The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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A PRETY DISCOVRSE OF A HVNTED
Harte, written by a Gentleman unto his
Mistresse. |
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
A PRETY DISCOVRSE OF A HVNTED Harte, written by a Gentleman unto his Mistresse.
To reade a dolefull tale,
that tels of nought but greefe,
And of a man that pines in paine,
and lookes for no releefe;
Whose hope of death seems sweet,
& dread of life seems sower,
Who neuer bid on[e] merry month,
one weeke, one day, or hower.
In such a tale, I say,
if any doe delight,
Let him come read this verse of mine,
that heer for troth I wright.
And though the speech seeme darke,
the matter shall be plaine:
And he, poore wretch, of whom it treats,
too wel doth feele the paine.
that tels of nought but greefe,
And of a man that pines in paine,
and lookes for no releefe;
Whose hope of death seems sweet,
& dread of life seems sower,
Who neuer bid on[e] merry month,
one weeke, one day, or hower.
In such a tale, I say,
if any doe delight,
Let him come read this verse of mine,
that heer for troth I wright.
And though the speech seeme darke,
the matter shall be plaine:
And he, poore wretch, of whom it treats,
too wel doth feele the paine.
A prety Discourse of a hunted Hart
There is a pretye Chase,wherein dooth rest a Hart:
Wherin for his abode (poore wretch)
he keepes one only part.
Adioyning to his chase,
there is a prety place,
Where stands a Lodge, wherin dooth dwell,
the Lady of the chase.
This Lady, now and then,
for sport, sometime for spight,
To hunt this silly harmlesse Harte
dooth take a great delight.
And how? with hounds (alas)
and when she hunts for sporte,
With little Whelpes, that cānot bite,
she hunts him in this sort.
Two little whelpes, I say,
she casteth off at once,
To course, and eke to feare him with,
as meetest, for the nonce.
And with these little whelps
she bringes him to the bay:
And then, at bay she takes them vp,
and let him goe his way.
And if for spight she hunt,
she takes another way:
She casteth of no little whelps,
to bring him to the bay,
But cruell byting Curres:
at once she castes of all:
And with those cruell cankred Curres,
she followes him to fall:
And being falne (poore wretch)
pining in extreame paine,
She casteth off her cruell curres,
and lets him rise againe:
Untill she hunts againe,
to make her selfe like sporte:
And then, euen as she is disposde,
she hunts him in like sorte.
Thus liues this harmelesse Heart,
opprest with endlesse wo:
In daunger still of Death by Dogges,
and yet cannot dye so.
And neither day nor night,
he feedeth but in feare,
That these same Dogges should lye in waite,
to course him euery where.
39
and knowes not how to rest:
Whose hope of death, in midst of course,
it is that likes him best.
God send him better rest,
a speedy death at least,
To rid him of his great vnrest,
and breede him quiet rest.
The meaning of the Tale.
But wherto tends this Tale?what first may meane this Chase?
And then the Harte, which in ye same
doth keep one only place?
The Plot where stāds the Lodge,
the Lodge, & then the Dame
Which hunts the Hart: & last, the Dogs
which do pursue the game?
A meaning all they haue:
which meaning I must showe,
And that so plaine, as in each point
the meaning you may knowe.
My Carkase is the Chase,
my Heart the selly Harte:
Which, for his rest, my woefull brest,
dooth keepe that onely parte.
The Platte where stands the Lodge,
my head I count that place:
My Minde the Lodge, my Loue the Dame
& Lady of the Chase.
Her Dogges of diuers kindes,
that doo my Heart pursue,
Sometime to baye, sometime to fall,
are these that doo ensue.
And first, the Dogges with which
she hunts sometime for sport,
To bring my Harte vnto the baye,
and leaue him in that sort,
Are these, beleeue me now.
Discountenaunce is the fyrst,
The second is Discourtesie,
and of the two, the worst.
Discountenaunce hee comes fyrst,
and feares me, in this wise:
He hangs his lip, holds downe his head,
& lookes vnder his eyes.
And with that angry looke
hee feares me in such sort,
That I may not abide the same:
and then beginnes the sport.
For then shee casteth of
Discortesie, that Curre:
And then doo what I can, alas,
my Heart beginnes to sturre.
And wearie halfe at last,
I stand with them at baye:
And so at baye, for my defence,
I somewhat ginne to saye.
Which sayde, shee then takes of
those hylding Curres againe,
And leaue me, till she hunt againe,
thus pining all in paine:
And now the Cruell Curres,
with which she takes delight
To hunt my Hart euen till he fall,
are these: not first, Despight,
But fowle Disdaine: then hee,
which Curres doo course him soe
That to the fall they bring me ofte,
and yet then let me goe.
So that my Harte dooth liue—
but howe? alas, in dreade
Of these same deuillish Dogges: & so
still shall, till I bee dead.
Who would not blame this Dame,
that thus, without desart,
With these her cruell cankred Curs
dooth hunt this seely Hart:
And curse those cruell Curres,
that thus doo make her sport:
Bothe day and night, without cause why,
do hunt him in such sort.
And wish this seely Hart,
with endelesse griefes opprest,
To scape the daunger of the Dogges,
and finde some quiet rest.
But wish who list to wish,
except that you, deere Dame,
Among the rest, do wish that wish,
no wish wyll helpe the same.
But if that you, in deede,
so wish among the rest,
And hartely do wish that wish,
your wish will helpe him best.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |