Natures Embassie Or, The Wilde-mans Measvres: Danced naked by twelve Satyres, with sundry others continued in the next Section [by Richard Brathwait] |
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THE SHEPHEARDS TALES. |
Natures Embassie | ||
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THE SHEPHEARDS TALES.
Too true poore shepheards do this Prouerbe find,
No sooner out of sight then out of mind.
No sooner out of sight then out of mind.
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HIS PASTORALLS ARE HERE CONTINVED WITH THREE OTHER TALES; hauing relation to a former part, as yet obscured: and deuided into certaine Pastorall Eglogues, shadowing much delight vnder a rurall subiect.
[_]
Speakers' names have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:
- For Dor. read Dorycles
- For Cor. read Corydon
- For Dym. read Dymnus
- For Tech. read Technis
- For Lin. read Linus
- For Sap. read Sapphus
THE FIRST EGLOGUE Corydons tale
The Argument.
Here Corydon proues,That nothing can be sent,
To crosse loue more,
Thē friends vnkind restraint.
The second Argument.
Corydon coy Celia woes,And his loue by tokens showes.
Tokens are those lures, that find
Best accesse to woman kind.
Long he woes ere he can win;
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And so firme, as you shall heare,
Each to other troth-plight were;
But alas, where loue is most,
There it oft-times most is crost.
For these two are closly pent,
Each from other by restraint;
He, vnto the plaine must go,
Loue-sicke, heart-sicke, full of wo,
Where he sings such chearefull layes,
In his chast choise, Celias praise,
That steepe mountaines, rocks and plaines,
Seeme entranced with his straines:
But alas, while he does keepe,
Helplesse shepheard, haplesse sheepe,
Celia for to seeke her make,
From her keeper makes escape,
And vnto the mountaine goes,
Where her selfe, her selfe doth lose;
While one of Lauerna'es crew,
Seizeth on her as his dew,
Where by force, by awe, by feare,
She was long detained there,
And in the end affianc'd so,
As she ends her life in wo.
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- Technis.
- Dymnus.
- Dorycles.
- Corydon.
- Sapphus.
- Linus.
The Shepheards.
We three are shepheards, and haue vnderstood
Both of your follies and your fancies too;
Dor.
Why tell vs Corydon, what thou wouldst do!
Cor.
Shew my misfortune Swaines, as you haue done,
Tech.
Deferre it till to morrow Corydon.
Cor.
No, Technis no, I cannot if I would,
You'ue told your griefes, and now mine must be told:
What though the Sunne be drawing to the West,
Where he intends to take his wonted rest,
Tis Moone-light (lads) and if it were not light,
Welcome you are to lodge with me all night.
Dor.
Thankes Corydon.
Cor.
Why thanke you Corydon?
Simple and meane's the cottage where I won,
Yet well I wot, for chestnuts, cakes, and creame,
If you'le accept my welcome as I meane,
You shall not want, but haue sufficient store,
With hearty welcome swaines, what would ye more?
Dym.
More Corydon! t'is all that we can wish,
But to thy tale, let's heare now what it is.
Dor.
Yes, do good Corydon; and we will stay;
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Attend then shepheards, heare what I shall say,
Sap.
And when you'ue done, I will begin with mine;
Lin.
Which I'le continue in the euening time.
Cor.
Well said, good shepheards, we are iustly three,
To answer their three tales, and here for me.
There was a Maid, and well might she be said,
So chast, so choice she was, to be a Maid,
Where lillie white mixt with a cherrie red,
Such admiration in the shepheards bred,
As well was he that might but haue a sight
Of her rare beauty mirror of delight.
Oft would she come vnto a siluer spring,
Which neare her fathers house was neighboring,
Where she would eye her selfe as she did passe,
For shepheards vse no other looking-glasse.
Tech.
True Corydon.
Cor.
But which may seeme more rare,
This Maid she was as wise as she was faire;
So as discretion did so moderate
The safe condition of her low estate,
As enuie neuer wrong'd her spotlesse name,
Or soild her matchlesse honour with defame.
Dor.
Under a happie Planet she was borne,
Cor.
She was indeed; nor did she euer scorne,
The company of any country maid,
How meane soere or sluttishly araid:
But she would be their play-fare, to make chuse,
Of such poore simple sports as wenches vse.
Yea in their wakes, shroues, wassel-cups, or tides,
Or Whitson-ales, or where the country brides
Chuse out-their bride-maids, as the custome is,
She seld or neare was seene to do amisse:
But so respectiue of her name and fame,
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Of any act immodest, but retain'd
That good opinion which her vertues gain'd.
Dym.
Sure Corydon this was a Saintly woman;
Cor.
Indeed such Saints 'mongst women are not cōmon:
But to my story; her did many swaine,
By fruitlesse suite endeuour to obtaine,
As young Spudippus, rich Archymorus,
Actiue Amintas, youthfull Hirsius.
Dor.
It seemes sh'ad choice.
Cor.
Yes, Dorycles, she had:
And some of these were good, and some as bad,
But neither good nor bad, nor rich nor poore,
Could her content, though she had daily store.
Yet from Pandoras box did nere proceed,
More hatefull poyson vpon humane seed,
Then from these forlorne louers, whose report,
(But iust is heauen, for they were plagued for't,)
Aspers'd this scandall on faire Celia,
That she had made her choice some other way.
Tech.
Unworthy louers.
Cor.
True indeed, they be
Unworthy th' loue of such an one as she;
For Linus you do know them;
Lin.
Yes, I do,
But specially Spudippus, whom I know,
To be the notedst cot-queane that's about him.
Tec.
Sure Linus thē she could not chuse but flout him.
Cor.
Perhaps she did, yet with that modestie,
As she did shadow it so couertly,
That he could scarce discouer what she ment.
Lin.
How ere Spudippus would be patient.
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Then he's some gull.
Lin.
No he's a wealthy man,
And such an one as rightly, sure I am,
Knows how much milke crummock his cow will giue,
And can discerne a riddle from a siue.
Cor.
Linus, it seemes thou knowes him passing well.
Lin.
Las if I would, some stories I could tell,
Would make you laugh: for as it chanc'd one day,
Some with my selfe did take his house by th' way,
Where we an houre or two meant to remaine,
To trie how he his friends would entertaine.
Dor.
And pray thee how?
Lin.
I'le tell thee Dorycles:
Hauing an houre or two taken our ease,
And readie to depart (I pray thee heare)
He sent one of his Sculletie for some beare,
Which though long first, came in an earthen cup,
Which being giuen to me, I drunke it vp;
Which drunke.
Cor.
How then good Linus, pray thee say?
Lin.
The rest were forc'd to go a thirst away.
Dor.
Had he no more?
Cor.
Thou vs'd him in his kind.
Lin.
May all be vsed so that haue his mind.
But much I feare me, I'ue disturbed thee,
Now Corydon shew what th' euent may be!
Cor.
Long did these woe, but Celia could approue
Of nothing lesse then of these swainlings loue,
Yet would she faine to fancie one of these,
Whereby she might her bedrid father please.
Tech.
Had she a father?
Cor.
Yes, a surly Lout,
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And liu'd for all the world, and so did die
Like to a hog, that's pent vp in a stie.
Dor.
Some cancred erwig.
Cor.
True, a very elfe,
Who car'd not who staru'd, so he fed himselfe.
He, as the want of one sense is exprest,
By giuing more perfection to the rest,
For euen his sense of feeling did decline,
Though he had bene a nigglar in his time,
Yea all those mouing, actiue faculties,
Which in the heate of youth are wont to rise,
Gaue way vnto suspition, lest his daughter
Through those loue-luring gifts which many brought her,
Should set her Maiden honor at whole sale.
Tech.
Age h'as an eare indeed for euery tale.
Cor.
True, Technis true, for no affection can
Haue more predominance ore any man,
Then iealousie a selfe-consuming rage,
Is said to haue ore men of doting age.
Dor.
Thy reason Corydon?
Cor.
That disesteeme
Of being now more weake then they haue bene,
Makes them repine at others now that may,
And are as able to beget as they.
Tech.
Tis rightly noted Corydon.
Lin.
Yes, he
Knowes by obseruance whence these humors be.
Cor.
Linus I do, and better had I bene,
If I had neuer knowne what these things meane;
But shepheards you shall heare the reason, why
I should this Dotards humour thus descrie.
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Yes, do good Swaine.
Cor.
It chanc'd vpon a night,
A Moone-light night, when Moone and starres shine bright,
That I with other shepheards did repaire
To th' old-mans house, and found faire Celia there,
Whom I in curisie with a kind salute,
Kist, & with speaking heart though tongue was mute,
Wish'd; ô what wishes do possesse a mind,
That dare not vtter how his heart's inclind!
She might be mine, thrice blest in being mine.
Dor.
Why didst not woe her Swaine, for to be thine?
Cor.
Yes, Dorycles I woed ber, though not then,
For Maidens they are bashfull amongst men,
And dare we not well in modestie impart,
What they could give consent to with their heart;
So as to tell thee, truly Dorycles,
We past that night in making purposes,
Singing of catches, with such knowne delights,
As young folke vse to passe ore winter nights.
And at that time, I may be bold to tell thee,
For such conceits I thought none could excell me.
For well you know, I was in Hyble bred,
And by the sacred sisters nourished,
So as being stor'd by Nature, help'd by art,
There was no straine I bore not in some part:
Which gaue faire Celia such entire content,
As she discouerd after, what she ment.
Though I may sweare, for fiue months I came to her,
And with some termes of art assaid to woe her:
During which time, all th' answer I could get,
Was this; she did not meane to marrie yet.
Tech.
That's all the answer these young women haue,
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Cor.
Technis, indeed I did perceiue as much,
Though all young wenches humours be not such:
But th' greatest cause of Celias distaste,
Which made me many times the lesser grac't,
Proceeded from that chrone her dogged father,
As after by coniectures I did gather:
Perswading her, that she should plant her loue
On such whose hopefull meanes might best approue
Her discreet choice: and that was not to be
Affianced to such an one as me.
Dor.
Alas poore Swaine; 'tis true what th' Prouerbe saith,
We aske not what he is, but what he hath.
Cor.
And yet perswasions which her father vs'd,
Could not preuaile with her, for she had chus'd,
In heart I meane.
Tech.
Whom did she dote vpon?
Cor.
Will ye beleeue me!
Tech.
Yes.
Cor.
Twas Corydon.
Lin.
Thrice happie swaine.
Cor.
Thrice happie had I bene,
If I had slept still in this golden dreame;
But afterwards occurrences there were,
Which thus abridg'd my hopes, as you shall heare.
Such deepe impression had affection made,
As there remained nothing vnassaid,
To consummate our wishes, but the rite.
Tech.
Yes something else.
Cor.
What Technis!
Tech.
Marriage night.
Sap.
They had enioyed that, you may suppose.
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No, Sapphus no, she was not one of those:
So modest, chast, respectiue of her name,
Pure and demure, as th' sweetnesse of her fame,
Aboue the choisest odors that are sent
From spicie Tmolus flowrie continent,
Sent forth that fragrant and delightfull sauour,
As none ere heard, and did not seeke to haue her.
For sundrie choise discourses haue we had,
And I nere knew that ought could make her glad,
Which had least taste of lightnesse.
Tech.
Sure thou art,
So much thy praises relish true desert,
Worthy such vertuous beautie.
Cor.
Technis no,
Albeit Celia esteem'd me so,
As long and tedious seem'd that day to be,
Which did deuide her from my companie.
So as in silent groues and shady launes,
Where Siluans, water-nimphs, fairies, and faunes,
Use to frequent, there would we sit and sing,
Eying our beauties in a neighbour spring,
Whose siluer streamlings with soft murmring noise,
To make our consort perfect, gaue their voice.
And long did we obserue this custome too,
Though her consent did bid me ceasse to woe:
For now I was no woer, but her loue,
And that so firmely linkt, as nought could moue,
Alter or sunder our vnited hearts,
But meagre death, which all true louers parts.
Tech.
Then Corydon, to me it doth appeare,
That you were troth-plight.
Cor.
Technis so we were.
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This loue she bore me did her sire incense,
So as discurteously he pent his daughter
In such a vault, I could not see her after.
Which when my friends perceiu'd, they grieued were,
That th' loue which I his Celia did beare,
Should be rewarded with contempt and scorne,
Being for parentage equally borne,
With best of his, as most of you can tell.
Lin.
Proceed good Corydon, we know it well.
Cor.
For was I not of Polyarchus line,
A noble shepheard!
Sap.
True, who in his time
Solemniz'd many wakes on this our downe,
And ere he dide was to that honour growne,
As all our plaines resounded with his laies,
Sung by our Swaines in Polyarchus praise.
Cor.
It seemes thou knew him Sapphus: but attend
For now my storie draweth neare an end.
My friends distasting this repulse of mine,
Forc'd me from th' course whereto I did incline:
So as my hopes confin'd, I'me driuen to go
From Adons vale vnto a mount of wo.
Lin.
Vnhappie shepheard.
Cor.
And vnhappie sheepe,
For ill could I my heards from worrying keepe,
Though to that charge my friends enioyned me,
When I could scarcely keepe my owne hands free,
From doing violence vpon my selfe:
So as one day vpon a ragged shelfe,
Wreath'd round with Iuie, as I sate alone,
Descanting Odes of sorrow and of mone,
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Celias restraint, and my forlorne estate;
Which done, I vow'd if speedy remedy
Gaue no reliefe vnto my maladie,
That very cliff where I repos'd that day,
Should be the meanes to take my life away.
Tech.
O Corydon this soundeth of despaire.
Cor.
It does indeed: but such a watchfull care,
Had gracious Pan of me, that in short time,
These motiues to despaire 'gan to decline,
And lose their force: so as when griefes grew ripe,
I vs'd to take me to my oaten pipe.
Dor.
But ere thou proceed further, tell vs Swaine,
Where all this time thou vsed to remaine.
Cor.
Abroad-spread oake with aged armes & old,
Directs the passenger the way he would,
Neare Cadmus rising hillocks, where the spring
Of golden Tagus vseth oft to bring
Such precious trafficke to the neighbour shore,
As former times through blindnesse did adore
Those curled streames, wherein they did descry
Their loue to gold, by their Idolatrie:
That shady oake I say, and that blest spring,
In my distresse, gaue me such harboring;
As night and day I did not thence remoue,
But waking mus'd, and sleeping dream'd of loue.
Tech.
Who euer heard the like!
Dor.
How didst thou liue?
Cor.
On hope.
Tech.
Weake food.
Cor.
Yet did it comfort giue,
To my afflicted mind, which did desire,
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For many weekes in this distrest estate,
Wretched, forlorne, helplesse and desolate,
Sate I deiected, musing on despaire,
And when those drerie clouds would once grow faire:
But las the more I did expect reliefe,
The lesse hope had I to allay my griefe,
So as in th' end, as you shall after heare,
All meanes for my redresse abridged were.
But that you may perceiue what loue can do,
And how effectually her passions show,
I who before I louely Celia kent,
Knew not what th' Heliconian Muses ment,
Addrest my selfe;
Lin.
To what good Corydon?
Cor.
To write of loue, and thus my Muse begun.
Tech.
Pray thee kind Swaine let's heare what thou didst write.
Dor.
Yes do: for well I know it will delight
Sepheards to heare, of shepheards amorous toyes;
Sap.
On then good Corydon.
Cor.
Haue at ye Boyes.
Celia speake, or I am dombe,
Here I'le soiorne till thou come,
Seeke I will till I grow blind,
Till I may my Celia find.
For if tongue-tide, string would breake,
If I heard but Celia speake;
And if blind, I soone should see,
Had I but a sight of thee;
Or if lame, loue would find feete,
Might I once with Celia meete;
Or if deafe, should I but heare
Loues sweete accents from thy eare:
Thy choice notes would me restore,
That I should be deafe no more.
Thus though dombe, blind, deafe, and lame,
Heard I but my Celias name,
I should speake, see, heare, and go,
Vowing, Celia made me so.
Here I'le soiorne till thou come,
Seeke I will till I grow blind,
Till I may my Celia find.
For if tongue-tide, string would breake,
If I heard but Celia speake;
And if blind, I soone should see,
Had I but a sight of thee;
Or if lame, loue would find feete,
Might I once with Celia meete;
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Loues sweete accents from thy eare:
Thy choice notes would me restore,
That I should be deafe no more.
Thus though dombe, blind, deafe, and lame,
Heard I but my Celias name,
I should speake, see, heare, and go,
Vowing, Celia made me so.
Tech.
Beshrow me Corydon, if I had thought,
That loue such strange effects could ere haue wrought.
Cor.
Yes Technis, yes, loue's such a wondrous thing,
That it will make one plungd in sorrow sing,
And singing weepe, for griefe is wont to borrow
Some strains of ioy, that ioy might end in sorrow.
For what is woe (as we must needs confesse it)
Hauing both tongue and teares for to expresse it,
But a beguiling griefe, whose nature's such,
It can forget, lest it should grieue too much.
Dor.
Indeed such sorrow seldome lasteth long,
But say good Swaine, heard Celia of thy song?
Cor.
I know not, Dorycles: but twas her lot,
That from her keeper afterwards she got.
Tech.
Happie escape.
Cor.
Ah Technis, say not so,
For this escape gaue new increase to wo;
Lin.
How could that be?
Cor.
Heare but what did ensue,
She was preuented by a ruffin-crue,
As she vpon the mountaines rom'd about,
Through desart caues to find her shepheard out.
Tech.
Alas poore wench; what were they Corydon?
Cor.
Such as did haunt there, and did liue vpon
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Impunitie, sole motiue vnto sin.
In briefe, they were, for so they did professe,
Of braue Lauerna'es crue, that patronesse
Of all disorder, and each euening time
Offer'd stolne booties to her godlesse shrine.
Tech.
Mishap aboue mishaps.
Cor.
True, so it was;
My lasse she lost her lad, the lad his lasse.
And sundry daies, this rout did her detaine,
While haplesse, helplesse she did sore complaine
Of their inhumane vsage, but her griefe,
Sighs, sobs, teares, throbs, could yeeld her small reliefe:
For in the end one of this forlorne crew,
Seiz'd on my long-lou'd Celia as his dew,
To whom espousd whether she would or no,
She ends her life, her tedious life, in wo.
Lin.
A sad euent: but can she not be freed?
Cor.
To what end Linus, she's dishonoured!
Tech.
Unhappie fate.
Cor.
Besides, she now is tide,
And by enforcement, made anothers Bride.
Come shepheards come, and say if euer time,
Made heardmens woes so ripe, as't hath done mine.
Sap.
Yes Corydon, though thou thy griefes hast showne,
Which makes thee thinke none equall to thine owne,
I haue a Tale will moue compassion too,
If Swaines haue any pittie.
Dym.
Pray thee how?
Sap.
Nay I will not be daintie; but attend,
And then compare our stories to the end,
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Did loue so well, and reape so small a gaine.
THE SECOND EGLOGVE Sapphus' tale
The Argument.
Sapphus woes Siluia,Yet he thinks it ill,
To take to that,
Which he did neuer till.
The second Argument.
She, whose sweet and gracefull speech,Might all other shepheards teach:
She, whom countries did admire,
For her presence and attire:
She, whose choise perfections mou'd,
Those that knew her to be lou'd.
She, euen Siluia, for saue she,
None so faire, and firme could be;
When she should be Sapphus Bride,
And their hands were to be tide
With their hearts in marriage knot,
Sapphus heares of Siluias blot.
Whereby Sapphus doth collect,
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Such an one as will reioyce,
And content her in her choice;
He conchides, since all things be
Certaine in vncertaintie,
Who would trust what women say,
Who can do but what they may.
“Forts are won by foes assault,
“If Maids yeeld, it is Mans fault.
I had
a Loue as well as any you,
And such an one, as had she but her due,
Deseru'd the seruice of the worthiest swaine
That ere fed sheepe vpon the Westerne plaine.
Dym.
And such an one, as had she but her due,
Deseru'd the seruice of the worthiest swaine
That ere fed sheepe vpon the Westerne plaine.
Good Sapphus say, what was thy lasses name?
Was it not Siluia?
Sap.
The very same;
It seemes thou knew her.
Dym.
Yes exceeding well,
And might haue knowne her, but I would not mell,
In more familiar sort.
Sap.
Unworthy Swaine,
Did her affection merit such a staine?
Suppose she threw some looser lookes vpon thee,
And thou collected thence she would haue won thee,
Is this th' requitall of the loue she bore?
Dym.
Nay on good Sapphus, I'le do so no more.
Sap.
No more! why now I sweare, and may be bold
That Dymnus would haue done it if he could.
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That she on you such fancie should haue set?
Tech.
Fie, shepheards fie, we come not here to scold:
Come Sapphus, tell thy tale as we haue told.
Sap.
Dymnus doth interrupt me.
Lin.
Dymnus ceasse.
Dym.
Nay I haue done, so he will hold his peace.
But to vpbraid me, that I had no part
To gaine her loue, I scorne it with my heart:
For Ile auouch.
Tech.
Nay then the strife's begun.
Dor.
Dymnus for shame.
Dym.
Nay shepheards, I haue done.
Dor.
Pray then proceed good Sapphus.
Sap.
Willingly:
Though I can hardly brooke this iniury.
Dym.
Why Sapphus, I am sure thou know'st all this,
That she was light.
Sap.
I know she did amisse,
Yet I must tell you Dymnus, 't had bene fit,
That rather I then you had noted it:
For it concern'd me most.
Dym.
Pray let it rest,
I did not know so much, I may protest.
Sap.
Dymnus, enough: and thus I do proceed;
Vpon a time when I my flocks did feed,
Her father Thyrsis chanc'd to come that way,
And to obserue me more, a while made stay
Upon the Downe, where I did feede my sheepe:
Who eying me, how duely I did keepe
My woollie store (as I had care) from worrien,
Scab, sought, the rot or any kind of murren:
195
The very truth, vpon next holy day,
He did inuite me to his house, where I
Found what was loue in louely Siluia's eye.
In briefe, I lou'd her, I may boldly tell,
And this her father notes, and likes it well:
For oft vs'd he to say, right sure I am,
A penny in a man then with a man,
He did esteeme more of, which he applide
Unto that care which he in me descride.
Dym.
A iolly Swaine he was.
Sap
He was indeed,
And on these Downs more frolicke rams did breed,
Then any Swainling that did dwell about him,
And truth to say, they would do nought without him.
Dor.
Tis said that Thirsk frō Thirsis tooke her name,
Who thither with his heards a grazing came,
And plaid vpon his pipe such pleasant straines,
As he yet liues vpon the neighbour plaines.
Sap.
This know I Dorycles, that in my hearing,
He pip'd so sweete, that many shepheards fearing
Th' melodious straines which issued from his reed,
Would so amaze their flocks they could not feede:
Ioyntly together in a secret caue,
Where Palms and Mirtles their increasing haue,
They so contriu'd an harbour for the nonst,
That he might from the scorching Sunne be sconst,
And sing at pleasure, while his accents raising,
Heardsmen were hearing, and their heards were grazing.
For curious seats hewne from the solid stone,
Were aptly fram'd for Swaines to sit vpon,
Who in his voice conceiu'd such choice delight,
196
Seem'd but an houre, so sweetly did be sing,
While every day he found out some new spring.
But all too long digression haue I made;
Falling in loue with Siluia as I said,
I saw and perishd, perishd, for it cost
My libertie, which I by seeing lost.
Dor.
Deare was that sight.
Sap.
Yet dearer may I sweare,
Was she to me, then any senses were:
For other obiects I did wholly shon,
Chusing her selfe for me to looke vpon.
Neither was I hope-reft, for she did seeme
To fancie me, hows'euer she did meane;
And I deseru'd it, as I thought that day,
For clothed in my suite of shepheards gray,
With buttond cap and buskins all of one,
I may assure you (heardsmen) I thought none
On all our Downe more neate or handsome was,
Or did deserue more kindnesse from his lasse.
Dym.
A good conceit doth well.
Sap.
And truth was this,
She shew'd me all respect that I could wish,
And vndissembled too, I am perswaded,
Though afterwards all that affection faded.
For on a day, (this I thought good to tell,
That you may thence perceiue she lou'd me well)
In a greene shadie harbour I repos'd,
With Sycamours and Iunipers enclos'd,
She priuately into the harbour crept,
Which seene, I fain'd a sleepe, but neuer slept.
Tech.
A faire occasion!
197
How did she reueale
Her loue?
Sap.
If you had felt, what I did feele,
You neuer would awakt, but wisht do die,
In such a soule-beguiling phantasie.
For first she eyed me, nor contented so,
With nimble pace she to my lips did go:
And calls, and clings, and clips me round about,
Using a soft-sweete dalliance with her foote,
Not to awake me from my chearefull dreame,
But to impart what she in heart did meane;
Wherewith I seem'd to wake.
Tech.
Why didst thou so?
Sap.
Technis, I thought she trod vpon my toe,
But as I wak'd, she without further stay,
Dying her cheekes with blushes, stole away.
Dym.
This shew'd she lou'd thee.
Sap.
So I know she did,
But who can perfect what the fates forbid?
For long we liued thus, and loued too,
With vowes as firme as faith and troth could do,
That nought should ere infringe that nuptiall band,
Confirm'd betwixt vs two with heart and hand,
So as with Thirsis knowledge and consent,
After so many weekes in loue-toyes spent,
It was agreed vpon by either side,
That I should be her Bridegroome, she my Bride.
And th' day of Solemnization was set downe,
So as the choisest youths in all the towns,
Addrest themselues, for I was valued then
Amongst the chiefest Swaines, to be my men.
Lin.
I know it Sapphus, both thy wealth and worth,
198
Sap.
In briefe, for I your patience might wrong,
To stand vpon these marriage rites too long;
To th' Church we went, suspecting I may sweare,
No such euents as after did appeare.
Tech.
What sad euents, good Sapphus?
Sap
Being now
Come to do that which we could nere vndo,
The Priest pronounc'd a charge, whereby was ment,
If either of vs knew impediment,
Why we should not be ioyned, then to speake,
That we in time might such a wedlocke breake;
Or any one there present should shew cause,
Why we might not be married by the lawes:
There to declare, in publicke one of these,
Or else for euer after hold their peace.
God speed them well, said all, saue onely one,
Who stood from thence some distance all alone,
Crying, aloud in open audience,
Sapphus forbeare, there is no conscience,
That thou should ioyne thy hand to one defil'd;
At least prouide a father for her child.
Which she kind pregnant wench is great withall,
And, who ere got it, will thee father call.
Tech.
This was a strange preuention.
Sap.
I confesse it,
But ify'ad heard how Meuus did expresse'st,
(For so his name was) you would haue admir'd
His frontlesse impudence.
Dym.
Sure he was hir'd,
To frustrate these solemnities.
Sap.
Ah no,
199
For she was fruitfull long before her time,
But th' fault was hers, is was no fact of mine:
So as her neighbours iudg'd and censurd on her,
That she begun by time to take vpon her.
But this shall be in silence past for me,
Onely she's shadowed in my Omphale,
And so charactred, as the time may come,
Siluia shall be as Flora was in Rome.
Dor.
But what succeeded hence?
Sap.
Upon this voice
There streight arose a strange confused noise,
Some Meuus tax'd, and said he was to blame,
To blemish any modest Maidens name;
Others were doubtfull, lest it should be true,
And thus they thought, and thus it did ensue.
I now suspicious of this foule dishonour,
Which Meuus publickly had laid vpon her:
Resolu'd those solemne spousals to delay,
And put them off vntill another day:
Meane while, (attend me Swains) when th' day came on
That I should marrie, Siluia had a sonne.
Cor.
God blesse the boy.
Dym.
Who might the child begit?
Sap.
Nay Dymnus sure, who euer fatherd it.
Dym.
Who I!
Sap.
Nay blush not man for you haue told,
You might oft-times haue done it if you wold;
But I do wish her all the good I can,
And praise her choise, though I be not the man.
Tech.
Vnhappie choice!
Dor.
Hard fate!
200
You'le heare a choise more fatall ere you go.
These were but toyes to entertaine the time,
Prepare your handkerchers if you'le haue mine.
All.
What, must we weepe?
Lin.
Shepheards a while forbeare,
And if there be no cause, iudge when you heare.
THE THIRD EGLOGUE Linus' tale
The Argument.
Linus doth Lesbia loue,And woe, and win,
And after by her
Lightnesse wrongeth him.
The second Argument.
Louely Lesbia, who might be,For birth, beauty, quality,
Styled Natures Paragon,
Fram'd for Swaines to dote vpon;
In a word for to expresse,
Feature of this Shepheardesse,
If you would her stature know,
She was neither high nor low;
201
As if Nature did deuise,
(For as't seemeth so she ment)
To make her, her president;
With a Sun-reflecting eye,
Skin more smooth then iuory;
Cherrie lip, a dimple chin,
Made for loue to lodge him in;
A sweete chearing-chasing sent,
Which perfum'd ground where she went;
A perswasiue speech, whose tongue
Strucke deepe admiration dombe.
She, euen she, whom all approu'd,
Is by liuely Linus lou'd,
And at last (what would ye more)
Though she was betroth'd before
To Palemon, that braue Swaine,
Who quite droupes through her disdaine,
Is with rites solemnized,
Vnto Linus married;
Whom he finds (as heauen is iust)
After, staind with boundlesse lust,
So as he laments his state,
Of all most vnfortunate,
That he should in hope of pelse,
Wrong both others and himselfe.
202
Who as she seem'd to be, if she had prou'd,
A worthier Swaine the countrey nere had bred,
And her I woing won, and winning wed.
Tech.
I like thee Linue, thy preamble's short;
Lin.
Technis, indeed I am not of that sort.
Who for a thing of nought will pule and crie,
And childishly put finger in the eye;
The burden of my griefe is great to beare.
Dor.
What is it Linus, pray thee let vs heare?
Lin.
The Maid I got, and Lesbia was her name,
Was to another troth-plight ere I came.
Cor.
How should she Linus then be got by thee?
Lin.
It was my fate, or her inconstancie.
Hows'ere I haue her, and possesse her now,
And would be glad to giue her one of you.
Tech.
Art wearie of thy choice?
Lin.
Technis, I am,
For I'me perswaded she'd wearie any man.
So seeming smooth she is and euer was,
As if she hardly could say Michaelmas:
But priuately so violently fierce,
As I'me afraid her name will spoile my verse.
Cor.
This is some hornet sure.
Lin.
A very waspe,
203
Would find't a taske to charme it.
Dym.
Is't so tart;
Lin.
O Dymnus, that thou didst but feele a part
Of my affliction, thou wouldst surely mone,
And pittie me, that's matcht to such an one;
For tell me shepheards was there ere so rare,
A crime, wherein my Lesbia doth not share?
Proud, (though before as humble to the eye
As ere was Maid) so as one may descrie,
Euen by her outward habit what she is,
And by her wanton gesture gather this:
If thou be chast, thy body wrongs thee much,
For thy light carriage saith, thou art none such.
Sap.
Some fashion-monger I durst pawne my life.
Lin.
Sapphus 'tis true, such is poore Linus wife,
Though ill it seemes a country Shepheardesse,
Such harsh fantasticke fashions to professe:
One day vnto a Barber she'de repaire,
And for what end but this, to cut her haire,
So as like to a Boy she did appeare,
Hauing her haire round cut vnto her eare.
Cor.
Good Linus say, how lookt that Minx of thine?
Lin.
Like to a fleecelesse Ewe at shearing time.
So cowd she was, as next day she did show her
Upon the Downs, but not a Swaine could know her;
So strangely clipt she seem'd, and in disguise,
So monstrous ougly, us none could deuise
To see one clad in lothsomer attire:
And this she knew was farre from my desire,
For I did euer hate it.
Tech.
Pray thee Lad
204
Lin.
There is a fashion now brought vp of late,
Which here our country Blouzes imitate,
The cause whereof I do not thinke it fit,
If I did know't, for to discouer it,
But sure I iudge, some rot's in womans ioynts,
Which makes them faine to tye them vp with points.
Dym.
With points!
Lin.
Yes Dymnus, that's the fashion now,
Whereof I haue a tale, right well I know,
Will make you laugh.
Dor.
Let's heare that tale of thine.
Lin.
Shepheards you shall; it chanc'd vpon a time,
That Lesbia, whose spirit euer would
Obserue the fashion, do I what I could,
Bearing a port far higher in a word,
Then my abilitie could well afford:
That she I say into this fashion got,
(As what was th' fashion she affected not)
Of tying on with points her looser waste;
Now I obseruing how her points were plast,
The Euen before she to a wake should go,
I all her points did secretly vndo,
Yet therewithall such easie knots did make,
That they might hold till she got to the wake,
Which she not minding.
Cor.
On good Linus, on.
Lin.
She hyes her to the wake (my Corydon)
Where she no sooner came, then she's tane in,
And nimbly falls vnto her reuessing,
But see the lucke on't, while she scuds and skips,
Her vnderbody falls from off her hips,
205
That she vncas'd, should shew the naked truth.
But heare what happen'd hence, ere th' setting Sunne
Lodg'd in the West, she heard what I had done;
So as resolu'd to quite me in my kind,
Next morne betime, she Hylus chanc'd to find.
Sap.
Who, Clytus boy!
Lin.
Yes Sapphus, selfe-same Lad,
Who was a good boy, ere she made him bad.
Tech.
Pray Linus how?
Lin.
Through her immodestie,
She him allur'd for to dishonour me.
Tech.
Disloyall Lesbia; but pray the shew,
Did Hylus (harmelesse youth) consent thereto?
Lin.
Technis, he did;
Dor.
How shouldst thou know as much?
Lin.
She did display't her selfe.
Dor.
Is her shame such?
Lin.
Yes, and withall defide me to my face,
With such iniurious speeches of disgrace,
As patience could not beare.
Tech.
And didst thou beare them?
Lin.
Yes, Technis yes, & smild when I did heare them
For this is my conceit, it seemeth no man,
To shew his violence vnto a woman.
Dym.
Linus sayes well, but womans nature's such,
They will presume if men do beare too much.
For if the tongue vpon defiance stand,
The tongue should be reuenged by the hand.
Lin.
Some would haue done it Dymnus, but I thought
If I reuenge by such base meanes had sought,
The woreld would condemne me; she could blind
206
But in a modest sort: for on a time,
Rich Amphybæus offring to the shrine
Of Panaretus (as there went report)
Sought for her loue in a dishonest sort,
With price, with prayer, yet nere attain'd his aime,
To soile her honour, or her vertues staine;
Sap.
Women are nice when simple heard-men craue it,
And will say nay, when they the fainst would haue it.
Lin.
'Tis right; and now good shepheards tell me true,
Haue I not cause, for I'le be iudg'd by you,
To mone my hard mishap?
Tech.
Thou hast indeed.
Cor.
Thy woes, friend Linus, make my heartstrings bleed;
Lin.
I thanke you all; but will you heare a song,
Penn'd in the meditation of my wrong!
Dor.
For loues-sake do!
Lin.
Iudge if the descant fit
The burden of my griefe, for this is it;
As for the note before I further go,
My tune is this, and who can blame my woe?
If Marriage life yeeld such content,
What heauie hap haue I,
Whose life with griefe and sorrow spent,
Wish death, yet cannot die:
She's bent to smile when I do storme,
When I am chearefull too,
She seemes to loure, then who can cure,
Or counterpoize my woe?
What heauie hap haue I,
Whose life with griefe and sorrow spent,
Wish death, yet cannot die:
She's bent to smile when I do storme,
When I am chearefull too,
She seemes to loure, then who can cure,
Or counterpoize my woe?
My marriage day chac'd you away,
For I haue found it true,
That bed which did all ioyes display,
Became a bed of rue;
Where aspes do brouze on fancies floure,
And beauties blossome too:
Then where's that power on earth may cure,
Or counterpoize my woe?
207
That bed which did all ioyes display,
Became a bed of rue;
Where aspes do brouze on fancies floure,
And beauties blossome too:
Then where's that power on earth may cure,
Or counterpoize my woe?
I thought loue was the lampe of life,
No life without'en loue,
No loue like to a faithfull wife:
Which when I sought to proue,
I found her birth was not on earth,
For ought that I could know;
Of good ones I perceiu'd a dearth,
Then who can cure my woe?
No life without'en loue,
No loue like to a faithfull wife:
Which when I sought to proue,
I found her birth was not on earth,
For ought that I could know;
Of good ones I perceiu'd a dearth,
Then who can cure my woe?
Zantippe was a iealous shrow,
And Menalippe too,
Faustina had a stormie brow,
Corinna'es like did show;
Yet these were Saints compar'd to mine,
For mirth and mildlesse too:
Who runs diuision all her time,
Then who can cure my woe?
And Menalippe too,
Faustina had a stormie brow,
Corinna'es like did show;
Yet these were Saints compar'd to mine,
For mirth and mildlesse too:
Who runs diuision all her time,
Then who can cure my woe?
My boord no dishes can afford,
But chafing dishes all,
Where selfe-will domineres as Lord,
To keepe poore me in thrall;
My discontent giues her content,
My friend she vowes her foe:
How should I then my sorrowes vent,
Or cure my endlesse woe?
But chafing dishes all,
Where selfe-will domineres as Lord,
To keepe poore me in thrall;
My discontent giues her content,
My friend she vowes her foe:
208
Or cure my endlesse woe?
No cure to care, farewell all ioy,
Retire poore soule and die,
Yet ere thou die, thy selfe employ,
That thou maist mount the skie;
Where thou may moue commanding Ioue,
That Pluto he might go
To wed thy wife, who end't thy life,
For this will cure thy wo!
Retire poore soule and die,
Yet ere thou die, thy selfe employ,
That thou maist mount the skie;
Where thou may moue commanding Ioue,
That Pluto he might go
To wed thy wife, who end't thy life,
For this will cure thy wo!
Dym.
I iudge by this, that thou wouldst faine forsake her,
And freely giue her any that would take her.
Lin.
Dymnus I would, but I my crosse must beare,
As I haue done before this many yeare;
But since our griefes are equally exprest,
Let's now compare which is the heauiest!
Tech.
I lost my Amarillida;
Dor.
But she
Was nothing to Bellina.
Dym.
No, nor she
Like to my faire Palmira.
Cor.
Nor all three
Equall to Celia;
Sap.
Let Siluia be
The onely faire.
Lin.
Admit, they all were faire,
Your griefes with me, may haue no equall share,
For you are free, so as perhaps you may
Make choice of some, may be as faire as they;
But I am bound, and that in such a knot,
209
Tech.
To Linus must we yeeld; but who are these?
Dor.
Two iollie shepheards, that do hither prese,
With ribbon fauours, and rosemary sprigs,
Chanting along our Downes their rurall jigs.
As to some wedding boun;
Sap.
You may presume,
For Iohn vnto the May-pole is their tune,
And that's their bridall note.
Lin.
Let vs draw neare them,
Close to this shadie Beech, where we may heare them.
The shepheards holy-day, reduced in apt measures to Hobbinalls Galliard, or Iohn to the May-pole.
Forth of a curious Spinet graced with the best rarities of Art and Nature, Mopsus, a shepheard, and Marina a shepheardesse, singing a Nuptiall hymne in the way to the Bridall.
[_]
Speakers' name have been abbreviated in this text. The abbreviations used for major characters are as follows:
- For Mopso. read Mopsus
- For Mar. read Marina
Come Marina let's away,
For both Bride and Bridegroome stay,
Fie for shame are Swaines so long,
Pinning of their head-geare on?
Pray thee see,
None but we,
Mongst the Swaines are left vnreadie,
Fie, make hast,
Bride is past,
Follow me and I will leade thee.
210
On my louely Mopsus, on,
I am readie, all is done,
From my head vnto my foote,
I am fitted each way to't;
Buskins gay,
Gowne of gray,
Best that all our flocks do render,
Hat of stroe,
Platted through,
Cherrie lip and middle slender.
Mop.
And I thinke you will not find
Mopsus any whit behind,
For he loues as well to go,
As most part of shepheards do.
Cap of browne,
Bottle-crowne,
With the leg I won at dancing,
And a pumpe
Fit to iumpe,
When we shepheards fall a prancing.
And I know there is a sort,
Will be well prouided for't,
For I heare, there will be there
Liueliest Swaines within the Shere:
Ietting Gill,
Iumping Will,
Ore the floore will haue their measure:
Kit and Kate,
There will waite,
Tib and Tom will take their pleasure.
Will be well prouided for't,
For I heare, there will be there
Liueliest Swaines within the Shere:
Ietting Gill,
Iumping Will,
Ore the floore will haue their measure:
Kit and Kate,
There will waite,
Tib and Tom will take their pleasure.
211
But I feare;
Mop.
What doest thou feare?
Mar.
Crowd the fidler is not there:
And my mind delighted is,
With no stroake so much as his.
Mop.
If not he,
There will be
Drone the piper that will trounce it.
Mar.
But if Crowd,
Strucke aloud,
Lord me thinks how I could bounce it!
Mop.
Bounce it Mall, I hope thou will,
For I know that thou hast skill,
And I am sure thou there shalt find,
Measures store to please thy mind;
Roundelayes,
Irish-hayes,
Cogs and rongs and Peggie Ramsie,
Spaniletto,
The Uenetto,
Iohn come kisse me, Wilsons fancie.
Mar.
But of all there's none so sprightly
To my eare, as tutch me lightly:
For it's this we shepheards loue,
Being that which most doth moue;
There, there, there,
To a haire,
O Tim Crowd, me thinks I heare thee,
Young nor old,
Nere could hold,
But must leake if they come nere thee.
212
Blush Marina, fie for shame,
Blemish not a shepheards name;
Mar.
Mopsus why, is't such a matter,
Maids to shew their yeelding nature?
O what then,
Be ye men,
That will beare your selues so froward,
When you find
Us inclin'd,
To your bed and boord so toward?
Mop.
True indeed, the fault is ours,
Though we tearme it oft-times yours;
Mar.
What would shepheards haue vs do,
But to yeeld when they do wo?
And we yeeld
Them the field,
And endow them with our riches.
Mop.
Yet we know,
Oft-times too,
You'le not sticke to weare the breches.
Mar.
Fooles they'le deeme them, that do heare them
Say, their wiues are wont to weare them:
For I know there's none has wit,
Can endure or suffer it;
But if they
Haue no stay,
Nor discretion (as tis common)
Then they may
Giue the sway,
As is fitting to the woman.
213
All too long (deare loue) I weene,
Haue we stood vpon this theame:
Let each lasse, as once it was,
Loue her Swaine, and Swaine his lasse:
So shall we
Honor'd be,
In our mating, in our meeting,
While we stand
Hand in hand,
Honest Swainling, with his Sweeting.
Dor.
How say you shepheards, shall we all repaire
Unto this wedding, to allay our care?
Unto this wedding, to allay our care?
Dym.
Agreed for me.
Tech.
And I am well content.
Cor.
On then, let's make our life a merriment.
Sap.
See where they come!
May Hymen aye defend them.
Lin.
And far more ioy then I haue had God send them.
FINIS.
Natures Embassie | ||