Cephalus and Procris Narcissus. By Thomas Edwards. From the unique copy in the Cathedral library, Peterborough. Edited by Rev. W. E. Buckley ... with an appendix from divers sources |
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LENVOY. |
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 | Cephalus and Procris |  |
LENVOY.
Betwixt extreames
Are ready pathes and faire,
On straight and narrow went
Leades passengers in dreames,
And euer as the aire,
Doth buzze them with content,
A cruelle ougly fenne;
Hated of Gods and men,
Are ready pathes and faire,
On straight and narrow went
Leades passengers in dreames,
And euer as the aire,
Doth buzze them with content,
A cruelle ougly fenne;
Hated of Gods and men,
Cals out amaine,
O whether but this way:
Or now, or neuer bend,
Your steps this goale to gaine,
The tother tels you stray,
And neuer will finde ende,
Thus hath the Gods decreed,
To paine soules for their deedes.
O whether but this way:
Or now, or neuer bend,
Your steps this goale to gaine,
The tother tels you stray,
And neuer will finde ende,
Thus hath the Gods decreed,
To paine soules for their deedes.
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These monsters tway,
Ycleeped are of all,
Dispaire and eke debate,
Which are (as Poets say)
Of Enuies whelpes the fall,
And neuer come too late:
By Procris it appeeres,
Whose proofe is bought so deere.
Ycleeped are of all,
Dispaire and eke debate,
Which are (as Poets say)
Of Enuies whelpes the fall,
And neuer come too late:
By Procris it appeeres,
Whose proofe is bought so deere.
Debate a foote,
And Iealousie abroade,
For remedie dispaire,
Comes in a yellow coate,
And actes where wysardes troade,
To shew the gazers faire,
How subtilly he can cloake,
The tale an other spoake.
And Iealousie abroade,
For remedie dispaire,
Comes in a yellow coate,
And actes where wysardes troade,
To shew the gazers faire,
How subtilly he can cloake,
The tale an other spoake.
O time of times,
When monster-mongers shew,
As men in painted cloathes,
For foode euen like to pine,
And are in weale Gods know,
Vpheld with spiced broathes,
So as the weakest seeme,
What often we not deeme.
When monster-mongers shew,
As men in painted cloathes,
For foode euen like to pine,
And are in weale Gods know,
Vpheld with spiced broathes,
So as the weakest seeme,
What often we not deeme.
Abandon it,
That breedes such discontent,
Foule Iealousie the sore,
That vile despight would hit,
Debate his Chorus spent,
Comes in a tragicke more,
Then Actors on this Stage,
Can plausiuely engage.
That breedes such discontent,
Foule Iealousie the sore,
That vile despight would hit,
Debate his Chorus spent,
Comes in a tragicke more,
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Can plausiuely engage.
Oh Cephalus,
That nothe could pittie moue,
To tend Auroraes plaintes,
Now sham'd to tell vnto vs,
How thou would'st gladly loue,
So Procris might not faint,
Full oft the like doth hap,
To them that thinke to scape.
That nothe could pittie moue,
To tend Auroraes plaintes,
Now sham'd to tell vnto vs,
How thou would'st gladly loue,
So Procris might not faint,
Full oft the like doth hap,
To them that thinke to scape.
But aie me shee,
Vnmercifully glad,
To spie her wedded mate,
Rest from all woemen free,
Yet amorously clad,
Thought on her bended knee,
Of him to be receau'd
But aie me was deceiu'd.
Vnmercifully glad,
To spie her wedded mate,
Rest from all woemen free,
Yet amorously clad,
Thought on her bended knee,
Of him to be receau'd
But aie me was deceiu'd.
Oft hits the same,
For who the innocent,
To catch in secret snares,
(And laughes at their false shame,)
Doth couertly inuent,
Themselues not throughly ware,
Are oft beguil'd thereby,
Woemen especially.
For who the innocent,
To catch in secret snares,
(And laughes at their false shame,)
Doth couertly inuent,
Themselues not throughly ware,
Are oft beguil'd thereby,
Woemen especially.
Faire Procris fall,
The merriment of moe,
That tread in vncouth wents,
Remaine for sample shall,
And learne them where to goe,
Their eares not so attent,
To vile disloyaltie,
Nurse vnto Iealousie.
The merriment of moe,
That tread in vncouth wents,
Remaine for sample shall,
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Their eares not so attent,
To vile disloyaltie,
Nurse vnto Iealousie.
Aurora shee,
Too amorous and coye,
Toyde with the hunters game,
Till louing not to see,
Spide loue cloth'd like a boy;
Whereat as one asham'd,
She starts, and downe-ward creepes,
Supposing all a sleepe.
Too amorous and coye,
Toyde with the hunters game,
Till louing not to see,
Spide loue cloth'd like a boy;
Whereat as one asham'd,
She starts, and downe-ward creepes,
Supposing all a sleepe.
“The seruitor,
“That earst did brauely skoure,
“Against the frontier heate,
“For fame and endlesse honor,
“Retir'd for want of power,
“Secure himselfe would seate,
So she but all too soone,
Her honor ere begun,
“That earst did brauely skoure,
“Against the frontier heate,
“For fame and endlesse honor,
“Retir'd for want of power,
“Secure himselfe would seate,
So she but all too soone,
Her honor ere begun,
Did famish cleane:
For where she sought to gaine,
The type of her content,
By fatall powers diuine,
Was suddainely so stain'd,
As made them both repent,
And thus enamoured,
The morning since look't red.
For where she sought to gaine,
The type of her content,
By fatall powers diuine,
Was suddainely so stain'd,
As made them both repent,
And thus enamoured,
The morning since look't red.
As blushing thro,
Some tinssell weau'd of lawne,
Like one whose tale halfe spent,
His coulour comes and goes,
Desirous to be gone,
In briefe shewes his intent,
Not halfe so stately done,
As what he erst begun,
Some tinssell weau'd of lawne,
Like one whose tale halfe spent,
His coulour comes and goes,
Desirous to be gone,
In briefe shewes his intent,
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As what he erst begun,
Euen so, and so,
Aurora pittiously,
For griefe and bitter shame,
Cries out, oh let me goe,
(For who but sluggards eie,
The morning seekes to blame?)
Let schollers only mourne,
For this same wretched tourne.
Aurora pittiously,
For griefe and bitter shame,
Cries out, oh let me goe,
(For who but sluggards eie,
The morning seekes to blame?)
Let schollers only mourne,
For this same wretched tourne.
A iust reward
To such as seeke the spoyle,
Of any wedded state,
But what do we regard?
So liue by others toyle,
And reape what they haue got,
No other reckoning wee,
Suppose but all of glee.
To such as seeke the spoyle,
Of any wedded state,
But what do we regard?
So liue by others toyle,
And reape what they haue got,
No other reckoning wee,
Suppose but all of glee.
Aie me the Sonne,
Ere halfe our tale is quit,
His strength rebates amaine,
A clymate cold and wan,
That cannot strength a wit,
By Arte to tell the same,
Faire Cynthia shine thou bright,
Hencefoorth Ile serue the night.
Ere halfe our tale is quit,
His strength rebates amaine,
A clymate cold and wan,
That cannot strength a wit,
By Arte to tell the same,
Faire Cynthia shine thou bright,
Hencefoorth Ile serue the night.
FINIS.
Th. Edwards.
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