University of Virginia Library

The fourth Egloge of Alexander Barclay, entituled Codrus and Minalcas, treating of the behauour of Riche men agaynst Poetes.

The Argument

Codrus a shepheard lusty, gay and stoute,
Sat with his wethers at pasture round about,
And poore Minalcas with ewes scarse fourtene
Sat sadly musing in shadowe on the grene.
This lustie Codrus was cloked for the rayne,
And doble decked with huddes one or twayne,
He had a pautner with purses manyfolde,
And surely lined with siluer and with golde,
Within his wallet were meates good and fine,
Both store and plentie had he of ale and wine,
Suche fulsome pasture made him a double chin,
His furred mittins were of a curres skin,
Nothing he wanted longing to cloth or foode,
But by no meane would he depart with good.
Sometime this Cod[ru]s did vnder shadowe lye
Wide open piping and gaping on the skye,
Sometime he daunced and hobled as a beare,
Sometime he pried howe he became his geare,
He lept, he songe, and ran to proue his might,
When purse is heauy oftetime the heart is light.
But though this Codrus had store inough of good,
He wanted wisedome, for nought he vnderstood
Saue worldly practise his treasour for to store,
Howe euer it came small forse had he therfore.
On the otherside the poore Minalcas lay,
With empty belly and simple poore aray,
Yet coulde he pipe and finger well a drone,
But soure is musike when men for hunger grone.
Codrus had riches, Minalcas had cunning,
For God not geueth to one man euery thing.
At last this Codrus espied Minalcas,
And soone he knewe what maner man he was,
For olde acquayntaunce betwene them earst had bene,
Long time before they met vpon the grene,
And therfore Codrus downe boldly by him sat,
And in this maner began with him to chat,
Codrus first speaketh
Al hayle Minalcas, nowe by my fayth well met,
Lorde Iesu mercy what troubles did thee let,
That this long season none could thee here espy?
With vs was thou wont to sing full merily,
And to lye piping oftetime among the floures,
What time thy beastes were feding among ours.
In these olde valleys we two were wont to bourde,
And in these shadowes talke many a mery worde,
And oft were we wont to wrastle for a fall,
But nowe thou droupest and hast forgotten all.
Here wast thou wont swete balades to sing,
Of song and ditie as it were for a king,
And of gay matters to sing and to endite,
But nowe thy courage is gone and thy delite,
Trust me Minalcas nowe playnly I espy
That thou art wery of shepheardes company,
And that all pleasour thou semest to despise,
Lothing our pasture and fieldes in likewise,
Thou fleest solace and euery mery fitte,
Leasing thy time and sore hurting thy witte,
In sloth thou slombrest as buried were thy song,
Thy pipe is broken or somwhat els is wrong.

Minalcas
What time the Cuckowes fethers mout and fall,
From sight she lurketh, hir song is gone withall,
When backe is bare and purse of coyne is light,
The wit is dulled and reason hath no might:
Adewe enditing when gone is libertie,
Enemie to Muses is wretched pouertie,
What time a knight is subiect to a knaue
To iust or tourney small pleasour shall he haue.

Codrus
What no man thee kepeth here in captiuitie,
And busy labour subdueth pouertie,
And oft it is better and much surer also
As subiect to obey then at freewill to go,
As for example beholde a wanton colte
In raging youth leapeth ouer hill and holte,
But while he skippeth at pleasure and at will
Ofte time doth he fall in daunger for to spill,
Sometime on stubbes his hofes sore he teares,
Or fals in the mud both ouer head and eares,
Sometime all the night abrode in hayle or rayne,
And oft among breres tangled by the mayne,
And other perils he suffreth infinite,
So mingled with sorowe is pleasour and delite:
But if this same colte be broken at the last,
His sitter ruleth and him refrayneth fast,
The spurre him pricketh, the bridle doth him holde,
That he can not praunce at pleasour where he wolde,
The rider him ruleth and saueth from daunger.
By which example Minalcas it is clere
That freewill is subiect to inconuenience,
Where by subiection man voydeth great offence,
For man of him selfe is very frayle certayne,
But ofte a ruler his folly doth refrayne,
But as for thy selfe thou hast no cause pardie,
To walke at pleasour is no captiuitie.

Minalcas
Seest thou not Codrus the fieldes rounde about
Compassed with floudes that none may in nor out,
The muddy waters nere choke me with the stinke,
At euery tempest they be as blacke as inke:
Pouertie to me should be no discomforte
If other shepheardes were all of the same sorte.
But Codrus I clawe oft where it doth not itche,
To see ten beggers and halfe a dosen riche,
Truely me thinketh this wrong pertition,
And namely sith all ought be after one.
When I first behelde these fieldes from a farre,
Me thought them pleasant and voyde of strife or warre,
But with my poore flocke approching nere and nere
Alway my pleasour did lesse and lesse appeare,
And truely Codrus since I came on this grounde
Oft vnder floures vile snakes haue I founde,
Adders and todes and many fell serpent,
Infecte olde shepe with venim violent,
And ofte be the yonge infected of the olde,
That vnto these fewe nowe brought is all my folde.

Codrus
In some place is neyther venim nor serpent,
And as for my selfe I fele no greuous sent.

Minalcas
It were great maruell where so great grounde is sene,
If no small medowe were pleasaunt, swete and clene,
As for thee Codrus I may beleue right weele,
That thou no sauour nor stinke of mud dost feele,
For if a shepheard hath still remayned longe
In a foule prison or in a stinking gonge,
His pores with ill ayre be stopped so echeone
That of the ayre he feleth small sent or none,
And yet the dwellers be badder then the place,
The riche and sturdie doth threaten and manace
The poore and simple and suche as came but late,
And who moste knoweth him moste of all they hate,
And all the burthen is on the Asses backe,
But the stronge Caball standeth at the racke.
And suche be assigned sometime the flocke to kepe
Which scant haue so muche of reason as the shepe,
And euery shepheard at other hath enuy,
Scant be a couple which loueth perfitely,
Ill will so reygneth that brauling be thou sure,
Constrayned me nere to seke a newe pasture,
Saue onely after I hope of better rest,
For small occasion a birde not chaungeth nest.

Codrus
Welere thou graunted that in a large grounde
Some plot of pleasour and quiet may be founde,
So where of heardes assembled is great sorte,
There some must be good, then to the best resorte.
But leaue we all this, turne to our poynt agayne,
Of thy olde balades some would I heare full fayne,
For often haue I had great pleasour and delite
To heare recounted suche as thou did endite.

Minalcas
Yea, other shepheardes which haue inough at home,
When ye be mery and stuffed is your wombe,
Which haue great store of butter, chese and woll,
Your cowes others of milke replete and full,
Payles of swete milke as full as they be able,
When your fat dishes smoke hote vpon your table,
Then laude ye songes and balades magnifie,
If they be mery or written craftily,
Ye clappe your handes and to the making harke,
And one say to other, lo here a proper warke.
But when ye haue saide nought geue ye for our payne,
Saue onely laudes and pleasaunt wordes vayne,
All if these laudes may well be counted good,
Yet the poore shepheard must haue some other food.

Codrus
Mayst thou not sometime thy folde and shepe apply,
And after at leasour to liue more quietly,
Dispose thy wittes to make or to endite,
Renouncing cures for time while thou dost write.

Minalcas
Nedes must a Shepheard bestowe his whole labour
In tending his flockes, scant may he spare one houre:
In going, comming, and often them to tende,
Full lightly the day is brought vnto an ende.
Sometime the wolues with dogges must he chace,
Sometime his foldes must he newe compace:
And oft time them chaunge, and if he stormes doubt,
Of his shepecote dawbe the walles round about:
When they be broken, oft times them renue,
And hurtfull pastures note well, and them eschue.
Bye strawe and litter, and hay for winter colde,
Oft grease the scabbes aswell of yonge as olde.
For dreade of thieues oft watche vp all the night,
Beside this labour with all his minde and might,
For his poore housholde for to prouide vitayle,
If by aduenture his wooll or lambes fayle.
In doing all these no respite doth remayne,
But well to indite requireth all the brayne.
I tell thee Codrus, a stile of excellence
Must haue all laboure and all the diligence.
Both these two workes be great, nere importable
To my small power, my strength is muche vnable.
The one to intende scant may I bide the payne,
Then it is harder for me to do both twayne.
What time my wittes be clere for to indite,
My dayly charges will graunt me no respite:
But if I folowe, inditing at my will,
Eche one disdayneth my charges to fulfill.
Though in these fieldes eche other ought sustayne,
Cleane lost is that lawe, one may require in vayne:
If coyne commaunde, then men count them as bounde,
Els flee they labour, then is my charge on grounde.

Codrus
Cornix oft counted that man should flee no payne,
His frendes burthen to supporte and sustayne:
Feede they thy flocke, while thou doest write and sing,
Eche horse agreeth not well for euery thing.
Some for the charet, some for the cart or plough,
And some for hakneyes, if they be light and tough.
Eche fielde agreeth not well for euery seede,
Who hath moste labour is worthy of best mede.

Minalcas
After inditing then gladly would I drinke,
To reach me the cup no man doth care ne thinke:
And ofte some fooles voyde of discretion
Me and my matters haue in derision.
And meruayle is none, for who would sowe that fielde,
With costly seedes, which shall no fruites yelde.
Some wanton body oft laugheth me to scorne,
And saith: Minalcas, see howe thy pilche is torne,
Thy hose and cokers be broken at the knee,
Thou canst not stumble, for both thy shone may see.
Thy beard like bristles, or like a porpos skin,
Thy cloathing sheweth, thy winning is but thin:
Such mocking tauntes renueth oft my care,
And nowe be woods of fruit and leaues bare.
And frostie winter hath made the fieldes white,
For wrath and anger my lip and tonge I bite:
For dolour I droupe, sore vexed with disdayne,
My wombe all wasteth, wherfore I bide this payne:
My wooll and wethers may scarsly feede my wombe,
And other housholde which I retayne at home.
Leane be my lambes, that no man will them bye,
And yet their dammes they dayly sucke so dry,
That from the vthers no licoure can we wring,
Then without repast who can indite or sing.
It me repenteth, if I haue any wit,
As for my science, I wery am of it.
And of my poore life I weary am, Codrus,
Sith my harde fortune for me disposeth thus,
That of the starres and planettes eche one
To poore Minalcas well fortunate is none.
Knowen is the truth if it were clerely sought,
That nowe to this time I still haue songe for nought:
For youth is lusty, and of small thing hath nede,
That time to age men geue no force nor heede.
Ages condition is greatly contrary,
Which nowe approcheth right still and craftyly,
But what time age doth any man oppresse,
If he in youth haue gathred no riches:
Then passeth age in care and pouertie,
For nede is grieuous with olde infirmitie:
And age is fetred oft time with care and neede,
When strength is faded and man hath nought to feede,
When strength is faded, then hope of gayne is gone,
In youthes season to make prouision.
The litle Emmet is wise and prouident,
In summer working with labour diligent,
In her small caues conueying corne and grayne
Her life in Winter to nourish and sustayne:
And with her small mouth is busy it cutting,
Least in her caues the same might growe or spring.
So man of reason himselfe reputing sage,
In youth should puruey, to liue theron in age.

Codrus
Men say that clerkes which knowe Astronomy,
Knowe certayne starres which longe to desteny:
But all their saying is nothing veritable,
Yet heare the matter, though it be but a fable.
They say that Mercury doth Poetes fauoure,
Under Iupiter be princes of honour:
And men of riches, of wealth or dignitie,
And all such other as haue aucthoritie:
Mercury geueth to Poetes laureate
Goodly conueyaunce, speeche pleasaunt and ornate,
Inuentife reason to sing or play on harpe,
In goodly ditie or balade for to carpe.
This is thy lot, what seekest thou riches?
No man hath all, this thing is true doubtlesse.
God all disposeth as he perceyueth best,
Take thou thy fortu[n]e, and holde thee still in rest:
Take thou thy fortune, and holde thy selfe content,
Let vs haue riches and rowmes excellent,

Minalcas
Thou haste of riches and goodes haboundance,
And I haue dities and songes of pleasaunce:
To aske my cunning to couetous thou art,
Why is not thy selfe contented with thy part,
Why doest thou inuade my part and portion,
Thou wantest (Codrus) wit and discretion.

Codrus
Not so Minalcas, forsooth thou art to blame,
Of wronge inuasion to geue to me the name.
I would no ditie nor ballade take thee fro,
No harpe nor armes which long to Appollo:
But onely, Minalcas, I sore desire and longe
To geue mine eares to thy sweete sounding song.
It feedeth hearing, and is to one pleasaunt,
To heare good reason and ballade consonant.

Minalcas
If thou haue pleasure to heare my melody,
I graunt thee Codrus to ioy my armony,
So haue I pleasure and ioy of thy riches,
So giftes doubled increaseth loue doubtlesse.

Codrus
He of my riches hath ioy which loueth me,
And who me hateth, nothing content is he.
Enuious wretches by malice commonly
Take others fortune and pleasure heauyly.

Minalcas
In likewise mayst thou inioy of our science,
And of our Muses though thou be fro presence:
And of our cu[n]ning thou ioyest semblably,
If nought prouoke thee by malice and enuy.
If I feede thy eares, feede thou my mouth agayne,
I loth were to spende my giftes all in vayne.
Meate vnto the mouth is foode and sustenaunce,
And songes feede the eares with pleasaunce.
I haue the Muses, if thou wilt haue of mine,
Then right requireth that I haue part of thine.
This longeth to loue, to nourish charitee,
This feedeth pitie, this doth to right agree.
This is the pleasure and will of God aboue,
Of him disposed for to ingender loue.
All pleasaunt giftes one man hath not pardie,
That one of other should haue necessitie.
No man of him selfe is sure sufficistent,
This is prouision of God omnipotent.
That one man should neede anothers assistence,
Thereby is ioyned loue and beneuolence.
Englande hath cloth, Burdeus hath store of wine,
Cornewall hath tinne, and lymster wools fine.
London hath scarlet, and Bristowe pleasaunt red,
Fen lande hath fishes, in other place is lead.
This is of our Lorde disposed so my brother
Because all costes should one haue neede of other.
So euery tree hath fruit after his kinde,
And diuers natures in beastes may we finde.
Alway when nature of thing is moste laudable,
That thing men counteth most good and profitable.
And euery person in his owne gift hath ioy
The foole in his bable hath pleasure for to toy.
The clerke in his bookes, the merchaunt in riches,
The knight in his horse, harnes and hardynes.
But euery person of his giftes and art,
When nede requireth should gladly geue some part.
Suche meane conioyneth in bonde of loue certayne,
Englande and Fraunce, Scotlande, Grece and Spain.
So hast thou Codrus of golde ynough in store,
And I some cunning, though fewe men care therfore.
Thou art beholden to Iupiter truely,
And I beholden to pleasaunt Mercury.
Ioyne we our starres, let me haue part of thine,
Concorde to cherishe, thou shalt haue part of mine.
Make thou Iupiter be frendly vnto me,
And our Mercury shalbe as good to thee.
If thy Iupiter geue me but onely golde,
Mercury shall geue thee giftes manyfolde.
His pillion, scepter, his winges and his harpe,
If thou haue all these thou mayst grathly carpe.
And ouer all these geue thee shall Mercury
The knot of Hercules inlaced craftyly.

Codrus
Lorde God, Minalcas, why haste thou all this payne
Thus wise to forge so many wordes in vayne.

Minalcas
That vayne thou countest which may hurt or inlesse
Thy loued treasure, or minishe thy riches:
If thou wilt harken or heare my Muses sing,
Refreshe my mindes with confort and liking,
Rid me fro troubles and care of busynes,
Confort my courage which nowe is comfortlesse.
A clerke or poete combined with a boye,
To haunt the Muses or write hath litle ioye.
The wit and reason is dull or of valour
Like as the body is called to honour.
When busy charges causeth a man to gro[n]e,
The wit then slumbreth, and Muses all be gone.
A ditie will haue minde quiet and respite,
And ease of stomake, els can none well indite,
I sighe, I slumber, care troubleth oft my thought,
When some by malice mine art setteth at nought.
I hewle as a kite for hunger and for golde,
For thought and study my youth appereth olde:
My skin hath wrinkles and pimples round about,
For colde and study I dreade me of the gowte.
When sickenes commeth then life hath breuitie
By false vnkindnes and wretched pouertie.
If men were louing, benigne and charitable,
Then were pouertie both good and tollerable:
But since charitie and pitie both be gone,
What should pouertie remayne behinde alone.
No man hath pitie, eche dayneth me to feede,
I lost haue confort, but still remayneth neede:
I haue no wethers nor ewes in my folde,
No siluer in purse, I knowe not what is golde:
No corne on the grounde haue I whereon to fare,
Then would thou haue me to liue auoyde of care.
Nay nay frende Codrus, trust me, I thee assure
Such maner salues can not my dolour cure.
Make thou me iocunde, helpe me with cloth and foode,
Clothe me for winter with pilche, felt and hoode.
Auoyde all charges, let me sit in my cell,
Let worldly wretches with worldly matters mell.
Succoure my age, regarde my heares gray,
Then shalt thou proue and see what thing I may:
Then shalt thou finde me both apt to write and sing,
Good will shall fulfill my scarcenes of cunning,
A plentifull house out chaseth thought and care,
Soiourne doth sorowe there where all thing is bare,
The seller couched with bere, with ale or wine,
And meates ready when man hath lust to dine.
Great barnes full, fat wethers in the folde,
The purse well stu[ff]ed with siluer and with golde.
Fauour of frendes, and suche as loueth right
All these and other do make thee full light,
Then is it pleasure the yonge maydens amonge
To watche by the fire the winters nightes longe:
At their fonde tales to laugh, or when they brall,
Great fire and candell spending for laboure small,
And in the ashes some playes for to marke,
To couer wardens for fault of other warke.
To toste white sheuers, and to make prophitroles,
And after talking oft time to fill the bowles.
Where wealth aboundeth without rebuke or crime,
Thus do some heardes for pleasure and pastime:
As fame reporteth, such a Shepherde there was,
Which that time liued vnder Mecenas.
And Titerus (I trowe) was this shepherdes name,
I well remember aliue yet is his fame.
He songe of fieldes and tilling of the grounde,
Of shepe, of oxen, and battayle did he sounde.
So shrill he sounded in termes eloquent,
I trowe his tunes went to the firmament.
The same Mecenas to him was free and kinde,
Whose large giftes gaue confort to his minde:
Also this Shepherde by heauenly influence
I trowe obtayned his pereless eloquence.
We other Shepherdes be greatly different,
Of common sortes, leane, ragged and rent.
Fed with rude frowise, with quacham, or with crudd,
Or slimy kempes ill smelling of the mud,
Such rusty meates inblindeth so our brayne,
That of our fauour the muses haue disdayne:
And great Apollo despiseth that we write,
For why rude wittes but rudely do indite.

Codrus
I trust on fortune, if it be fauourable,
My trust fulfilling, then shall I well be able
Thy neede to succoure, I hope after a thing,
And if fortune fall well after my liking,
Trust me Minalcas, I shall deliuer thee
Out of this trouble, care and calamitie.

Minalcas
A Codrus Codrus, I would to God thy will
Were this time ready thy promise to fulfill
After the power and might that thou haste nowe.
Thou haste ynough for both, man God auowe.
If thy good minde according with thy might,
At this time present thou should my heart well light.
I aske not the store of Cosmus or Capell,
With silken robes I couete not to mell.
No kinges dishes I couete nor desire,
Nor riche mantels, or palles wrought in Tire:
No cloth of golde, of Tissue nor veluet,
Damaske nor Sattin, nor orient Scarlet.
I aske no value of Peters costly cope,
Shield of Minerua, nor patin of Esope.
I aske no palace, nor lodging curious,
No bed of state, of rayment sumptuous.
For this I learned of the Dean of Powles,
I tell thee Codrus, this man hath won some soules.
I aske no treasure nor store of worldly good,
But a quiet life, and onely cloth and foode,
With homely lodging to keepe me warme and drye
Induring my life, forsooth no more aske I.
If I were certayne this liuing still to haue,
Auoyde of trouble, no more of God I craue.

Codrus
This liuing haste thou, what needest thou complayne,
Nothing thou wantest which may thy life sustayne:
What feele man, pardie thy chekes be not thin,
No lacke of vitayle causeth a double chin.

Minalcas
Some beast is lustie and fat of his nature,
Though he sore laboure, and go in bad pasture.
And some beast agayne still leane and poore is seene,
Though it fatly fare within a medowe greene.
Though thou would (Codrus) stil argue til to morow,
I licke no dishes which sauced be with sorowe.
Better one small dish with ioy and heart liking
Then diuers daynties with murmure and grutching.
And men vnlearned can neuer be content,
When scolers common, and clerkes be present.
Assoone as clerkes begin to talke and chat,
Some other glowmes, and hath enuy thereat.
It is a torment a clerke to sit at borde,
And of his learning not for to talke one worde.
Better were to be with clerkes with a crust,
Then at such tables to fare at will and lust.
Let me haue the borde of olde Pithagoras,
Which of temperaunce a very father was.
Of Philosophers the moderate riches,
In youth or age I loued neuer excesse.
Some boast and promise, and put men in confort
Of large giftes, moste men be of this sort,
With mouth and promise for to be liberall,
When nede requireth, then geue they nought at all.
All onely in thee is fixed all my trust,
If thou fayle promise then rowle I in the dust,
My hope is faded, then shall my songe be dom
Like a Nightingale at the solstitium.
If thou fayle promise, my comfort cleane is lost,
Then may I hange my pipe vpon the poste:
Shet the shopwindowes for lacke of marchaundice,
Or els for because that easy is the price.

Codrus
Minalcas, if thou the court of Rome haste seene,
With forked cappes or els if thou haste beene,
Or noble Prelates by riches excellent,
Thou well perceyuest they be magnificent.
With them be clerkes and pleasaunt Oratours,
And many Poetes promoted to honours,
There is aboundaunce of all that men desire,
There men hath honour before they it require:
In such fayre fieldes without labour or payne
Both wealth and riches thou lightly mayst obtayne.

Minalcas
Thou art abused, and thinkest wrong doubtlesse
To thinke that I am desirous of riches.
To feede on rawe fleshe it is a wolues gise,
Wherfore he weneth all beastes do likewise.
Because the blinde man halteth and is lame,
In minde he thinketh that all men do the same.
So for that thy selfe desirest good in store,
All men thou iudgest infected with like sore.
Codrus, I couet not to haue aboundaunce,
Small thing me pleaseth, I aske but suffisaunce.
Graunt me a liuing sufficient and small,
And voyde of troubles, I aske no more at all.
But with that litle I holde my selfe content,
If sauce of sorowe my mindes not torment.
Of the court of Rome forsooth I haue heard tell,
With forked cappes it folly is to mell.
Micene and Morton be dead and gone certayne,
They, nor their like shall neuer returne agayne.
O Codrus Codrus, Augustus and Edwarde
Be gone for euer, our fortune is more harde.
The scarlet robes in songe haue small delite,
What should I trauayle, in Rome is no profite.
It geueth mockes and scornes manyfolde,
Still catching coyne, and gaping after golde,
Fraude and disceyte doth all the world fill,
And money reygneth and doth all thing at will.
And for that people would more intende to gile,
Vertue and truth be driuen into exile.
We are commaunded to trust for time to come
Till care and sorowe hath wasted our wisedome.
Hope of rewarde hath Poetes them to feede,
Nowe in the worlde fayre wordes be their mede.

Codrus
Then write of battayles, or actes of men bolde,
Or mightie princes, they may thee well vpholde,
These worthy rulers of fame and name royall
Of very reason ought to be liberall.
Some shalt thou finde betwene this place and Kent,
Which for thy labour shall thee right well content.

Minalcas
Yea, some shall I finde which be so prodigall,
That in vayne thinges spende and cleane wasteth all;
But howe should that man my pouertie sustayne,
Which nought reserueth his honoure to mayntayne.
For auncient bloud nor auncient honoure
In these our dayes be nought without treasure.
The coyne auaunceth, neede doth the name deiect;
And where is treasure olde honour hath effect.
But suche as be riche and in promotion
Shall haue my writing but in derision.
For in this season great men of excellence,
Haue to poemes no greater reuerence,
Then to a brothell or els a brothelhouse,
Mad ignoraunce is so contagious.

Codrus
It is not seming a Poet thus to iest
In wrathfull speeche, nor wordes dishonest.

Minalcas
It is no iesting be thou neuer so wroth,
In open language to say nothing but troth:
If peraduenture thou would haue troth kept still,
Prouoke thou not me to anger at thy will.
When wrath is moued, then reason hath no might,
The tonge forgetteth discretion and right.

Codrus
To moue thy minde I truely were full lothe,
To geue good councell is farre from being wroth.

Minalcas
As touching councell, my minde is plentifull,
But neede and troubles make all my reason dull,
If I had councell and golde in like plentie,
I tell thee Codrus, I had no neede of thee.
Howe should a Poet, poore, bare and indigent,
Indite the actes of princes excellent,
While scant is he worth a knife his pipe to mende,
To rounde the holes, to clense or picke the ende.
Beholde, my whittle almoste hath lost the blade,
So long time past is sith the same was made:
The haft is bruised, the blade not worth a strawe,
Rusty and toothed, not much vnlike a sawe.
But touching this hurt, it is but light and small,
But care and trouble is grieuous payne withall.
Good counsell helpeth, making the wittes stable,
Ill councell maketh the mindes variable,
And breaketh the brayne, diminishing the strength,
And all the reason confoundeth at the length.
Great men are shamed to geue thing poore or small,
And great they denye, thus geue they nought at all.
Beside this (Codrus) princes and men royall
In our inditinges haue pleasure faint and small.
So much power haue they with men of might,
As simple doues when Egles take their flight:
Or as great windes careth for leaues drye.
They liue in pleasure and wealth continually,
In lust their liking is, and in ydlenes,
Fewe haue their mindes cleane from all viciousnes:
Pleasure is thing whereto they moste intende,
That they moste cherishe, they would haue men concend.
If Poetes should their maners magnify,
They were supporters of blame and lechery:
Then should their writing be nothing commendable,
Conteyning iestes and deedes detestable
Of stinking Uenus or loue inordinate,
Of ribaude wordes which fall not for a state,
Of right oppressed, and beastly gluttony,
Of vice aduaunced, of slouth and iniury,
And other deedes infame and worthy blame,
Which were ouerlonge here to recount or name.
These to commende (Codrus) do not agree
To any Poete which loueth chastitie.

Codrus
What yes Minalcas, some haue bene stronge and bolde,
Which haue in battayle done actes manyfolde,
With mighty courage hauing them in fight,
And boldly biding for to maynteyne the right.
To thee could I nowe rehearse well nere a score
Of lust nor riches setting no force ne store.
Despising oft golde, sweete fare and beddes soft,
Which in colde harnes lye on the grounde full oft,
Closed in yron, which when their woundes blede,
Want bread and drinke them to restore and feede.
While some haue pleasure in softe golde orient,
With colde harde yron their minde is well content.
Such were the sonnes of noble lorde Hawarde,
Whose famous actes may shame a faint cowarde.
What could they more but their swete liues spende,
Their princes quarell and right for to defende:
Alas that battayle should be of that rigour,
When fame and honour riseth and is in floure,
With sodayne furour then all to quenche agayne,
But boldest heartes be nerest death certayne.

Minalcas
For certayne (Codrus) I can not that denye,
But some in battayle behaue them manfully,
Such as in battayle do actes marciall,
Laude worthy Poetes and stile heroicall:
The pleasaunt Muses which soundeth grauitie
Had helpe and fauour while these were in degree.
But sith stronge knightes hath left their exercise,
And manly vertue corrupted is with vice,
The famous Poetes which ornately indite
Haue founde no matter whereof to singe or write.
The wit thus dyeth of poetes auncient,
So doth their writing and ditie eloquent.
For lacke of custome, thought, care and penury,
These be confounders of pleasaunt poecy.
But if some prince, some king or conquerour
Hath won in armes or battayle great honour:
Full litle they force for to delate their fame,
That other realmes may laude or prayse their name.
Of time for to come they force nothing at all,
By fame and honour to liue as immortall:
It them suffiseth, they count ynough truely
That their owne realmes their names magnify.
And that for their life they may haue laude and fame,
After their death then seeke they for no name.
And some be vntaught and learned no science,
Or els they disdayne hye stile of eloquence:
Then standeth the Poet and his poeme arere,
When princes disdayne them for to reade or here.
Or els some other is drowned all in golde,
By couetise kept in cares manyfolde.
By flagrant ardour inflamed in suche case,
As in time past the olde king Midas was.
Then of poemes full small pleasure hath he,
Couetise and clergy full lewdly do agree.
Beside this (Codrus) with princes commonly
Be vntaught courtiers fulfilled with enuy.
Iugglers and Pipers, bourders and flatterers,
Baudes and Ianglers, and cursed aduoutrers:
And mo such other of liuing vicious,
To whom is vertue aduerse and odious.
These do good Poetes forth of all courtes chase,
By thousande maners of threatning and manace,
Sometime by fraudes, sometime by ill reporte,
And them assisteth all other of their sort:
Like as when curres light on a carion,
Or stinking rauens fed with corruption:
These two all other away do beate and chace,
Because they alone would occupy the place.
For vnto curres is carion moste meete,
And also rauens fele stinking thinges sweete.
Another thing yet is greatly more damnable,
Of rascolde poetes yet is a shamfull rable,
Which voyde of wisedome presumeth to indite,
Though they haue scantly the cunning of a snite:
And to what vices that princes moste intende,
Those dare these fooles solemnize and commende.
Then is he decked as Poete laureate,
When stinking Thais made him her graduate.
When Muses rested, she did her season note,
And she with Bacchus her camous did promote:
Such rascolde drames promoted by Thais,
Bacchus, Licoris, or yet by Testalis,
Or by suche other newe forged Muses nine
Thinke in their mindes for to haue wit diuine.
They laude their verses, they boast, they vaunt and iet,
Though all their cunning be scantly worth a pet.
If they haue smelled the artes triniall,
They count them Poetes hye and heroicall.
Such is their foly, so foolishly they dote,
Thinking that none can their playne errour note:
Yet be they foolishe, auoyde of honestie,
Nothing seasoned with spice of grauitie,
Auoyde of pleasure, auoyde of eloquence,
With many wordes, and fruitlesse of sentence.
Unapt to learne, disdayning to be taught,
Their priuate pleasure in snare hath them so caught:
And worst yet of all, they count them excellent,
Though they be fruitlesse, rashe and improuident.
To such Ambages who doth their minde incline,
They count all other as priuate of doctrine,
And that the faultes which be in them alone,
Also be common in other men eche one.
Thus bide good Poetes oft time rebuke and blame,
Because of other which haue despised name.
And thus for the bad the good be cleane abiect,
Their art and poeme counted of none effect.
Who wanteth reason good to discerne from ill
Doth worthy writers interprete at his will:
So both the laudes of good and not laudable
For lacke of knowledge become vituperable.

Codrus
In fayth Minalcas, I well allowe thy wit,
Yet would I gladly heare nowe some mery fit
Of mayde Marion, or els of Robin hood,
Or Bentleyes ale which chaseth well the bloud:
Of perte of Norwiche, or sauce of Wilberton,
Or buckishe Ioly well stuffed as a ton:
Talke of the bottell, let go the booke for nowe,
Combrous is cunning I make to God a vowe.
Speake of some matter which may refresh my brayne,
Trust me Minalcas, I shall rewarde thy payne.
Els talke of stoutenes, where is more brayne then wit,
Place moste abused that we haue spoke of yet.

Minalcas
Of all these thinges language to multiply,
Except I lyed, should be but vilany.
It is not seeming a Poete one to blame
All if his hauour hath won diffamed name.
And though such beastes pursue me with enuy,
Malgre for malice, that payment I defye.
My master teacheth, so doth reason and skill,
That man should restore, and render good for ill.

Codrus
Then talke of somewhat, lo it is longe to night,
Yet hath the sonne more then an houre of light,

Minalcas
If I ought common sounding to grauitie,
I feare to obtayne but small rewarde of thee:
But if I common of vice or wantonnes,
Then of our Lorde shall my rewarde be lesse,
Wherfore my ballade shall haue conclusion
On fruitfull clauses of noble Salomon.

Codrus
Sing on Minalcas, he may do litle thing,
Which to a ballade disdayneth the hearing:
But if thy ditie accorde not to my minde,
Then my rewarde and promise is behinde,
By mans maners it lightly doth appere,
What men desire, that loue they for to here.

Minalcas

Codrus
Ho there Minalcas, of this haue we ynough,
What should a Ploughman go farther then his plough,
What should a shepherde in wisedome wade so farre,
Talke he of tankarde, or of his boxe of tarre.
Tell somewhat els, wherein is more conforte,
So shall the season and time seeme light and short.

Minalcas
For thou of Hawarde nowe lately did recite,
I haue a ditie which Cornix did indite:
His death complayning, but it is lamentable
To heare a Captayne so good and honorable,
So soone withdrawen by deathes crueltie,
Before his vertue was at moste hye degree.
If death for a season had shewed him fauour,
To all his nation he should haue bene honour,
Alas, bolde heartes be nerest death in warre,
When out of daunger cowardes stande a farre.

Codrus
All if that ditie be neuer so lamentable,
Refrayne my teares I shall as I am able,
Begin Minalcas, tell of the bolde hawarde,
If fortune fauour hope after some rewarde.

Minalcas
I pray thee Codrus (my whey is weake and thin)
Lende me thy bottell to drinke or I begin.

Codrus
If ought be tasted, the remnant shall pall,
I may not aforde nowe for to spende out all.
We sit in shadowe, the Sunne is not feruent,
Call for it after, then shall I be content.

Minalcas
Still thou desirest thy pleasure of my art,
But of thy bottell nought wilt thou yet depart,
Though thou be nigard, and nought wilt geue of thine,
Yet this one time thou shalt haue part of mine.
Nowe harken Codrus, I tell mine elegy,
But small is the pleasure of dolefull armony.

The description of the Tovvre of vertue and honour, into the which the noble Hawarde contended to enter by worthy actes of chiualry.

Minalcas speaketh

Codrus
Minalcas I sweare by holy Peters cope,
If all thing fortune as I haue trust and hope,
If happy winde blowe I shall or it be longe
Comfort thy sorowe and well rewarde thy songe,
What tary man a while till better fortune come,
If my part be any then shall thy part be some.

Minalcas
If thou in purpose so to rewarde my hire,
God graunt thee Codrus thy wishing and desire.

Codrus
Forsooth Minalcas I wishe thee so in dede,
And that shalt thou knowe if fortune with me spede,
Farewell Minalcas, for this time, dieu te garde,
Neare is winter the worlde is to harde.

Minalcas
Go wretched nigarde, God sende thee care and payne,
Our Lorde let thee neuer come hither more agayne,
And as did Midas, God turne it all to golde
That euer thou touchest or shalt in handes holde,
For so muche on golde is fixed thy liking,
That thou despisest both vertue and cunning.

The fyfth Egloge of Alexander Barclay, entituled Amintas and Faustus, of the disputation of Citzens and men of the Countrey.

The Argument

In colde Ianuary when fire is comfortable,
And that the fieldes be nere intollerable,
When shepe and pastours leaueth fielde & folde,
And drawe to cotes for to eschue the colde,
What time the verdure of ground and euery tree,
By frost and stormes is priuate of beautee,
And euery small birde thinketh the winter longe,
Which well appeareth by ceasing of their songe.
At this same season two herdes freshe of age
At time appoynted met both in one cotage,
The first hight Faustus, the seconde Amintas,
Harde was to knowe which better husbande was,
For eche of them both set more by his pleasour
Then by aboundaunce of riches or treasour.
Amintas was formall and proper in his geare,
A man on his cloke should not espye a heare,
Nor of his clothing one wrinkle stande a wry,
In London he learned to go so manerly,
High on his bonet stacke a fayre brouche of tinne,
His purses lining was simple, poore and thinne:
But a lordes stomake and a beggers pouche
Full ill accordeth, suche was this comely slouch,
In the towne and citie so longe ietted had he
That from thence he fled for det and pouertie,
No wafrer, tauerne, alehouse or tauerner,
To him was there hid while he was hosteler,
First was he holsteler, and then a wafrer,
Then a costermonger, and last a tauerner,
About all London there was no proper prim
But long time had bene familier with him,
But when coyne fayled no fauour more had he,
Wherfore he was glad out of the towne to flee.
But shepheard Faustus was yet more fortunate,
For alway was he content with his estate,
Yet nothing he had to comfort him in age,
Saue a milch cowe and a poore cotage,
The towne he vsed, and great pleasour he had
To see the citie oft time while he was lad.
For milke and butter he thither brought to sell,
But neuer thought he in citie for to dwell,
For well he noted the mad enormitie,
Enuy, fraude, malice and suche iniquitie
Which reigne in cities, therefore he led his life
Uplande in village without debate and strife.
When these two herdes were thus together met,
Hauing no charges nor labour them to let,
Their shepe were all sure and closed in a cote,
Them selues lay in litter pleasauntly and hote.
For costly was fire in hardest of the yere,
When men haue moste nede then euery thing is dere,
For passing of time and recreation,
They both delited in communication,
Namely they pleaded of the diuersitie
Of rurall husbandes and men of the citie.
Faustus accused and blamed citizens,
To them imputing great faultes, crime and sins:
Amintas blamed the rurall men agayne,
And eche of them both his quarell did maynteyne,
All wrath despised, all malice and ill will
Cleane layde apart, eche did rehearse his skill,
But first Amintas thus to speake began,
As he which counted him selfe the better man.
Amintas first speaketh
The winter snowes, all couered is the grounde,
The north wind blowes sharpe & with ferefull sound,
The longe ise sicles at the ewes hang,
The streame is frosen, the night is cold & long,
Where botes rowed nowe cartes haue passage,
From yoke the oxen be losed and bondage
The ploweman resteth auoyde of businesse,
Saue when he tendeth his harnes for to dresse,
Mably his wife sitteth before the fyre
All blacke and smoky clothed in rude attire,
Sething some grewell, and sturring the pulment
Of pease or frument, a noble meat for lent,
The summer season men counted nowe laudable
Whose feruour before they thought intollerable,
The frosty winter and wether temperate
Which men then praysed they nowe disprayse and hate,
Colde they desired, but nowe it is present
They braule and grutche their mindes not content.
Thus mutable men them pleased can not holde,
At great heat grutching, and grutching when it is cold.

Faustus
All pleasour present of men is counted small,
Desire obtayned some counteth nought at all,
What men hope after that semeth great and deare,
A[s] light by distaunce appeareth great and cleare,

Amintas
Eche time and season hath his delite and ioyes,
Loke in the stretes beholde the little boyes,
Howe in fruite season for ioy they sing and hop,
In lent is eche one full busy with his top,
And nowe in winter for all the greeuous colde
All rent and ragged a man may them beholde,
They haue great pleasour supposing well to dine,
When men be busied in killing of fat swine,
They get the bladder and blowe it great and thin,
With many beanes or peason put within,
It ratleth, soundeth, and shineth clere and fayre,
While it is throwen and caste vp in the ayre,
Eche one contendeth and hath a great delite
With foote and with hande the bladder for to smite,
If it fall to grounde they lifte it vp agayne,
This wise to labour they count it for no payne,
Renning and leaping they driue away the colde.
The sturdie plowmen lustie, strong and bolde
Ouercommeth the winter with driuing the foote ball,
Forgetting labour and many a greuous fall.

Faustus
Men labour sorer in fruiteles vanitie
Then in fayre workes of great vtilitie,
In suche trifles we labour for domage,
Worke we despise which bringeth aduauntage.

Amintas
Touching their labour it can not me displease,
While we be in rest and better here at ease
In the warme litter, small payne hath little hire,
Here may we walow while milke is on the fire,
If it be crudded of bread we nede no crome,
If thou bide Faustus thereof thou shalt haue some.

Faustus
Winter declareth harde nede and pouertie,
Then men it feleth which haue necessitie,
Truely Amintas I tell thee mine intent,
We fonde yong people be muche improuident.
We stray in summer without thought, care or hede,
Of suche thinges as we in winter shall haue nede,
As soone as we heare a bagpipe or a drone,
Then leaue we labour there is our money gone,
But when the north winde with stormes violent
Hath brought colde winter poore wretches to torment,
And voyde of leaues is euery bough and tree,
That one may clerely the empty nestes see,
Then is all our woll and lambes gone and solde,
We tremble naked and dye almost for colde,
Our shoulders all bare, our hose and showes rent,
By rechlesse youth thus all is gone and spent.
This commeth for want of good prouision,
Youth dayneth counsell, scorning discretion,
When pouertie thus hath caught vs in hir snare
Then doth the winter our mad folly declare.
Nowe truely Amintas I tell to thee my mate,
That towne dwellers liue greatly more fortunate,
And somewhat wiser be they also then we,
They gather treasour and riches in plentie,
They spoyle the lambes and foxes of their skin
To lap their wombes and fat sides therin,
In lust, in pleasour, and good in aboundaunce
Passe they their liues, we haue not suffisaunce.

Amintas
The men of the earth be fooles eche one,
We poore shepheardes be not to blame alone,
More folly vexeth the men of the citie,
I graunt vs ouersene, they madder be then we,
Though I long season did in the citie dwell
I fauour it not, troth dare I boldly tell,
Though citizens be of liuing reprouable,
Yet fortune to them is muche more fauourable,
Fortune to them is like a mother dere,
As a stepmother she doth to vs appeare,
Them she exalteth to honour and richesse,
Us she oppresseth in care and wretchednesse,
What is vayne fortune but thing vituperable,
An vnhappy madnesse, vnworthy and vnstable.

Faustus
No doubt Amintas let me be fortunate,
And then shall I soone become a great estate,
My coyne shall encrease, then shortly shall I be
Called to office to gouerne a citie,
All men shall heare me and geue to me credence,
The commontie bare head shall do me reuerence,
All other rulers, lowe men and commontie
Shall gladly desire to haue aduise of me.
If I be happy and fortune on me smile,
Thus shall I ascende and mounte within a while,
Aske thou of Cornix, declare to thee he can,
Howe coyne more than cunning exalteth euery man.

Amintas
O Faustus Faustus, thou erres from the way,
This is not fortune, full little do she may,
Though I my selfe rehearsed but lately,
That fortune hath might a man to magnifie,
I kept the opinion of witlesse commontie,
And grounded my selfe on none aucthoritie.
It is not fortune which graunteth excellence,
True honour is wonne by vertue and sapience,
If men get honour by worldly pollicy
It is no honour but wretched misery,
God maketh mightie, God geueth true honour
To godly persons of godly behauour.
God first disposed and made diuersitie
Betwene rude plowmen and men of the citie,
And in what maner Cornix thine owne mate
As we went talking recounted to me late.

Faustus
What tolde thee Cornix, tell me I thee pray,
He had good reason suche thinges to conuay,
His wit was pregnaunt, no reason did he want,
But truth to declare his money was but scant.
But what then? some man hath plentie of cunning
Which hath of riches small plentie or nothing.

Amintas
In hearing my tale if thou haue thy delite,
Then take some labour, for nowe is good respite,
Faustus arise thou out of this litter hote,
Go see and visite our wethers in the cote,
Arise, go and come, thou art both yong and able,
After great colde heate is more comfortable,
Go man for shame, he is a slouthfull dawe
Which leaueth profite for pleasour of hote strawe.

Faustus
Thinke not Amintas that Faustus hath disdayne,
To do thy pleasour I shall refuse no payne,
Loke here Amintas, Lorde benedicite,
The colde snowe reacheth muche higher then my knee,
Scant may the houses suche burthen well susteyne,
Lesse hurte is tempest and sodayne storme of rayne,
On toppe of the chimney there is a heape of snowe
So hye extending our steple is more lowe,
The snowe is so white and the sunne so bright,
That playnly Amintas amased is my sight.

Amintas
Geue to the beastes good rowen in plentie,
And stoppe all the holes where thou canst faultes see,
Stop them with stubble, eft daube them with some clay
And when thou hast done then come agayne thy way,
Nought is more noysome to flocke, cotage nor folde,
Then soden tempest and vnprouided colde.
What nowe already frende Faustus here agayne,
By short conclusion bad worke apeareth playne,
Thy comming agayne me thinke is all to soone
Ought to haue ended or profite to haue done.

Faustus
This comberous wether made me more diligent,
I ran all the way both as I came and went,
And there I sped me and toke the greater payne,
Because I lightly would be with thee agayne,
After great colde it is full swete God wot
To tumble in the strawe or in the litter hot.
Nowe be we Faustus in hay vp to the chin,
Fulfill thy promise, I pray thee nowe begin,
Tell the beginning of the diuersitie
Betwene rurall men and men of the citie,
I knowe the reason and talking of Cornix,
But since I him sawe be passed yeres sixe,
His iocunde iestes made me ofte time full glad,
Our first acquayntaunce was when I was a lad:
Nowe speake my Amintas, and I shall holde me still
Till thou haue ended and spoken all thy will.

Amintas
This great difference and first diuersitie
Betwene rurall men and them of the citie,
Began in this wise as Cornix to me tolde,
Whiche well coulde common of many matters olde.
First when the worlde was founded and create,
And Adam and Eue were set in their estate,
Our Lorde conioyned them both as man and wife,
To liue in concorde the season of their life,
And them commaunded mankinde to multiply,
By generation to get them progeny,
They both obeyed this swete commaundement
With faythfull heartes and labour diligent,
But would to Iesu, they had bene wise and ware
From that fatall fruit which kindled all their care.
But to my purpose: first Eue had children two,
A sonne and a daughter, our Lorde disposed so,
And so yere by yere two twins she brought,
When man assisteth God worketh not for nought,
By suche maner these two did them apply,
The worlde to fulfill, encrease and multiply.
At the laste our Lord at ende of fiftene yere
To Eue our mother did on a time appeare,
And in what maner nowe heare me Faustus:
Adam on the fielde foorth with his wethers was,
His flocke then he fed without all dread and feare,
Then were no wowers him nor his wife to deare,
He was not troubled that time with ielousie,
Then was no body to do that villany,
No horned kiddes were liuing at that time,
Long after this began this cursed crime,
Then was no cucko betwene the east and west
To lay wrong egges within a straunge nest,
Then none suspected the liuing of his wife,
Wedlocke was quiet and pleasaunt without strife.
But after when people began to multiply
Then fyrst was kindled the flame of ielousy,
For that man committeth sore dredeth he againe,
Fraude feareth falshode, suspecting oft in vayne,
A thefe suspecteth all men of felony,
Breakers of wedlocke be full of ielousy,
And therfore all suche as with the sworde do strike
Feare to be serued with the scaberd like.
Thus while that Adam was pitching of his folde
Eue was at home and sat on the thresholde,
With all hir babes and children hir about,
Eyther on hir lappe within or else without,
Nowe had she pleasour them colling and bassing,
And eft she was busy them lousing and kembing,
And busy with butter for to annoynt their necke,
Sometime she mused them pleasauntly to decke.
In the meane time while she was occupied,
Our Lorde drawing nere she sodenly espied,
Anone she blushed, reuoluing in hir minde,
That if our Lorde there should all those babes finde
So soone engendred, suppose he nedes must
That it was token of to great carnall lust,
And all ashamed as fast as euer she might
She hasted and hid some of them out of sight,
Some vnder hay, some vnder strawe and chaffe,
Some in the chimney, some in a tubbe of draffe,
But suche as were fayre and of their stature right
As wise and subtill reserued she in sight.
Anone came our Lorde vnto the woman nere,
And hir saluted with swete and smiling chere,
And saide: O woman let me thy children see,
I come to promote eche after his degree.
First was the woman amased nere for drede,
At laste she commaunded the eldest to procede,
And gaue them comfort to haue audacitie,
Though they were bolder and doubted lesse then she,
God on them smiled, and them comforted so
As we with whelpes and birdes vse to do,
And then at the laste to the moste olde of all
He saide: haue thou scepter of rowme imperiall,
Thou art the eldest thou shalt haue most honour,
Iustice requireth that thou be Emperour.
Then to the seconde he saide: it is seming
That thou be haunced to the honour of a king.
And vnto the thirde he gaue suche dignitie,
To gide an army a noble duke to be,
And saide: haue thou here harde yron and armour,
Be thou in battayle a head and gouernour,
And so foorth to other as they were in degree,
Eche he promoted to worthy dignitie.
Some made he Earles, some lordes, some barons,
Some squires, some knightes, some hardy champions,
And then brought he foorth the cepter and the crowne,
The sworde, the pollax, the helme and haberiowne,
The streamer, standard, the ghetton and the mace,
The speare and the shielde, nowe Eue had great solace,
He gaue them armour, and taught them pollicy
All thing to gouerne concerning chiualry.
Then made he iudges, maiors and gouernours,
Marchauntes, shiriffes and other protectours,
Aldermen, burgesses and other in degree,
After the custome of court and of citie.
Thus all the children then being in presence,
He set in honour and rowme of excellence,
Oft time reuoluing and turning in his minde
The caduke honours belonging to mankinde.
In the meane season Eue very ioyfull was
That all these matters were brought so well to passe,
Then flewe she in haste for to haue pleasour more,
And them presented whom she had hid before,
And vnrequired presenting them saide she,
O Lorde these also my very children be,
These be the fruite also of my wome,
Hid for shamefastnesse within my house at home,
O Lorde most mightie, hye father, creatour,
Withsaue to graunt them some office of honour,
Their heere was rugged poudred all with chaffe,
Some full of strawes, some other full of draffe,
Some with cobwebbes and dust were so arayde
That one beholding on them might be afrayde,
Blacke was their colour and bad was their figure,
Uncomely to sight, mishapen of stature,
Our Lorde not smiled on them to shewe pleasaunce,
But saide to them thus with troubled countenaunce:
Ye smell all smoky, of stubble and of chaffe,
Ye smell of the grounde, of wedes and of draffe,
And after your sent and tedious sauour
Shall be your rowmes and all your behauour,
None can a pitcher turne to a siluer pece,
Nor make goodly silke of a gotes flece,
And harde is also to make withouten fayle
A bright two hande sworde of a cowes tayle.
No more will I make, howbeit that I can,
Of a vile villayne a noble gentleman,
Ye shall be plowmen and tillers of the grounde,
To payne and labour shall ye alway be bounde,
Some shall kepe oxen, and some shall hogges kepe,
Some shall be threshers, some other shall kepe shepe,
To digge and to delue, to hedge and to dike,
Take this for your lot and other labour like,
To drudge and to driuell in workes vile and rude,
This wise shall ye liue in endlesse seruitude,
Reaping and mowing of fodder, grasse and corne,
Yet shall towne dwellers oft laugh you vnto scorne.
Yet some shall we graunt to dwell in the citie,
For to make puddinges and butchers for to be,
Coblers or tinkers or els costarde iaggers,
Hostelers or daubers, or droupy water laggers,
And suche other sorte whose dayly businesse,
Passeth in workes and labour of vilenesse,
To stoupe and to sweate, and subiect to become;
And neuer to be ridde from bondage and thraldome.
Then brought our Lorde to them the carte and harowe,
The gad & the whip, the mattoke & the whelebarowe,
The spade, the shouell, the forke and the plough,
And all suche tooles, then bad he them be tough,
And neuer to grutche at labour nor at payne,
For if they so did it should be thing in vayne.
Thus saide the father and Lorde omnipotent,
And then he ascended vp to the firmament,
Thus began honour and thus began bondage,
And diuersitie of citie and village,
And seruile labour first in the worlde began,
Demaunde of Cornix, declare the truth he can,
This tolde me Cornix which wonned in the fen,
I trust his saying before a thousande men,

Faustus
Is this the matter praysed of thee so sore?
A strawe for fables I set by them no store,
It were a maruell if Cornix matter tolde
To laude of shepheardes, or plowmen to vpholde,
He dwelled in the towne and helde with the citie,
Till nede him moued as it hath driuen thee.
When none of you both dare to the towne resorte
Among vs shepheardes yet finde ye here comfort,
So both thou and he be greatly for to blame,
To eate ou[r] vitayle and then to hurt our name.
The yong men of townes to mocke vs haue a gise,
Naught else can they do saue lies to deuise,
This vayne inuention and foolishe fayned fable
Agaynst rurall men they haue delite to bable,
And nought they ashame as blinde wretches vnwise,
Of God almightie suche leasinges to deuise,
This scoruy scoffing declareth openly
Agaynst rurall men rebuke and iniury,
But thou art so rude thy paunch is so fatte,
Agaynst thine owne selfe thou busy art to chatte,
All if this same iest is thy rebuke and blame,
Thy dulled reason can not perceyue the same.
But I shall proue thee that rurall people be
More wise and noble then they of the citie,
And that the citie is full of fraude and strife,
When we in village haue good and quiet life.

Amyntas
I pray thee Faustus herefore be thou not wroth,
To haue displeasour of thee I were right loth,
I thought no mauger, I tolde it for a bourde,
If I had knowen I would haue said no worde:
But say thy pleasour, nowe tell foorth thy sentence,
And I shall heare thee with sober pacience.

Faustus
I shall not deny our payne and seruitude,
I knowe that plowmen for the most part be rude,
Nowe shall I tell thee high matters true and olde,
Which curteous Candidus vnto me once tolde,
Nought shall I forge nor of no leasing bable,
This is true history and no surmised fable.
At the beginning of thinges first of all,
God made shepheardes and other men rurall,
But the first plowman and tiller of the grounde
Was rude and sturdie, disdayning to be bounde,
Rough and stubborne, and Cayn men did him call,
He had of mercy and pitie none at all,
But like as the grounde is dull, stony and tough,
Stubborne and heauy, rebelling to the plough.
So the first plowman was strong and obstinate,
Frowarde, selfewilled, and mouer of debate;
But the first shepheard was meke and nothing fell,
Humble as a lambe, and called was Abell.
A shepe geueth milke and little hath of gall,
So this good Abell had none ill will at all.
No shepheard founde him iniurious nor wrong
Induring his life while he was them among,
And ofte of his flocke made he good sacrifice,
Of calfe or lambes, suche as were moste of price,
And of fat wethers the best not spared he,
To honour our Lorde and please his deitee.
Thus had he fauour with God omnipotent,
So pleasing our Lorde, that to this time present
From first beginning of earth and man mortall,
God hath had fauour to people pastorall,
And poore shepheardes, their cotes folde and shepe,
Angels haue come for to defende and kepe,
Some shepheardes were in lande of Asserye,
Which after haue bene promoted very hye,
So that from cotes and houses pastorall
They haue assended to dignitie royall,
Charges and labour so doth my reason blinde,
That call their names can I not vnto minde,
Yet let me studie auoyding perturbaunce,
So may I call them vnto remembraunce.
Lo nowe I haue them, Abraham, Iacob,
Loth, Isaac, yong Ioseph and Iob,
These nowe rehearsed and all the patriarkes
Haue not disdayned poore shepe nor heardes workes,
Them hath our Lorde called from humble thinges,
And made them princes, dukes or els kinges,
So haue they chaunged their clothing pastorall,
With golden garment, purpure and gay pall,
And then haue after by magnanimitie
Brought noble realmes in their captiuitie,
And haue in battayle bene mightie conquerours,
Won fame immortall and excellent honours.
Paris was pastour the sonne of Priamus,
Pan, Silene, Orpheus, and ioly Tyterus,
Saule was shepheard, so was he in like wise
Which would haue offred his sonne in sacrifice,
Moyses was shepheard and was his flocke keping,
When he came bare foote vnto the bushe flaming,
Commaunded by God to leaue his flocke and go
On Gods message to sturdy Pharao.
Also Apollo was herde sometime in Grece,
Nothing disdayning to handle Ewe and flece:
As write Poetes, he left diuine honour,
Glad among wethers to be a gouernour.
The blessed angels brought to such men as we
Message of concorde, of peace and vnitie,
And song that Gloria, flying in the skye,
Which our syr Sampson doth sing so meryly.
First had shepherdes sure tiding by message
That God was made man to bye humane linage,
And herdes instruct by voyce angelicall
Sawe God incarnate and borne first of all.
And this was pleasure of Gods Maiestie
That simple herdes him first of all should see,
And in their maner make vnto him offringes
Before estates, as riche and mightie kinges.
The ioly Harper, which after was a kinge,
And slewe the giant so stoutly with his sling
Was first a shepherde or he had dignitie,
Right so were many, as stoute and bolde as he:
And our Lorde Iesu, our God and Sauiour
Named himselfe a shepherde or pastour.
Right so he named men meeke and pacient
His flocke and his shepe for maners innocent:
Thinke not these wordes glosed nor in vayne,
They are the Gospell, so saith syr Peter playne.
I sawe them my selfe well paynted on the wall,
Late gasing vpon our Churche Cathedrall:
I sawe great wethers in picture and small lambes,
Daunsing, some sleeping, some sucking of their dams,
And some on the grounde me semed lying still,
Then sawe I horsemen at pendant of an hill,
And the three kinges with all their company,
Their crownes glistering bright and oriently,
With their presentes and giftes misticall,
All this behelde I in picture on the wall.
But the poore pastours as people innocent
First sawe the Crib of our Lorde omnipotent.
Thus it appereth God loueth poore pastours,
Sith he them graunted to haue so great honours.
Our Lorde hath fauour both to shepe and folde,
As it appereth by these historyes olde.
Our Lorde is ready to succour the village,
Despising townes for malice and outrage.
For God is content with simple pouertie,
Pride he despiseth and wrongfull dignitie.

Amintas
In good fayth Faustus, thy tale is veritable,
Grounded on learning, and greatly commendable:
Lately my selfe to see that picture was,
I sawe the maunger, I sawe the oxe and asse.
I well remember the people in my minde,
Me thinke yet I see the blacke faces of Inde:
Me thinke yet I see the herdes and the kinges,
And in what maner were ordred their offeringes.
As long as I liue the better shall I loue
The name of herdes, and citezins reproue.
Wherfore mate Faustus, I pray God geue thee care,
If thou the faultes of any citie spare.
Speake on and spare not, and touche their errour,
Yet may we common more then a large houre.

Faustus
Then turne we to talke a while of citizens,
To touche their foly and parcell of their sinnes,
Thinke not Amintas that they of the citie
Liue better life or wiselyer then we.
All if their cloathing be doubled for the colde,
And though they glister so gayly in bright golde,
Shining in silkes, in purpure or veluet,
In furred robes, or clokes of scarlet,
And we poore herdes in russet cloke and hood:
It is not clothing can make a man be good.
Better is in ragges pure liuing innocent
Then a soule defiled in sumptuous garment.
Trust me Amintas, my selfe with these same eyne
Haue in the citie such often times seene
Iet in their silkes, and brag in the market,
As they were lordes I oft haue seene them iet,
Which are starke beggers, and liue in neede at home,
And oft go to bed for neede with empty wombe.
Nought is more foolish then such wretches be,
Thus with proude port to cloke their pouertie.
What is neede cloked or fayned aboundaunce,
Pouertie, slouth, and wretched gouernaunce?
What is fayre semblaunce with thought and heauynes?
Forsooth nought els but cloked foolishnes.
And some haue I seene (which is a thing damnable)
That while they would haue a liuing delectable,
Rest at their pleasure, and fare deliciously,
Haue suffred their wiues defiled wetingly,
Haue solde their daughters flowre of virginitie,
O dede vnworthy, O blinde iniquitie:
Fame, honour, the soule, and chastitie be solde
For wretched liuing, O cursed thirst of golde.
O damnable deede, so many for to spill,
One wretched carkasse and belly for to fill?
What thing is viler? what more abhominable?
What thing more foolish, more false and detestable?

Amintas
What if they can not to other craft them geue?
Nor finde other way or meanes for to liue?
Nede hath no lawe, of two euils perdie
To chose the least ill is none iniquitie,

Faustus
Sith they haue as many soules as haue we,
As much of reason, and handes like plentie,
Why may they not to honest work them geue;
And finde other way and maner for to liue.
No lawe permitteth nor willeth man perdie
To commit murther for harde necessitie,
No more should any his soule defile or kill
For lust transitory, or pleasure to fulfill.
Yet be in cities mo suing foolishnes,
Wening by craft for to haue great riches:
By which craftes no man hath riches founde,
Sith time that our Lord first fourmed man & ground:
As Alkemistes wening by pollicy
Nature to alter, and coyne to multiply.
Some wash rude metall with licours manifolde
Of herbes, wening to turne it into golde.
All pale and smoky be such continuall,
And after labour they lose their life and all:
Another sorte is to this not much vnlike,
Which spende their times in wretched art magike,
Thereby supposing some treasure to haue founde,
Which many yeres is hid within the grounde.
What is more foolish, more full of vanitie,
Or more repugning to fayth and probitie,
Because they would flye good busynes and payne,
They vse such trifles and wretched thinges vayne.
They proue all thinges because they would do nought,
Still seeking newes, still troubled in their thought:
Because they woulde flee the labour of the lande,
All ydle trifles such taketh on their hande:
Still be they busy, and neuer come to ende,
To thing profitable do fewe of them intende.
Some liue by rapine, gile, fraude and pollicy,
Penury, oppression, and some on vsury.
Some gladly borowe, and neuer pay agayne,
Some keepe from seruauntes the stipend of their payne:
Some rest men giltlesse, and cast them in prison,
Some bye stronge thieues out of the dungeon.
Some faune, some flatter, man trust not when they smile,
Then frame they fraudes men slyly to begile.
Some in one houre more promise to thee will,
Then all his dayes he thinketh to fulfill:
By thousande meanes of fraude and craftynes
Lye they in wayte for honour and riches.
They feede the riche, and often let the poore
Dye for pure colde and hunger at their doore.
We feed fat oxen, they marmosets keepe,
We feede fat kiddes, lambes and good sheepe:
And they feede hawkes, apes, horse and houndes,
And small is their ioy saue here within our boundes.
We bring them butter, egges, cheese and wooll,
Tankerdes of milke and creame fleeting full:
All maner fleshe, and all their whole liuing,
Without our labour truely they haue nothing.
We are the feeders of wethers and fat hogges,
And they of the Citie feede birdes and great dogges.
Nowe iudge Amintas, which of these seemeth thee
Of moste aduauntage and moste nobilitie.

Amintas
If by our labour proceedeth more riches,
And moste aduauntage, as seemeth truth doubtles,
Then this I meruayle that they of the Citie
Haue so great plentie, and we necessitie:
The cause can not I call to my remembraunce,
Wherof proceedeth their store and aboundaunce.

Faustus
The cause I tolde thee, what wouldest thou haue more,
By fraude and falshood haue they so mikle store.
Seest thou not playnly howe they of the Citie
Dayly deceyue our poore simplicitie.
With what crueltie against vs they rage,
By false oppression or fayre fayned language.
They thinke it pleasure that sorowe on them hap,
By glosed wordes to take vs in a trap:
The moste of them all count it an almes deede
Us heardes to fraude, this is a gentle meede:
For them we labour in heate, colde, winde, and rayne,
And fraude and disceyte they pay vs for our payne.
With mindes and tonge they study and they muse
Both day and night vs heardes to abuse:
Their wit and body all whole do they apply,
For vs poore wretches to study pollicie:
And after their fraude, gile and deception,
Then do they laugh vs vnto derision.

Amintas
Howe came thou to knowledge of this enormitie,
And of these maners of them of the Citie:
My selfe there wonned, and there was conuersant,
Of some of these thinges yet am I ignorant.

Faustus
Thou could not perceyue well their enormitie,
Perchaunce thy maners did with their life agree:
There seldome is seene great contradiction,
Where men accordeth in disposition.
No fault with Moriens is blacke difformitie,
Because all the sort like of that fauour be.
So could thou not see their vices nor them blame,
Because thine owne life was filed with the same.
But howe I knewe them nowe shall I tell to thee,
While I brought butter to sell to the Citie,
And other vitayle, I vsed milke to crye,
Then had I knowledge with an appotecary:
Of him I learned much falshood and practise
Not to the purpose the same to exercise:
He could make plasters and newe commixtions,
In valour scant worth a couple of onions,
Yet solde he the same as it were golde so dere,
Namely if happened any infectife yere.
I was acquainted with many an hucster,
With a costardmonger and with an hostler.
This thiefe was crafty poore people to begile,
None like I suppose within a dosen mile:
Among all his other fraudes and his crimes
He solde one bottell of hey a dosen times.
And in the Otes could he well drop a candle,
Well knewe he howe his gestes for to handle.
And in the same Inne there dwelled a prety prim,
She could well flatter and glose with him and him.
And necke a measure, her smirking gat her sale,
She made ten shillinges of one barell of ale.
Whom she begiled in pottes, she was fayne
To win them with fresh and paynted looke agayne.
And as I remember, her name was wanton Besse,
Who least with her dealt he thriued not the lesse.
What needeth more processe, no craft of the Citie
Is, but is mingled with fraude and subtiltie:
Saue onely the craft of an Apoticary,
That is all fraude and gilefull pollicy,
But all these would sweare that they were innocent,
Or they to the Citie did first of all frequent.
There learned they theft and fraude to exercise,
And man of nature is moued soone to vice.
Some be also which spend their patrimony
Which was to them lefte by their olde auncestry
On queanes, baudes, in riot and dronkennes,
Their name defiling, despising all goodnes.
With cost and paynes such busyly labour,
Seeking for shame and death before their houre.
Say where is custome of fornication,
Incest, aduoutry and defloration,
Forcing of women, murther and rapine,
Discorde and brauling and liuing like to swine:
Malice, enuy, and all iniquitie
Do these not reygne in middes of the Citie?
All newe abusion prouoking men to sins
Had first beginning among the Citezins.
Where dwell great princes and mightie gouernours,
Their life despising for to haue vayne honours,
Capitaynes, souldiers, and all like company,
Which put for money their life in ieopardie.
These dwell not vplande, but haunt the Citie,
Poore herdes fight not but for necessitie,
For libertie, life, and Iustice to vpholde,
Towne dwellers fight for vayne honour and golde.
We fight our frendes and housholde to defende,
They fight for malice to riches to ascende.
Our cause and quarell is to maynteyne the right,
But all on selfe will without reason they fight.
They seeke by woundes for honour and riches,
And driue the weakest to hardest busynes.
O blinde souldier, why settest thou thy hart
For a vayne stipende against a mortall dart.
By thousand perils thou takest thy passage,
For small lucre renning to great domage.
Their sweete life they geue for a poore stipende,
And oft lese they both, and heauen at the ende.
While some contendeth and fighteth for his wage,
His life he spendeth, then farewell aduauntage.
What is more foolish or liker to madnes,
Then to spende the life for glory and riches?
What thing is glory, laude, praysing or fame,
What honour, reporte, or what is noble name?
Forsooth nought but voyce of witlesse commontie,
And vayne opinion subiect to vanitie.
Processe of yeres, reuoluing of reason
Bringeth all these soone in obliuion.
When life is faded all these be out of sight,
Like as with the Sun departeth the day light,
They all be fooles which meddle with the sea,
And otherwise might liue in their owne country.
He is but a foole which runneth to tempest,
And might liue on lande in suertie and in rest.
He is but a foole which hath of good plentie,
And it disdayneth to vse and occupy.
And he which liueth in care and wretchednes
His heyre to promote to landes and riches
Is moste foole of all, to spare in misery,
With goodes and landes his heyre to magnifye.
And he which leaueth that thing for to be done
Unto his daughter, executour or sonne,
Which he him self might in his life fulfill,
He is but a foole, and hath but litle skill.
But all these sortes within the citie be,
They want of wisedome and sue enormitie.
And also the youth in dayes festiuall
Do nought but folowe their lustes bestiall.
The weeke they vse them in worldly busynes,
The Sunday serueth to folowe viciousnes.
What time the shoppes be closed all and shit,
Then is the market with Thais, beale and kit,
On hyest dayes such ware is namely solde,
For nought it waxeth, if it be once olde.
Upon the Sonday when man should God honour,
Left is good labour, ensued is errour.
Oft time the olde freer that wonned in Grenewitch
Against such folyes was boldly wont to preache:
He saide: where baudes and their abusion
Were wont to abide in one vile place alone,
Nowe are they sprinkled and sparkled abrode,
Like wise as shippes be docked in a rode,
That harde is to knowe good women from the ill,
By ill example good are in doubt to spill.
Baudes be suffered so where them lust to bide,
That the strete fadeth vpon the water side.
Cate, Gill, Mably, Phillis and feate Ieny,
Because of the citie nowe can not get one peny.
Uile Thais was wont in angles for to be,
Nowe hath she power in all the whole citie.

Amintas
Thou passest measure (Faustus) by God a[u]owe,
Thou sayest of malice right well perceyue I nowe:
Mitigate thy minde and tonge, for it is shame
Men of the citie thus largely to blame.
What man is faultlesse, remember the village,
Howe men vplondish on holy dayes rage.
Nought can them tame, they be a beastly sort,
In sweate and labour hauing moste chiefe comfort.
On the holy day assoone as morne is past,
When all men resteth while all the day doth last,
They drinke, they banket, they reuell and they iest,
They leape, they daunce, despising ease and rest.
If they once heare a bagpipe or a drone,
Anone to the elme or Oke they be gone.
There vse they to daunce, to gambolde and to rage,
Such is the custome and vse of the village.
When the ground resteth from rake, plough and wheles
Then moste they it trouble with burthen of their heles.
To Bacchus they banket, no feast is festiuall,
They chide and they chat, they vary and they brall,
They rayle and they route, they reuell and they crye,
Laughing and leaping, and making cuppes drye.

Faustus
What, stint thou thy chat, these wordes I defye,
It is to a vilayne rebuke and vilany.
Such rurall solace so plainly for to blame,
Thy wordes sound to thy rebuke and shame.

Amintas
Not so frend Faustus, I spake it but in game,
Agayne to the Citie returne in Gods name.

Faustus
Yet of the citie mo fooles tell can I,
Which wene to number the sterres in the sky,
By them supposing eche desteny to tell,
But all be fooles that with this matter mell.
Yet be they madder which fixe their intent
To searche the nature of God omnipotent:
And dare be so bolde to set their mortall sight
On incomprehensible and pure immortall light.
Our fayth is better, for they of the citie
Beleue by reason with great difficultie:
Or they will beleue, they braule with argument,
Playne speeche suffiseth vs people innocent.
Against Sir Sampson their quarell they defende,
We aske no question, and vse not to contende.
We light the aultars, and many candels offer,
When they of the towne scantly make a proffer:
Their fayth is feble, our fayth is sure and stable,
They dare be bolde with doctours for to bable:
A worldly merchaunt nought knowing of doctrine,
Because of his coyne counteth his reason fine.
Trust me Amintas, no force who heareth me,
The coyne and cunning doth not alway agree:
For some be that haue plentie of that one,
Which of that other haue litle part or none.
What should the fooles that dwell in the citie,
Or we seeke to knowe of Gods priuitie.
If it were nedefull the Godhead for to knowe
To simple wretches here on the grounde alowe:
It is in the power of God omnipotent
His very presence to vs to represent.
But sith his knowledge is incomprehensible,
Why seek fooles for thinges impossible?
And sith God will be vnknowen vnto us,
Why should thing mortall of endlesse thing discusse?
And rurall people in almes do excell
Aboue all the sort which in the citie dwell.
We geue wooll and cheese, our wiues coyne and egges
When freers flatter and prayse their proper legges.
For a score of pinnes, and needles two or three
A gentle cluner two cheeses had of me.
Phillis gaue coyne because he did her charme,
Euer sith that time lesse hath she felt of harme.
Yet is in the citie a number incurable,
Pleaders and brokers a foule and shamefull rable,
Merchauntes of Iustice, hunters of riches,
Cratchers of coyne, delayers of processe,
Prolonging causes, and making wrong of right,
And right of playn wrong, oppressing law with might,
Iaylers of Iustice, their cursed couetice
Watreth the plantes of crueltie and vice.

Amintas
This haue I proued by playne experience,
But tell me Faustus, what causeth this offence.

Faustus
The roote and the grounde of this misgouernaunce
Is fauour, rewarde, and wilfull ignoraunce:
When coyne or fauour once dimmed hath the sight,
Adue all Iustice, in prison layde is right.
Yet be in townes a rable fraudulent,
Murtherers of people, and free of punishment:
Uaunting and boasting them selfe of medicine,
And naught perceyuing of science and doctrine:
If they be fetred with ringes and with cheynes,
Then may they handle and touche priuy veynes:
Name all diseases and sores at their will,
Auoyde of cunning, of reason eyther skill:
Suche ride on mules, and pages by their side,
But if they had right, on asses should they ride.
As touching rulers of all the commontie,
The more that they haue of hye aucthoritie,
Of libertie, will, and singuler pleasure,
So much the more poore people they deuour.
The houndes sometime wont foldes for to keepe,
Be nowe wilde wolues, deuouring all the sheepe:
Rulers be robbers, and pillers be pastours,
Gone is the giding of godly gouernours.
O where be rulers maynteyners of Iustice,
Where be subduers and slakers of all vice?
Where be the frendes of mercy and pitie,
Sometime well ruling, not spoyling the Citie?
Where be chaste rulers, iust, meke and liberall?
Chaunged is fortune, death hath deuoured all.
The worst remayneth, gone be the meke and iust,
In stede of vertue ruleth freewill and lust.
Where be the fathers right worthy an empire,
Of whom men coumpted gay tales by the fire:
Sometime with tales, and otherwhile with songe,
So driuing away the winter nightes longe.
Alas Amintas, nought bideth that is good,
No not my cokers, my taberte nor my hood.
All is consumed, all spent and worne be,
So is all goodnes and wealth of the Citee.
The temples pilled do bitterly complayne,
Poore people wayle, and call for helpe in vayne:
Poore widowes sorowe, and children fatherlesse
In vayne bewayle, when wolues them oppresse.
Sinne hath no scourge, and vertue no rewarde,
Who loueth wisedome, his fortune is but harde.
Counsell and cunning nowe tumble in the dust,
But what is the cause? lawe turned is to lust:
Lust standeth in stede of lawe and of Iustice,
Whereby good liuing subdued is by vice.

Amintas
I tell thee Faustus, this hastynes of thee
Passeth the boundes of right and honestie.
All men thou blamest by wrath and hastynes,
As all Citizens were full of viciousnes.
What man remember, some liue in innocence,
Some in the Citie be partlesse of offence.

Faustus
I am not angry, I say but veritie,
Heare me Amintas one clause with breuitie:
As many todes as breede in Irelande,
And as many Gripes as breede in Englande,
As many Cuckowes as sing in Ianuary,
And Nightingales as sing in February,
And as many whales as swimmeth in the fen,
So many be there in Cities of good men.

Amintas
A good man is geason, not easy to be founde
On lande or in Citie, or ouer all the grounde,
Many thinges longe vnto a perfect man,
Aske that of Codrus, declare the truth he can,
Badnes encreaseth and ouer fast doth growe.
Goodnes and vertue in comming vp be slowe.

Faustus
Thou art mad I trowe, so many foes haue we,
As dwell Citizens in all the whole Citie.
They clip vs, they poule vs, they pill vs to the skin,
And what they may get that thinke they well to win.
To theft they constrayne vs, I tell thee by all halowes,
And after by and by they sende vs to the galowes.
Therfore it is reason if ought of theirs hap
Or come to our clawes, it priuily to trap.
They vs oft disceyue, disceyue we them agayne,
Deuise we slily, gile, subtiltie and trayne.
But this Amintas to me is greatest griefe
And doubt, for it is ill stealing from a thiefe.
If it be secrete, we may it well denye,
If it be knowen, excuse it craftyly.
Priuy felony though it be vsed longe
Is not called theft, but iniury or wrong,
All that they haue within these townes playne,
Is our harde labour, sore trauayle and great payne.

Amintas
Nowe thou exceedest the marke of equitie,
Thou passest reason Faustus I tell to thee.

Faustus
What then Amintas, have pacience a while,
Towne dwellers vices doth all the earth defile.
The ayre is corrupt by their enormitie,
These summer stormes whence come they, tel thou me:
Lightning, great windes, fluds, hayle and thunder,
I well remember, oft time the ground here vnder
Right sore hath quaked, and caused houses fall,
Uice of the Citie is roote and cause of all.
The Sunne in midday oft time hath lost his light,
In like wise the moone in season of the night.
Both hath bene blacke, or els red as bloud,
This signe Amintas pretendeth vs no good.
Why growe the weedes and cockle in the corne?
Why is hey and grasse oft times all forlorne?
Why lose we our seede, our labour and expence,
Whence commeth murrayne and grieuous pestilence?
All these proceedeth by mad enormitie,
And corrupt maners of them of the Citie:
And worse is like yet afterwarde to fall,
If they not refourme their liuing bestiall.
Whence came the furour of hardnes and battayle,
Which causeth widowes their spouses to bewayle,
Which bringeth with it all kinde of misery,
As theft and murther, great death and penury?
Forsooth in Cities this furour first began,
To the confusion of many a doubty man.
The Citie is well and ground originall,
Both first and last of deadly euils all:
Bred in the Citie was cruell Licaon,
Bred among herbes was good Dewcalion.
Among Shepherdes nourished was Rhenus,
And also his brother the mightie Romulus.
The cause of the flud in Citie first began,
Whereby was wasted nere euery beast and man.
Our Lorde destroyed fiue Cities for outrage,
Reade where for sinnes he wasted one village.
I trowe when the world with fire wasted shall be,
The cause shall proceede and come of some Citie.
What shall I touche the sauour and the stinke
Which is in cities, of gutter and of sinke:
There men be choked with vile and deadly sent,
Here haue we odour of floures redolent:
I coumpt me happy which won in the village,
As vndefiled with citizens outrage.

Amintas
Haue done nowe Faustus, lay here a straw and rest,
Fill we our bely with cruddes that is best.
Leaue we the Citie and all ciuill outrage,
Nowe is it season to turne to the potage,
After our diner is best in my minde
The rest to declare, if ought remayne behinde.