University of Virginia Library

The Third Eglogve. Old Neddy's pouertie they mone

Piers. Thomalin.
Thomalin.
Where is euery piping lad
That the fields are not yclad
With their milk-white sheep?
Tell me: Is it Holy-day,
Or if in the Month of May
Vse they long to sleepe?

Piers.
Thomalin, 'tis not too late,
For the Turtle and her mate
Sitten yet in nest:
And the Thrustle hath not been
Gath'ring worms yet on the green
But attends her rest.
Not a bird hath taught her yong,
Nor her mornings lesson sung
In the shady groue:
But the Nightingale in darke
Singing woke the mounting Larke:
She records her loue.
Not the Sun hath with his beames
Guilded yet our christall streames,
Rising from the Sea,
Mists do crowne the mountaines tops,
And each pretty mirtle drops:
Tis but newly day.
Yet see, yonder (though vnwist)
Some man commeth in the mist;
Hast thou him beheld?
See he crosseth or'e the land
With a dogg and staffe in hand,
Limping for his eld.

Thomalin.
Yes, I see him, and doe know him,
And we all do reu'rence owe him,
Tis the aged Sire
Neddy; that was wont to make
Such great feasting at the wake,
And the blessing-fire.
Good old man! see how he walkes
Painfull and among the balkes
Picking lockes of wull!
I haue knowne the day when he
Had as much as any three,
When their lofts were full.
Vnderneath yond hanging rockes
All the valley with his Flockes
Was whilome ouer-spread:
Hee had milch-goates without peeres,
Well-hung kine, and fatned steeres
Many hundred head.
Wilkins cote his Dairy was,
For a dwelling it may passe
With the best in towne.
Curds and Creame with other cheare
Haue I had there in the yeare
For a greeny gowne.
Lasses kept it, as againe
Were not fitted on the plaine
For a lusty dance:
And at parting, home would take vs,
Flawnes or Sillibubs to make vs
For our iouisance.
And though some in spight would tell,
Yet old Neddy tooke it well;
Bidding vs againe
Neuer at his Cote be strange:
Vnto him that wrought this change,
Mickle be the paine!

Piers.
What disaster, Thomalin
This mischance hath cloth'd him in,
Quickly tellen me?
Rue I doe his state the more,
That hee clipped heretofore
Some felicity.
Han by night accursed theeues
Slaine his Lambs, or stolne his Beeues,
Or consuming fire
Brent his shearing-house, or stall;
Or a deluge drowned all,
Tell me it intire?
Haue the Winters been so set
To raine and snow, they haue wet
All his driest Laire:
By which meanes his sheepe haue got
Such a deadly curelesse rot,
That none liuing are?

Thomalin.
Neither waues, nor theeues, nor fire,
Not haue rots impoor'd this Sire,
Suretiship, nor yet
Was the vsurer helping on
With his damn'd extortion,
Nor the chaines of debt.
But deceit that euer lies
Strongest arm'd for treacheries
In a bosom'd friend:
That (and onely that) hath brought it:
Cursed be the head that wrought it,
And the basest end!
Groomes he had, and he did send them
With his heards a-field, to tend them,
Had they further been;
Sluggish, lazy, thriftlesse elues,
Sheep had better kept themselues
From the Foxes teen.
Some would kill their sheepe, and then
Bring their maister home agen
Nothing but the skin;
Telling him, how in the morne
In the fold they found them torne,
And nere lying lin.
If they went vnto the faire
With a score of fatned ware,
And did chance to sell:
If old Neddy had againe
Halfe his owne, I dare well saine,
That but seldome fell.
They at their returne would say,
Such a man or such would pay,
Well knowne of your Hyne.
Alas poore man! that subtill knaue
Vndid him, and vaunts it braue,
Though his Maister pine.
Of his maister he would begg
Such a lambe that broke his legg,
And if there were none:
To the fold by night hee'd hye,
And them hurt full rufully
Or with staffe or stone.
Hee would haue petitions new,
And for desp'rate debts would sue
Neddy had forgot:
He would grant: the other then
Tares from poore and aged men:
Or in Iayles they rot.
Neddy lately rich in store,
Giuing much, deceiued more,
On a sudden fell;
Then the Steward lent him gold,
Yet no more then might bee told
Worth his maisters Cell.
That is gone, and all beside
(Well-a-day, alacke the tide):
In a hollow den
Vnderneath yond gloomy wood
Wons he now, and wails the brood
Of ingrateful men.

Piers.
But alas! now hee is old,
Bit with hunger, nipt with cold,
What is left him?
Or to succour, or releeue him,
Or from wants oft to repreeue him.

Thomalin.
Al's bereft him,
Saue he hath a little crowd,
(Hee in youth was of it prowd)
And a dogge to dance:
With them he on holy-dayes
In the Farmers houses playes
For his sustenance.

Piers.
See; he's neere, let's rise and meet him,
And with dues to old age greet him,
It is fitting so.

Thomalin.
Tis a motion good and sage,
Honour still is due to age:
Vp, and let vs go.