University of Virginia Library

[Countries delight, sweet Phillis, Beuties pride]


1

THE FIRST EPISTLE.
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This work is a translation of Amintae gaudia by Thomas Watson (1557?–1592).

Countries delight, sweet Phillis, Beuties pride:
Vouchsafe to read the lines Amyntas writeth,
And hauing red, within your boosome hide,
What first of loue my fearfull muse inditeth.
When once my mother set me flocks to keepe,
Bare fifteene yeres of age, in lether clad,
A maple hooke, to get and hould my sheepe,
A waiting dogge, a homely scrip I had.
No skill in beasts, on loue I neuer thought,
Yet but a boye, the friendly shepards route
Admitted me, and countrie secrets taught:
To heale my flocks, to fould them round about.
In threatned stormes, to lead them to the lee,
To sheare in time, to driue the wolfe awaie,
To knowe the course, of starres that fixed bee:
To pipe on meadow reeds, each holy-daie.

2

To sing in rime, as sometimes shepards vse,
To daunce our Iiggs on pasture grac't with flowrs
What learnd I not, what toile did I refuse,
To quench loues flames, & passe o're idle houres?
At last; when heauen did womēs call ends shew,
And custome would that euery swain should profer
Vnto his choise, as they doe sit are we:
Such fauours, as poore shepards vse to offer.
Silke garters Egon, first began to tie,
About the calues, of her he loued best,
And lifting vp her clothes, she said Naie fie.
With blushing smils, his hand she downward prest.
Then Titerus a ryband did bestow,
On Driades his loue and whole delight.
In token of the ioyes, they hope to knowe.
When wedding chamber giues the happie night.
Of marigoldes, with figured loue and name,
A chaplet Melibeus had deuised.
On Clitias head then pinned he the same.
And vowd his loue should neuer be demised.
To Glicery ould Mopsus fay rings giueth.
Menalcas and the rest gaue where they loued;
But who is he, that alwaies happie liueth.
What ioyes so firme, as griefe hath not remoued?

3

Faustulus, and Caridon, wel borne, & wel allyed
Both rich, both strong, & both for vertues praised
Lou'de you alike, and were alike denied.
Yet for your sake, great strife there had they raised
A gem the one, a whelpe the other bringeth,
Both faire enough, yet you did both refuse,
Lest hate which oft from riuall passion springeth,
This merrie meeting, rudelie should abuse.
And yet these lads do striue, with words & deeds
Loue gaue thē staues, their blows ar strōgly plac'd
They call their frends the best but badly speeds.
Full pale you rose (I markte how palenes graced)
And truce with mouing teares you did desire.
But all in vane, for teares, the fight increased:
Whereat (me thought) my hart began to fire,
And pittie longd to see this battell ceased.
Then rushed I, amidst this churlish fraie.
And war with war, I conquered at the last:
With force, or threats, the fearcest did I staie.
You gaue me thanks, when all the broile was past.
Oh had not sweetest Phillis thankfull beene.
And yet I wish too much against your kind.
But had not I those gracious gestures seene,
J might haue still, enioyed a quiet mind.

4

For when your tempting eyes, I did behold,
And heard your voice, more sweet then musiks sound,
The passions which I felt, may not be told,
Then; then, it was that first loues force I found.
The one mine eare, the other pleasd mine eye,
This pleasure bread such stormes within my hart.
As poore Amintas, wretchedlie must die:
Except faire Phillis, shall redresse his smarte.
My doubtfull mind so too and froe doth moue,
Vnlike himselfe, your seruaunt now abideth,
Constant in naught, but onely in your loue:
feare presseth hope, and shame affection hideth.
Beleeue me sweete (newe louers cannot faine)
Awake, asleepe, still Phillis doe I see,
And from your looks I gather ioye or paine:
Euen which it please you, to bestow on me.
If merrilie, Amintas you salute,
A merry hope, doe make me happie straight,
But if you frowne, then doe I feare my sute:
And on my thoughts, a thousand cares do waight.
Confounded thus, and ouercome with griefe,
To fluds with teares, to ayre with sighes I melte,
In vaine I seeke each waie for my reliefe:
I thinke such torments, neuer louer felte.

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Yet lest a coward iustly I were thought,
At first to yeeld, vnto my first desire.
Fond rage with reason, to suppresse I sought:
And with discretion, to quench out the fire,
I chide my selfe, and call into my mind,
Such medicines, as our annals haue in store,
I prooue them all, and yet small ease I find:
For still my loue increaseth more and more.
I sit vp late, I rise before the daie,
I doe repeate each vanitie in loue,
I checke faire beautie, by her quick decaie:
And twentie other helpes, I fondly prooue.
I thinke how Sirens, catch the listning eare,
And how affection is increast by sight,
Sweet Phillis pardon though the truth you heare:
And though against my will, loue kept your right.
For I did striue to free me from affection,
But beautie was too strong, for mine endeuor,
Who hath so forst my loue to your subiection:
As till you free me, I am bound for euer.
To stop mine ears with wax, mine eyes to blind,
To hide me from your sight, amidst the woode
In all these helps no helpe at all I find:
My loue is such, as they will doe no good.

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As Pelias spere, could hurt and healde againe,
So therefore let me craue but this of thee,
That as loue made, so loue may ease my paine:
And as you mine, so I your best may bee.

The second Epistle.

Ist true indeed? was Phillis so vnkind
With hand and hart, vnred in peces rent,
To send my verses to the scattering winde
When they to you and no where else were ment.
Those snow-white fingers, soft as any cloud,
should not such shreudnes vnder beauty shrowd.
And could you braule with Mopsus in such sort?
For brīging you a pledge of true affection.
It was no fault your praises to report.
And he did naught but after my derection.
Amintas wrote the verses you did teare,
If so you like Amintas name to heare.
Did you commaund that I should write no more?
Why loue commaunds that I should write again?
Besides your looks affords such flowing store,
As makes a Poet write with little paine.

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Yea you haue power, in euery merry smile,
To force a loute, to match Appollos stile.
What greeud you then, what made you so to chide?
Were you affeard, olde Mopsus would reueale it,
When next I write (because I wil it hide),
Ile bring't my selfe, and so we may conceale it.
My silent hand, shall in your hand bestow,
That which none else but you and I shall know.
Nor Faustulus, nor Corridon shall heare it,
Or once suspect our loue if you agree:
Our ioyned lips, so to and froe shall beare it,
As ayre nor Ecco, shall a witnesse be.
Till you my wife, my happy armes shall fill,
Then let them prattle, what & where they will.
When last I wrote, some angry stars had power,
And bad aspects, agreed to show their kind:
Yet now I hope, I chose a better houre,
And better hap, I do not doubt to find.
Do you but reade, to read you neede not feare,
Or if you will, Ile reade and you shall here.
I write not ought that may offend your eie,
Your seruant, doth no more but shew his loue:
The wound you made perhaps you there may spy
With some such passions as desire doth moue.

8

Which if you will not take awaie from mee:
Yet what your beauty wrought, take pains to se
Doe but behold, what guiltles I endure,
(Accept true loue, a guiltie fault you deeme)
For then my paines your pittie will procure:
If you be she, whom vtwardly you seeme,
If those faire eyes, your true remorce reveale,
The woūd you made you cānot chuse but heal.
Feare no deceipt, I coppie from my hart,
No more then honest loue, doth now sugiest,
The pen wherewith I write, can faine no smart,
Being the index of a faithfull breast:
It is not long, sence loue did let it fall,
Out of his wing, for me to write withall.
No doubt he ment; your praises I should paint,
So to vnmaske, the vertues you would hide:
For, knowing that my wonder made me faint,
And that our quills, such works may not abide,
He hath supplide, such pen, such lasting inke
As will performe, as much as I can thinke.
Read therefore with desire, read with delight,
Diana knowes, that I doe meane none ill:
Here are no charmes, I vse no magiks might:
In truth I loue almost against my will,

9

And neuer might they thriue who ly in waite,
To snare poore damsels with their lewd deceipt.
I am not I Demophion, though you be
Another Phillis, far more richly prised:
In vertue more, and far more faire then she,
Else halfe hir praiers had hir saint sufficed.
Had she beene you, then he like me had lou'd,
And then I know he might not be remou'd.
Now as that Phillis, yelds to you in bewtie,
So doth that periurd wretch, that truthlesse Knight
Submit himselfe, in faith, in loue, and dewtie,
Vnto Amintas as he ought by right:
Whose blouming age, by al men spotles view'd,
With such foule deeds, shal neuer be imbrew'd:
Oh therefore looke vpon my melting heart,
And ope the wounde, that you the depth may see:
Vnlesse you know, how shall you ease my smart?
And who should helpe, if Phillis helpe not me?
You did the harme, you may the worst amend,
Phillis my foe may so become my frend.
No more my foe, if you my health afford,
Then will I call you life, or some thing better:
Yea if I knew a more effectuall word,
I would not long therefore remaine your detter.

10

You, you shall be to me euen what you will,
Vpon condicion you my sute fulfill.
Sweet wer my brest, such as the light through shind
That so you might behold as in a fountaine
Your thrise faire Image (there deuoutly shrinde)
Daunced vpon aliuelie leaping mountaine.
Then shuld you se how like a queen you raign,
Commaunding lawes of pleasure and of paine.
There should you see how all my sences watche,
Readie to run at euery becke and winke,
Like straining grahounds striuing to dispatch,
Each thing that they to your contentment think.
Yea wit to will, and will to loue resigneth:
And glad is he that so himselfe combineth.
Or if you search my secret hart within,
Tis strange to see how loue doth reuell there,
Placing new pains where erst there non hath bin
And raising warres and discord euerie where.
To se what broils despaire and hope doth keepe
would make a harder hart then yours to weepe.
Yea euery part, the liuer, lungs and all,
Do witnes well that they with loue haue met:
The liuer which the seate of loue men call,
With scorched sides do shew where he hath set.

11

My longs with greuous sighes consume awaie,
While they would saue the bodies whole decaie
My wanton spleene, sometime fulfild with sporte,
Hath lost his laughing and his merrie cheere:
My tougn mine eies like mischiefe can report,
And so would all the rest if you would heare.
My tongue doth tire with begging your relief,
mine eies shed tears which shew both ioie & gref
Since therefore thus I suffer for your sake,
Jt were iniustice to increase my sorrowes,
Good Phillis graunt some pittie now to take,
And let sweet words restore what beutie borrows.
Happie am I if you agree to this,
But if you frowne, a wretch your seruaunt is.

The third Epistle.

Least with strange doubts more pains your frend abideth;
Good Phillis answere these my growning feares,
Let that sweet voice which yet your pittie hideth,
Pronounce the end of all my beggin teares.
But if some shame (for modest you werr euer)
With hold those words which loue to me doth owe

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Then may you write, for paper blusheth neuer,
And trust me well, thers no man shall it know.
Stand not vpon your ouer curious writing,
When letters leape each other, I can spell it:
Neither do I desire your choise inditing,
For loue seemes best, if plainely we do tell it.
When halfe abasht, and stutting in my speach;
My trembling hand, deliuered you my writte:
When waterie eies your mercy did beseech,
And euery parte bewraid a louers fit.
I musd to see your countenance changed so,
Flashing quick passions with a subden grace:
And white, and red, so oft to come and go,
As if deepe thoughts, were written in your face.
So haue I seene, the moone eclipsed wade,
When shadowy earth, from Phœbus hir deuideth:
Now meetely light, and now that light do fade,
Now peeping forth, and now her selfe she hideth.
Which made me think, som other sun you had,
And Fastulous, or Corridon was he,
I doubted least my shaddow made you sad,
For plaine it was this change did come from me.
Nor durst I hope (though hope well pleasd my mind
That new affectiō, wrought this new aspect

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And though I long'd to see you proue so kind,
Yet did I feare some other worse effect.
And euen this feare a wretch Amintas maketh,
Whilst stormy motions, in my thoughts arise:
Whilst fonding loue, each action still mistaketh,
Striuing in kindnesse, all things to comprise.
Oh happie, if Amintas you esteemed,
Or if I could not see my selfe deceiued:
But what blind eies, your fauor wold haue deemd,
Where my small guifts, so hardly were receaued.
Mad Tigers yeald, with vowes & praiers tamed
But feruent zeale, is neither strange nor nice:
That proud disdaine; that Rustik loue is named,
Which only yealds, to mercenary price.
Loue would not make your fainting hād so slack,
To take the verses, your Amintas brought you:
It was not loue, that turnd away your back,
When them to read, I earnestly besought you,
You need not feare, the murmur of my muse,
An vnpoluted hand, a pen more iust:
A mind which knowes no fraud, nor none wil vse,
Did draw the modell, which you so mistrust.
Not Venus sonne, nor any lusting spirit,
Do hale me on, to thinke one wicked thought:

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My loue is new and growes from your demerit,
As pure as gold that finers fire hath wrought.
And yet at first, I did my selfe mistake it,
For (truth to speake) I thought it Cupids fire:
And therefore did I wrastle to forsake it,
For neuer could I like of foule desire.
But now by holy triall I do find,
That mine and that, are easelie knowne a sunder:
They disagree in habite, and in kind,
To see their difference you perhaps would wonder.
Of Mars, and Venus, that the Bastard is,
This is of vertue, only son and heire:
That knowne to most, but few haue met with this,
That blacks our souls, but this doth make thē faire.
He flies with wings and ioies in false designes,
This louing truth on milk wight steed is mounted,
Starke naked he doth shew his sin by signes,
This vseth clothes least lewd he were accompted.
With pitch-black scarfe he vales his cruel eies,
To shew how guiltles men he leades astray:
Quicke sighted this each dangerous doubt espies,
And by iust lawes all actions well doth weigh.
Two arrowes Cupid in his left hand weareth,
Two arrowes my loue in like sort doth carry:

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And in their right hand each a fire brand beareth,
Yet shaftes and brands in their effects do varie.
His torch doth only smoake to smother wit,
The other cleerely flames with sacred fire:
His poisoned arrowes fester where they hit,
These do but prick vs with a chaste desire.
Our bondage he by words & deeds procureth,
Yea such a bondage as few slaues do find:
But this with sweete content our hope inureth,
Blessing with quiet the obaieng mind.
Such is my loue & such is all his fruits,
Euen this was hee which praisd your matchles bewty:
This first aduisd me to commence my sutes,
This taught me first a faithfull louers dewty.
Good Phillis therefore yeald me my request,
Amintas doth not loue as you supposed:
And Faustulus sings Flora for his best,
His flocks within hir pinfold he hath closed.
Phillis I sing, on her are all my notes,
My sheepe none other fellowship will take:
Mad Corridon do buz on clownish otes,
As balde a verse as any lob can make.
But wanton nimphs the satires and the fairies,
My seuen stopt pipe (as sweet as mirmaides voice:)

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Will force, to daunce about you the canaries,
Whilst they shall wonder at my happie choice.
Now Faustulus (lest you should think him ould)
Pickes forth his hoary heares, with too much pain,
His cheeks are rubd, least blud should seeme too cold
He were a youth, if al his frames were plaine,
Our ages (being like) must needs agree,
The downe appeares vpon my face but newlie:
Proud Corridon, will your commaunder be,
But poore Amintas, will attend you dulie.
What should I trouble you with hearing more?
Wherein my riualls are vneuen with me,
These are enough, yet haue I better store,
Sweet therefore let the worthie crowned be.

The fourth Epistle.

As musicke giues, and takes awaie our liues,
Whilst we with heed, attend her heauenly strains.
Euē so (my life) your answer both reuiues
And kills your seruaunt, with a world of paines.
For though at first, my fainting hop's it mended
The end (alas) a murdering feare portended.

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Whilst (faier) I heard you say you red my letters,
And that you were not with my sute displeased:
If all the churles of Asia, were my detters,
Their depts my hart so much had neuer eased.
Me thought I felt the strangest quicking grow,
That euer hoping louer yet did know.
But doubt of death so much could heardly moue,
Or daunt your seruant well resolud to die:
As when I heard you say you knew not loue,
Nor euer ment his madding for to trie,
Oh then I wisht that with the selfe fame dart,
Loue wold strike you wherwith he perst my hart.
Yet so I praide and pray him hit my sweete,
As only I may be your first election:
In hope that when our equall passions meete,
We both shall striue to conquer in affection.
For I should die to see you so abused,
As him to loue by whome you are refused.
And since they say it is the auncient vse,
That for our loues we Venus must intreat:
Because I will admit you no excuse;
Words of great waight to hir I will repeate.
And words with gifts right humbly shal be sealed,
In hope that so this feuer may be healed.

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Two milke white doues, a rich & precious chaplet
Wrought al of gold & perles fetcht from the east,
Baskets of flowers, the Rose, the Violet,
To set vpon hir best beloueds crest.
These shall she haue and I will bribe her sonne,
Cost is no cost, so Phillis maie be wonne.
A paire of chirping sparrowes will I bring him,
And euer kissing turtles trulie matched,
Options of loue, and sonets will I sing him,
What would I not, so this maie be despatched?
So Phillis maie my loue with loue requite,
I do not weigh the price of my delite.
Now if it chaunce (and sometimes so it chaunceth)
That chast Diana take him in her traps:
Whilst close in bushes with her maids he daunceth
Or like a wag doth wanton in their laps,
If then she robbes the boie of all his treasure,
Well shall he find that I will do him pleasure.
For though she sends him naked as my nailne,
Home to his mother sad to see that sight,
With clipped wings without his pitch-blacke vaile
Of bow, of darts, of torch bereued quite.
Amintas will his losses soone restore,
As good or better then they were before.

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Wings, bow and shafts, a scarfe, a burning torch,
Shall richly bee supplied by my art,
To catch, to shoote and pierce, to blind, to scorch
Your selfe, your side, your eyes, your frosen hart.
For do you thinke that I will let him want,
The meanes whereby he maie disdaine suplant?
In your faire eyes new arrowes must be found,
For if they hidden there did not remaine,
How did your sight enforce this gaping wound,
Or what was it that causd me all this paine?
There must he seek & there he sure shal haue thē
Phillis maie not saie naie, if loue do craue them.
His wings aboue your ancle he shall find,
For if they had not wings to cut the aire,
How could you flie more swift then any wind?
The vowes of sheppards vrged by despaire.
And till these wings be parted from your heels,
You cannot marke the smart Amintas feeles.
Hir christall breast transparaunt to the viewe,
To make loues quiuer semeth passing fit,
Yet but to keepe those arrowes that be true:
For fashood doubtles hath no place in it.
And might I wish then only should it hold,
That arrow which is headed all with gold.

20

These must you giue, the rest shal come from me,
My bending armes shall serue him for a bowe
For as they only long to circle thee,
So would they hit none other that I know.
And in my clowdy eies with teares halfe blind,
To hide my wants he scarfe enough may find.
His torches shall he kindle in my brest,
Where loue to blow the fier neuer ceaseth:
And as desire can enioie no rest,
So euer mouing, euer heate encreaseth.
These weapons, wings, this quiuer, scarfe, and flame
Your curst hart shal with triumph shortly tame.
The verie arrowes which to loue you lend,
Put in mine armes (he drawing then the string):
Shal rush on you, so as before they end,
Some of my notes you shalbe taught to sing.
And when your trial doth loues force discouer,
You will no more delaie your truest louer.
Meane time (my chick) whilst thus you shall be vsed,
Thinke not that your Amintas will be idle:
Those stubborn thoughts which cānot be excused,
With faire intreaties I intend to bridle.
My pleasing verses in your stone hard mind,
Shall stab in hony wounds to make you kind.

21

Churle that I am) deserue I not much blame?
To call hir hard that is so mild and soft?
A stone was I, a stone that brest to name,
Which with my verses hath beene fild so oft.
Too largely did I giue my threats their scope,
Since you did mildly grant me leaue to hope.
And hope I will as Phillis doth desire,
Or quick or slow your becks my hope shall frame:
If stay you bid, then will I quench the fier,
But if you hast, I will become a flame.
For my contentment neuer may be wrought,
With that which shal displease you but in thoght
Forgiue me therefore though I did amisse,
Or beate me wel, but not with staues or whips:
My punishment shall be enough for this,
If your sweet mouth do rap me on the lips.
Your praise hereafter shall I better sing,
When more experience greater art shal bring.
Nere will I rest but I will practise still,
To passe them all that liue vpon this plaine:
And if my strength agreeth to my will,
You shall confesse I labor not in vaine.
Your beawty shall so eccho in the aire.
As all this Ile shal sing that you are faire.

23

I speake not rashly for I know the trouble,
That is requirde so manie to exceed:
Yet doubt I not but that my force will double,
Your gracious looks assisting at my need.
Our goulden witts (if you will fauour me)
Shall saie Amintas loueth more then wee.
So striues the nightingale to please his choise,
Reposing on a thorne his sleepie breast:
Seeming in paines as richly to reioyce
As other birds are vsde to doe in reast.
Prowd that his loue in vertue so excelleth,
To daie and night hir worthines he telleth.
Yet if with mine he shall compaire his skill,
When once your smiles my knowledg haue amēded
Though honest enuie doth his worst fulfill,
My conquest yet with honour shall be ended.
Then shall you find before we part asunder
That Phillis in Amintas works a wonder.
Me think I see how pertlie first he rowseth,
As preface to some newe deuised straine,
Opening his clap as doth a hawke that bowseth:
To send forth tumes fit for Marenzoes vaine.
Now long, now short, now high & now as low,
Each corner of his voice he straines to showe.

24

Me thinke his nimble tongue I plainly se,
How it doth labor to deuide each note,
And whilst in vaine he works to vanquish me,
It seemes to daunce the antike in his throte.
Now sings he mirth, & now he semes to weepe,
Sometime aloud, sometimes as halfe asleepe.
But were this combate true as it is fained,
And were we euenly listed in the field:
Feare least the weakest should be most disdained,
would burst his bowels ere he once would yeeld.
His very best what sluggard would not proue:
Rather then like a wretch to die with loue,

The Fifth Epistle

Letters you take, whie take you not my guifts?
Enforcing charmes I vtterlie detest,
Your mind I wrest not with vnlawfull shifts.
Onely I seeke to win you by request.
And with my selfe I neuer would dispence,
In thought to perpetrate so foule offence.

24

These worthles presents (measuring your desarts)
Are but the pledges of vnfained loue,
Giuen by an honest hand and such a hart,
As onely your vnkindnes maie remoue.
So might you take thē with like hand, like mind
For greater faith I do not wish to find.
Barre not my merits of their due accesse,
This ring of gold, this paile feare not to take,
Though smale they be yet were they somwhat les
I hope you will accept them for my sake.
And if my flocke another yere do mend,
A richer guift I promise you to send.
Yet are they better then parhaps they seeme,
This ring I tell you I do giue the rather,
Because my mother did it much esteeme,
Being the first loue token of my father.
Who putting it vpon her little finger,
Tould her that loue could not endure to linger.
The very words my hart to Phillis pleads:
The mot ingrauen do speake, Drawne by demerit:
Tis straunge how fortune euery action leads,
Making the sonne his fathers wounds inherite.
So lou'd he then, so loveth now his heire,
Both we were constant, both our loues we feire.

25

Marke how the payle is curiously inchased,
In these our daies such works are seldome found:
The handle with such anticks is imbraced,
As one would thinck they leapt aboue the groūd,
The Ammell is so faire, and fresh of hew,
As to this day it seemeth to be new.
That glasse wherein the sun doth sometime prie,
To see his harpe, and quiuer placed right:
And to amend those looks that are awry,
Against he meets his best belou'd at night.
That glasse (I say) the rainebow I intend,
Not halfe these colors from hir clowds do send
The substance wrought deserues but little price,
Comparing to the workemanship of it:
More then them both I valew his deuise,
That in smal space so māy things did fit.
Yet imitats the life in euery shape,
As if the caruer had beene natures ape.
But since the emblems some what secret be,
I wil declare each charge and what is ment:
Euen as my mother vttered them to me,
When vnto you both ring and paile she sent.
The order I must keepe and first is set,
A Lady couered with a golden net.

26

Looke how at church or in the open streete,
A sluttish bawde, or some vnquiet skould:
That for hir sinnes doth penance in a sheete,
A cloth before hir shamelesse face doth hold.
So in this net the trembling Lady stands,
Hiding hir blushing cheeks with both hir hands
The net is loues right worthily supported,
Bacchus one end, the other Ceres guideth:
Like Tramellers this god and goddes sported,
To take each foule that in their walkes abideth.
And as by night they vp and down did iumble,
Vpon Minerua by mischance did stumble.
Minerua in their nets so strangely masked,
As strugling was too weake to set hir free:
Till by loues censure she was straightly tasked,
From that time forth his drudge and slaue to be.
To teach vs first this first of all was placed,
That loue by nicenes wil not be disgraced.
For though when nature vs'd on rootes to bite,
And drinck such liquor as the well did giue:
Though then to catch hir, loue had small delight,
As better pleasd in fatter minds to liue.
Yet since the world with choiser diet flowes,
Both hir and al the rest he ouerthrowes.

27

Wretched Prometheus next to these here stands,
Whose side do freshly seeme euen now to bleede:
His fettered legs and his inchained hands,
doth hold him whilst the Egles on him feede.
The Eagles teare, and tier vpon his heart,
But though he shrinks he cānot shun the smart.
Marke how his forhead doth both frown & skoule
To shew that he both wrath, & greefe sustaines:
Marke how he gapes as if he ment to howle,
Or else to bite the workers of his paines.
His staring eies right bitterly did threat,
To driue those hasty feeders from their meat.
Euen as a wolfe whom hunters staffe doth choke,
Whilst angry dogs his torments more encrease:
New smart with his resistance doth prouoke,
And may nor fight nor yet procure a peace.
So stands Prometheus to abide his throwes,
And end wherof he neither hopes nor knowes.
Though day by day his heart they do deuoure,
And rifell all the intralls they can catch:
Yet haue nor beaks nor griping tallants power,
His soule from martyred carcase to dispatch.
But still he liues for night doth still restore,
What gorged Eagles eate the day before.

28

Perhaps the cause here of you do admire,
And why this penance thus he doth performe:
Some say he filtcht from Ioue the liuely fire
Wherewith he quicneth euery perfect forme.
And yet (no doubt) it hath another sence,
Not plaine in shew, but plaine by inference.
By such as fire from heauen do steale away,
Is ment al those that place their loue too high:
For such do yeald their hearts to them a prey,
Who euer killing neuer make them die.
Soule fretting cares as fast our quiet eate,
As emptie Eagles do deuoure their meate
Yet hope, and rest, as much by night repaires,
As care by day (too greedily) did wast,
Thus liues & deaths from hopes & from dispaires,
To climing minds incessantly are cast.
Why therfore shuld we wish more thē we need?
An hundred hands must fiftie bellies feede.
The third by shape, or forme, appeares a monster,
Hauing both head and feete and al things double:
But least the truth thereof you should misconster,
I will declare it (were it not your trouble).
This personage Androgina was named,
Thus man and woman iointly first were framed

29

All of one peece their loines and heads did grow,
Diffrence of sex was vtterly vnknowne:
So ioind their forheads and their parts below,
As equall men together had beene fowne.
Like to indentures met twice twenty toes,
And whē they moue the one half backward goes.
So may you see by two Laualto danced,
Who face to face about the house do hop:
And when one mounts; the other is aduanced,
At once they moue, at once they both do stop.
Their iestures shew a mutuall conscent,
I thinke this last the first did represent.
Foure eies it had yet so their forheads grew,
As they could neither glaunce nor looke amisse:
Onely the one, the other still did view,
Much like to wantons smothering of a kis.
One health, one voice, at once they laugh and weep
Happy are they that such agreements keepe.
And thus (no doubt) these had remained euer,
(So euenly were they macht, at first by nature:)
If discord had not laboured to disseuer,
And parte them both by altering of their stature,
With sicknes therfor striues this cōcord breker
To make one halfe therof become the weaker.

30

And sicknesse made indeede the one so tangle,
That then hir growth was hindred much thereby:
Which causd the vnited so to wrangle,
As boies for cloths, when they a could do lye.
Whereat the stronger falles to flat disdaine,
And now he minds to part though to his paine.
The sick consents and saith as he doth say,
Their armes are straind, their ioyning skin is rent,
The stronger by his force doth teare away,
A greater share then ere was to him ment.
Hence quarrels grew: loue knowes it was vniust
But still the weaker to the wal is thrust.
Thus discord made that simphathy deuide,
Thus parted was, the toung, the flesh, the braine
Much better had they beene one to abide,
Then still to long to ioine themselues againe.
But soft me thinks my penne too fast doth trot,
In vttering that which now concerns it not.
For I should tel the meaning of this twin,
Which only signifies the Gordion knot:
That toung tyde knot, which but with deadly sin,
Or wealth, or woe, or time dissolueth not.
To speak more plain it shews the marieng states
To chose & to conuerse them with their mates,

31

Their Birth, their wealth, and age, alike should be,
Equality do sweeten much that life:
An hatefull sight I gesse it were to see,
The Lions daughter made the moushis wife.
So therefore was Androgina deuised,
As iust one height and bignes it comprised.
By going backward alwaise of the one,
Is ment the yealding wedlock doth require:
And that one ought not euer rule alone,
But some time crosse himselfe in his desire.
Yea from our likeings we must backward go,
And though we would not; say it should be so.
The inward placing of their double eies,
Was to restraine the nimble wandering thought:
For searching sight so many motes espies,
As oft it makes vs thinke of that is naught.
And thought in time will breed a free consent,
From whence proceeds a daunger pestilent.
But least I dwell too long vpon this toie,
I next will speake a little of the last
Vpon a bancke there sits the flying boy,
His bow vnbent his quiuer loosely cast.
With wings al wet as beaten with a shower,
Who sees him now wold scarsely feare his power

32

One foote vpon the others lappe doth lie,
His right hand groping round about that heele:
The left do put the finger in the eie,
As if he plaind for smart that he doth feele.
So haue I seene old Batch the painter trace,
A whipped boye looke vp with crying face.
His broken scarfe hangs downe vpon his arme,
Cupid now sees who earst was deemed blind,
A pricke he caught which doth him all this harme
For which he seeks but no where can it find:
Yet still he looks where oft he lookt before,
With that my mother smild and said no more.

33

THE ANSWER OF PHILLIS TO AMINTAS BY THE TRANSLATOR.

To satisfie hir friend thus Phillis writeth,
Scarce well aduisde to whom or what she doth
For trembling hand whilst fearful thought inditeth
Do tell me oft, men speake not alwaies sooth.
And that too many seme as they where iust,
In whom our trialles find but little trust.
Yea I haue heard how much they vse to glorie:
(As if it were some newes of good import)
Of vs to tell an ouer louing storie,
Where with they make themselues & others sport
But in what case is that poore seelie maid?
That by her owne good nature is betraid.

34

Now twise too kind (I must confesse) it is,
For vs to write or shew our bad inuentions;
The lines we send proue maps of our amisse,
Wherein you men false measure our intention.
And though of loue, the verses haue no sauour,
Yet are they deemde too prodigall a fauour.
We vergins on an open stage are set:
Where many eies examine euerie deede:
Where slaunder hides in euery bush a net
To warne vs in our waies to take good heed.
Then may we hope that lines wil ought conceale?
VVhich like bad seruants all they know reueale.
The inside of our hartes must not be seene:
Wee must lock vp the secrets of the mind,
And though Amintas euer true hath beene,
Yet Phillis must not shew hir selfe too kind.
With these perswasions did I hould my hand,
Till your intreties gaue a counter-mand.
Where with the loue which once I did conceiue,
(Before your sight to get what I would keepe)
Began a new impression to receiue
In hope to charme your fond desires asleepe.
For (truth to speake) before your sute began
I thought Amintas was an honest man.

35

Yet such as chastly meane to liue and die,
Must shun occasions, tempting their intent,
And hate such sutors as in waite do lie
To make our thoughts become incontinent.
My maidenhood was promisd to my graue:
An others right Amintas may not haue.
And I did tell ould Mopsus when he brought,
(Too pander like) the verses first you sent,
That since to wrack my chastitie you sought,
I would reuoke the friendship earst I ment:
T'was wisely done to send him on that arrant,
Since of his councell you had little warrant.
Now if I should (which nere is like to bee)
Forsake the sweetnes of this single life,
In truth, I rather had be match't with thee,
Then otherwise become a Prince his wife.
Yet do not mend your hope with this I saie
For trust me Phillis neither will nor maie.
For who doe marke the daungers that arise,
And see the paines and cares the wedded venter:
But will preuent (at least if they be wise)
That they such troubles shall not rashlie enter.
But graūt som maids their happines would loose
Yet can you scarcely teach vs how to choose,

36

For may we take those men whose eies do sue?
Gazing as if in vs they sought their hearts:
Or may we thinke their shamefast gestures true,
Whose signes appeere the patterns of their smarts
So wrought Ortello, yet how false was he?
And why should his succeeders truer be?
Or are they best who with their heart-sicke woes,
A spotlesse faith right solemnly will sweare:
Or such as with old begging words compose,
A bosome loue to hackney euery where.
The periurd louers looke as others do,
The last to shew their cunning only wooe.
What counsell then since eares and eies may erre?
And error breedes both smart and bitter shame:
If we misgrant the sutes they do prefer,
Repentance cannot stanch our bleeding fame.
So that if signes, & words, & vowes be forceles,
Women haue cause (I thinke) to be remorceles.
And since both good, and bad, their truth wil bost
(Bearing themselues as if no harme they ment),
Considering that the worst are euer most,
We must suspect the very best intent,
For deepe deceipt will speake as faire as he,
Who loueth best and fainest lou'd would be.

37

Now some (againe) (too fond) amongst the rest,
For present time do loue with feruent mind:
Yet when a while their loues they haue possest,
In whō some diffrence frō their thoughts they find
Perceiuing how their hopes were thē beguiled,
All former loue by them is quite exiled.
Then others fortunes they begin to measure,
Guessing how well some other men haue sped:
Their own is dros, the rust (they think) are treasure
And now they tell how much they were misled.
In neighbours fields the corn is better grown,
And euery thing is richer then their owne.
From whence there doth a world of mischiefs slide
For then hath thrift his pasport to be gon:
All honesty and loue is laide aside,
Yea and those mischiefes seldome come alone.
For lothing minds are longing to be free,
And care not how so it effected be.
I am not angry (though I shrewdly speake),
For sin it were with loue to be displeased:
Only I seeke your vaine desires to breake,
Which yet but sparks (I hope) may be appeased.
And I dare sweare that you are none of those,
That with deceipt are practised to gloze.

38

Yet must I prosecute my first occasion,
By all good meanes affection to subdue:
And might I so preuaile by my perswasion,
As henceforth you such sutes would not renew.
Might I (Amintas) thus those toies remoue,
Then should I thinke that Phillis you did loue.
Why faine I were a man even as you do say,
And that my bewty did so far exceede:
Ist therefore strange if you should haue a nay,
Do euery sutor of his purpose speede.
That which you did demand is sought by many
But I will neither giue it you nor any.
And yet to you before a thousand more,
Were they as rich as Crassus in his pride:
And were Amintas more then thrice as poore,
When I may loue to him my loue is tid'e.
But til our friends conscent, we haue no power,
The couenant of that knot is none of oure.
For as from parents we our flesh do borrow,
So must we pay the dept which kind do owe:
And you shall alwaies see the mayde haue sorrow,
Which crosse their likings doth hir selfe bestow.
Whose carefull eies all danger will espie,
When our blind fancies leade vs cleane awry.

39

And though my mother fauoreth you too much,
And partially to me reports your praise,
Yet what maie she do since the world is such:
As now the husband euerie action swaies,
Of whose consent there is no little doubt,
Farewell for now my wasted light goes out.
FINIS.