University of Virginia Library

THE Italian Taylor, and his Boy.

THE Prologue to the Storie.

Ovid and Virgill for the Pen,
And Homer for his Verse:
Plautus, Horace; worthy men,
Left lines for Schooles to perse:
Since then, Italia in her pride,
Puft, some of memorie,
Who haue deserud the Wreath beside,
Of fames eternitie.
But giue me leaue to reckon why
They did set downe their skill
In Embleme Stories, faignedly,
And yet not blabs of ill:
But to insist on meaner toyes
Wherein they might be bold
Leauing to truce our better ioyes
In Scripture lines inrold,
For Schollerisme and Schoole defence,
To practise younger wits,
That they presumd in, to dispence
On things that better fits:
Now not to niggard it at all,
But ioyne as partner yit
With such as do our Poet call,
Mecænas for his wit;
I thus distribute to all eyes,
What I of late haue red:
Though faigned, yet they are no lyes,
But fancies better bred:
And yet the subiect of discent,
As many Worthies bee:
Begun of nothing, till content
Breed to maturitie.
The Italian Poet in discourse,
Sets downe a homely toy,
In singular donne, prose not verse,
A Taylor and his Boy:
Who in contention, shewde the earth,
What Art exceeded in:
For nothing but an howers mirth,
And thus doth he begin.

Cant. 1.

This Taylor tooke vnto his trade,
A neighbours child, but poore;
The Boy was yong, yet wits perswade
His yeares were many more:
How euer, hee's reported young,
Though old in apprehention;
Whereby this canker Enuie, sproung,
And causd this blacke dissention.
The Maister was oreshot i'th marke,
At which he gaue the ayme,
The Boy exceedes the parish Clarke,
And got his Maisters fame:
In time, the Maister wrought no more,
Nor reason wil'd him vse it,
Since whom he taught, increast his store,
Why might not he refuse it?
But practizd from Pithagoras,
Schoole poynts of transformation,
By Art he wonne, and brought to passe,
The forme of any fashion:
Sometimes he would flie like a Bird,
Anone a Horse, a Tree:
And by and by in thought or word,
A Fowle, a Fish, a Bee.
The litle Lad, which had an eye
On all his Maister did,
Grew wearie of his trade, whereby
His better iudgment chid,
And bid him boldly looke about,
His Maister had in stoore,
A rarer secret of much doubt,
His present skill was poore:
Once aboue all, ascends the Staires,
And through the key-hole peepes,
To note his Maisters new affaires,
And what strange coyle he keepes:
Who busie in transforming life,
To sundry shapes of toyes:
In his beholding, grew a strife,
Of dread and hidden ioyes.
Now he beholdes his Master chang'd
And like a Tree appeares:
At last a Horse an Ape estrangde,
In seuerall shapes and feares:
These transiue apparitions dealt,
As mad-men in their fits;
Who compasse all they toucht or fealt,
When th' are but wishing wits:
He downe descendes, and watches time
To try this wished skill.
He found the steps that he did clime,
Were farthring to his will.
So while his Maister by him selfe
Did practise thus to bee,
This busie Ape and willing elfe,
As expert was as hee.
The Lad deuises now to make
His Father rich and great;
Comes and demaunds if for needs sake,
He should vrge Artes conceit
To do him grace? “I, (saies the old man)
“My pouertie is such;
“I pre-thee child, do what thou can
“Nor may it be too much:
“Considring I did bring thee vp
“In knowledge, care, and loue,
“And let thee drinke of plenties cup;
“A Fathers best behoue.”
The obedient Boy desirous too,
To shew his vtmost will,
Intreates his Father thus to do,
For practise of his skill:
To buy i'th morne a Saddle and Bridle,
And meet him that selfe morrow,
In Caijus field, and if possible,
He would rid his sorrow:
“There shall you finde (sayes he) a Steed,
“as white as Snow or Swan:
“Possesse him to relieue your need,
“And make what price ye can.”
He thankes his sonne: “I but (quoth he)
“What sequel lags behind?
“Nought else but this; when you shall see
“The bargaine full assignd,
“Vnsaddle me, and leaue me sold;
“But see the same be done,
“Least after sorrow grow too bold,
“On what is thus begunne.”
They parted faire, the Old man home,
The Boy vnto his traide,
The dayes end neere, the night is come,
And all things well appaide:
The Taylor now bethinking him,
Of fortunes past and gone;
His Seruants necligence, lookt grim,
That all decayde at home:
Rises to 's Booke, and by his art,
He well perceiues and findes
His Boyes attempt, his skill to thwart,
Possest him twentie mindes.
“What will this Youngster rise vnto,
“If thus he climbe (sayes hee)
“To'th top of all my practize? no,
“It may nor must not bee.”
Sees, he was altred in his shape,
And to a goodly Steed;
Deuises now to catch the Ape,
In practise of this deed;
Doth rise betime, and sutes his backe,
Like one that t[r]affickt much:
And to the market all in blacke,
As Marchants, like one such.

Cant. 2.

Comes, where the old man pacde his steede,
There people wondred oft,
To see this Iade of such a breede,
Curuet, praunce, leape aloft.
He cals to know the lowest price:
It was fiue hundred Francks.
Too deare sayes he, the old man wise,
Sayd so it should, and thanks:
As chapmen in their bargaines sticke
To rise and fall, so hee
Offerd and went, comes backe as quicke;
At last they did agree:
The money tenderd, vp he gets,
To try the paced Steed;
Who vp o'th sodaine, hence he iets,
In pace of posting speed:
Thus galloping, the old man sithes,
“My saddle's on (sayes hee)
“I am vndone, ore-gone vniths,
“Som epower preseruer bee.”
Home comes my Taylor to his Stable,
Who to 'th Manger tyes
This Horse with Ropes, while he was able
Beats his backe and thighes.
“Thou art my seruant now (sayes hee)
“To ride, to run, and go;
“And I will vse thee cruelly:
“Had I before done so,
“I had not thus bin backt and rid,
“By him Ile ouer ride.”
The Boy thus heard how he was chid,
Thus to himselfe he cride,
“Forgetfull Father, I am wrong'd,
“Thy necligence is cause;
“Now shall my torment be prolong'd,
“And here my shape must pause,
“Vnlesse some one vngirt my backe,
“This shape will euer bee:
“Thus my confused shame and wracke,
“Is (Father) come by thee.”
Nor Hay or Prouender was giuen,
Nor Water for to drinke:
Thus Pin'd, with Want, all was vneuen,
The Boy transform'd, doth thinke:
Art out went Art in what was done,
His Maisters skill was stronger,
And he by learning ouercome,
Was now approou'd the younger.
The Taylor had two tender Babes,
A little Sonne and Daughter;
Who often saw their Father's rage,
And what would happen after:
Consider'd in their infant thoughts,
Vnles the Horse had food,
The stately Steede would come to nought;
And that were not so good.
One after noone came there to play,
At last they thus bethought 'om
The Horse was dry, and knew the way
To 'th water; where they brought 'om:
The Iade shoke often, by the mane,
His Girts ganne to vnlose;
The Saddle that did fall off cleane,
As he to 'th Riuer goes:
The litle one stayes there to keepe it,
While the other leades
The Steed to 'th water; doth beweepe it,
And it euer dreades,
“It will be lost, alas (sayes he)
“Then are we both vndone:
“Our Father missing it, will be
“In anger ouercome.”
While thus they doubtfully do plead
The falling of the Saddle,
The subtile Steed doth stand in dread,
T'wil cause a further brabble:
And now, or neuer, must he get
His libertie to goe,
Either by force, by present wit,
Or liue in endles woe:
He rubs his head against his legge,
And euer and anone,
Whinnies aloude, as if he begges
The children to be gone:
But being by the Riuer side,
The Bridle new slipt off,
Like to a little Fishe, doth slide
Into the Streame, and laugh
To see the young-ones cry aloude;
And what a mone they make
For him, who now was nothing proude
This shape to vndertake.

Cant, 3.

The affrighted young ones all amaz'd,
Returning from the Brookes,
At whom the angrie Father gaz'd,
Saw wonders in their lookes:
Doth Question what the matter is,
They lookt all sadly so:
They fearefull too, that did amisse,
Were loth that he should know:
But when there was no remeadie,
They tell their Father this,
How that his Horse was sodainely
Transform'd into a Fish.
Hee all inraged, gets him home,
And when he saw twas true,
His Mans disguise to recompence,
He bids him-selfe adue,
And turnes into a greater Fish,
The lesser to deuower,
Because he knew no way but this,
Was in his furies power:
Thus shapt, he springs into the Streame,
Where his reuenge did swim.
Now is he in an other Realme,
Which was vnknowne to him:
Anone he comes amongst the shoales,
Where siluer finned Fishes
Kept their bright meeting in the goales,
Of Neptune's watry wishes.
But missing him whom he desir'd
He glotes as lightning glides;
Searching the deepes, he soone aspir'd
Where golden Tagus bides,
Where Triton with his Trumpet blast,
And Argus eyes kept way,
While plentie ballast from it fast,
What flotes the Indian Sea.
Heere was the subtile Taylor Fish
Suspected for a thiefe:
And driuen from doing ought amisse
By power from the chiefe:
Nor there, nor any where he findes
His new transformed youth;
Of Fish or Man, of neither kindes,
Though both of him insuth,
At length vnlookt for, while he stayes,
Playing i'th Flood at's ease,
On's bellie, back, sides, sundry wayes,
As his content shall please:
He spies a stranger-Fish passe by;
At whom, small Fishes throng,
As if they knew by nature, why
He had disguis'd so long.

Cant. 4.

Thus eager in pursuite they glide,
The seruant Fish perceaues
It was his Maisters subtile pride,
Springs through the weed-growne leaues:
The elder Fish vs'd age and strength,
The younger vs'd more speed:
Yet scarce had power to keepe his length,
In his poste passiue speed:
Through sheluie Brooks (by sedgy bancks
The shallow and the deepe)
In Mud, in Grauell, Weedes and Crancks,
Now swim they, then they creepe.
The beautious Ala, Iabins daughter,
King of sea and land,
Sends out her hand-mayd soone hereafter,
To the salt sea sand,
To gather Pibbles for her Bow,
To shoote at flying Birds:
Shee stoopes and sets her Basket low,
Vsing these angrie wordes.
“Must I be made a gleaner now,
“To geather killing Stones,
“For harmeles chirpers, that each bough,
“Beares freely for the nones?”
While thus she grudg'd her taking toyle,
And looking on the Sea,
She might behold this heauie coyle,
As Fishes when they play;
And in the Sommer leape aloft,
In the beholders eye;
And sodainely fall downeward soft,
I'th water where they lie.
Euen so these twaine, wearie with flight,
Make stand; as in the fielde
Two Armies meete, to try the right,
And make the other yeelde.
Sometimes the hush was in the water
Like a hollow Grone,
And instantly proceeded after
Quiet, as if none
Disturb'd the Flood: but when her eye
Had pierct the meaning truely,
More wondring stood she, and thereby
She did obserue them duely.
When Enuie boldly shewde it selfe
In Fish, so well as Men;
To which, she standing on the shelfe,
Made this reply agen.
“Poore fooles, how is't they wrangle so,
“Either in braule or sport?
“T'is prettie, how so euer (I trow)
“And fitting my report.”
But while amazde she them beheld
The smaller Fash grew weake,
Could not contend, but needs must yeeld:
And therefore thus doth speake.
“O modest Mayde receiue me yet,
“And saue me from my foe:”
O'th sodaine in her Basket leapt,
A prettie Fish in shoe:
But while a nazde she lookt thereon,
As musing at this thing,
The Fish she did behold, was gon
Into a Rubie Ring,
Vnseene of her, amongst the Stones
She geatherd on the sand,
Which she choos'd out there for the nonce
By labour with her hand.

Cant. 5.

The prettie gatherer home returnes,
And giues the Princesse theese:
(I meane the Pibbles) and she mournes,
Her labour thus to leese:
Tyerde and wearie with the toyle,
And in a prettie iest,
Desires the Princesse vse lesse coyle,
When she would haue the rest:
And therewithall, vnfouldes the fight
Betwixt the angrie Fishes,
Which made the Princesse to delight,
That she in person wishes
Sh'ad bin pertaker of the warre:
So prettily maintainde,
The iourney had not bin too farre,
As she to her complainde:
But when her Mayde reported to her
Of the Fishes scape
The storie more and more did wooe her,
She reioyst the shape.
That she o'th sodaine did enjoy,
In presence of the Fish:
All this the Ring transformed Boy
Had, as his heart did wish;
And in his foyle so louely set,
Faire collited in Gold,
He shinde amongst the Pibbles wet,
Most louely to behold:
So beautifull and sanguine red,
The price no value had;
Which when she saw, she quickly said
Her hopes were ritchly alleid:
Vpon her pretious ioynt tis put,
Whose beautie did contend,
Whether the Ring, or Finger to't,
Were louelest to commend.
But while this maze of doubt drue on,
Her ouer weening pride
Was daunted; for report anon
Came to her, and that cride,
Her Fathers Feauer was extreame,
His Phisicke did no good:
T'was killing newes to all the Realme,
Vntimely vnderstood,
In sorrow when the silent night,
Did summon her to bed;
Not sleepe, but slumber well she might
For so her sadnes said:
In mid'st of which, she thought she saw
A naked man lie neare,
Imbracing her: who cryed law,
“Faire Princesse neuer feare;
“I am the Rubie on your hand,
“Transformed as you see;
“In other shape at your commaund,
“Your vassaile slaue to bee.”
This certaine apparision seene,
Whereto she thus replies:
Twixt sleepe and wake: “I am a Queene,
“And of no common price:
“Tis treason if thou touch me yit;
“And therefore be not bold
“Vnles our births do princely fit:
“But if my Ring of Gold,
“Touch then, and spare not; do thy best
“To please me in the weare:”
“And I am such at your request,
“(Quoth he) and therefore neare.’
He on her Iuorie white of breasts,
Presumes a wanton hand;
She puts it by like Musicke rests
In skilfull songs commaund.
His waggish boldnes cride, all's mine!
Her mayden shame bade, fie:
His rudenes did a worke in time,
And she perceiu'd thereby
It was a substaunce, and no thought:
She starts vpright i'th bed:
“Alas (sayes she) is treason wrought,”
(And offerd to haue fled)
“O feare mee not,” Adonis sayes,
(For now hee's such a one,
As scornde the conquest loues the praise
Of what his fortune wonne:)
“But vnderstand me what I am,
“My shape, and comming hither.”
All told, the sequell sayes, loues shame
Deuide all wrong in either:
For Honour was his suertie,
He would be chast and true:
She did accept securitie,
And thus begins anew.
“Ile boast me as no Princesse can,
“Nor yet that euer might;
“In naked bed I lay by man,
“Yet honest all the night:
“And thou shalt say as much againe,
“Thy vertue is the greater,
“That mighst, and would not be so vaine
“Possessing such a creature.”
In this contemplatorie prate,
They past away the night;
Where, what to her he did relate,
Imagine, iudge ye might:
The deed of darknesse left vndone,
It was their first condition:
Then in what errour can they run,
Vnles in repetition:
For that was free in him and her,
Both parties were agreed,
In which they ventred on so far,
Vow seald their after speed.
The morning iealious of the eye,
That might behold him there,
Giues warning, and he by and by,
Her Rubie did appeare,
Plac'd on her finger, as before.
“O Vesta deare! (sayes she)
“I am thy vottery now no more,
“This ring hath conquered me.”
She kist her Finger, welcomde it;
Bade farewell vnto man,
Since both were Fancies friends to fit
Her virgine boldnes than.
Her Maydes that lay her chamber by,
Begins to chide her sorrow,
Because that sollitude was nie;
Yet bids them kind good morrow.
Alas (sayes she) my Fathers griefe,
Is cause of all my care;
Both you and I shall mourne as chiefe
If he die vnaware.
“No (quoth the Virgin) here is newes,
“Will make your sad heart light;
“It makes all modest wonder muse
“That hapt since yeaster night.”
She longes (as women do with child)
To heare that blessed wonder:
They in their tatling meeke and milde,
Doth trueth and iudgment sunder:
But when they finde tis all too good,
The offer made to 'th King,
Was true and easly vnderstood,
It did their comfort bring.
“There is (quoth they) a Doctor come,
“Ariu'd but late last night;
“Of whose great skill he yeeldes you some,
“And doth our Countrey right:
“He will attempt what all refuse,
“By Phisicks art to cure
“Your Fathers Feauer: and this newes,
“He doth by life assure:
“Onely his recompence is small;
“Which when his art is doone,
“He will demaunde, and there-with-all,
“This morn he hath begunne:
“And tis not yet two howers ago,
“Since his first Potion tooke;
“Whereby the fit that haunts him so,
“His vsuall hower forsooke.
This powerfull parlie rous'd the Deare,
The Larke did early mount:
It sprung a Partridge; whose vpreare,
Was of a great account:
She now desires to see the man,
Whose cunning promis'd this:
And thus the enuious Taylor can
Be Marchaunt, Doctor, Fish:
For he it was whose strange disguise,
Afforded power of skill,
To cure the King, who bed-red lyes,
And doth obey his will.

Cant. 6.

The King in comfort of his cure,
Begins to bragge his health.
The Doctor further doth assure
Himselfe of loue and wealth:
And all the Countrie in a hope,
Their King shall by his art,
Enioy a further princely scope,
Then health could yet impart:
Who but this Doctor, through the land,
Was prayed for euery where,
Who by his art did vnderstand
His Boy disguis'd was there;
Intendes to meete him in that shape
Who yet thinkes little so,
Vntill report betrayde the scape
Of his presuming foe.
Now slumbers on the Princesse finger,
As her dearest Iem;
While this thrice happy tydings bringer,
Thus awakened them.
Who comming, while the King in bed
Lay wayting life or death:
The Ring nought hearing, litle said,
It wanted life and breath,
Till it transform'd to man againe,
Should heare what came to passe:
And as it seem'd, it did remaine
A Rubie shining, t'wasse.
The amorous Princesse now attired,
Comes to the crased King:
Whose blessing when she had desired,
She presents her Ring:
And with no vulgar complement
Diuulg'd, and did extole
The beautie, vertue, excellent,
With ioy and earnest soule.
Much prayses past twixt him and her:
The Doctor standing by,
“Sayd, if I cure your Graces Feauer,
“You can not deny,
“But I shall haue what I will aske,
“In guerdion of my skill.”
“T'is true, (the King sayes) to this taske,
“I binde my royall Will.”
“Why then prepare (the Doctor sayes)
“This Rubie Ring for me;
“I am inamor'd of the prayse,
“And mine the same shall be.”
“I that, and what else (sayes the King)
“My kingdome can afford,
“Is thine, my former health to bring,
“Thereto I passe my word.”
“How can it be (the Princesse sayes)
“Our Father will bestow
“What is not his, to length his dayes?
“Although I duetie owe,
“And (as a child) should part with all,
“Your health to re-obtaine;
“It is my life that he doth call,
“To recompence his paine:
“And mine is dearer vnto mee,
“Then yours, or thousands moe.
“What touches life, is still, you see,
“Our owne thus to bestow.
“Then pardon me to keepe my life,
“(I meane this Rubie Ring)
“Vnlesse to him that cals me wife,
“I doe this treasure bring.”
The bed-red Prince inrag'd with griefe,
Cryes, treason to his blood:
“For the (sayth he) that should be chiefe,
“(Obedience vnderstood)
“Is now neglectfull: woe to thee,
“Thou monster in thy birth:
“My daughter? no, to disagree.
“On matter, though of wirth,
“Yet nothing in respect of vs,
“When life lies at the stake:
“Giue me the Ring thou reekinst thus,
“Bestow it for my sake.”
“Nay then your Maiestie doth doate,
“And I (quoth she) will not.”
“You of his counsell; pray you noate,
“The Doctor sayes: but that
“Is't possible such petite price,
“Should be of such esteeme?
“Why I aduenture on the dice
“Of Fortune, and cast them
“To vtmost heigth of all the chaunce,
“Perhaps my soule is gage,
“Your highnes person to aduance:
“And shall, ill, thus presage.
“Then Knowledge in obliuion turne,
“And Art with Studie end:
“My prayses perish, Bookes shall burne,
“All slacke what I intend:
“If I had askt the Diademe
“To weare it as mine owne;
“Thus Kinglike to commaund the Realme,
“It had not been bestowne,
“Since in a toy, a guift so bace
“I am so soone neclected:
“If in a motion of more grace,
“How had I been respected:
“I will begone, tis time I trow,
“Accurst my comming hither.
“When kindnes imps his wing so low,
“In fracture of this Feather,”
The Doctor flinges aside in rage:
Whereat the King amazde
Cals him againe: whose sullen age,
When it o'th Princesse gazde,
He darted furie from his eyes,
Which shot the Daughter through:
But when she thought vpon the prize
She reackt no anger now:
“Shoot on (sayes she) here is my heart,
“Deare Father, hit it dead;
“Before from this I euer part,
“Come mischiefe on my head:
“I'fayth I will not so perswade.”
(And offerd to be gone)
“Stay (sayth the King) thou cruell Mayde.
“Thou shalt not goe alone,
“To prison take her, shut her vp
“From sight of day or sunne,
“Since by her nay, this night I sup
“With ruine, thus vndone.
“What hope haue I to haue my cure,
“When knowledge is rewarded,
“And hath no vantage to assure
“On promise so awarded:
“Goe chaine her head vnto her knees,
“There let her pine and die;
“Since their obedience giues to leese,
“What children owe thereby.
“Shall I haue any in my land;
“Nay of my flesh and blood,
“That will nay dare so soone withstand
“The motion wee thinke good?
“Why now mee thinkes I am recur'd,
“And lustier then before:
“And shall not such small loue secur'd
“Be graunted much the more?
“I'll giue thee for that petite Ring,
“A million of Treasure:
“Nay, cursed as I am thy King,
“I will commaund my pleasure:
“Yet humbly, as I am thy father,
“I request and craue;
“Thou art my child, so much the rather,
“Let me aske, and haue.”
The Flint by this, was pierc'd with raine,
The Marble of her minde
Began to yeeld, that she againe
Relented, and was kinde.
“To morrow (sayes she) you shall heare
“My resolutions doome:
“Till then, be passified to beare
“For charitie, I'le come.”
The King receiues her in his armes,
“I pre-thee child, sayes hee,
“(And kisses her) auoyde the harmes,
“That howerly threaten mee:
“If I should die the losse were great;
“And therefore for to liue,
“Vouchsafe thy Ring, the guift's no cheat,
“That I intreat thee giue:
“Part from it willingly, kind Daughter,
“Well I know thy heart
“Affectes it dearely; yet my slaughter
“Dearer is in part.”
At this she smil'd, and answer'd, well:
As if a man should say,
These flattries wins nor heauen nor hell
And so she goes her way:
But as she turn'd her out of sight
She castes a bitter looke
Vpon the Doctor, as she might,
But he pour'd on his booke,
As melancholy Students doo,
Whose practise well they know,
Doth want both meanes and matter too,
Yet they must brooke it thoe.
The sithing King sayes, “Courage man,
“Be frolick, tis thy Ring
“And I am thine to boote: what than
“May thy discomfort bring?
“Shall we that all commaund, be thus
“Neclected in a toy?
“No, aske a Countrey next of vs,
“And give that to thy Boy.”
That word brought blood into his face,
Which was before so paile.
“Thought he, how near me comes your Grace,
“Ore him I shall preuaile:
“For t'is his ruine I attempt,
“And if I get this Ring,
“His shape of Boy, I'le circumuent,
“He shall be no such thing.
Home comes the Princesse, and all sad.
She throwes her on the bed;
“Alas (sayes she) I shall run mad,
“Such wiles are in my head:
“Oh tis my Finger that poynts to it;
“Tis, it is my Ring;
“And tis a Father, he doth do it,
“Tis a cruell King:
“What is he liuing else but he,
“That would his Daughter thrall,
“To subiugate himselfe and me,
“Vnto his Vrinall?
“To one whose skill is but as shreads,
“That cunning workemen cut;
“Not Art-professing skilfull heads,
“But more imposture put,
“A mountie bancke our Poet saies,
“Described by his Foxe,
“That sips vp Wine, wherein dead Flies
“Remaine in drowned floxe:
“A Quacksaluer, a Pedagoge,
“A Phisicke cheating knaue,
“A Poysoner, and a cunning Roge,
“To Vertue young and graue:
“One that trots about the land,
“His Budget at his backe,
“As Tinkers, hammering in their hand
“A Kettle with a cracke.
“Oh pardon me faire Modestie,
“And Charitie forgiue!
“I am ashamde vnreuerently,
“Such slaues as he, should liue.”
She wets her finger from her lips,
And rubs it about the Ring,
And mildly off the Rubie slips,
That's graunted to the King,
“Lie there (sayes she) vnworthy I,
“To gaine so ritch a Iem,
“That am inforc'd by flatterie,
“To yeeld thee vp to them.”

Cant. 7.

No sooner did the Ring touch ground
But presently doth change
Into his former shape profound,
To iudgement passing strange.
In cloth of Gold and Pearle to see,
More louely then before:
In loue exceeding his degree,
For it was ten times more.
“Now sweete (sayes he) why are you sad?
“Why is your beautie paile?”
“You know (quoth she) it makes me mad
“And they will both preuaile.”
“I pre'thee Princesse, speake thy minde,
“Though I change shape (sayes hee:)
“Yet Nature is not all so kinde,
“To graunt that guift to mee:
“Thus can I heare, and iudge a thing,
“Because my senses bee:
“But when I am your Rubie Ring,
“What liuing's then in mee?
“I pre'thee let me heare thy griefe
“I know my Maisters spight
“Pursues me, and is too too briefe,
“This very instant night:
“But in what shape I do not know,
“Yet still my heart perswades,
“Some transformation he doth show
“In day and nights blacke shades:
“And sure I am he vnderstands,
“It cannot be denide,
“How like a Rubie on these hands,
“My mortall shape doth bide
“Haue you not heard of such a man
“As seekes your Ring to win?”
“Yes, yes (sayes she) and told him than,
“What leuell-coyle had bin;
“How Phisicke had her Father curde,
“Requesting but that guift:
“Which being by the King assurde
“T'was gone, no other shift.
“She had stood out to th' vttermost,
“And more then did beseeme:
“A child against her father lost
“A King of such esteeme:
“But now my stoutnes stoopes perforce;
“For who is't will not yeeld?
“When parents praiers prouokes remorce,
“To win the glorious field:
“And I haue parted in defence,
“Till composition spake,
“And bade me beg for my pretence
“A Pardon for loue's sake.
“I did it; and he graunted truce
“Conditionally, that hee
“Should haue this Ring, and all abuse
“Was pardoned in mee.
“I chaleng'd till the morrow next
“And I would answere them:
“But now stand I the most perplext,
“For I must yeeld the Iem.
“But when my heart fore-thinkes againe
“Thy danger; and now know
“It is thy Maisters Furie then
“That thus pursues thee so:
“I now make protestation,
“It shall neuer bee;
“Ile loose my life before such fashion,
“Wronges my Loue and mee.”
As Doctors in their deepest doubts,
Stroke vp their foreheads hie,
Or men amazde, their sorrow flouts,
By squeaning with the eye:
Or as the Mayde surcharg'd with woe,
Shewes water in her eyes,
Or as the Schoole-boy loth to goe
Doth trueant scuse deuise;
Or as a Wanton in her muse,
Doth stand and bite the lip;
Or as the Prisoner cannot chuse,
But stayes to take the whip:
Euen so stood he, all spent and gone,
Solemne deepe possest;
Anone he walkes aside alone,
And shewes his heart's vnrest
By sigths and looking vp to heauen,
And beating of his hands.
The Princesse griefe not much vneuen,
His sadnes vnderstands,
And sorrow can of sorrow iudge,
When meditations by,
For silence is a common drudge
To inward pollicie;
She thus salutes him “Gentle loue,
“Mistrust not my true heart;
“Tis thine for euer: which to approue,
“This Ring shall neuer part,
“I'le die imbracing thee (I sweare)
“As thou shalt compasse mee:
“Nor let it grieue thy minde to heare
“This sodaine extasie;
“For t'is like raine in sunshine; yit
“Which promises to earth,
“Though cloudy tempest much vnfit
“Will come a time of wirth;
“And so in vs: haue patience then
“These ambiguities
“Will with the Doctors skill to men,
“Threaten vncertainties:
“But more extortion of the ill,
“Will turne to after good.”
All this she spake with hearts good will;
But t'was not vnderstood,
He musde on matter of more waight,
How best he might preuent
With tricke for tricke his Maisters pate,
Which hammer'd ill intent.
“Art come? (sayes he) and is it knowne
“How I escapt thy ire,
“And fled the water, kept my owne,
“To hinder thy desire?
“Alacke poore life, how art thou sought,
“What traps are layde for thee?
“And now I see tis not for nought,
“My Maister iniures mee:
“Since I not onely am escapt,
“But thus am hie in fauour;
“By meanes and art I'me double shapt,
“Of value and behauour.
“Come, doe thy worst, I haue deuis'd:
“Thy welcome is but woe:
“Fore-warn'd, fore-arm'd; and I am wis'd,
“Thy hate to vnder-goe.
“Faire starre of beautie, whose bright shine
“Doth all the Comets dimme;
“Whose blaze makes Metures force decline,
“Being deckt so heauenly trimme.
“Giue hearing now, or neuer, sweete,
“It stands vs both vpon;
“This cunning Doctor wee'le regreete
“With like for like, anone:
“I will assume my last disguise,
“In likenes of the Ring,
“Which thou shalt bring in louing wise;
“Present it to the King.”
“O no (quoth shee) I made an oth,
“That I would neare doe so;
“Nor thou nor it, neither of both,
“I neuer will forgoe:”
“Nor neuer shall you, heare me yit,
“Marke how the deed shall be;
“Such deeds must haue a reach of wit
“To baffill such as he:
“When thou in humblenes of heart,
“Makst proffer of the same,
“Confesse tis duetie to impart,
“To shun a Fathers blame:
“But churlish cast it on the earth,
“Which be you sure it tucht,
“Or all we do is little worth,
“Although we venture much.
“And for the morall, giue me leaue
“To iudgle, with the Diuell:
“I will explaine, that he'le perceaue,
“His welcome is but euill.”
The Princesse weary of her woe,
Desirous to be briefe,
Applaudes his bidding, will do so,
To cheate this phisicke thiefe,
Attires her in her costly weedes,
More ritch then euer yit;
And to her Father she proceedes,
Desirous all should fit.
More like a Goddesse lookes she now,
Then Princesse made of earth:
To whom her Fathers subiectes bow,
And blest her hower of birth;
Repeating to her as she goes,
Her welcome was but ill:
But now the Court and Country knowes
Shee's blest i'th Kings good-will.
These busie Subiectes, such they are,
As be in other lands,
That carpe at state; and do declare,
What no man vnderstands:
They'le seeme to know, and what they thinke
Is Chronicle for truth:
The Prince fils out, and they will drinke,
Both sawcie, age and youth:
Well, leaue them to their vulgar prate,
And come we to our storie,
The Princesse came, the King in state,
Salutes her Virgin glorie:
Sees in her eyes, the will consent,
And welcomes her with smiles.
Sayes, “daughter, heauen and earth are bent
“To blesse vs both the whiles,
“This Doctor's here, whose excellence
“Of art and secret skill,
“Hath rais'd an old and ruind fence,
“To stand most strongly still:
“And now no doubt, thou art resolu'd
“To graunt him his request:
“I know thy loue is more reuolu'd
“And lou'st that Iewell best:
“But I haue lent thee long a Iemme,
“Of hie and greater wirth;
“My heart, my child, this royall stemme,
“Hath blest thee from thy birth.”
With this, such teares the King let fall,
The christall drops so shine,
As it did woe and pittie call,
Their duties to resigne,
Like Diamonds lookt his pearly teares;
For such they were of beautie:
Who pitties not his crest falne yeares,
And balmes them with their duetie.
Euen so doth she and smilingly
Like children to their mother,
Once beaten for their foolery,
Yet they can do no other,
But have the water in their eyes;
Although to please the time,
They laugh and smile, t'is but disguise,
To coulour out their crime.
T'is thus with her whose heart was bent
Still to detaine the Ring,
Yet weeping ripe, in merriment,
Consented to the King:
Whom Wrath with Nature wresteled,
And Loue with Anger ioynde:
She thus dissembling, nesteled,
And this excuse was coynde.
“Sir, as your bidding gaue commaund,
“I come, in humble sort,
“Obedient both in heart and hand,
“To yeeld the conquer'd fort:
“To shew my dutie to your Grace,
“My hearts-hate to this man
“Who in respect of time and place,
“I brooke as best I can:
“Yet who is't hath possesion
“Of value and of wirth,
“That giues it intercession
“To one of baser birth,
“But gals at heart, and grieues at soule,
“To let such value goe?
“Did not your Maiestie controule,
“And sayd, it should be so?
“Whereto I am a willing child;
“Confessing what I haue,
“Is dedicate, and thus compilde
“Vnto your iudgement graue:
“And heere it is; I kisse it yit,
“Next lay it at your feete,
“To shew my loue, as doth befit
“To one of such estate.
“But as it is the price of cure,
“I willingly resigne,
“And do my mayden life assure
“I owe, what else is mine.
“But then againe, as you reuiue
“My Father and my King:
“My coynesse more and more doth striue,
“To part with Life and Ring.
“So much for that: now sir to you
“That challenge at my hand
“A payment royall, ritch, and true,
“And done by great commande:
“Promise me yet before the King,
“As you are what you seeme,
“Not for to wrong this Rubie Ring,
“But hold it in esteeme:
“For many such as you (I know)
“Like Æsops Cocke, i'th dust,
“Had rather haue a Corne to owe,
“Then Stone of such a trust:
“You'le weare it in some abiect sort,
“Or change the propertie,
“To make your idle iudgement sport,
“Not like a Lapidarie:
“But as an Alien foolish proud.
“With whom such pretious glorie,
“Yet neuer was in thought aloud,
“Or trim'd by cunning for yee.”
The Doctor now at hob-man blinde,
Begins to cast about,
Why she should thinke him so vnkinde,
Begins to quele the doubt
With protestations, that he would
Loue, like it, as it ought:
As if of twentie Kings it should
Be highly ouer-bought.
“Alas (sayes he) so much I dote
“Vpon this Pretious stone,
“As I esteeme my venture got,
“Is seconded by none.
“And as my cure is past compare
“For any else to know:
“So my rewards, beyond it farre,
“I loue, and like it so.”
“Come, come (sayes she) thou hipocrite,
“Dissembler of thy kinde,
“I know thy heart, and can recite
“Thy person and thy minde.
“But thinke not (Sir) the damned Diuell,
“Who you so dayly serue,
“Will buckler out this common euill,
“But lets your Vertue starue:
“Tis this you seeke, and there it is;
“Stoope yit and take the paine,
“You little can affoord, I wis,
“If not such toyle, for gaine.
“My heart doth stoope to your request,
“And you shall stoope thus loe;
“The ground shall yeeld what I loue best:
“And thus I let it goe.”
But as the Doctor greedily,
Doth bend him to the earth
To catch the Rubie speedily,
Begins a worke of worth,
Euen in the moment on the ground,
Whereas the Ring did fall:
Sproung a Pomegranet faire and round;
Which sight amazed all.

Cant. 8.

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

Cant 9.

This tragicke sceane was of distaste,
T'was wonder worthy yit:
Till smyling ioy claps hands in haste,
At this strange poynt of wit:
First a Pomegranet, then a Cocke;
At last, a Foxe to bee;
A miracle, or else a mocke,
T'was iudg'd of pollicie,
The Princesse squats vpon the ground.
And smothering in her laughter,
Was readie, thus containd to sound:
But see what followeth after,
The subtile Foxe to add the more
Amazement to the wonder,
The Princesse sitting on the flore,
He creepes her Kirtle vnder:
All laugh a good, for heere the Clowne,
His Sceane was now to enter,
When tragicke shewes had wonne the Crowne,
Of sad and bold aduenter:
The reason question'd, she is mute,
At last, the Foxe vp standes,
And like a Graduate doth despute
Vpon their late demaunds:
T'was now no time to bid them feare,
But voyde a further checke:
T'was passing strange that they should heare
A Foxe so wisely speake.
“In name of Heauens faire trinitie,
“I charge thee (sayes the King)
“Depart in peace; Diuinitie
“Doth coniure any thing:
“Or if thou stay'st, reueale I charge
“(In name of God on hie)
“The meaning; let vs heare at large
“Of all this misterie?”
“Silence then (the Foxe replies)
“And you shall further heare,
“But bouldly listen, and deuise
“No other cause of feare.
“It is sufficient what is donne,
“In terrour, King to thee;
“Thy sicknesse is againe begonne,
“Without amendement bee.
“The cause why this ill fauour'd Diuell,
“Hath vndertooke this shape,
“And like a Doctor did this euill,
“Is for a late done Rape,
“Vpon the person of a Duke,
“Of late time banisht hence,
“Who at thy mouth receau'd rebuke,
“Yet t'was for no offence:
“And he is dead that caus'd the wrong
“Who on his death-bed told
“What enuie he had borne him long
“And while he liude he would:
“Requesting he might be cal'd home;
“And yet he is not come:
“Leauing his wronges for thee to attone,
“His owne to'th highest dome:
“These Plagues therefore do fall on thee;
“First, Sicknesse without cure:
“Then ougly Shapes, which shew to bee
“The cause, thou art impure:
“And least thou do the deads commaund,
“Who did this liuing wrong,
“Reuenge hath tooke the cause in hand,
“That lay obscur'd so long.
“Call home the Duke from banishment,
“Restore him to his owne,
“Before this royall discontent
“Be any further showne:
“And I shall then ascend to rest,
“Whose Ghost this Doctor rais'd,
“To heape vp mischiefe on thy crest,
“Wherein thy state's amaz'd.
“Thy Daughter here herselfe doth wrong,
“For tis so much at least,
“In thee and her, that she so long,
“Should doate and loue a Beast.
“If these be ill presages, iudge,
“Or ominous, forethinke,
“That right to reason is a drudge,
“And wronged in a wincke.”
The King as one who in his sleepes
Had dreampt all this for true,
Such bitter exclamation keepes,
As made them all to rue.
“Alas (quoth he) I am abus'd
“My Sicknesse hath his force:
“This Doctors doing hath refus'd,
“To worke in right remorce,
“What Plagues hath lighted on my head
“For Incredulitie
“Vpon the Innocent, and bred
“By noble Treacherie;
“Was I the Iudge and Iuror too,
“In this so wicked Will,
“To banish, and vnknowne to doo
“A Duke such secret ill;
“Forgive it Heauens, and pardon Earth,
“My self I'le reconcile
“To Mercie: in this wretched birth,
“That I enioy the while.
“Goe call him home, we will surrender,
“His detayned good;
“And by our Parliament make tender,
“Of his Noble blood.
“I am a foole to credite such
“Before I see the proofe:
“But t'is a fault in Kings too much,
“Where Iudgement keepes aloofe:
“Hencefoorth I will aduise and know,
“Before I censure ought;
“In banishment to ouerthrow,
“In word, in deed, or thought.
“And let all princely Potencie,
“Example take by mee.
“What t'is to harme Nobilitie,
“When they shall guiltles bee.
“Hee's dead and gone, that did this ill,
“Whereto I was an ayde:
“And onely I left sorrowing still,
“And iustly am repayde.”
Hence post the Nobles seuerall wayes,
With Proclamations hire,
To call the noble Duke, whose dayes
Shall haue their first desire
The subtile Fox cals to the King;
“T'is not enough (sayes he)
“As pledge of this, giue me thy Ring,
“That so and so't shalbe.”
T'was given in presence of them all
And witnesse tooke thereon:
No sooner graunted, but with all,
The Foxe was strangely gone;
And in his roome stood vp a Youth,
Of person faire and free.
Then did the King beleeue for trueth,
All certaine, he did see:
He knew the Boy, t'was sonne to him
The banisht Duke that's hence;
As like in feature, voyce and lim,
As wrong is to offence:
He tooke him in his royall armes:
“May I be bold (sayes hee)
“And be assurde from other harmes,
“As is my loue to thee?”
“Sir (quoth the Lad) euen thus it is
“My Father banisht so,
“Liues in a Citie much amisse,
“In grieuous want and woe:
“And glad was so to liue disguis'd,
“Least your all angrie dome,
“For his remaine had then suffiz'd,
“In iustice to haue come:
“He bound me to a Taylors trade,
“To blinde his state the more;
“And me (though young) he did perswade
“To secrecie, therefore
“I, in my childish wisedome knew
“He died, if I were knowne;
“Was secret and obedient true,
“And learnd to keepe my owne:
“But see how blessed Fortune wrought,
“That all should come to light
“By me and not by me, t'was sought,
“Heauens finger poynts aright.
“My skill of trade exceeded his
“That was my Maister then;
“He held it for his preiudice,
“I got the loue of men:
“And in his braine sprung vp a blood
“Of rancor and blacke hate,
“And all my fortunes he withstood,
“Though I made good, his state:
“He practiz'd then Pithagoras,
“To alter shapes of men;
“I also was as prosperous
“In his proceedings then:
“But when his enuie did perceaue
“My boldnesse was as strong,
“All honest duetie he did leaue,
“To do my life much wrong:
“But I obedient, when I had
“Got knowledge in this art,
“Came to my Father, and was glad
“Some succour to impart
“Transform'd my selfe into a Steed,
“And gaue my selfe to sell:
“Which money did relieue his need
“And sonne-like I did well:
“My enuious Maister knew by art,
“That I was in this forme,
“Attired like a Marchant, straight
“He bought me to much harme,
“Had not his children from the stable
“Led me foorth to drinke,
“From that disguise I was vnable
“Ere to change (I thinke)
“But then by them vnsadled,
“As Art wil'd that I should;
“My shape of Horse was altered
“To what my wishing would:
“And knowing Land was in his power,
“To vse me as he list,
“I to a Fish that present hower,
“Was changed ere they wist:
“He likewise shapt into a Fish,
“I'th Water to pursue me;
“Who when I saw his enuious wish,
“And that his malice knew me,
“I sodainely disguis'd againe,
“Like to a rubie Ring,
“And left the siluer floting maine,
“To worke thy cure, ôKing.
“My Maister for to conquere me,
“Disguis'd thus Doctor like,
“Procurde thy health, and instantly
“The stroke of all did strike:
“This good was yours: now giue me leaue
“To doe our selues some right;
“I like a Rubie did perceaue
“My selfe with her one night;
“Awakened her: and when she felt
“A naked body neare,
“For so I was transform'd yet deelt
“Right nobly, neuer feare.
“So when she heard your grace had giuen
“The Doctor this her Ring,
“Who beg'd of purpose to make euen
“His malice which did spring;
“She yet denide it by my will,
“Then neuer blame her birth;
“My counsell was she should fulfill
“Your bidding in this wirth:
“Yet cast it on the sollide ground,
“As if her enuie scornde
“All true obedience to confound:
“Yet was her doing charmde;
“For on the sodaine there-hence sprong
“A faire Pomegranet bye
“Which your ritch prayses freely song,
“Most louely to the eye.
“Whereat the Doctor was all hate
“And comming roundly to' te,
“Before your Grace and Lords of state,
“He kickt it with his foote:
“The Kirnels flew about the roome;
“But I the one by happe,
“By fortune to escape his doome,
“Flew in the Princesse lappe:
“He knowing all his art was then,
“Repayde but with a mocke,
“Before you and your Noble men,
“Turn'd to a crowing Cocke
“And pickt the Kirnels hungerly,
“Thinking to deuower
“And worke my liues Catastrophy:
“But I was from his power.
“For like a Foxe, I eat the Cocke,
“As you, and these haue seene:
“Your iudgements tell this is no mocke,
“That stand where all hath beene:
“Onely my wife here by true graunt,
“She will confesse she is;
“And in that bold and noble vaunt,
“I feare I do amisse.”
With this, the milde and modest Princesse
Humbly kneeled loe,
And in a silent yeelding dumnesse,
Shew'd it to be so.
The King with ioy shed royall teares;
“Alacke my childe (sayes hee)
“Shall I be bane of thy young yeares?
“No, it shall neuer bee.
“And though we rashly run at base,
“To catch what hand we can,
“Yet greater power doth guide the race
“Of Woman and of Man.
“His blood is pure, though stain'd by mee;
“And slaunder now, that's dead,
“T'is pardon'd and reclaimd, you see;
“That euill be on his head.
“Dispatcht we haue Embassadours,
“This noble Duke to bring
“To ioyne his Father's voyce with ours,
“In mariage of this Ring:
“For that's the price of all my good;
“And that's your glorie too,
“By vertue of which vnderstood,
“All this is like to doo;
“My Sonne and Heire I thee create”
And all the Nobles by,
Cride out, Amen; it was too late
To aske a reason why.
T'was knowne so openly to all,
Proclaimd quite through the Realme,
Thus as I slept, a voyce did call,
And wakt me from my Dreame:
Vpright I set me in my bed,
And being awake did know
All these were phansies in my head,
And it was nothing so.

To conclude now.

Me thinkes some perfumde Polititian, that practiseth more the Pennie than the Penne, rashly reades, and rudely returnes, this fooles boult, Tis ballade stuffe: to him, I answere thus.

Cammelion-like thy minde misgiues,
All coulour's like thy owne:
Thy greene goose wit no more atchiues,
Then what thy trade hath knowne,
Thou politicke presaging Asse
Forbeare to kicke at kindnesse:
With crooked limmes, and looke of brasse,
And eyes bebleard with blindnesse:
Trot on the hoofe, deuis'd in prose,
While these as stanzes stayes
To out rime thy ill reason'd cloze
In thy corruptiue prayse:
Conclude in charitie thou foole,
That think'st thy selfe most wise:
Thy wit, not worthie's any Schoole,
T'is salt and too precise.