or Moulde of oures,
Was onely won'de with suche as Beastes begott
Unknowne as then were they that buylden Towers,
The Cattell wylde or tame in natures Bowers,
Might freely Ronne, or Rest as seemed them.
Man was not Man theyre Dwellinges in to hemm,
When all this Earthe this Dām or Moulde of oures,
Was onely won'de with suche as Beastes begott
Unknowne as then were they that buylden Towers,
The Cattell wylde or tame in natures Bowers,
Might freely Ronne, or Rest as seemed them.
Man was not Man theyre Dwellinges in to hemm,
239
The Beastes had sure some Beastly pollicy,
For, no thinge can Indure where order nys;
For once the Lyon by the Lambe did lye,
The fearefull Hynde the Leoperd did kisse,
Hurtles was Tygers pawe, and Serpentes hisse,
This thincke I well the Beastes with Corage cladd,
Lyke Senators a harmeles Empire had.
For, no thinge can Indure where order nys;
For once the Lyon by the Lambe did lye,
The fearefull Hynde the Leoperd did kisse,
Hurtles was Tygers pawe, and Serpentes hisse,
This thincke I well the Beastes with Corage cladd,
Lyke Senators a harmeles Empire had.
At whiche whether the others did repyne,
(For Envye harboureth moste in feeblest hartes)
Or that they all to Chaunging did enclyne,
(As even in Beastes theyre Dāmes leave Chaunging partes)
The Multitude to Jove a Sute impartes,
With Naying, Blaying, Braying and Barking,
Roaring and Howling, for to have a Kinge.
(For Envye harboureth moste in feeblest hartes)
Or that they all to Chaunging did enclyne,
(As even in Beastes theyre Dāmes leave Chaunging partes)
The Multitude to Jove a Sute impartes,
With Naying, Blaying, Braying and Barking,
Roaring and Howling, for to have a Kinge.
A Kinge, in Language theyres they sayde they woulde,
(For then theyre Language was a perfect speeche)
The Byrdes likewyse with Chirpes and pyinge coulde,
Chackling and Chattering that of Jove beseeche,
Onely the Owle warnde them not to seeche
So hastely that, whiche they woulde Repent
But, sawe they woulde, and hee to Dezertes went.
(For then theyre Language was a perfect speeche)
The Byrdes likewyse with Chirpes and pyinge coulde,
Chackling and Chattering that of Jove beseeche,
Onely the Owle warnde them not to seeche
So hastely that, whiche they woulde Repent
But, sawe they woulde, and hee to Dezertes went.
Jove, wysely sayde, (For wysdome wysely sayes)
O Beastes take heede what yow of mee desyer,
Rulers will thincke all thinges made them to please,
And soone forgett the Swincke Due to theyre hyer,
But, (synce yow will) parte of my Heavenly fyer,
I will yow lende, The Rest youre selves must give,
That yt bothe seene and felt may with yow live.
O Beastes take heede what yow of mee desyer,
Rulers will thincke all thinges made them to please,
And soone forgett the Swincke Due to theyre hyer,
But, (synce yow will) parte of my Heavenly fyer,
I will yow lende, The Rest youre selves must give,
That yt bothe seene and felt may with yow live.
Full glad they were, and tooke the Naked Sprite,
Whiche streight the earthe yclothed in his Clay,
The Lyon, Harte, the Ounce gave active Mighte,
The Horse good shape, The Sparrow Lust to play,
Nightingale voyce, entysing Songes to say,
Elephant gave a perfect memory,
And Parret redy toungue that to apply.
Whiche streight the earthe yclothed in his Clay,
The Lyon, Harte, the Ounce gave active Mighte,
The Horse good shape, The Sparrow Lust to play,
Nightingale voyce, entysing Songes to say,
Elephant gave a perfect memory,
And Parret redy toungue that to apply.
240
The Foxe gave Crafte, the Dogg gave flattery,
Asse, patience, the Moulle a worcking thoughte,
Ægle hye Looke, Wolffe secrett Crewelty,
Monkye sweete Breathe, the Cowe her fayre eyes broughte,
The Ermion whitest skynne spotted with noughte.
The Sheepe mylde seeming face, Clyming the Beare,
The Stagg did give the harme eschewing feare.
Asse, patience, the Moulle a worcking thoughte,
Ægle hye Looke, Wolffe secrett Crewelty,
Monkye sweete Breathe, the Cowe her fayre eyes broughte,
The Ermion whitest skynne spotted with noughte.
The Sheepe mylde seeming face, Clyming the Beare,
The Stagg did give the harme eschewing feare.
The Beare her sleightes the Catt his Melancholy,
Ante Industry, and Cony skill to buylde,
Cranes Order, Storckes to bee apearing Holy,
Cameleon ease to Chaunge, Duck ease to yeelde,
Crockadile teares whiche mighte bee falsly speelde,
Ape greate thinge gave, thoughe hee did mooving stand,
The Instrument of Instrumentes the hand.
Ante Industry, and Cony skill to buylde,
Cranes Order, Storckes to bee apearing Holy,
Cameleon ease to Chaunge, Duck ease to yeelde,
Crockadile teares whiche mighte bee falsly speelde,
Ape greate thinge gave, thoughe hee did mooving stand,
The Instrument of Instrumentes the hand.
Eche other Beast lykewyse his present bringes,
And (but they Drad theyre Prince they ofte should want,)
They all Consented were to give hym winges,
And ay more Awe towardes hym for to plante,
To theyre owne Worcke this priviledg they graunte,
That from thence forthe to all eternity,
No Beaste shoulde freely speake, but onely hee.
And (but they Drad theyre Prince they ofte should want,)
They all Consented were to give hym winges,
And ay more Awe towardes hym for to plante,
To theyre owne Worcke this priviledg they graunte,
That from thence forthe to all eternity,
No Beaste shoulde freely speake, but onely hee.
Thus Man was made, thus Man theyre Lorde became,
Who at the first wanting or hyding pryde,
Hee did to Beastes best use his Cunning frame,
With water, Drincke, herbes, meate, and naked hyde,
And Fellowlyke lett his Dominyon slyde,
Not in his sayinge (saying I.) but Wee.
As yf hee ment his Lordshipp Comōn bee.
Who at the first wanting or hyding pryde,
Hee did to Beastes best use his Cunning frame,
With water, Drincke, herbes, meate, and naked hyde,
And Fellowlyke lett his Dominyon slyde,
Not in his sayinge (saying I.) but Wee.
As yf hee ment his Lordshipp Comōn bee.
But when his seate so Rooted hee had founde,
That they now skilde not, howe from hym to wende,
Then gan in giltles Earthe full many a wounde,
Iron to seeke, whiche ageanst yt self shoulde bende,
To teare the Bowells that good Corne should sende,
But yet the Comōn Damm̄ none did bemone,
Bycause (thoughe hurt) they never heard her grone.
That they now skilde not, howe from hym to wende,
Then gan in giltles Earthe full many a wounde,
Iron to seeke, whiche ageanst yt self shoulde bende,
To teare the Bowells that good Corne should sende,
But yet the Comōn Damm̄ none did bemone,
Bycause (thoughe hurt) they never heard her grone.
241
Then gan̄ hee factions in the Beastes to breede,
Where helping weyker sorte, the Nobler Beastes,
As Tygres, Leoperdes, Beares and Lyons seede,
Disdaynd with this in Dezertes soughte theyre Restes,
Where famyn, Raven, toughte theyre hongry Chestes,
Thus Craftely hee forced them to do yll,
Whiche beeyng done hee afterwardes woulde kill.
Where helping weyker sorte, the Nobler Beastes,
As Tygres, Leoperdes, Beares and Lyons seede,
Disdaynd with this in Dezertes soughte theyre Restes,
Where famyn, Raven, toughte theyre hongry Chestes,
Thus Craftely hee forced them to do yll,
Whiche beeyng done hee afterwardes woulde kill.
For Murder done, whiche never earst was seene,
By those greate Beastes, as for the weykers good,
Hee Chose them selves his Guarders for to bee,
Geanst those of mighte of whome in feare they stood,
As Horse and Dogg not greate but gentle blood,
Blythe were the Com̄ons Cattle of the Feelde,
Tho, when they sawe theyre Foen of greatnes kilde.
By those greate Beastes, as for the weykers good,
Hee Chose them selves his Guarders for to bee,
Geanst those of mighte of whome in feare they stood,
As Horse and Dogg not greate but gentle blood,
Blythe were the Com̄ons Cattle of the Feelde,
Tho, when they sawe theyre Foen of greatnes kilde.
But, they or spent, or made of sclender mighte,
Then quickly did theyre meaner Cattell fynde,
The greate Beames gon̄ the Howse on shoulders lighte,
For by and by, the Horse fayre Bittes did bynde,
The Dogg was in a Collar toughte his kynde,
As for the gentle Byrdes like Case mighte Rewe,
When Faulcon they and Gosshauke sawe in Mewe.
Then quickly did theyre meaner Cattell fynde,
The greate Beames gon̄ the Howse on shoulders lighte,
For by and by, the Horse fayre Bittes did bynde,
The Dogg was in a Collar toughte his kynde,
As for the gentle Byrdes like Case mighte Rewe,
When Faulcon they and Gosshauke sawe in Mewe.
Worste fell to smallest Byrdes, and meanest Hearde,
Who now his owne full like his owne hee usde,
Yet first but woolle, or Fethers of hee tearde,
And when they were well usde to bee abusde,
For hongry Throate theyre flessh with Teethe hee brusde
At Lengthe for glutton taste hee did them kill,
At last for sporte theyre silly Lyves did spill.
Who now his owne full like his owne hee usde,
Yet first but woolle, or Fethers of hee tearde,
And when they were well usde to bee abusde,
For hongry Throate theyre flessh with Teethe hee brusde
At Lengthe for glutton taste hee did them kill,
At last for sporte theyre silly Lyves did spill.
But, yet, O Man, Rage not beyond thy neede,
Deeme yt no prayse to swell in Tyranny,
Thow arte of Blood, Joye not to make thinges bleede.
Thow fearest Deathe, thincke they are loathe to dye
A Playnte of guiltles Hurte dothe pearse the skye,
And yow pore Beastes in pacyence byde youre hell,
Or know youre strengthes and then yow shall doo well.
Deeme yt no prayse to swell in Tyranny,
Thow arte of Blood, Joye not to make thinges bleede.
Thow fearest Deathe, thincke they are loathe to dye
A Playnte of guiltles Hurte dothe pearse the skye,
And yow pore Beastes in pacyence byde youre hell,
Or know youre strengthes and then yow shall doo well.
242
Thus did I singe and pype Eighte solempne howers,
To Sheepe whome Love, not knowledge made to heare,
Now Fancyes Fittes, now Fortunes balefull stowers.
But then I homeward Calde my Lambkyns Dere,
For to my Dymmed Eyes began to appeare,
The Night, growne oulde, her Black heade waxen graye
Sure Sheepeheardes signe, that Morne woulde soone fetch day.
To Sheepe whome Love, not knowledge made to heare,
Now Fancyes Fittes, now Fortunes balefull stowers.
But then I homeward Calde my Lambkyns Dere,
For to my Dymmed Eyes began to appeare,
The Night, growne oulde, her Black heade waxen graye
Sure Sheepeheardes signe, that Morne woulde soone fetch day.
Finis.
[In faythe good Histor, Longe ys youre delay]
Geron. Histor.Geron.
In faythe good Histor, Longe ys youre delay,
Frome Holly Mariage, sweete and surest meane,
Oure Foolish Lustes in Honest Rules to stay,
I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane,
Thow seest how friske and Jolly nowe hee ys,
That last day seemd hee coulde not chewe a Beane.
Frome Holly Mariage, sweete and surest meane,
Oure Foolish Lustes in Honest Rules to stay,
I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane,
Thow seest how friske and Jolly nowe hee ys,
That last day seemd hee coulde not chewe a Beane.
Beleeve mee, Man, there ys no greater Blisse,
Then ys the quyet Joy of Loving wyffe,
Whiche who so wantes, half of hym self dothe mysse
Frende withoute Change, Playfellow withoute stryfe,
Foode withoute fullnes, Counsell withoute stryfe,
Ys this sweete Dubling of oure single Lyfe.
Then ys the quyet Joy of Loving wyffe,
Whiche who so wantes, half of hym self dothe mysse
Frende withoute Change, Playfellow withoute stryfe,
Foode withoute fullnes, Counsell withoute stryfe,
Ys this sweete Dubling of oure single Lyfe.
243
No Doubte to whome so good Chance did betyde,
As for to fynde a Pasture strewde with golde,
Hee were a Foole yf there hee did not byde,
Who woulde not have a Phenix yf hee coulde,
The Humming Wasp yf yt had not a Stinge,
Before all Flees the Wasp accept I woulde,
But this Bad worlde fewe golden Feeldes dothe bringe,
Phenix but one, of Crowes wee Millyons fynde,
The Wasp seemes gay, but ys a Comberus thinge.
As for to fynde a Pasture strewde with golde,
Hee were a Foole yf there hee did not byde,
Who woulde not have a Phenix yf hee coulde,
The Humming Wasp yf yt had not a Stinge,
Before all Flees the Wasp accept I woulde,
But this Bad worlde fewe golden Feeldes dothe bringe,
Phenix but one, of Crowes wee Millyons fynde,
The Wasp seemes gay, but ys a Comberus thinge.
Yf many Kalas oure Arcadia gave,
Lalus example I woulde soone ensue,
And thincke I did my self from sorowe save,
But of suche wyves wee fynde a sclender Crewe,
Shrewdnes so sturres, Pryde so puffes up theyre hart
They syldome ponder what to them ys due.
Lalus example I woulde soone ensue,
And thincke I did my self from sorowe save,
But of suche wyves wee fynde a sclender Crewe,
Shrewdnes so sturres, Pryde so puffes up theyre hart
They syldome ponder what to them ys due.
With Maigre Lookes, as yf they still did smarte,
Pewling and whimpering or else scoulding flatt
Make home more payne then following of the Carte
Eyther dull sylence, or Eternall Chatt.
Still Contrary to what her Husband sayes,
Yf hee do prayse the Dogg, shee likes the Catt,
Auster shee ys when hee woulde honest playes.
And gamesome then when hee thinckes on his Sheepe,
She biddes hym goo, and yet from Journey stayes,
Shee warre dothe ever with his kinsfolke keepe,
And makes them fremd, who frendes by Nature are,
Envying shallowe Toyes with Mallys Deepe,
And yf forsoothe there come some newfounde ware,
The Litle Coyne his sweating browes hathe gott,
Must goo for that, yf for her Love hee Care,
Or else, nay faythe, myne ys the Luckless Lott,
That ever fell to honest woman, yett,
No wyfe but I have suche a Man god wott,
Suche ys theyre speeche, who bee of sober witt,
But who dothe lett theyre toungues shew well theyre Rage,
Lorde what by wordes they speake, what spyte they spitt.
The howse ys made a very loathsome Cage,
Wherein the Byrde dothe never singe but Crye,
With suche a Will that no thinge can asswage,
Dearely the Servauntes do theyre wages bwye
Revylde for eche smalle faulte, some tyme for none,
They better Live, that in a Gayle doo lye,
Lett other fowler spottes away bee blowne,
For I seeke not theyre shame, but still mee thinckes
A better Lyfe yt ys to live alone.
Pewling and whimpering or else scoulding flatt
Make home more payne then following of the Carte
Eyther dull sylence, or Eternall Chatt.
Still Contrary to what her Husband sayes,
Yf hee do prayse the Dogg, shee likes the Catt,
Auster shee ys when hee woulde honest playes.
And gamesome then when hee thinckes on his Sheepe,
She biddes hym goo, and yet from Journey stayes,
Shee warre dothe ever with his kinsfolke keepe,
And makes them fremd, who frendes by Nature are,
Envying shallowe Toyes with Mallys Deepe,
And yf forsoothe there come some newfounde ware,
The Litle Coyne his sweating browes hathe gott,
Must goo for that, yf for her Love hee Care,
Or else, nay faythe, myne ys the Luckless Lott,
That ever fell to honest woman, yett,
No wyfe but I have suche a Man god wott,
Suche ys theyre speeche, who bee of sober witt,
But who dothe lett theyre toungues shew well theyre Rage,
Lorde what by wordes they speake, what spyte they spitt.
244
Wherein the Byrde dothe never singe but Crye,
With suche a Will that no thinge can asswage,
Dearely the Servauntes do theyre wages bwye
Revylde for eche smalle faulte, some tyme for none,
They better Live, that in a Gayle doo lye,
Lett other fowler spottes away bee blowne,
For I seeke not theyre shame, but still mee thinckes
A better Lyfe yt ys to live alone.
[Geron.]
Who for eche fickle feare from vertue shrinckes,
Shalle in this lyfe embrace no worthy thinge,
No mortall Man the Cupp of Surety drinckes,
The Heavens doo not good happes in Handfulles bringe,
But let us pick oute good from oute muche badd,
That still oure litle worlde may knowe his kinge,
But certenly so longe wee may bee glad,
While that wee doo what nature dothe requyer,
And for the event wee never oughte bee sadd,
Man ofte ys plaigued wth ayer, ys burnte wth fyer,
In water Drownde, in earthe his Buryall ys,
And shall wee not therefore theyre use desyer,
Nature above all thinges requyreth this,
That wee oure kynde do Laboure to meyntayne
Whiche drawne oute Lyne, dothe holde all humane blisse.
Shalle in this lyfe embrace no worthy thinge,
No mortall Man the Cupp of Surety drinckes,
The Heavens doo not good happes in Handfulles bringe,
But let us pick oute good from oute muche badd,
That still oure litle worlde may knowe his kinge,
But certenly so longe wee may bee glad,
While that wee doo what nature dothe requyer,
And for the event wee never oughte bee sadd,
Man ofte ys plaigued wth ayer, ys burnte wth fyer,
In water Drownde, in earthe his Buryall ys,
And shall wee not therefore theyre use desyer,
Nature above all thinges requyreth this,
That wee oure kynde do Laboure to meyntayne
Whiche drawne oute Lyne, dothe holde all humane blisse.
Thy Father justly may of thee Complayne,
Yf thow doo not repay his deedes for thee,
In graunting unto hym a Graundsyers gayne,
Thy Comon wealthe may Rightly greeved bee
Whiche must by this Immortall bee preserved,
Yf thus thow murder thy posterity,
His very beeyng hee hathe not deserved,
Who for a self Conceipt will that forbeare,
Whereby that beeyng ay must bee Conserved,
And God forbidd woemen suche Cattell were,
As yow paynte them. But, well in yow I fynde,
No man dothe speake arighte, who speakes in feare,
Who onely sees the evill ys worse then blynde,
These Fifty winters marryed I have beene,
And yet fynde no suche faultes in Womankynde,
I have a Wyfe worthy to bee a Queene,
So well shee can Comaunde, and yet, obay,
In Ruling of a Howse so well shee ys seene,
And yet in all this tyme betwixt us Tway,
Wee beare oure Duble yock with suche Consent
There never past fowle worde, I dare well say,
But these are youre Love toyes wch still are spent
In Lawless games, and Love not as yow shoulde,
But with muche study learne late to Repent,
Howe well last day before youre Prince yow coulde,
Blynde Cupids worckes with wonder testify,
Yet nowe the Roote of hym abase yow woulde,
Goo too Goo too and Cupid now applye,
To that where thow thy Cupid mayste avowe,
And thow shalte fynde in woemen vertues lye,
Sweete supple myndes wch soone to wisdome bowe,
Where they by wisdomes Rules directed are;
And yet not forst fonde Thraldome to allowe,
As wee to gett are framed, so they to spare,
Wee made for paynes, they made oure paynes to cherish,
Wee care abroade, and they of home have Care,
O Histor, seeke within thy self to Florishe,
Thy Howse by thee must Live or else bee gone,
And then who shall the name of Histor norishe?
Riches of Children passe a Princes throane,
Whiche touche the Fathers harte with secrett Joy,
When withowte shame hee saythe these bee myne owne.
Marry therefore, for Marryage will Destroy,
Those passyons wch to youthfull hedd do Clyme,
Mothers and Nurses of all vayne Annoy.
Yf thow doo not repay his deedes for thee,
In graunting unto hym a Graundsyers gayne,
Thy Comon wealthe may Rightly greeved bee
Whiche must by this Immortall bee preserved,
Yf thus thow murder thy posterity,
His very beeyng hee hathe not deserved,
Who for a self Conceipt will that forbeare,
Whereby that beeyng ay must bee Conserved,
And God forbidd woemen suche Cattell were,
As yow paynte them. But, well in yow I fynde,
No man dothe speake arighte, who speakes in feare,
245
These Fifty winters marryed I have beene,
And yet fynde no suche faultes in Womankynde,
I have a Wyfe worthy to bee a Queene,
So well shee can Comaunde, and yet, obay,
In Ruling of a Howse so well shee ys seene,
And yet in all this tyme betwixt us Tway,
Wee beare oure Duble yock with suche Consent
There never past fowle worde, I dare well say,
But these are youre Love toyes wch still are spent
In Lawless games, and Love not as yow shoulde,
But with muche study learne late to Repent,
Howe well last day before youre Prince yow coulde,
Blynde Cupids worckes with wonder testify,
Yet nowe the Roote of hym abase yow woulde,
Goo too Goo too and Cupid now applye,
To that where thow thy Cupid mayste avowe,
And thow shalte fynde in woemen vertues lye,
Sweete supple myndes wch soone to wisdome bowe,
Where they by wisdomes Rules directed are;
And yet not forst fonde Thraldome to allowe,
As wee to gett are framed, so they to spare,
Wee made for paynes, they made oure paynes to cherish,
Wee care abroade, and they of home have Care,
O Histor, seeke within thy self to Florishe,
Thy Howse by thee must Live or else bee gone,
And then who shall the name of Histor norishe?
Riches of Children passe a Princes throane,
Whiche touche the Fathers harte with secrett Joy,
When withowte shame hee saythe these bee myne owne.
Marry therefore, for Marryage will Destroy,
Those passyons wch to youthfull hedd do Clyme,
Mothers and Nurses of all vayne Annoy.
Histor.
Perchaunce, I will, but, nowe mee thinckes yt tyme,
Wee goo unto the Bryde, and use this day,
To speake with her, while freely speake wee may.
246
Here ende The Thirde Booke and Thirde Eglogues.
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