The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney :: :: University of Virginia Library

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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 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.

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,

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.

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,

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 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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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,

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.

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,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

[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,

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.

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.

[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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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,

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,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

243

Histor.

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.

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.

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.

244

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.

[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.

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,

245

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.

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.