University of Virginia Library

A Pastorall Dedication to the King.

I soong of late as time then gave me scope;
Howbee't for other times a way left ope:
But now, as now; to th'end my Lord may heare,
My voyce, then hoars, to day is waxen cleere:
My former Shepheards song devised was
To please great Scotus, and his Lycidas,
But this for Galla, whom th'All-mightie power
Hath made a Lilly-Rose, and double flower:
O Vally Lilly, and Sharon Rose her blesse!
Though this good speed prevēted hath my presse:
Else had I not this peece of booke alone,
But whole Du-Bartas offred at your throne;
For either nation counterpaged thus,
T'acquaint more us with them, and them With us.
Yet (o!) uovchsafe it thus and grant an eare
To these two Swains, whom I ore-heard whileare.
As Shepheard Musidor sate on a balke,
Philemon commeth to him, and they talke
(Least on [quoth he] my tongue ore-often run)
Thus each with oth'r; I stay till they have done.
Phi.
Good day! what not a word? how dost thou fare?
Or art thou sicke, or takest thou some care?

Mu.
Care, Shepheard? yea, to shew what joy I can.

Ph.
How? that's a riddle; what's thy meaning man?

Mu.
For sith a Nymph, a daughter of Shepherds God,
Who rules a world of sheepe with golden rod,
From loftie shrine descending yet will daigne
To stoope at this my cottage homely-plaine,
And of her favour make herselfe the guage
To me, that ought her seeke on Pilgrimage:

Ph.
Oh, now I see whereon thy minde is bent;
How to prepare fit entertainement.

Mu.
What shall behoove me do, or how to looke?
For though I pawne my fairest pype and hooke;
That one, which Damon gave me by his will,
That other woon in game on Magog hill;
Ile entertaine her (She, I pawne my life,
Will prove the greatest Kings child, sister, wife.)
Ile entertaine her: If I not mistake,
Some Wheat-floure have I for a bridall-cake,
And Abricots, and Plums blacke, red, and white,
Preserv'd with hony cleere as chrysolite;
And nuts and pears, and apples pretie store.
My poultrie will affoord me some-what more,
Except the Fox deceive me.

Phi.
Shame him take!
Oft hath he made our Chaunticleer to quake:
But Creame and Butt'r is skarce yet out of horn,
And all Achars this yeare apprize to corne.

Mu.
I nothing buy, nor have I much to sell.
Store is no sore; my house it finds full well.
For there is corne, and milke, and butt'r and cheese,
Thankes unto Pales: then, if please my bees,
(That waxen wasps when any shrews do fret them)
But if I may by gentlenesse entreat them
To lend m' a combe as sweet as is my guest,
Enough it will be for a Shepheards feast.

Phi.
Thou mak'st me think of my great gransirs cheere,
That would, but did not, kill for Iupitere;

Ovid 8. Met. de Philemone & Baucide. Vntus anser era minimæ custodiæ villæ.

And that he would was but a single goose,
The Sentinell of that skant furnisht house.

Mu.
I know the Gods do hart and welcome prize
Above great store of cheere and sacrifize.

Ph.
True, and their cheere some more, some lesse by rate,
Not of their owne, but of their hosts estate.

Mu.
I have a flocke too, Pan I praise therefore,
Though not so fat as hath beene heretofore.
But Ile receive this guest with such device,
As Shephard best becomes; no Muse is nice;
They quickly yeeld to grace a Pastorall,
Uranie, Thalie, Calliop, and all:
Such I prepare, and they will be all here,
With all the musicke of their heavenlie queere.

Phi.
But how (I pray thee as thou lov'st the kirke)
Wilt thou devise to set them all awerke?

Mu.
I have a pricke-song for Calliope,
To trie her voice in everie moode and key:
And she shall sing the battell of those Rammes,
Who, to th'affrighting of our tender lambes,
In rivalling for Helens of the flocke,
Affront each other with a cannon knocke,
Some faire Eweswool-lock wearing cach in horn,
Or other favour as they wont toforn,
At feast of Gor, good Shepheard, that of yore
Embrew'd the Crosier-staffe with Dragons gore.
This order shall she sing of all most liefe;
Because my faire guest weds thereof the chiefe.

Ph.
So for Calliope: What for the rest?

Mu.
In Orchard, that my selfe with care have drest,
My rarest tree (it beares but only seav'n)
Hath apples streaked like the Globe of Heaven.
On one of them Uranie shall discourse
Of every starre the setting and the sourse;
And shew the Bride and Bridegroome all confines
Of his and her land, by the mid day lines.

Ph.
Were lines of length, and breadth like easly seen
It were not heard

Mu.
Then on the flowrie green,
Or in my garden shall Thalia sing,
How divers waies dame Flora decks the Spring;
And how she smiles to see May after May
Draw'n-out, for her to tricke this Ladies way
With divers kind of divers-coulr'd flow'rs,
Some strew'd aground, sōe hanging on the bow'rs;
As curiovs writers wont embrave their Text
With new and gueason words.

Phi.
On, on to th'next.

Mu.
Well-pleasing Euterp shall the next in order
With gentle breath en whisper my Recorder;
And after playing sing, and after song
Trull-on her fingers all the cane along;
High, low, amids; now up, now downe the key
With Re-Mi-Fa-Sol, and Sol-Fa-Mi-Re;
Declaring how by foure the selfe-same notes
Are set all tunes of Instruments and Throates,
Which are to sound the Queenes sweet harmonie,
Both of her minde and bodies Symetrie.

Ph.
As I have heard report, such if it be,
(Mu. Fy-on that If)

Ph.
Deserves it only she.

Mu.
But I proceed; On harpe shall Polymnie
Renew great Orpheus sacred memorie;
For loving only one; and her so well,
That he assayd to fetch her out of Hell.

Phi.
So Poets say, but such come never there:
From death perhaps.

Mu.
So would I do (I sweare)
For such a wife.

Phi.
So would not I for mine.
But now the rest, for heres but five of nine,

Mu.
Sweet Erato that sets my guest a fire,
Shall play the romant of her hearts desire:
So bee't her Grace it hold no disrepute
To heare it charmy-quaverd on her lute.
Then shal the Bride-maids & the Bride-men dāce,
The Men of England, with the Maids of France;
And sing with Venus, Cupid, Himene,
This Madrigall, set by Terpsichore.
Spring Quyristers, record this merrie lay;
For Galla faire to daie
Goes forth to gather May.
Grow all the Grovnd, but chieslie where she goes,
With White and Crimsin Rose;
Her Love is both of those.
She shall him choose and take before the rest,
To decke her lockes and brest;
And both shall be so blest,
That they and theirs shall golden Scepter weild
Whereto must bow and yeild
The proudest Plant a feild.

Ph.
So, here is worke for Muses all but two;
What hast thou more?

Mu.
Enough for them to do.

Ph.
Nay, use but Clio; leave Melpomene.

Mu.
VVhy leave her out? a stately Muse is she.

Ph.
But still so sad, with looke cast-downe on earth,
I doubt hir presence will defeat the myrth.

Mu.
No, no, I will not part her from the Queere;
But fit her humor, and to mend the cheere,
(Out-set all other wofull destinie)
My fattest lambe shall make a Tragedie.
And sing the Muse will of no greater bug,
Then warre betwixt a yong child and his dug;
Controuling some, though not of high degree,
As cause thereof; ye Ladies pardon me!
The melancholie Muse yet saith, not I;
All that your Sex dishonour I defie;
But your faire bottles Melpomen doth thinke
Dame nature fill'd, for your faire bab's to drinke.

Ph.
Milke would she giue else only to the poore,
Not vnto such as drye'r and spillt a floore.

Mu.
And this 'tis like shee'll adde vnto the rest;
That Ladies child deserues a Ladies brest;
That brauer spirit suckt shall more embraue him,
And make him, man-grown, like a knight behaue him.

P.
Whē others make their gētle blod far-worse
By sucking young the basenesse of their nurse.

Mu.
For as their Heathen gods, the Heathen sayn,
No mortall blood had running in their vain;
But Venus wounded once by Diomed,
Ambrosian liquor at her finger shed:
Right so in blood of men there is great odds;
And such among them as are stiled Gods,
The finest haue, to breed their children food:
Blood was late milk, and milk will soone be blood.

Ph.
And some loue more (as cause of better luck)
Then wombe that bore them, paps that gaue them suck.
What parent would not such a reason moue,
Drawne from the gain, or losse, of childrens loue?

Mu.
I once beheld where Lady of high degree,
As with her Lord and others set was she,
In mids of dinner had her child brought-in,
And gaue it suck, scarce shewing any skin,
Through ynch-board hole of silk, pinn'd vp againe
When child was fed, without more taking paine.

Ph.
And is not this instinct through all dyssown,
That eur'y femall hatcheth-vp her owne?
Well, make an end.

Mu.
How can I be too long,
When Muses beare the burden of my song?
But here's a Trumpet, Fame selfe hath no better;
And Clio sounds it well, and i'le entreat her
Hereafter sing on high what foe shall bow
To th'issues of this happie match; but now
To surd it, as young trompeters are wont,
And, lest it sound too lowd, set stop vpon't;
Yet first bid welcome with a cheerefull clank
The French Deluce to Brytaines Rosy bank.

Phi.
Well fare thine heart for thinking on these things,
To please the children of so mighty Kings.
My selfe, though poore, wil thereto ioine my myte
On solemne day: so leaue thee for to night.

Mu.