 | The Complete Works of George Gascoigne |  |
175
II. [VOLUME II]
The complaynt of Phylomene.
Tam Marti, quàm Mercurio.
177
To the right honorable, my singuler good Lord, the L. Gray
of Wilton, Knight of the most noble order of the Garter.
178
PHILOMENE.
In
sweet April, the messēger to May
When hoonie drops, do melt in golden showres,
When every byrde, records hir lovers lay,
And westerne windes, do foster forth our floures,
Late in an even, I walked out alone,
To heare the descant of the Nightingale,
And as I stoode, I heard hir make great moane,
Waymenting much, and thus she tolde hir tale.
When hoonie drops, do melt in golden showres,
When every byrde, records hir lovers lay,
And westerne windes, do foster forth our floures,
Late in an even, I walked out alone,
To heare the descant of the Nightingale,
And as I stoode, I heard hir make great moane,
Waymenting much, and thus she tolde hir tale.
These thriftles birds (quoth she) which spend the day,
In nedlesse notes, and chaunt withouten skil,
Are costly kept, and finely fedde alway
With daintie foode, wherof they feede their fil.
But I which spend, the darke and dreadful night,
In watch & ward, whē those birds take their rest,
Forpine my selfe, that Lovers might delight,
To heare the notes, which breake out of my breste.
I leade a life, to please the Lovers minde,
(And though god wot, my foode be light of charge,
Yet seely soule, that can no favour finde)
I begge my breade, and seke for seedes at large.
The Throstle she, which makes the wood to ring
With shryching lowde, that lothsome is to heare,
Is costly kept, in cage: (O wondrous thing)
The Mavis eke, whose notes are nothing cleare,
Now in good sooth (quoth she) sometimes I wepe
To see Tom Tyttimouse, so much set by.
The Finche, which singeth never a note but peepe,
Is fedde aswel, nay better farre than I.
The Lennet and the Larke, they sing alofte,
And coumpted are, as Lordes in high degree.
The Brandlet saith, for singing sweete and softe,
(In hir conceit) there is none such as she.
Canara byrds, come in to beare the bell,
And Goldfinches, do hope to get the gole:
The tatling Awbe doth please some fancie wel,
And some like best, the byrde as Blacke as cole.
And yet could I, if so it were my minde,
For harmony, set al these babes to schole,
And sing such notes, as might in every kinde
Disgrace them quight, & make their corage coole.
But should I so? no no so wil I not.
Let brutish beasts, heare such brute birds as those
(For like to like, the proverbe saith I wot)
And should I then, my cunning skil disclose?
For such unkinde, as let the cukowe flye,
To sucke mine eggs, whiles I sit in the thicke?
And rather praise, the chattring of a pye,
Than hir that sings, with brest against a pricke?
Nay let them go, to marke the cuckowes talke,
The jangling Jay, for that becomes them wel.
And in the silent night then let them walke,
To heare the Owle, how she doth shryche and yel.
And from henceforth, I wil no more constraine
My pleasant voice, to sounde, at their request.
But shrowd my selfe, in darkesome night & raine,
And learne to cowche, ful close upon my neast.
Yet if I chaunce, at any time (percase)
To sing a note, or twaine for my disporte,
It shalbe done, in some such secret place,
That fewe or none, may therunto resorte.
These flatterers, (in love) which falshood meane,
Not once aproch, to heare my pleasant song.
But such as true, and stedfast lovers bene,
Let them come neare, for else they do me wrong.
And as I gesse, not many miles from hence,
There stands a squire, with pangs of sorrow prest,
For whom I dare, avowe (in his defence)
He is as true, (in Love) as is the best.
In nedlesse notes, and chaunt withouten skil,
Are costly kept, and finely fedde alway
With daintie foode, wherof they feede their fil.
But I which spend, the darke and dreadful night,
In watch & ward, whē those birds take their rest,
Forpine my selfe, that Lovers might delight,
To heare the notes, which breake out of my breste.
I leade a life, to please the Lovers minde,
(And though god wot, my foode be light of charge,
Yet seely soule, that can no favour finde)
I begge my breade, and seke for seedes at large.
The Throstle she, which makes the wood to ring
With shryching lowde, that lothsome is to heare,
Is costly kept, in cage: (O wondrous thing)
The Mavis eke, whose notes are nothing cleare,
Now in good sooth (quoth she) sometimes I wepe
To see Tom Tyttimouse, so much set by.
The Finche, which singeth never a note but peepe,
Is fedde aswel, nay better farre than I.
The Lennet and the Larke, they sing alofte,
And coumpted are, as Lordes in high degree.
The Brandlet saith, for singing sweete and softe,
(In hir conceit) there is none such as she.
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And Goldfinches, do hope to get the gole:
The tatling Awbe doth please some fancie wel,
And some like best, the byrde as Blacke as cole.
And yet could I, if so it were my minde,
For harmony, set al these babes to schole,
And sing such notes, as might in every kinde
Disgrace them quight, & make their corage coole.
But should I so? no no so wil I not.
Let brutish beasts, heare such brute birds as those
(For like to like, the proverbe saith I wot)
And should I then, my cunning skil disclose?
For such unkinde, as let the cukowe flye,
To sucke mine eggs, whiles I sit in the thicke?
And rather praise, the chattring of a pye,
Than hir that sings, with brest against a pricke?
Nay let them go, to marke the cuckowes talke,
The jangling Jay, for that becomes them wel.
And in the silent night then let them walke,
To heare the Owle, how she doth shryche and yel.
And from henceforth, I wil no more constraine
My pleasant voice, to sounde, at their request.
But shrowd my selfe, in darkesome night & raine,
And learne to cowche, ful close upon my neast.
Yet if I chaunce, at any time (percase)
To sing a note, or twaine for my disporte,
It shalbe done, in some such secret place,
That fewe or none, may therunto resorte.
These flatterers, (in love) which falshood meane,
Not once aproch, to heare my pleasant song.
But such as true, and stedfast lovers bene,
Let them come neare, for else they do me wrong.
And as I gesse, not many miles from hence,
There stands a squire, with pangs of sorrow prest,
For whom I dare, avowe (in his defence)
He is as true, (in Love) as is the best.
Him wil I cheare, with chaunting al this night:
And with that word, she gan to cleare hir throate.
But such a lively song (now by this light)
Yet never hearde I such another note.
It was (thought me) so pleasant and so plaine,
Orphæus harpe, was never halfe so sweete,
Tereu, Tereu, and thus she gan to plaine,
Most piteously, which made my hart to greeve,
And with that word, she gan to cleare hir throate.
But such a lively song (now by this light)
Yet never hearde I such another note.
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Orphæus harpe, was never halfe so sweete,
Tereu, Tereu, and thus she gan to plaine,
Most piteously, which made my hart to greeve,
Hir second note, was fy, fy, fy, fy, fy,
And that she did, in pleasant wise repeate,
With sweete reports, of heavenly harmonie,
But yet it seemd, hir gripes of griefe were greate.
For when she had, so soong and taken breath,
Then should you heare, hir heavy hart so throbbe,
As though it had bene, overcome with death,
And yet alwayes, in every sigh and sobbe,
And that she did, in pleasant wise repeate,
With sweete reports, of heavenly harmonie,
But yet it seemd, hir gripes of griefe were greate.
For when she had, so soong and taken breath,
Then should you heare, hir heavy hart so throbbe,
As though it had bene, overcome with death,
And yet alwayes, in every sigh and sobbe,
She shewed great skil, for tunes of unisone,
Hir Jug, Jug, Jug, (in griefe) had such a grace.
Then stinted she, as if hir song were done.
And ere that past, not ful a furlong space,
She gan againe, in melodie to melt,
And many a note, she warbled wondrous wel.
Yet can I not (although my hart should swelt)
Remember al, which hir sweete tong did tel.
Hir Jug, Jug, Jug, (in griefe) had such a grace.
Then stinted she, as if hir song were done.
And ere that past, not ful a furlong space,
She gan againe, in melodie to melt,
And many a note, she warbled wondrous wel.
Yet can I not (although my hart should swelt)
Remember al, which hir sweete tong did tel.
But one strange note, I noted with the rest
And that saide thus: Nêmesis, Némesis,
The which me thought, came boldly fro hir brest,
As though she blamde, (therby) some thing amisse.
And that saide thus: Nêmesis, Némesis,
The which me thought, came boldly fro hir brest,
As though she blamde, (therby) some thing amisse.
Short tale to make, her singing sounded so,
And pleasde mine eares, with such varietie,
That (quite forgetting all the wearie wo,
Which I my selfe felt in my fantasie)
I stoode astoynde, and yet therwith content,
Wishing in hart that (since I might advante,
Of al hir speech to knowe the plaine entent,
Which grace hirselfe, or else the Gods did graunt)
I might therwith, one furder favor crave,
To understand, what hir swete notes might meane.
And in that thought, (my whole desire to have)
I fell on sleepe, as I on staffe did leane.
And pleasde mine eares, with such varietie,
That (quite forgetting all the wearie wo,
Which I my selfe felt in my fantasie)
I stoode astoynde, and yet therwith content,
Wishing in hart that (since I might advante,
Of al hir speech to knowe the plaine entent,
Which grace hirselfe, or else the Gods did graunt)
I might therwith, one furder favor crave,
To understand, what hir swete notes might meane.
And in that thought, (my whole desire to have)
I fell on sleepe, as I on staffe did leane.
And in my slomber, had I such a sight,
As yet to thinke theron doth glad my minde.
Me thought I sawe a derling of delight,
A stately Nimph, a dame of heavenly kinde.
As yet to thinke theron doth glad my minde.
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A stately Nimph, a dame of heavenly kinde.
Whose glittring gite, so glimsed in mine eyes,
As (yet) I not, what proper hew it bare,
Ne therewithal, my wits can wel devise,
To whom I might hir lovely lookes compare.
But trueth to tel, (for al hir smyling cheere)
She cast sometimes, a grievous frowning glance,
As who would say: by this it may appeare,
That Just revenge, is Prest for every chance,
In hir right hand, (which to and fro did shake)
She bare a skourge, with many a knottie string,
And in hir left, a snaffle Bit or brake,
Bebost with gold, and many a gingling ring:
She came apace, and stately did she stay,
And whiles I seemd, amazed very much,
The courteous dame, these words to me did say:
Sir Squire (quoth she) since thy desire is such,
To understande, the notes of Phylomene,
(For so she hight, whom thou calst Nightingale)
And what the sounde, of every note might meane,
Give eare a while, and hearken to my tale.
As (yet) I not, what proper hew it bare,
Ne therewithal, my wits can wel devise,
To whom I might hir lovely lookes compare.
But trueth to tel, (for al hir smyling cheere)
She cast sometimes, a grievous frowning glance,
As who would say: by this it may appeare,
That Just revenge, is Prest for every chance,
In hir right hand, (which to and fro did shake)
She bare a skourge, with many a knottie string,
And in hir left, a snaffle Bit or brake,
Bebost with gold, and many a gingling ring:
She came apace, and stately did she stay,
And whiles I seemd, amazed very much,
The courteous dame, these words to me did say:
Sir Squire (quoth she) since thy desire is such,
To understande, the notes of Phylomene,
(For so she hight, whom thou calst Nightingale)
And what the sounde, of every note might meane,
Give eare a while, and hearken to my tale.
The Gods are good, they heare the harty prayers,
Of such as crave without a craftie wil,
With favor eke, they furder such affaires,
As tende to good, and meane to do none il.
And since thy words, were grounded on desire,
Wherby much good, and little harme can growe,
They graunted have, the thing thou didst require,
And lovingly, have sent me here bylowe,
To paraphrase, the piteous pleasant notes,
Which Phylomene, doth darkely spend in spring,
For he that wel, Dan Nasoes verses notes,
Shal finde my words to be no fained thing.
Give eare (sir Squire quoth she) and I wil tel,
Both what she was, and how hir fortunes fel.
Of such as crave without a craftie wil,
With favor eke, they furder such affaires,
As tende to good, and meane to do none il.
And since thy words, were grounded on desire,
Wherby much good, and little harme can growe,
They graunted have, the thing thou didst require,
And lovingly, have sent me here bylowe,
To paraphrase, the piteous pleasant notes,
Which Phylomene, doth darkely spend in spring,
For he that wel, Dan Nasoes verses notes,
Shal finde my words to be no fained thing.
Give eare (sir Squire quoth she) and I wil tel,
Both what she was, and how hir fortunes fel.
182
The fable of Philomela.
In
Athens reignde somtimes,
A king of worthy fame,
Who kept in courte a stately traine,
Pandyon was his name.
A king of worthy fame,
Who kept in courte a stately traine,
Pandyon was his name.
And had the Gods him given,
No holly breade of happe,
(I meane such fruts as make mē thinke
They lye in fortunes lappe)
No holly breade of happe,
(I meane such fruts as make mē thinke
They lye in fortunes lappe)
Then had his golden giftes,
Lyen dead with him in toombe,
Ne but himselfe had none endurde,
The daunger of his doome.
Lyen dead with him in toombe,
Ne but himselfe had none endurde,
The daunger of his doome.
But smyling lucke, bewitcht,
This peerelesse Prince to thinke,
That poyson cannot be conveyde
In draughts of pleasant drinke.
This peerelesse Prince to thinke,
That poyson cannot be conveyde
In draughts of pleasant drinke.
And kinde became so kind,
That he two daughters had,
Of bewtie such & so well given,
As made their father gladde.
That he two daughters had,
Of bewtie such & so well given,
As made their father gladde.
See: see: how highest harmes,
Do lurke in ripest Joyes,
How covertly doth sorow shrowde,
In trymmest worldely toyes.
Do lurke in ripest Joyes,
How covertly doth sorow shrowde,
In trymmest worldely toyes.
These jewels of his joy,
Became his cause of care,
And bewtie was the guileful bayte,
Which caught their lives in Snare.
Became his cause of care,
And bewtie was the guileful bayte,
Which caught their lives in Snare.
For Tereus Lord of Thrace,
Bycause he came of kings,
(So weddings made for worldly welth
Do seme triumphant things)
Bycause he came of kings,
(So weddings made for worldly welth
Do seme triumphant things)
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Was thought a worthy matche,
Pandyons heire to wedde:
Whose eldest daughter chosen was,
To serve this king in bedde.
Pandyons heire to wedde:
Whose eldest daughter chosen was,
To serve this king in bedde.
That virgine Progne hight,
And she by whom I meane,
To tell this woful Tragedie,
Was called Phylomene.
And she by whom I meane,
To tell this woful Tragedie,
Was called Phylomene.
The wedding rytes performde,
The feasting done and past,
To Thrace with his new wedded spouse
He turneth at the last.
The feasting done and past,
To Thrace with his new wedded spouse
He turneth at the last.
Where many dayes in mirth,
And jolytie they spent,
Both satisfied with deepe delight,
And cloyde with al content.
And jolytie they spent,
Both satisfied with deepe delight,
And cloyde with al content.
At last the dame desirde
Hir sister for to see,
Such coles of kindely love did seme
Within hir brest to be.
Hir sister for to see,
Such coles of kindely love did seme
Within hir brest to be.
She praies hir Lorde, of grace,
He graunts to hir request,
And hoist up saile, to seke the coaste,
Where Phylomene doth rest.
He graunts to hir request,
And hoist up saile, to seke the coaste,
Where Phylomene doth rest.
He past the foming seas,
And findes the pleasant porte,
Of Athens towne, which guided him
To King Pandyons court.
And findes the pleasant porte,
Of Athens towne, which guided him
To King Pandyons court.
There: (lovingly receivde,
And) welcomde by the king,
He shewde the cause, which thither then
Did his ambassade bring.
And) welcomde by the king,
He shewde the cause, which thither then
Did his ambassade bring.
His father him embrast,
His sister kist his cheeke,
In al the court his comming was
Rejoyst of everie Greeke.
His sister kist his cheeke,
In al the court his comming was
Rejoyst of everie Greeke.
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Oh see the sweete deceit,
Which blindeth worldly wits.
How common peoples love by lumpes,
And fancie comes by fits.
Which blindeth worldly wits.
How common peoples love by lumpes,
And fancie comes by fits.
The foe in friendly wise,
Is many times embraste,
And he which meanes most faith & troth
By grudging is disgrast.
Is many times embraste,
And he which meanes most faith & troth
By grudging is disgrast.
Faire Phylomene came forth
In comely garments cladde,
As one whom newes of sisters helth
Had moved to be gladde,
In comely garments cladde,
As one whom newes of sisters helth
Had moved to be gladde,
Or womans wil (perhappes)
Enflamde hir haughtie harte,
To get more grace by crūmes of cost,
And princke it out hir parte.
Enflamde hir haughtie harte,
To get more grace by crūmes of cost,
And princke it out hir parte.
Whom he no sooner sawe
(I meane this Thracian prince)
But streight therwith his fancies fume
All reason did convince.
(I meane this Thracian prince)
But streight therwith his fancies fume
All reason did convince.
And as the blazing bronde,
Might kindle rotten reeds:
Even so hir looke a secret flame,
Within his bosome breedes.
Might kindle rotten reeds:
Even so hir looke a secret flame,
Within his bosome breedes.
He thinkes al leysure long
Til he (with hir) were gone,
And hir he makes to move the mirth,
Which after made hir mone.
Til he (with hir) were gone,
And hir he makes to move the mirth,
Which after made hir mone.
Love made him eloquent
And if he cravde too much,
He then excusde him selfe, and saide
That Prognes words were such.
And if he cravde too much,
He then excusde him selfe, and saide
That Prognes words were such.
His teares confirmed all
Teares: like to sisters teares,
As who shuld say by these fewe drops
Thy sisters griefe appeares.
Teares: like to sisters teares,
As who shuld say by these fewe drops
Thy sisters griefe appeares.
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So finely could he faine,
That wickednesse seemde wit,
And by the lawde of his pretence,
His lewdnesse was acquit.
That wickednesse seemde wit,
And by the lawde of his pretence,
His lewdnesse was acquit.
Yea Phylomene set forth
The force of his request,
And cravde (with sighes) hir fathers leave
To be hir sisters guest.
The force of his request,
And cravde (with sighes) hir fathers leave
To be hir sisters guest.
And hoong about his necke
And collingly him kist,
And for hir welth did seke the woe
Wherof she little wist.
And collingly him kist,
And for hir welth did seke the woe
Wherof she little wist.
Meane while stoode Tereus,
Beholding their affectes,
And made those pricks (for his desire)
A spurre in al respects.
Beholding their affectes,
And made those pricks (for his desire)
A spurre in al respects.
And wisht himselfe hir sire,
When she hir sire embrast,
For neither kith nor kin could then
Have made his meaning chast.
When she hir sire embrast,
For neither kith nor kin could then
Have made his meaning chast.
The Grecian king had not
The powre for to denay,
His own deare child, & sonne in lawe
The thing that both did pray.
The powre for to denay,
His own deare child, & sonne in lawe
The thing that both did pray.
And downe his daughter falles,
To thanke him on hir knee,
Supposing that for good successe,
Which hardest happe must be.
To thanke him on hir knee,
Supposing that for good successe,
Which hardest happe must be.
But (least my tale seeme long,)
Their shipping is preparde:
And to the shore this aged Greeke,
Ful princely did them guard.
Their shipping is preparde:
And to the shore this aged Greeke,
Ful princely did them guard.
There (melting into mone)
He usde this parting speech:
Daughter (quoth he) you have desire
Your sisters court to seech.
He usde this parting speech:
Daughter (quoth he) you have desire
Your sisters court to seech.
186
Your sister seemes likewise,
Your companie to crave,
That crave you both, & Tereus here
The selfe same thing would have.
Your companie to crave,
That crave you both, & Tereus here
The selfe same thing would have.
Ne coulde I more withstande
So many deepe desires,
But this (quoth he) remember al
Your father you requires,
So many deepe desires,
But this (quoth he) remember al
Your father you requires,
And thee (my sonne of Thrace,)
I constantly conjure,
By faith, by kin, by men, by gods,
And al that seemeth sure,
I constantly conjure,
By faith, by kin, by men, by gods,
And al that seemeth sure,
That father like, thou fende
My daughter deare from scathe,
And (since I counte al leasure long)
Returne hir to me rathe.
My daughter deare from scathe,
And (since I counte al leasure long)
Returne hir to me rathe.
And thou my Phylomene,
(Quoth he) come soone againe,
Thy sisters absence puts thy syre,
To too much privie paine.
(Quoth he) come soone againe,
Thy sisters absence puts thy syre,
To too much privie paine.
Herewith he kist hir cheeke,
And sent a second kisse
For Prognes part, and (bathde with teares)
His daughter doth he blisse.
And sent a second kisse
For Prognes part, and (bathde with teares)
His daughter doth he blisse.
And tooke the Thracyans hand
For token of his truth,
Who rather laught his teares to scorn,
Than wept with him for ruth.
For token of his truth,
Who rather laught his teares to scorn,
Than wept with him for ruth.
The sayles are fully spredde,
And winds did serve at will,
And forth this traitour king conveies
His praie in prison still.
And winds did serve at will,
And forth this traitour king conveies
His praie in prison still.
Ne could the Barbrous bloud,
Conceale his filthy fyre,
Hey: Victorie (quoth he) my shippe
Is fraught with my desire.
Conceale his filthy fyre,
Hey: Victorie (quoth he) my shippe
Is fraught with my desire.
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Wherewith he fixt his eyes,
Uppon hir fearefull face.
And stil behelde hir gestures all,
And all hir gleames of grace.
Uppon hir fearefull face.
And stil behelde hir gestures all,
And all hir gleames of grace.
Ne could he loke a side,
But like the cruel catte
Which gloating casteth many a glāce
Upon the selly ratte.
But like the cruel catte
Which gloating casteth many a glāce
Upon the selly ratte.
Why hold I long discourse?
They now are come on lande,
And forth of ship the feareful wenche
He leadeth by the hande
They now are come on lande,
And forth of ship the feareful wenche
He leadeth by the hande
Unto a selly shrowde,
A sheepecote closely builte
Amid the woodds, where many a lāb
Their guiltlesse bloud had spilte,
A sheepecote closely builte
Amid the woodds, where many a lāb
Their guiltlesse bloud had spilte,
There (like a lambe,) she stoode,
And askte with trimbling voice,
Where Progne was, whose only sight
Might make hir to rejoyce.
And askte with trimbling voice,
Where Progne was, whose only sight
Might make hir to rejoyce.
Wherewith this caytife king
His lust in lewdnesse lapt,
And with his filthy fraude ful fast
This simple mayde entrapt.
His lust in lewdnesse lapt,
And with his filthy fraude ful fast
This simple mayde entrapt.
And forth he floong the raines,
Unbridling blinde desire,
And ment of hir chast minde to make
A fewel for his fire.
Unbridling blinde desire,
And ment of hir chast minde to make
A fewel for his fire.
And al alone (alone)
With force he hir supprest,
And made hir yelde the wicked weede
Whose flowre he liked best.
With force he hir supprest,
And made hir yelde the wicked weede
Whose flowre he liked best.
What could the virgine doe?
She could not runne away,
Whose forward feete, his harmfull hands
With furious force did stay.
She could not runne away,
Whose forward feete, his harmfull hands
With furious force did stay.
188
Ahlas what should she fight?
Fewe women win by fight:
Hir weapōs were but weake (god knows)
And he was much of might.
Fewe women win by fight:
Hir weapōs were but weake (god knows)
And he was much of might.
It booted not to crie,
Since helpe was not at hande,
And stil before hir feareful face,
Hir cruel foe did stande.
Since helpe was not at hande,
And stil before hir feareful face,
Hir cruel foe did stande.
And yet she (weeping cride)
Uppon hir sisters name,
Hir fathers, and hir brothers (oh)
Whose facte did foyle hir fame.
Uppon hir sisters name,
Hir fathers, and hir brothers (oh)
Whose facte did foyle hir fame.
And on the Gods she calde,
For helpe in hir distresse,
But al in vaine he wrought his wil
Whose lust was not the lesse.
For helpe in hir distresse,
But al in vaine he wrought his wil
Whose lust was not the lesse.
The filthie fact once done,
He gave hir leave to greete,
And there she sat much like a birde
New scapte from falcons feete.
He gave hir leave to greete,
And there she sat much like a birde
New scapte from falcons feete.
Whose blood embrues hir selfe,
And sitts in sorie plight,
Ne dare she proine hir plumes again,
But feares a second flight.
And sitts in sorie plight,
Ne dare she proine hir plumes again,
But feares a second flight.
At last when hart came home,
Discheveld as she sate,
With hands uphelde, she tried hir tongue,
To wreake hir woful state.
Discheveld as she sate,
With hands uphelde, she tried hir tongue,
To wreake hir woful state.
O Barbrous blood (quoth she)
By Barbarous deeds disgrast,
Coulde no kinde coale, nor pitties sparke,
Within thy brest be plaste?
By Barbarous deeds disgrast,
Coulde no kinde coale, nor pitties sparke,
Within thy brest be plaste?
Could not my fathers hests
Nor my most ruthful teares,
My maydenhoode, nor thine owne yoke,
Affright thy minde with feares?
Nor my most ruthful teares,
My maydenhoode, nor thine owne yoke,
Affright thy minde with feares?
189
Could not my sisters love
Once quench thy filthy lust?
Thou foilst us al, and eke thy selfe,
We griev'd, and thou unjust.
Once quench thy filthy lust?
Thou foilst us al, and eke thy selfe,
We griev'd, and thou unjust.
By thee I have defilde
My dearest sisters bedde
By thee I compt the life but lost,
Which too too long I ledde.
My dearest sisters bedde
By thee I compt the life but lost,
Which too too long I ledde.
By thee (thou Bigamus)
Our fathers griefe must growe,
Who daughters twain, (& two too much)
Uppon thee did bestowe.
Our fathers griefe must growe,
Who daughters twain, (& two too much)
Uppon thee did bestowe.
But since my faulte, thy facte,
My fathers just offence,
My sisters wrong, with my reproche,
I cannot so dispence.
My fathers just offence,
My sisters wrong, with my reproche,
I cannot so dispence.
If any Gods be good
If right in heaven do raigne,
If right or wrong may make revenge,
Thou shalt be paide againe.
If right in heaven do raigne,
If right or wrong may make revenge,
Thou shalt be paide againe.
And (wicked) doe thy wurst,
Thou canst no more but kil:
And oh that death (before this gilte)
Had overcome my will.
Thou canst no more but kil:
And oh that death (before this gilte)
Had overcome my will.
Then might my soule beneath,
Have triumpht yet and saide,
That though I died discontent,
I livde and dide a mayde.
Have triumpht yet and saide,
That though I died discontent,
I livde and dide a mayde.
Herewith hir swelling sobbes,
Did tie hir tong from talke,
Whiles yet the Thraciā tyrant (there)
To heare these words did walke.
Did tie hir tong from talke,
Whiles yet the Thraciā tyrant (there)
To heare these words did walke.
And skornefully he cast
At hir a frowning glaunce,
Which made the mayde to strive for spech,
And stertling from hir traunce,
At hir a frowning glaunce,
Which made the mayde to strive for spech,
And stertling from hir traunce,
190
I wil revenge (quoth she)
For here I shake off shame,
And wil (my selfe) bewray this facte
Therby to foile thy fame.
For here I shake off shame,
And wil (my selfe) bewray this facte
Therby to foile thy fame.
Amidde the thickest throngs
(If I have leave to go)
I will pronounce this bloudie deede,
And blotte thine honor so.
(If I have leave to go)
I will pronounce this bloudie deede,
And blotte thine honor so.
If I in deserts dwel,
The woods, my words shal heare,
The holts, the hilles, the craggie rocks,
Shall witnesse with me beare.
The woods, my words shal heare,
The holts, the hilles, the craggie rocks,
Shall witnesse with me beare.
I wil so fil the ayre
With noyse of this thine acte,
That gods and men in heaven and earth
Shal note the naughtie facte.
With noyse of this thine acte,
That gods and men in heaven and earth
Shal note the naughtie facte.
These words amazde the king,
Conscience with choller strave,
But rage so rackte his restles thought,
That now he gan to rave.
Conscience with choller strave,
But rage so rackte his restles thought,
That now he gan to rave.
And from his sheath a knife
Ful despratly he drawes,
Wherwith he cut the guiltlesse tong
Out of hir tender jawes.
Ful despratly he drawes,
Wherwith he cut the guiltlesse tong
Out of hir tender jawes.
The tong that rubde his gall,
The tong that tolde but truthe,
The tong that movde him to be mad,
And should have moved ruth.
The tong that tolde but truthe,
The tong that movde him to be mad,
And should have moved ruth.
And from his hand with spight
This trustie tongue he cast,
Whose roote, and it (to wreake this wrōg)
Did wagge yet wondrous fast.
This trustie tongue he cast,
Whose roote, and it (to wreake this wrōg)
Did wagge yet wondrous fast.
So stirres the serpents taile
When it is cut in twaine,
And so it seemes that weakest willes,
(By words) would ease their paine.
When it is cut in twaine,
And so it seemes that weakest willes,
(By words) would ease their paine.
191
I blush to tell this tale,
But sure best books say this:
That yet the butcher did not blush
Hir bloudy mouth to kisse.
But sure best books say this:
That yet the butcher did not blush
Hir bloudy mouth to kisse.
And ofte hir bulke embrast,
And ofter quencht the fire,
Which kindled had the furnace first,
Within his foule desire.
And ofter quencht the fire,
Which kindled had the furnace first,
Within his foule desire.
Not herewithal content,
To Progne home he came,
Who askt him streight of Philomene:
He (fayning griefe for game,)
To Progne home he came,
Who askt him streight of Philomene:
He (fayning griefe for game,)
Brust out in bitter teares,
And sayde the dame was dead,
And falsly tolde, what wery life
Hir father (for hir) ledde.
And sayde the dame was dead,
And falsly tolde, what wery life
Hir father (for hir) ledde.
The Thracian Queene cast off
Hir gold, and gorgeous weede,
And drest in dole, bewailde hir death
Whom she thought dead in deede.
Hir gold, and gorgeous weede,
And drest in dole, bewailde hir death
Whom she thought dead in deede.
A sepulchre she builds
(But for a living corse,)
And praide the gods on sisters soule
To take a just remorse:
(But for a living corse,)
And praide the gods on sisters soule
To take a just remorse:
And offred sacrifice,
To all the powers above.
Ah traiterous Thracian Tereus,
This was true force of love.
To all the powers above.
Ah traiterous Thracian Tereus,
This was true force of love.
The heavens had whirld aboute
Twelve yeeres in order due
And twelve times every flowre and plant,
Their liveries did renew,
Twelve yeeres in order due
And twelve times every flowre and plant,
Their liveries did renew,
Whiles Philomene full close
In shepcote stil was clapt,
Enforst to bide by stonie walles
Which fast (in hold) hir hapt.
In shepcote stil was clapt,
Enforst to bide by stonie walles
Which fast (in hold) hir hapt.
192
And as those walles forbadde
Hir feete by flight to scape,
So was hir tong (by knife) restrainde,
For to reveale this rape
Hir feete by flight to scape,
So was hir tong (by knife) restrainde,
For to reveale this rape
No remedie remaynde,
But onely womans witte,
Which sodainly in queintest chance,
Can best it selfe acquit.
But onely womans witte,
Which sodainly in queintest chance,
Can best it selfe acquit.
And Miserie (amongst)
Tenne thousand mischieves moe,
Learnes pollicie in practises,
As proofe makes men to knowe.
Tenne thousand mischieves moe,
Learnes pollicie in practises,
As proofe makes men to knowe.
With curious needle worke,
A garment gan she make,
Wherin she wrote what bale she bode,
And al for bewties sake.
A garment gan she make,
Wherin she wrote what bale she bode,
And al for bewties sake.
This garment gan she give
To trustie Servants hande,
Who streight cōveid it to the queen
Of Thracian Tirants lande.
To trustie Servants hande,
Who streight cōveid it to the queen
Of Thracian Tirants lande.
When Progne red the writ,
(A wondrous tale to tell)
She kept it close: though malice made
Hir venging hart to swell.
(A wondrous tale to tell)
She kept it close: though malice made
Hir venging hart to swell.
And did deferre the deede,
Til time and place might serve,
But in hir minde a sharpe revenge,
She fully did reserve.
Til time and place might serve,
But in hir minde a sharpe revenge,
She fully did reserve.
O silence seldome seene,
That women counsell keepe,
The cause was this, she wakt hir wits
And lullde hir tong on sleepe.
That women counsell keepe,
The cause was this, she wakt hir wits
And lullde hir tong on sleepe.
I speake against my sex,
So have I done before,
But truth is truth, and muste be tolde
Though daunger keepe the dore.
So have I done before,
But truth is truth, and muste be tolde
Though daunger keepe the dore.
193
The thirde yeres rytes renewed,
Which Bacchus to belong,
And in that night the queene prepares
Revenge for al hir wrong.
Which Bacchus to belong,
And in that night the queene prepares
Revenge for al hir wrong.
She (girt in Bacchus gite)
With sworde hir selfe doth arme,
With wreathes of vines about hir browes
And many a needles charme.
With sworde hir selfe doth arme,
With wreathes of vines about hir browes
And many a needles charme.
And forth in furie flings,
Hir handmaides following fast,
Until with hastie steppes she founde
The shepecote at the last.
Hir handmaides following fast,
Until with hastie steppes she founde
The shepecote at the last.
There howling out aloude,
As Bacchus priests do crie,
She brake the dores, and found the place
Where Philomene did lye.
As Bacchus priests do crie,
She brake the dores, and found the place
Where Philomene did lye.
And toke hir out by force,
And drest hir Bacchus like,
And hid hir face with boughes and leaves
(For being knowen by like.)
And drest hir Bacchus like,
And hid hir face with boughes and leaves
(For being knowen by like.)
And brought hir to hir house,
But when the wretch it knewe,
That now againe she was so neere
To Tereus untrue.
But when the wretch it knewe,
That now againe she was so neere
To Tereus untrue.
She trembled eft for dreade,
And lookt like ashes pale.
But Progne (now in privie place)
Set silence al to sale,
And lookt like ashes pale.
But Progne (now in privie place)
Set silence al to sale,
And tooke the garments off,
Discovering first hir face,
And sister like did lovingly
Faire Phylomene embrace.
Discovering first hir face,
And sister like did lovingly
Faire Phylomene embrace.
There she (by shame abasht)
Held downe hir weeping eyes,
As who should say: Thy right (by me)
Is reste in wrongful wise.
Held downe hir weeping eyes,
As who should say: Thy right (by me)
Is reste in wrongful wise.
194
And down on ground she falles,
Which ground she kist hir fill,
As witnesse that the filthie facte
Was done against hir wil.
Which ground she kist hir fill,
As witnesse that the filthie facte
Was done against hir wil.
And cast hir hands to heaven,
In steede of tong to tell,
What violence the lecher usde,
And howe hee did hir quell.
In steede of tong to tell,
What violence the lecher usde,
And howe hee did hir quell.
Wherewith the Queene brake off
Hir piteous pearcing plainte,
And sware with sworde (no teares) to venge
The crafte of this constrainte.
Hir piteous pearcing plainte,
And sware with sworde (no teares) to venge
The crafte of this constrainte.
Or if (quoth she) there bee
Some other meane more sure,
More stearne, more stoute, than naked sword
Some mischiefe to procure,
Some other meane more sure,
More stearne, more stoute, than naked sword
Some mischiefe to procure,
I sweare by al the Gods,
I shall the same embrace,
To wreake this wrong with bloudie hande
Uppon the king of Thrace.
I shall the same embrace,
To wreake this wrong with bloudie hande
Uppon the king of Thrace.
Ne will I spare to spende
My life in sisters cause,
In sisters? ah what saide I wretch?
My wrong shall lende me lawes.
My life in sisters cause,
In sisters? ah what saide I wretch?
My wrong shall lende me lawes.
I wil the pallace burne,
With al the princes pelfe,
And in the midst of flaming fire,
Wil caste the king him selfe.
With al the princes pelfe,
And in the midst of flaming fire,
Wil caste the king him selfe.
I wil scrat out those eyes,
That taught him first to lust,
Or teare his tong from traitors throte,
Oh that revenge were just.
That taught him first to lust,
Or teare his tong from traitors throte,
Oh that revenge were just.
Or let me carve with knife,
The wicked Instrument,
Wherewith he, thee, and me abusde
(I am to mischiefe bent.)
The wicked Instrument,
Wherewith he, thee, and me abusde
(I am to mischiefe bent.)
195
Or sleeping let me seeke
To sende the soule to hel,
Whose barbarous bones for filthy force,
Did seeme to beare the bel.
To sende the soule to hel,
Whose barbarous bones for filthy force,
Did seeme to beare the bel.
These words and more in rage
Pronounced by this dame,
Hir little sonne came leaping in
Which Itis had to name.
Pronounced by this dame,
Hir little sonne came leaping in
Which Itis had to name.
Whose presence, could not please
For (vewing well his face,)
Ah wretch (quoth she) how like he groweth
Unto his fathers grace.
For (vewing well his face,)
Ah wretch (quoth she) how like he groweth
Unto his fathers grace.
And therwithal resolvde
A rare revenge in deede
Wheron to thinke (withoutē words)
My woful hart doth bleede.
A rare revenge in deede
Wheron to thinke (withoutē words)
My woful hart doth bleede.
But when the lad lokt up,
And cheerefully did smile,
And hung about his mothers necke
With easie weight therewhile,
And cheerefully did smile,
And hung about his mothers necke
With easie weight therewhile,
And kist (as children use)
His angrie mothers cheeke,
Hir minde was movde to much remorce
And mad became ful meeke.
His angrie mothers cheeke,
Hir minde was movde to much remorce
And mad became ful meeke.
Ne could she teares refrayne,
But wept against hir will,
Such tender rewth of innocence,
Hir cruell moode did kill.
But wept against hir will,
Such tender rewth of innocence,
Hir cruell moode did kill.
At last (so furie wrought)
Within hir brest she felt,
That too much pitie made hir minde
Too womanlike to melt,
Within hir brest she felt,
That too much pitie made hir minde
Too womanlike to melt,
And saw hir sister sit,
With heavy harte and cheere,
And now on hir, and then on him,
Full lowringly did leare,
With heavy harte and cheere,
And now on hir, and then on him,
Full lowringly did leare,
196
Into these words she brust
(Quoth she) why flatters he?
And why againe (with tong cut out)
So sadly sitteth shee?
(Quoth she) why flatters he?
And why againe (with tong cut out)
So sadly sitteth shee?
He, mother, mother calles,
She sister cannot say,
That one in earnest doth lament,
That other whines in plaie.
She sister cannot say,
That one in earnest doth lament,
That other whines in plaie.
Pandions line (quoth she)
Remember stil your race,
And never marke the subtil shewes
Of any Soule in Thrace.
Remember stil your race,
And never marke the subtil shewes
Of any Soule in Thrace.
You should degenerate,
If right revenge you slake,
More right revenge can never bee,
Than this revenge to make.
If right revenge you slake,
More right revenge can never bee,
Than this revenge to make.
Al ill that may be thought,
Al mischiefe under skies,
Were piëtie compard to that
Which Tereus did devise.
Al mischiefe under skies,
Were piëtie compard to that
Which Tereus did devise.
She holds no longer hande,
But (Tygrelike) she toke
The little boy ful boistrously
Who now for terror quooke
But (Tygrelike) she toke
The little boy ful boistrously
Who now for terror quooke
A[n]d (craving mothers helpe,)
She (mother) toke a blade,
And in hir sonnes smal tender hart
An open wound she made.
She (mother) toke a blade,
And in hir sonnes smal tender hart
An open wound she made.
The cruel dede dispatcht,
Betwene the sisters twaine
They tore in peces quarterly
The corps which they had slaine.
Betwene the sisters twaine
They tore in peces quarterly
The corps which they had slaine.
Some part, they hoong on hooks,
The rest they laide to fire,
And on the table caused it,
Be set before the sire.
The rest they laide to fire,
And on the table caused it,
Be set before the sire.
197
And counterfaite a cause
(As Grecians order then)
That at such feasts (but onely one)
They might abide no men.
(As Grecians order then)
That at such feasts (but onely one)
They might abide no men.
He knowing not their crafte,
Sat downe alone to eate,
And hungerly his owne warme bloud
Devoured there for meate.
Sat downe alone to eate,
And hungerly his owne warme bloud
Devoured there for meate.
His oversight was such,
That he for Itis sent,
Whose murdered members in his mawe,
He privily had pent.
That he for Itis sent,
Whose murdered members in his mawe,
He privily had pent.
No longer Progne then,
Hir joy of griefe could hide,
The thing thou seekst (ô wretch quoth she)
Within thee doth abide.
Hir joy of griefe could hide,
The thing thou seekst (ô wretch quoth she)
Within thee doth abide.
Wherwith (he waxing wroth
And searching for his sonne)
Came forth at length, fair Philomene
By whom the griefe begonne,
And searching for his sonne)
Came forth at length, fair Philomene
By whom the griefe begonne,
And (clokt in Bacchus copes,
Wherwith she then was cladde,)
In fathers bosom cast the head
Of Itis selly ladde:
Wherwith she then was cladde,)
In fathers bosom cast the head
Of Itis selly ladde:
Nor ever in hir life
Had more desire to speake,
Thā now: wherby hir madding mood
Might al hir malice wreake.
Had more desire to speake,
Thā now: wherby hir madding mood
Might al hir malice wreake.
The Thracian prince stert up,
Whose hart did boyle in brest,
To feele the foode, and see the sawce,
Which he could not disgest.
Whose hart did boyle in brest,
To feele the foode, and see the sawce,
Which he could not disgest.
And armed (as he was)
He followed both the Greekes,
On whom (by smarte of sword, and flame)
A sharpe revenge he sekes.
He followed both the Greekes,
On whom (by smarte of sword, and flame)
A sharpe revenge he sekes.
198
But when the heavenly benche,
These bloudie deedes did see,
And found that bloud still covits bloud
And so none ende could be.
These bloudie deedes did see,
And found that bloud still covits bloud
And so none ende could be.
They then by their forsight
Thought meete to stinte the strife,
And so restraind the murdring king,
From sister and from wife.
Thought meete to stinte the strife,
And so restraind the murdring king,
From sister and from wife.
So that by their decree,
The yongest daughter fledde
Into the thicks, where covertly,
A cloister life she ledde.
The yongest daughter fledde
Into the thicks, where covertly,
A cloister life she ledde.
And yet to ease hir woe,
She worthily can sing,
And as thou hearst, cā please the eares
Of many men in spring.
She worthily can sing,
And as thou hearst, cā please the eares
Of many men in spring.
The eldest dame and wife
A Swallowe was assignde,
And builds in smoky chimney toppes
And flies against the winde.
A Swallowe was assignde,
And builds in smoky chimney toppes
And flies against the winde.
The king him selfe condemnde,
A Lapwing for to be,
Who for his yong ones cries alwais,
Yet never can them see.
A Lapwing for to be,
Who for his yong ones cries alwais,
Yet never can them see.
The lad a Pheasaunt cocke
For his degree hath gaind,
Whose blouddie plumes declare the bloud
Wherwith his face was staind.
For his degree hath gaind,
Whose blouddie plumes declare the bloud
Wherwith his face was staind.
But there to turne my tale,
The which I came to tell,
The yongest dame to forrests fled,
And there is dampnde to dwell.
The which I came to tell,
The yongest dame to forrests fled,
And there is dampnde to dwell.
And Nightingale now namde
Which (Philomela hight)
Delights for (feare of force againe)
To sing alwayes by night.
Which (Philomela hight)
Delights for (feare of force againe)
To sing alwayes by night.
199
But when the sunne to west,
Doth bende his weerie course,
Then Phylomene records the rewth,
Which craveth just remorse.
Doth bende his weerie course,
Then Phylomene records the rewth,
Which craveth just remorse.
1
And for hir foremost note,
Tereu Tereu, doth sing,
Complaining stil uppon the name
Of that false Thracian king.
Tereu Tereu, doth sing,
Complaining stil uppon the name
Of that false Thracian king.
Much like the childe at schole
With byrchen rodds sore beaten,
If when he go to bed at night
His maister chaunce to threaten,
With byrchen rodds sore beaten,
If when he go to bed at night
His maister chaunce to threaten,
In every dreame he starts,
And (ô good maister) cries,
Even so this byrde uppon that name,
Hir foremost note replies.
And (ô good maister) cries,
Even so this byrde uppon that name,
Hir foremost note replies.
Or as the red breast byrds,
Whome prettie Merlynes hold
Ful fast in foote, by winters night
To fende themselves from colde:
Whome prettie Merlynes hold
Ful fast in foote, by winters night
To fende themselves from colde:
Though afterwards the hauke,
For pitie let them scape,
Yet al that day, they fede in feare,
And doubte a second rape.
For pitie let them scape,
Yet al that day, they fede in feare,
And doubte a second rape.
And in the nexter night,
Ful many times do crie,
Remembring yet the ruthful plight
Wherein they late did lye.
Ful many times do crie,
Remembring yet the ruthful plight
Wherein they late did lye.
Even so this selly byrde,
Though now transformde in kinde,
Yet evermore hir pangs forepast,
She beareth stil in minde.
Though now transformde in kinde,
Yet evermore hir pangs forepast,
She beareth stil in minde.
And in hir foremost note,
She notes that cruel name,
By whom she lost hir pleasant speech
And foiled was in fame.
She notes that cruel name,
By whom she lost hir pleasant speech
And foiled was in fame.
200
2
Hir second note is fye,
In Greeke and latine phy,
In english fy, and every tong
That ever yet read I.
In Greeke and latine phy,
In english fy, and every tong
That ever yet read I.
Which word declares disdaine,
Or lothsome leying by
Of any thing we tast, heare, touche,
Smel, or beholde with eye.
Or lothsome leying by
Of any thing we tast, heare, touche,
Smel, or beholde with eye.
In tast, phy sheweth some sowre,
In hearing, some discorde,
In touch, some foule or filthy toye,
In smel, some sent abhorde.
In hearing, some discorde,
In touch, some foule or filthy toye,
In smel, some sent abhorde.
In sight, some lothsome loke,
And every kind of waie,
This byword phy betokneth bad,
And things to cast away.
And every kind of waie,
This byword phy betokneth bad,
And things to cast away.
So that it semes hir well,
Phy, phy, phy, phy, to sing,
Since phy befytteth him so well
In every kind of thing.
Phy, phy, phy, phy, to sing,
Since phy befytteth him so well
In every kind of thing.
Phy filthy lecher lewde,
Phy false unto thy wife,
Phy coward phy, (on womankinde)
To use thy cruel knife.
Phy false unto thy wife,
Phy coward phy, (on womankinde)
To use thy cruel knife.
Phy for thou wert unkinde,
Fye fierce and foule forsworne,
Phy mōster made of murdring mould
Whose like was never borne.
Fye fierce and foule forsworne,
Phy mōster made of murdring mould
Whose like was never borne.
Phy agony of age,
Phy overthrowe of youth,
Phy mirrour of mischevousnesse,
Phy, tipe of al untruth.
Phy overthrowe of youth,
Phy mirrour of mischevousnesse,
Phy, tipe of al untruth.
Phy fayning forced teares,
Phy forging fyne excuse,
Phy perjury, fy blasphemy,
Phy bed of al abuse.
Phy forging fyne excuse,
Phy perjury, fy blasphemy,
Phy bed of al abuse.
201
These phyes, and many moe,
Pore Philomene may meane,
And in hir selfe she findes percase,
Some phy that was uncleane.
Pore Philomene may meane,
And in hir selfe she findes percase,
Some phy that was uncleane.
For though his fowle offence,
May not defended bee,
Hir sister yet, and she transgrest,
Though not so deepe as he.
May not defended bee,
Hir sister yet, and she transgrest,
Though not so deepe as he.
His doome came by deserte,
Their dedes grewe by disdaine,
But men must leave revenge to Gods,
What wrong soever raigne.
Their dedes grewe by disdaine,
But men must leave revenge to Gods,
What wrong soever raigne.
Then Progne phy for thee,
Which kildst thine only child,
Phy on the cruel crabbed hart
Which was not movde with milde.
Which kildst thine only child,
Phy on the cruel crabbed hart
Which was not movde with milde.
Phy phy, thou close conveydst
A secret il unsene,
Where (good to kepe in councel close)
Had putrifide thy splene.
A secret il unsene,
Where (good to kepe in councel close)
Had putrifide thy splene.
Phy on thy sisters facte,
And phy hir selfe doth sing,
Whose lack of tong nere toucht hir so
As when it could not sting.
And phy hir selfe doth sing,
Whose lack of tong nere toucht hir so
As when it could not sting.
Phy on us both saith she,
The father onely faulted,
And we (the father free therewhile)
The selly sonne assalted.
The father onely faulted,
And we (the father free therewhile)
The selly sonne assalted.
3
The next note to hir phy
Is Jug, Jug, Jug, I gesse,
That might I leave to latynists
By learning to expresse.
Is Jug, Jug, Jug, I gesse,
That might I leave to latynists
By learning to expresse.
Some commentaries make
About it much adoe:
If it should onely Jugum meane
Or Jugulatór too.
About it much adoe:
If it should onely Jugum meane
Or Jugulatór too.
202
Some thinke that Jugum is
The Jug, she jugleth so,
But Jugulator is the word
That doubleth al hir woe.
The Jug, she jugleth so,
But Jugulator is the word
That doubleth al hir woe.
For when she thinkes thereon,
She beares them both in minde,
Him, breaker of his bonde in bed,
Hir, killer of hir kinde.
She beares them both in minde,
Him, breaker of his bonde in bed,
Hir, killer of hir kinde.
As fast as furies force
Hir thoughts on him to thinke,
So fast hir conscience choks hir up,
And wo to wrong doth linke.
Hir thoughts on him to thinke,
So fast hir conscience choks hir up,
And wo to wrong doth linke.
At last (by griefe constrainde)
It boldely breaketh out,
And makes the hollow woods to ring
With Eccho round about.
It boldely breaketh out,
And makes the hollow woods to ring
With Eccho round about.
4
Hir next most note (to note)
I neede no helpe at al,
For I my selfe the partie am
On whom she then doth call.
I neede no helpe at al,
For I my selfe the partie am
On whom she then doth call.
She calles on Némesis
And Némesis am I,
The Goddesse of al just revenge,
Who let no blame go by.
And Némesis am I,
The Goddesse of al just revenge,
Who let no blame go by.
This bridle bost with gold,
I beare in my left hande,
To holde men backe in rashest rage,
Until the cause be scand.
I beare in my left hande,
To holde men backe in rashest rage,
Until the cause be scand.
And such as like that bitte
And beare it willingly,
May scape this scourge in my right hand
Although they trode awry.
And beare it willingly,
May scape this scourge in my right hand
Although they trode awry.
But if they hold on head,
And scorne to beare my yoke,
Oft times they buy the rost ful deare,
It smelleth of the smoke.
And scorne to beare my yoke,
Oft times they buy the rost ful deare,
It smelleth of the smoke.
203
This is the cause (sir Squire
Quoth she) that Phylomene
Doth cal so much upon my name,
She to my lawes doth leane:
Quoth she) that Phylomene
Doth cal so much upon my name,
She to my lawes doth leane:
She feeles a just revenge
Of that which she hath done,
Constrainde to use the day for night
And makes the moone hir sunne.
Of that which she hath done,
Constrainde to use the day for night
And makes the moone hir sunne.
Ne can she now complaine,
(Although she lost hir tong)
For since that time, ne yet before,
No byrde so swetely soong.
(Although she lost hir tong)
For since that time, ne yet before,
No byrde so swetely soong.
That gift we Gods hir gave,
To countervaile hir woe,
I sat on bench in heaven my selfe
When it was graunted so.
To countervaile hir woe,
I sat on bench in heaven my selfe
When it was graunted so.
And though hir foe be fledde,
But whither knowes not she,
And like hir selfe transformed eke
A selly byrde to bee:
But whither knowes not she,
And like hir selfe transformed eke
A selly byrde to bee:
On him this sharpe revenge
The Gods and I did take,
He neither can beholde his brats,
Nor is belovde of make.
The Gods and I did take,
He neither can beholde his brats,
Nor is belovde of make.
As soone as coles of kinde
Have warmed him to do
The selly shift of dewties dole
Which him belongeth to:
Have warmed him to do
The selly shift of dewties dole
Which him belongeth to:
His hen straight way him hates,
And flieth farre him fro,
And close conveis hir eggs from him,
As from hir mortal foe.
And flieth farre him fro,
And close conveis hir eggs from him,
As from hir mortal foe.
As sone as she hath hatcht,
Hir little yong ones runne,
For feare their dame should serve thē efte,
As Progne had begonne.
Hir little yong ones runne,
For feare their dame should serve thē efte,
As Progne had begonne.
204
And rounde about the fields
The furious father flies,
To seke his sonne, and filles the ayre
With loude lamenting cries.
The furious father flies,
To seke his sonne, and filles the ayre
With loude lamenting cries.
This lothsome life he leads,
By our almightie dome,
And thus sings she, where company
But very seldome come.
By our almightie dome,
And thus sings she, where company
But very seldome come.
Now lest my faithful tale
For fable should be taken,
And thereupon my curtesie,
By thee might be forsaken:
For fable should be taken,
And thereupon my curtesie,
By thee might be forsaken:
Remember al my words,
And beare them wel in minde,
And make thereof a metaphore,
So shalt thou quickly finde,
And beare them wel in minde,
And make thereof a metaphore,
So shalt thou quickly finde,
Both profite and pastime,
In al that I thee tel:
I knowe thy skill wil serve therto,
And so (quoth she) farewell.
In al that I thee tel:
I knowe thy skill wil serve therto,
And so (quoth she) farewell.
That scarce I could, hir seemely shaddow see.
At last: my staffe (which was mine onely stay)
Did slippe, and I, must needes awaked be,
Against my wil did I (God knowes) awake,
For willingly I could my selfe content,
Seven dayes to sleepe for Philomelâs sake,
So that my sleepe in such swete thoughts were spent.
But you my Lord which reade this ragged verse,
Forgive the faults of my so sleepy muse,
Let me the heast of Némesis rehearse,
For sure I see, much sense therof ensues.
I seeme to see (my Lord) that lechers lust,
Procures the plague, and vengaunce of the highest,
I may not say, but God is good and just,
Although he scourge the furdest for the nighest:
205
Yea foure discents it beares the burden stil,
Whereby it falles (when vaine delight is done)
That dole steppes in and wields the world at wil.
O whoredom, whoredome, hope for no good happe,
The best is bad that lights on lechery
And (al wel weyed) he sits in Fortune's lappe,
Which feeles no sharper scourge than beggery.
You princes peeres, you comely courting knights,
Which use al arte to marre the maidens mindes,
Which win al dames with baite of fonde delights,
Which bewtie force, to loose what bountie bindes:
Thinke on the scourge that Némesis doth beare,
Remember this, that God (although he winke)
Doth see al sinnes that ever secret were.
(Væ vobis) then which still in sinne do sinke.
Gods mercy lends you brydles for desire,
Hold backe betime, for feare you catch a foyle,
The flesh may spurre to everlasting fire,
But sure, that horse which tyreth like a roile,
And lothes the griefe of his forgalded sides,
Is better, much than is the harbrainde colte
Which headlong runnes and for no bridle bydes,
But huntes for sinne in every hil and holte.
He which is single, let him spare to spil
The flowre of force, which makes a famous man:
Lest when he comes to matrimonies will,
His fynest graine be burnt, and ful of branne.
He that is yokte and hath a wedded wife,
Be wel content with that which may suffyse,
And (were no God) yet feare of worldly strife
Might make him lothe the bed where Lays lies:
For though Pandyons daughter Progne shee,
Were so transformde into a fethered foule,
Yet seemes she not withouten heires to be,
Who (wrongde like hir) ful angrely can scoule,
And beare in brest a right revenging mode,
Til time and place, may serve to worke their will.
Yea surely some, the best of al the broode
(If they had might) with furious force would kil.
206
And way their words as blasts of blustring winde,
Which comes ful calme, when stormes are past by course:
Yet God above that cā both lose & bynde,
Wil not so soone appeased be therefore,
He makes the male, of female to be hated,
He makes the sire go sighing wondrous sore,
Because the sonne of such is seldome rated.
I meane the sonnes of such rash sinning sires,
Are seldome sene to runne a ruly race.
But plagude (be like) by fathers foule desires
Do gadde a broade, and lacke the guide of grace.
Then (Lapwinglike) the father flies about,
And howles and cries to see his children stray,
Where he him selfe (and no man better) mought
Have taught his bratts to take a better way.
Thus men (my Lord) be Metamorphosed,
From seemely shape, to byrds, and ougly beastes:
Yea bravest dames, (if they amisse once tredde)
Finde bitter sauce, for al their pleasant feasts.
They must at last condemned be to dwell
In thickes unseene, in mewes for minyons made,
Until at last, (if they can bryde it wel)
They may chop chalke, and take some better trade.
Beare with me (Lord) my lusting dayes are done,
Fayre Phylomene forbad me fayre and flat
To like such love, as is with lust begonne,
The lawful love is best, and I like that.
Then if you see, that (Lapwinglike) I chaunce,
To leape againe, beyond my lawful reache,
(I take hard taske) or but to give a glaunce,
At bewties blase, for such a wilful breache,
Of promise made, my Lord shal do no wrong,
To say (George) thinke on Phylomelâes song.
FINIS.
Tam Marti, quàm Mercurio.
207
And thus my very good L. may se how coblerlike I have clouted a new patch to an olde sole, beginning this cōplainte of Philomene, in Aprill, 1562. continuing it a little furder in Aprill. 1575 and now thus finished this thirde day of Aprill. 1576.
Al which mine April showers are humbly sent unto your good Lordship, for that I hope very shortly to see the May flowers of your favour, which I desire, more than I can deserve. And yet rest
Your Lordships bownden and assured.
510
EPILOGISMUS
A sighe sometymes maye ease a swellinge harte
as soden blastes, do cleare the clowdye skyes
and teares (liekwyse maye somewhatt ease some smarte
as Showers allaye, the dustes frome earthe wch ryse
for thinges (which byde, extremytye) be glade,
to feele the leaste, relyef that may he hade/
as soden blastes, do cleare the clowdye skyes
and teares (liekwyse maye somewhatt ease some smarte
as Showers allaye, the dustes frome earthe wch ryse
for thinges (which byde, extremytye) be glade,
to feele the leaste, relyef that may he hade/
Butt as the rayne, which dothe ensew such blaste
(from heaven on highe) wth greater force dothe fall
and as the duste, when little droppes be paste
dothe quicly drye, and muche encrease wthall
so sighes and teares, (yf soveraigne grace be greved)
cōnsume the harte, whose lightes they earst relieved
(from heaven on highe) wth greater force dothe fall
and as the duste, when little droppes be paste
dothe quicly drye, and muche encrease wthall
so sighes and teares, (yf soveraigne grace be greved)
cōnsume the harte, whose lightes they earst relieved
Good Quene: I com̄pt, this Booke a sighe to be
and everye leafe, a teare of trew entennte
which (truthe to tell) do somewhatt comforte me
in hope they maye, be tane as they be ment
but if my Queene, shulde not accepte them well
they kyll his harte, wch (now) for Joye doth swell.
and everye leafe, a teare of trew entennte
which (truthe to tell) do somewhatt comforte me
in hope they maye, be tane as they be ment
but if my Queene, shulde not accepte them well
they kyll his harte, wch (now) for Joye doth swell.
Tam Marti quam Mercurio
Yf god wolde deigne to make, a Petrarks heire of me
the coomlyest Queene that ever was, my Lawra nedes must be
511
The grief of joye.
Certeyne Elegies: wherein the doubtfull delightes of man̄es lyfe, are displaied.
Tam Marti quam Mercurio.
513
TO THE highe and mightie pryncesse, Elizabeth,
by ye grace of god Queene of England, France, and Ireland, defendor
of the faithe, &c: George Gascoigne esquier one of her Maties
most humble and faithfull Servants, wishethe longe lyfe, wth trew felicitie
nowe and ever.
516
THE Preface.
Mownt mynd & muze, you come before a Queene
before a Queene, whose Bewtye skornes compare/
for yett on earth hath selde (or nott) bene seene,
A Queene so fraught with gyfts & graces rare
then (that your words, her worthy wyll may pearce)
mount mynde and muze, the Queene shall reade yr verse.
before a Queene, whose Bewtye skornes compare/
for yett on earth hath selde (or nott) bene seene,
A Queene so fraught with gyfts & graces rare
then (that your words, her worthy wyll may pearce)
mount mynde and muze, the Queene shall reade yr verse.
And in your verse, be bolld to tell her playne,
that in my lyfe (one onely Joye except)
I never fownd delighte that could remayne,
styll permanent/ nor free from dole be kept
A thowsand Joyes, my Jollye yowth hath tryed
yett none but one, could styll with me abyde.
that in my lyfe (one onely Joye except)
I never fownd delighte that could remayne,
styll permanent/ nor free from dole be kept
A thowsand Joyes, my Jollye yowth hath tryed
yett none but one, could styll with me abyde.
One sweete there ys, which never yett seemd sowre
one Joye of Joyes, whom never gryef disgraste,
one worlde of myrth, withowt one mowrnfull howre,
one happy thoughte, which (yett) no dowbt defast
what is ytt? speake! (my mynde & muze) be bolld
ytt is butt this: my Queene for to behold.
one Joye of Joyes, whom never gryef disgraste,
one worlde of myrth, withowt one mowrnfull howre,
one happy thoughte, which (yett) no dowbt defast
what is ytt? speake! (my mynde & muze) be bolld
ytt is butt this: my Queene for to behold.
L'envoie.
Queene by your leave, hath bene (yn olden dayes)A pretye playe/ wheryn the prynce gave chardge,
(So that the pale, were styll kept hole allwayes)
to take the best, and leave the rest att large./
Queene, by your leave: my muze the best hath fownde,
and yett I hope, the pale ys safe and sownde./
Tam Marti Quam Mercurio.
517
The greeves or discommodities of lustie yowth.
[THE FIRST SONGE.]
[1]
The griefe of joye, in worthie wise to write,That by the vice, the vertue might be founde,
Requireth skyll, and cunning to endight./
First: skill to judge, of everie griefe the grounde,
Then arte to tell, wherein menns joyes abownde./
My muse therefore (not causelesse) dreadeth blame,
Whose arte and skill, (God knowes) long since were lame.
2
The wandring waies, of reckles ranging youth,Made will forgett, the little skill I had,/
And wanton rimes, whereof no frewte ensewth,
Have made my style, (whiche never good was) badde/
Well maie I then, accompted be but madd,
To take in hande, a worke so greate and grave,
Withe those fewe tooles, which yet untoucht I have./
3
But as the man, whiche serves his prentishoode,With Artisanes, whose cunning doth excell.
Although his skill, be never halfe so good,
As theirs hathe bene, whose brute did beare the bell:
Yet will the worlde, expect he shulde doe well,
And partely graunt, that he deserveth fame,
Because his masters, were of worthie name;
4
EVEN so my selfe, (who sometyme bare the bookes,Of suche as weere, greate Clerkes and men of skill)
Presume to thinke, that everie bodie lookes,
I shulde be lyke, unto my teachers still
And thereupon I venter my good will
Yn barreyne verse, to doe the best I can,
Lyke Chaucers boye, and Petrarks jorneyman.
518
5
You then: who reade, and rifle in my rimes,To seeke the rose, where nothing growes but thornes,
Of curtesie, yet pardone hym which clymes,
To purchase praise, although, he fynd but skornes/
Full well wott you, that Corynth shoyng hornes
Maie not be made, like everie noddies nose,
No Buckler serves, to beare all kynde of blowes./
6
But if some Englishe woorde, herein seme sweet,Let Chaucers name, exalted be therefore,/
Yf any verse, doe passe on plesānt feet,
The praise thereof, redownd to Petrarks lore/
Few words to use, yf either lesse or more,
Be fownde herei[n], which seeme to merite fame,
The lawde thereof, be to my Sovereigns name./
7
Reproofe myne owne, for all that is amysse:And faults must swarme where little skill doth reigne./
Yet for my selfe, I can alledge but this:
The mazed man, whome bewties blaze hath slaine,
Dothe goe in greife, and yet perceyves no payne
And they whome love hathe daunted withe delight,
Fynd seldome fault, but thinke that all goeth right./
8
My Seasicke braynes, are giddie with the gaze,Whiche fancie cast, at lovely lookes long since/
And forward still, I wander in the maze,
Where sweete deceipt, my reason dothe convince/
Yet as I maie, (you see) my muze must mynce,/
Suche nyce conceiptes, as toomble in my hedd
To please her minde, who knowes what life I ledde.
9
Such pottherbes growe, where fancie diggs ye soyle,And hott desire, bestowes the willing seede./
But what for that? more frewtles were his toyle,
Whome any griefe, could make repent the deede,
Which once (withe joye) his jolly thoughts did feede./
One sight of heaven, might make my mynde to dwell,
Seven yeares (content) yn depth of darkesome hell.
519
10
There is a griefe, in everie kind of joye,That is my theame, and that I meane to prove./
And who were he, wch woulde not drinck anoye,
To tast thereby, the lightest drāme of love?
But whiles I dreame, yt better shall behove,
To wake a brayde and take my woorke in hande
Least Will be shent, when toyes (by trewth) are skande.
11
Then let me saie, that lyfe to man is lent,To dwell on earthe, in jollitie and joye./
But therewithall, yt seemes that god was bent,
To visite man (in myrthe) withe much anoye./
Thes contraries, are trewthe/ and like no toye.
For looke who list, and doubtles he shall finde,
Some grudge of griefe in everie joyfull mynde./
12
To passe with penn, the terror of the Twygg,Which maie torment, the blythest babe that lyves.
Consider we, when youthe is waxen bigg,
What lustie life, in deepe delight he drives./
Lett see the joyes, wch God to yoonkers geves./
And first of all (from whence the rest enseweth)
Beholde wee well, the joyes of lustie youthe.
13
Of lustie youthe, then lustily to treate,Yt is the very Mayemoone of delight/
When boldest bloodes, are full of wilfull heate,
And joye to thinke, how longe they have to fight,
In fancies feelde, before their lyfe take flight./
Synce he which latest, did the game begynne,
Dothe longest hope, to lynger styll therein./
14
“O greevous joy/ O neast of needeles myrthe,/“Full little knowes, the yongest yet that was,
“How neare his death, approcheth to hys byrth/
“Suche wyngs hath tyme, wch all things brings to passe./
“Her surest grounde, is slipperie as glasse./
“Nothing moore vayne, nor movable then youth,
“Moore wylie none, then age: wch still enseweth./
520
15
For youthe cannot, stande still in one estate,But flieth us from, when most thereof is made/
And age steales on, unto our privy gate,
And in ye darke, doth (silently) invade,
Youthes fortte unwares: wch never knewe yt trade./
So: when we thincke, age furthest from our lyfe,
Youthes doore breakes up, and yt steppes in by strife.
16
This is one Griefe, yet (God he knowes) not greate,Compared to those, which follow youthfull joyes,
“The reckles rage/ the rashe unbridled heate/
“The thirst of luste, to taste unlawfull toyes/
“The subtile snares, to catche content by coyes/
“The love/ the hate/ and all wch lyfe dothe use,
“Breeds griefe in joy, there is no choyse to chuse./
17
I see not I: whereof yong men shoulde bost,Synce hee that is, nor fonde nor madd owtright,
Dothe knowe yt adge, will come at last like frost,
And nipp the flowere, of all his vaine delight,/
Where findes he then, the pleasure of his plight,
“Alas alas, even whyles I write thes lynes,
“Som̄e parte of youthe, to crooked age enclynes/
18
Unlesse (percase) of two condempnd to death,The ladd wch last, dothe clyme the gallow tree,
(Because a while, he hath prolonged breath)
Maie seeme (to som̄e) the happier to be/
And yet who lyst, to harken unto me,
I saie hee seemes, moore paine for to endure
Which lyngers lyfe, and is to dye most sure./
19
Yet this is not, an even comparisone./For (here) that one, maie chance some waie to scape/
Where nought but death, when all delaies ar done,
Can keepe olde age, from reaching youth by rape/
His hungrie Jawes, continually doe gape,
To swallow youth: and yf death parte them not,
Ytt needes at last must light unto his lott.
521
20
But som̄e triumphe, asthough ye bounds were sett,How longe mans lyfe, might heere on earthe endure/
Put case it were, allowed wthowt lett,
Full seventie yeares, to sojorne here full sure/
And then conclude/ that he (whiche hathe the cure,
Of his owne Cource) might joye in youth full fast,
And care in age, when lusty youthe were past./
21
But therewthall, yt woulde be markt likewise,That as the Colt, which never knewe the bytt,
Dothe soner catche, a knocke in wilfull wise,
Then dothe the horsse, wch flyngeth never a fytt,
But is content, to let his rider sitt;
Even so that age, wch lavishe is of breath,
Shall sonest light, upon the darte of deathe.
22
“For deathe is he, wch rides and breakes us all/“Some yong, some olde, some full of witt, some fonde/
“And such as strive, and thinck to make hȳ fall
“He swylles them first, in depthe of surfeyts ponde,
“And after tyes, them fast in agewes bonde./
“Untyll at last, he wȳne the wyldest wyll,
“To lye alonge, and let hym spurre his fill.
23
Weighe well my woordes, no nearer neighbours be,Then lyfe and deathe, whose walls alwaies do touche
For yf that one, for feare doe chaunce to flee,
That other (straight) dothe never seme to gruch,
But followes fast, and thinkes no paine to muche/
Yea when they seme, in sonder quite divorst
They meete (unseene) althoughe they be not forst./
24
“And what gaynes, he that dothe prolonge his daies,“But sorrowe, payne, care, Contecke, and unquiett?
“As sorowe first, the saulce of woorldely waies./
“And payne, the price of roonnyng after riott./
“Care keepes the booke, wherein man writes his diett./
“Contecke comptrolles, his howshold everie howre,
“And much unrest, Doth holde his strongest towre./
522
25
Thes greeves ensue, the lymityng of lyfe/Which (being weyed, in equall ballance to)
Must needes be cause, of muche debate and strife,
Synce He loves lyfe/ as well as He can doe/
Saye one lyves longe: another asketh Who?
And why not I (sayth he) unequall kynde,
Who longe therefore, and yet in paynes am pyned?
26
So that (in deede) their vaunting is but vayne,Who thinke in youth; to carroll voyde of care/
No, no (God knowes) eche pleasure hathe his payne/
And frolicke youthe, must meete wth sory fare/
“For thoughe delight, were formed in a gare,
“Yet kynde (whiche knewe what worke she had in hand)
“Tyed Dole thereto, withe everlasting band.
27
One thinks in yowthe, to floorishe evermore,Because olde age, is furdest from his heele/
And whyles therewith, he comforteth ye core
The flower doth fade, whiche he dothe never feele/
And drowpingly, yt downe apace dothe reele/
Oh brittle Joy, withe sodaine griefe disgrast,
Which soner partes, then yt can be embrast.
28
Another thinkes, his age to be unbroken,Because in youth, his glasse beginnes to roone/
Who never marks, that whiles yt worde was spoken,
Some parte therof, is now bothe past and done/
“The strongest thryd, yt ever yet was sponne,
“(Although it never come, in clothe nor list)
“Is nockthrowen yet, even with ye spindles twyst.
29
“The heavens on highe perpetually doe move/“By mynutes meale, the howre dothe steale awaie/
“By howres, the daie, by daies, the monethes remove/
“And then by monethes, the yeares as fast decaie/
“Yea, Virgills verse, and Tully, truth do saie,
“That tyme flieth on, and never claps her wings,
“But rides on clowdes, & forward still she flinges.
523
30
Muche lyke to them, who (sitting in a shipp)Are borne forthright, and feele no footing sturr./
In silent sleepes, the tyme awaie dothe slipp./
Yt neither bawlethe (like a contrie curre)
Nor standeth styll, to byde a hasty spurre/
But slily slydes, and never maketh noyse,
And much bewrayes; with verie little voyce./
31
Som̄e coūpt that lyfe, ascendethe stylle in youtheWhiche dothe (indeede) unto the pytt descend/
And oh that men, could see howe sone enseweth,
The fatall clapp, which brings them to their ende/
For then: this lyfe, which God to them dothe lende,
Woulde skarcely seme, so many wynters daies,
As earst seemd yeares, to ende theire wantō waies/
32
What said I? daies? nay not so manie howres/Not howres? no no/ soe many mynuts nott/
The bravest yowth, wch floorisheth lyke flowres,
Woulde thinck his hew, to be as sone forgott,
As tender herbes, cut up to serve the pott./
“And then this lyfe, which he so thougt to clyme,
“Woulde shew yt selfe, but toomblyng under tyme/
33
Well: yett deceȳpt, by lusty yowthe is spied,When as it cannot well avoyded be./
For vaine it were, with grave advise to guyde,
The wilfull blynde, wch wyll no danger see/
And though I be not olde, yet trust to me,
“Youthe skornes the reade, of them wch have best skill
“Though (by defect) yt needeth councell still./
34
Harde of beleefe/ and unexpert withall/Rashe/ blynde/ yett bolde/ and setteth dangr light/
Soe that mee seemes, no teacher of them all,
Maie better serve, to handle youthe aright,
Then crooked age: wch settith in theire sight,
(Although they wynke, dissembling not to see)
Bothe what they are, and what they ought to be./
524
35
To tell a trewth, yf any yong man woulde,Geve eare to age, and harken sounde advise,
That youthe might shine, & glister bright as golde/
For then might he, eschew the toyes wch tyse,
To vaine delight, and perills of little price/
Yea then should he, eskape ye sandes hymselfe,
And helpe his pheares, who grounded sit on shelfe/
36
But youth is it, wch many hathe beguyld,By setting joye, in vayne delightes to sale/
Whereas in deede, most comfort is compiled,
In things wch seeme, to be but bytter bale/
Marke well my woordes and trust unto my tale,
“All is not golde, wch glistereth faire and bright,
“Nor all things good, wch fairest seeme in sight.
37
“Trew joye cannot, in trifleng toyes consist/“Nor happines, in joyes wch soone decaie/
“Then looke on yowthe, and marke yt he yt list/
“Somtymes both borne and buried in a daye/
“Yea thoughe yt should, contynew (greene) alwaie,
“I cannot finde, what joy therein doth grow,
“Which is not staynd, wth undertwiggs of wo./
38
How many tymes, have I beheld the race,Of reckles youth, wth sondrie greeves disgrast?
How many Joyes have I seene fade apace,
When in theire roomes, repentan̄ce hathe byn plast?
Howe oft have I, ben wytnes of ye wast,
Whiche wilfull yowth, hath spent on worthles toyes?
To tyre the Jade, wch beares his posting Joyes?
39
“Yf waste of wealth, be cause of privie care,“Then youthe maie bost, to care asmuche as one./
“Yf lacke of healthe, be cause of sorie fare,
“Then crooked age shall never weepe aloone,
“Synce youth (oftymes) doth gnawe the selfe same boone/
“Yea surfayting, and many a sodeyne sore,
“Breede most in yowthe, wch hunteth still therefore./
525
40
“Yf tyme mispent, deserve a just reproofe,“What youthe is that, wch can it selfe excuse?
“Yf grave exploytes, be most for mans behoofe,
“What youth can bost, that he the like doth use?
“Yf syn̄e to sew, and vertue to refuse,
“Be frewtes and flowres, wch tempt the skourge of god,
“What youth hath hope (all free) to skape his rodd?
41
I leave to lan̄che, or largely to reprove,The curious cares, the great (though graceles) giftes,
Which wanton youth, bestowes on luckles love/
I shame to shewe, the deepe deceiptfull driftes,
Whiche lovers use, and yet such subtill shyftes,
Doe dwell withe youth, or where he lyst to lott them/
Age knowes them not (at least) he hath forgot them./
42
Well: som̄e will saie, I have not soonge of all,The gallant Joyes, wch joyned are to youthe/
As Bewtye, streng[t]h, Activity with all,/
And many a sweete, wch yowthfull yeares ensewth
Who so doth saie, he telleth but a treweth/
But byde a while, my synging is not done,
Although with yowth, I fyrst ye game begone./
43
Of Bewties blaze I have a song to sing/Of strength lykewise, and Active quallities/
But synce my lute, hath broke the treble string,
Let pawse a whyle, untyll I maie devise,
Some newfownd notes, to chānt in cherefull wise./
My playnesong tunes, (I feare) to long have bene,
And I wax hoarce, to sing before a Queene.
An ende of the first songe.
Tam Marti quam Mercurio.
526
The vanities of Bewtie.
[THE SECONDE SONGE.]
[1]
Muse: plaie thy parte/ & fend thy head frō blowes/I see a swarme, wch coome thee to assayle,
Ne canst thow well, defend so many foes,
Yf harte wax feynt, or courage seme to quayle/
Behold, beholde, they come, as thyck as hayle,
And threat to pluck the tongue owt of thy jawes,
Which darest presume, to clapp on such a clawse/
2
Darest thow attempt, to find a newfound griefe,Where Joye of Joyes, continually doth dwell?
Darest thou affirme that Cheare holds not in chiefe,
Of Bewtyes baronye, wch beares the bell?
Or darest thou (Muse) ones take in hand to tell,
That Bewty breedes, a griefe in greatest joyes,
Alas this trowpe, will coūpt thy trewth but toyes./
3
My Queene her self, coōmes formost of them all/And best deserves, that place in eche degree/
Whose presence now must needs thy sprytes apall,
She is so faire, and Angell lyke to see/
Beholde her well (my Muse) for this is she,
Whose bewties beames, do spredd themselves full wyde,
Bothe in this Realme, and all the worlde beside./
4
This is the Queene whose onely looke subdewed,Her prowdest foes, withowten speare or sheeld/
This is the Queene, whome never eye yet viewed,
But streight the hart, was forst thereby to yeelde/
This Queene it is, who (had she satt in feeld,
When Paris judged, that Venus bare the bell,)
The prize were hers, for she deserves it well/
527
5
And this is she, that bends her mightie mace,To breake and bruse, thy prowde presumpteous mynde,
Which dares attempt, (with griefe) for to disgrace,
The joye wherein, most men theire pleasure finde,/
Me-thinkes She smyles, and saies thine eies are blynd,
Or dazled els, with mists of much mistake,
Synce thow dost seeme, of faire so fowle to make/
6
But Princes mindes (somtymes) mistake ye right./So meanest thou then, thy theame for to defende/
Well well (my muse) yf thou resolve to fight,
I the advise, some better weapons bend,
Which right reliefe, in thy distresse maie lende./
For why? my Queene (not wont to woork by wyll)
Dothe crave consent, of right and reason styll./
7
And whereas doūbtes (engendred by debate)Make questions rise, in any cause of weight,
My Queene then calles, the pyllors of her state,
And symply sowndes, the treuth from all deceipt
So that her Justice (clymyng styll on height,
As lothe by powre, in perilles to decyde)
She grauntes free voyce, that verditt maye be tryde./
8
For proofe: beholld, my Ladie per a mount,Whose frowne dothe seeme (o seemely Seynt) to smyle/
Beholde ye starre, whome cowrtiers do accompt,
Theire joye in griefe: (not griefe of joy) therewhile/
Behold, behold, how She accompts the vile,
Which hast forgott, the greene moonks dyrge so sone,
Ah Slave (sayth She) is dewty so soone doone?
9
Of selfe same lyne, a Coūtesse doth appeare,Whose lovely lookes, withe stately porte & grace,
Can hardly byde, to be compared here/
And for encrease, of honor to this race,
By west one workes, to wyn̄e the heighest place/
Forgeve me youe, wch thinke her no suche wight
The wynde satt West, whē I this verse did write.
528
10
Next after thes, the Crowde so thycke doth throng,As now I nott, whose name I first shoulde note/
But well I wott, that all ye rest among,
I see one Sowle, which weares a tawny cote,
And stowtly sayes, thow lyest in thy throte,
Yf thow affirme, that Bewtye breeds anoye,
Whiche is indeede, one cheefest cause of Joye./
11
To tell her name, yt were bothe fonde and vayne,She knowes her selfe, that (next The hollow tree)
I alwaies thought, greate right in her did reigne,
Yf she should clayme, a Paragone to bee/
Ones Bewtie flowed, in suche extreeme degree,
That Bridges buylt, for bownties ease were plast,
And she poore wenche, Hopt on: though not in hast/
12
But why do I, streyne curtesey to tell,The proper names, of such as fame deserve?
Three worthie dames, next these I see full well,
Whiche threalten sore, thy carping tongue to carve/
Yf gentle words, for warning maie not serve/
Howardes they be/ but wch dothe shine most bright,
Were needeles (now) in makebate verse to wryte.
13
Burrowe saythe byde, and let me have a blowe,And so saith Vere, that bloome of noble bloode
Sydney saieth staie/ and let me bende my bowe,/
So wrathe they are, or rather raging woode
And sure they be, bothe gallant all and good,
Three fragrant flowres, of princely grace & porte,
For Marigoldes (of late) smelt swete in cowrte.
14
Of Bowrchers lyne, A Susan̄e eke I see,Which cannot brooke, to beare thy rymyng well/
Then followe next fowre dames of heighe degree,
Whose noble names, I meane lykewyse to tell/
Huntingdon, Warwick, Oxforde, & the Bell,
Of Rutlande: com̄e, (attones) wth heavenly grace
And meane (poore muse) thy doyngs to deface.
529
15
A bewtye rare, I spye amonst the rest,Which graciously, dothe shyne in worthy wyse/
Bedforde: whose hew, compareth wth the best,
Yf right respect, (her age well weyed) suffyse/
And who so saies I moore then trewthe devise,
Let her but lyve, as many yeares as Shee,
And (for my lyfe) She shall no fairer bee.
16
Wth her there coome, (for why: they keepe their place,As Dames that love, in dew degree to goe)
Fowre daughters deare? but yet of sondry race/
First of her owne, two daughters, and no moe,
Then of her lordes, (whose ofspring long ago,
Dyd prayse deserve) two other Impes ther be,
Who all yfere, do seeme to menace the./
17
Russell and Audley, Sheffeld, Shandose, Sands,(All Barons wyves, of bewtie rare & bright)
Make wondrows hast, withe halberts in their hands
To strike ye (muse) withe verie maine & might/
As eke ye spouse of many an hardie knight,
And coomly Squyre: prepare ye force they have,
Thy worthles verse, in skorne for to deprave/
18
Drewry desires, some sharpe revenge to makeAnd Thynn thynks longe, to see thyne ovrthrow
What should I speake, of all yt weapons take,
To wrecke the wrathe, wch made theire grudge to growe?
Alas (my Muse) they are in nomber mo,
Then my poore penn, is able (well) to wryte,
Or tongue, or breathe, have leysure to resite.
19
And thyncke not stran̄ge, although I recken thes,Disordred[l]y: (considryng theire degrees)/
My meaning is not, flatteringly to please,
All Dames in Cowrte, and crave a pyckthanks fees/
For synce I see them, swarme as thycke as bees,
And strive (for hast) whose hand maie (first) ye lame,
I thyncke no Syn̄e, to name them as they came.
530
20
And surely (Muse) Although my Queene be here,(Besides her place) no place can now prevayle/
Withowt respect, they cluster every where,
And (but to her) they doe no bon̄et vayle/
All roone attones/ and all attones assaile/
That makes my Seynt (for hast) come next her Queene,
Whose bewties heate (pchan̄ce) enflamed her spleene.
21
The selfe same humor, feedeth mo then her/For all afarre, I spy a troupe of Dames,
Who come in hast, and meane to keepe a sturre/
I see them well, yet knowe I not their names/
But sure yt seemes, some Choller them enflames/
What be they? ha? oh what a beast am I?
Thes Starres of Cowrte, had bleard my better eye./
22
My Sweetest sowre, my Joy of all my griefe,My Frendly foe, myne ofte Reviving death,
My first Regreate, my right and last Reliefe,
My frewtfull cropp, and yet my Barreyne heath,
My store and stocke, wch spares & spends my breathe/
My Hope forlorne, my Heyght of all my Happe,
My Love first lulled, in golden fancies lappe.
23
My Hollow tree/ my banishment to Bathe,Ferenda Shee, who eke, Natura hight,
My Ground of Greene, wch (myxt wth black) is rathe,
My Porte of Peace, whose warres yet dubd me knight,
My Livia, my love, and my delight,
Myne A per se, my All, myne onely Sum,
Before this heape, in hasty heate dothe com̄e/
24
O Bartholmew, (saithe Shee) where bee thy wytts,And where the skyll, wch wont to guyde thy penn?
Shall world conclude, that fancy comes by fytts?
Wilt thow be founde, as fonde as other menn,
Who dotingly, do dally nowe and then?
Can light conceipt (in thy mynd) reasone chase,
From thate which proofe, hathe often put in place.
531
25
And wth that woord (in stede of force to fight,)Shee turnes her face, and weepes wth woofull cheare/
Whiche blowe (unseene) amazeth more my spright
Then all the threates, wch I rehearced here/
Forgeve me (dames) and with my passion beare/
Her teares (my Queene except) doe greeve me more,
Then yf all you, should weepe youre eies full sore/
26
O ladie per a mownt, you are to wyse,To frett hereatt/ for this is shee, in deede,
By whome my muse, hath mownted (earst) to skyes/
Whose onely fayre, my fancie long did feede/
This is loves mynte, wch onely gave me meede/
I played wth som̄e, theire pacience for to prove,
But Livia (in earnest) had my love/
27
And worthy well, since kinde wth all her crafte,Yet never framed, her pheare in all respects,
Blynd Cupide, nedethe not to spende a shafte,
Her only looke, eche lyving mynde enfects/
She is esteemd, of all estates and Sects/
Menn make her roome, and women give her place,
Love bends her bowe, and mallice beares her mace./
28
Her playfellowes, and those wch withe her marche,Must not be named/ but one dwells at Townes ende/
Another hight, The Bridge with stony Arche/
Another Oxe (right leane) god her amend/
Thes three (not Shee) theire angry browes do bende,
Whiles Livia (meane while) amazeth more,
Then all they three, and all that went before/
29
And yet I see, a Dame in strange attire,With dooblett dect, as flemysh fashion is/
Who in the Ayre, dothe fly lyke flamyng fyre,
As though the worlde, and all things, went amysse
Shee seemeth sure, som̄e lampe of lovely blysse/
Who shoulde yt be? let me advise her well/
Now for my lyfe, it is my Petronell./
532
30
Nay then (my muse) make hast and arme apace,The coūtrie coomes/ naye Coūtries mo then one/
Yf Pernyll ones, vouchesafe to byd the base,
Lysken will sweare, Shee shall not roone alone/
And Tanyken, woulde melt her selfe in mone,
Yf others wreckt, their mallice to their mynde,
And She (for slowthe) shoulde seeme to sitt behinde.
31
Yea! shall I saye? yf ones the droome should sownde,And strike allarme, when ladies list to fight,
Voisgeānt from Fraunce, woulde (all to soone) be founde,
From Skotland Flemyng, woulde appeare in sight
From Holland: Egmont/ and one other light,
Of Petronells; from Utrecht should wee see/
Bothe: Dames of pryce, though myne the better be.
32
Bella Symona, shoulde be quickly seene,Yf newes were brought, to Antwerp of thes warres/
And from soome landes, where I have never ben,
Hole bands woulde com̄e, of blysfull blasing starres/
Wherefore (my Muse) before thow make such jarres,
Lett see what Captens, and what crew thow hast,
Before the rest, let Reason (styll) be plaste/
33
I herde the saie (erewhyle) that everie joye,Hathe galles of griefe, in all ye myrthe wee make/
Saie quickly then, what cannons of anoy,
Dare be so bolde, as ones to undertake,
Dame Bewties bowre, wth Sorowes shott to shake?
Speake quicke (my muse) before these worthies all/
A womans wytt, is best at sodeyne call.
34
The subtyle Slyme (sayest thow) of false suspect,The lyme of lust, the wormes of wonton wyll,
Doe Bewties bones, withe sicknes styll enfect/
So that when fancie meanes to feede his fyll,
Som̄e chipp of chaunce, dothe all his pottage spyll/
And he maie rise, all hungrie as he came,
“Bewtie fatts few, She is a deyntie Dame./
533
35
Indeede Suspect, keepes watche bothe daie & night,So strēight that Bewtie, maie her blaze repent/
For what prevayles, a cand[l]e burning bright,
Yf under Busshell, yt be allwaies pent:
The fairest face, most com̄onlye is shent,
When fowle and, blacke, maie laūghe & leape at large!
Fyne Byrds be caged/ but who of crowes take charge?/
36
The lyme of lust, ofte lights on Bewties wynges/For Harde to keepe, what many mynds desire/
And wanton will, can seldome sett her flyngs,
Unlesse selfelove, do blowe Dame Bewties fyre/
(This question answerd) I no more require/
Who lusteth more, then doth ye fairest face?
Nones fancye skudds, when Bewtie bids the base./
37
And reasone good/ but tell me yet a trothe,What fault poore fancie dothe com̄ytt thereby?
All owgly thyngs, (by very kynde) wee lothe/
All thinges (againe) which seme to please the eye,
Wee love and lyke, as fast as wee them spye/
Yt seemes to me, that God in heaven above,
Did make them faire, because men shuld thē love/
38
The perfecter, that any thing appeare,Alyve, or deade, by nature or by arte,
The greater love, unto the same wee beare
Ne can owre mynds, that fancy well astarte/
“A man shuld make, a verie thriftles marte,
“Which most would geve, for things wch worst doe seeme,
“His gaynes should never quite his cost I deeme/
39
And thoughe no tongue, nor pen̄e can well describeThe face of God, whome never man beheld,
Yet unto yt, all Scriptures do ascribe,
The palme of praise/ his bewty wyn̄es the feelde/
Yt blaseth brighter, then owre wytts can weelde/
The nearer then, that things unto hym drawe,
The more wee ought to love them by his lawe/
534
40
His Angells eke, are bewtifull and bright/The glorie of, his heavens consistes therein/
And who were he (wch seing suche a sight)
Could chuse a lyttle, love for to begynne?
For my parte (oft) in presence have I ben/
When such sweete Seyntes, did blaze before myne eyes,
As made the chamber, heaven above the Skyes/
41
But by youre leave, when I had slepte (alight)And fett a sighe, and me bethought withall,
That by ye same, I had forgotten quyte,
Myne owne affaires, my wytts, my selfe, and all:
My heaven seemd hell/ my mell was turnd to gall
“For all to trewe it is: that Gallant things,
“Make fancie flye, and help to ympe his wings.
42
Not I allone, but noombers infinyte,Of toward yowthes, have roone theire race awrye,
By glan̄ce and gasing, at things apposite,
Which helde them fast, and would not let thē flye,
To perfect poyntes, wch placed are on heighe/
“Thes whites and markes, wch glister here by lowe,
“Are shootes (for shyft) but for a baser bowe./
43
The gyfts of grace, by God are never gyven,To be employd, in vents of vaine delight/
And yet wee see, soome studie morne and even,
To prynke, to pranke, to deck, and eke to dight,
Owre flesh and Skyn̄e wch seemeth faire and bright/
“Whyles (in meane tyme) owre mynds are layd asyde
“Skarce coomly tyred, and yet pufte up wth pryde.
44
Shew me but one, that can be well content,To spende the forenoone, prayeng on his knees/
But I can shewe, hole thowsands vainely bent,
Which all the day, seeme stynged styll wth bees,
For feare they should, the praiese of Bewtie leese/
They set their ruffes, thei ruffle up theire heare
They talke farre of, theire myndes are otherwhere.
535
45
They course the glasse, and lett yt take no rest/They peepe and spye, who gazethe on theire face/
They darkely aske, whose Bewtie semethe best/
They harke and mark, who marketh (most) their grace/
They stay theire steppes, and stalk a stately pace/
They gellows are, of every sight they see/
They strive to seeme, but never care to be./
46
Thes be the frewtes, wch Bewtyes bloomes do bring/Thes properties, the fairest folke reteyne/
Not Dames alone of men (likwise) I sing/
I never yet, coulde woman see more vayne,
Then many men, which passe in Courtly trayne/
“The worlde is changd, (but pardon yet my penn),
“For men are maydes, and wemen marche like men/
47
And yet for all theire prynkyng, and theire cost,No sooner fades, the flower of freshest hew,
Then they (lykewyse) their Bownties blaze have lost/
And then good night, they maie byd Courte adieu/
Nay welcome (skarce) unto the Coūtrye Crewe/
“For homely folke, who live by dayly deedes,
“Woulde fayne keepe corne, from such vaine worthles weedes.
48
“The coolest Soōne, can parche theire pleasan̄t cheekes,“The weakest wynde, can shake theire bravest bloomes/
“The myldest frost, theire secrete shadow seekes/
“The foemānes fyst, or lightest blowe that coōmes/
“Can make a crust, of all theire tender crōmes/
“The fayntest fever, and the least disease,
“Can turne to pale, the redd that (most) did please/
49
What grudge & griefe, or Joyes maye then suppresse?To see owre heares, wch yellow were as golld,
Now gray as glasse? to feele and finde them lesse?
To skrape the bald skull, wch was woont to holde,
Oure lovely locks, wth curlyng stycks controld?
To looke in glasse, and spye Sr wrynckles chayre,
Sett fast on froonts, wch erst were slycke & fayre?/
536
50
What Joye to gaze, with graceles hollowe eyes,Which lately lookt, lyke sparks of flamyng fyre:
What comfort comes, when every body spyes,
The tootheles mowth! what dynt of vayne desire,
Can con̄trevayle, ye cost, which yeares require,
To keepe oure teethe, from roughe and rugged plight,
Which late (like pearles) did shew both faire & white/
51
Oure Ivery necks, must needs to yellow change/Owre showlders stowpe, wch erst stood bolt upright/
Owre pleasant voyce, (although we thinke it strange)/
Wilbe bothe hoarce, and harshe wthowt delight/
Beholde owre hands, in weake and withered plight.
Owre foomblyng feete, wch nymble were of late,
And then weighe well, the staye of owre estate./
52
Fewe wordes to make, wee shall not thinke yt owres,Which (but erewhile) we did esteeme somuch/
And all the blaze, of Bewties bravest bowres
Shall fall adowne, as thoughe there were none such/
When Trewth (Tymes daughter) doth owr triall touch,
Then take the Glasse and wee shall hardly knowe,
Owreselves therein/ we shalbe changed so./
53
And yet all this (in tyme) will come to passe/Whiche tyme flyes fast, as I (of late) did singe/
Yf wee would then, continew yt wch was,
Stay tyme (in tyme) before away shee flyng/
But yf wee cannot, tyme (past) backward bring,
Then never hope, that Bewtie can remayne,
Yt came wth tyme, and goeth withe tyme agayne./
54
Yea whyles yt bydes, yt is of smale avayle/For though yt please oure appetytes awhyle,
Yt dothe (likewyse) owre sences all assaile,
And all oure wytts, dothe wylily beguyle/
Yt breeds repentaunce though yt seeme to smyle/
Yt muffleth up, owr mynds wch (els) might see
Such works of worthe, as profitable bee./
537
55
Yt hangethe fast (like fetters) on oure feete,Whiche (els) might treade, some tracke of better trade/
Lyke loompes of lyme, owr wyngs therwth doe meete/
Whereby owr myndes, so vyle and vayne are made,
That from the sonne, we shrug into the shade/
And drowping sitt, like hawkes surcharged wth bells,
Which proyne themselves, and can do nothing ells./
56
Yt coomes by kynde, yet is it kepte withe careWee bowght yt cheape, and sell yt all to deare/
Yt turnes our Joy, right soone to sory fare/
Yt makes the bolde to blush/ the stowt to feare/
Yt is a choyce that quickly changeth cheare
And seldome brings, (at coonnyng) such content,
As it procures (at parting) deepe repent.
57
A frendy foe, whiche shewes a flattering face/A stellthe of tyme, wch were more worth then gold/
A restles worme, tormenting myndes apace/
A proofe of payne, and passions manyfold/
A cause of strife, muche more then can be tolde
A heate which heapes (for hastie love) great hate,
Thes be the staies, of Bewties brave estate./
58
How muche were better (then) to decke the mynde,And make that fayre, whose light might alwaies last?
Eternall fame, to wysdome is assignd/
And modesty, dothe purchase praise as fast/
“It hathe ben̄e seene, in many yeares now past,
“That greater glorye gatt some sory grace
“Then Absolon for all his lovely face.
59
And yet my meaning, is not to condempne,The gallant glosse, which nature lendeth us/
Ne dare my Muse, dame Bewties blaze condempne/
I cam̄ not now, such questions to discusse/
But marke my wordes, and understande me thus:
“Dame Bewtie drest, wth garments made of grace,
“Deserves such fame, as Tyme cannot deface./
538
60
If Dames demaund, howe they the same might deeme?I an̄swere thus: the fayre which is content,
Withe natures gyftes/ and neither dothe esteeme,
Yt selfe to muche: nor is to lightnes bent,
Nor woulde be loved, but with a true entent:
And strives in goodnes, likewise to excell,
I say thatt Bewtie, beares awaie the bell./
61
And suche a Bewtie will so well become,Such modest myndes, that bothe shall shew ye better
For Vertue seemes, the gallan̄ter to soome,
When Bewties beames, full seemly have besett her/
Bewtie and Bowntie begin̄e with a letter/
The first is good, the second lacks no grace,
Where bothe concurre, that body is not base./
62
But take the first aloone, and by it selfe,And tell me then, how (best) I might it call?
“A stately Toye/ a preciows peece of pellfe/
“A gorgeous gong/ a worthles painted wall/
“A flower (full freshe,) yet redye styll to fall/
“A sore unseene/ A sweete entysing Sowre,
“A pearle skarce worthe the pryce/ worse worth ye powre/
63
And now (deare dames) what saye you to my muse?How like you Reason, in her foremost ranke?
My gracious Queene (I trust) will not refuse,
To weighe my wordes: and then to coone me thanke,
Yt seemes to mee, the same in her so sanke?
That Shee hathe layde, her mighty mace aside
And strookes my heade/ and byddeth God me guyde.
64
For Shee is wise, and can full well consider,That everie Best, maie quickly be abused/
“Use and Abuse, are lynked so together,
“That good for badd, is many tymes accused/
Yea thoughe the good, right graciously be used,
Yet everie lyfe, beares wth hym his dysese,
And none so perfect every mynde to please/
539
65
Well: synce my Muse, hathe quite her selfe so well,And satisfied (wth Reason) everie Dame,
I will addresse my tongue lykewise to tell,
An other griefe, owt of another game./
I meane to write of mightie strength by name/
And thoughe yt seeme, but seldome reprehended,
Yet will I shewe, wherein it maie be mended./
66
Of Strength (qd one?) naye Gascoigne thē go trudge/Thy muse is madde, suche theames to take in hande/
For thoughe her penne, appeased these ladies grudge,
Yet Menn be Menn/ beware of suche a bande/
Well (Master Menn) when you my woords have skande,
Youe will confesse, how griefe of joye is founde,
In strongest weightes, that go upon ye grounde.
67
And for youre threatts, I sett but light thereby,Yf Dames ones deigne, my Reasons to allowe,
Say what you list/ and what (thereof) passe I?
I honor them, I tell you playnely nowe/
As for youre bragges, my muse shall never bowe/
I have ben stronge (my selfe) and yet my force,
Hathe ben one cause, wch much consumed my corps./
68
My lovely ladyes (you whose names I past)Forgive my guylt/ you came so thicke I feare,
I coulde not com̄pte all faire/ you rāne so fast/
A payre of Pagetts, I remember there,
And many mo, whose bewtie brute dothe beare/
Well: thoughe my sylence, seemde to do you wronge,
Forgive mee (good), and marke my nexter songe.
Finis.
Tam Marti quam Mercurio.
540
The faults of force and strength.
[THE THIRDE SONGE.]
[1]
Ytt hathe byn sayd, long synce (now) many a day,And wilbe said, when I am deade and rott.
Come one to one, and that makes prety playe/
But two to one, can be no equall lott/
For why? the latten, proverbe saith you wott,
Sit quisque similis inter suos,
Ne Hercules enim contra duos./
2
Then how shall I, my selly selfe defende,Whiche take in hande, this weary woorke to write?
You sawe (erwhylle) how womankynd did bende,
Yt selfe against my muze, wth mayne and might/
You sawe how fast, they flocked for to fight,
Because I said yt Bewty breedeth griefe,
Which is (thinke they) of all oure joyes the chiefe.
3
And now beholde, how men (yea men of might)Prepare likewise, to beare my muse adowne,
Because yt dares, presume for to endight,
That might (whiche weares of manhood styll ye crowne)
Shoulde subject bee, to fortunes greevous frowne/
Or for I dare, avowe that force and strengthe,
Begynne wth Joy, and ende wth griefe at lengthe.
4
For hast: you herde, was one could skarcely byde,Tyll I had soong, my laster songe full owt/
You harde how lowde, in Pilatts voyce he cried,
As though his threatts, might dant my muze wth doubt/
You knowe he said, that thoughe I went abowt,
Weake womankynd, with wylines and wordes,
Yet Men are Men, and will abyde no boordes./
541
5
Yea haselwood: for Men are Men indeede/But shall I saie this one thinge learne of mee,
Soome doughty Dames (beleeve yt as youre creede)
Can be as stowte, as many men can bee/
Nay stowter oft, as men by proofe maye see/
By Jysse I woulde the stowtest man yt wyst,
They mayster all, let us saie what wee lyst.
6
And why should I, (then) feare to tell a truthe,Who have the mayster of the fielde my frende?
I never shroonke, to shake up lusty youthe/
And youthe is he, whiche strengthe to man must lend/
No no I vowe, though all ye worlde should bend,
Their angry browes, to blott my verse wth blame,
Playne trewthe is that, whiche never yet had shame/
7
And that same treuth, dothe bydd me to demaūde,Wherefore it is, that men doe boast somuch,
Of strengthe and force? asthough they might com̄aund,
The woorlde thereby, to geve them knee & cruch/
Alas alas, who tryes them by the tuch,
“Shall fynd that when, their might prvayleth moste,
“Yet rewle they not, them selves: for all their boast/
8
And howe should he (then) governe other men,Who cannot reyne his owne unrewly wyll?
So falles the horse: which never feares the fen̄e,
But neyes and brayes, and rooneth hedlong styll,
Untyll at last, hym selfe in myre hee swyll/
And so fall men, whiche truste unto their strength,
In dangers deepe (in deathe it selfe) at lengthe./
9
“The mighty bones, but heave the harte to highe/“The harte ons up, the mynde can be but madde/
“And madde mens myndes (by force) from reason fly/
“No sownde advice, nor councell can be had,
“But leave the good, and leane unto the badd,
“This griefe (withe mo) the joyfull force must fynd,
“To coūtercheck, a prowde tryumphyng mynde./
542
10
Withe blades embrewed they woorke theire will sometyms,Whiche buye that bloode wth doompes of deepe repent/
For Choller cannot, cover wylfull crimes/
Yt roomes forthright where witles will is bent/
But when such will, by wiser wytts is shent,
Att leysure then, yt maye confesse withe mee,
Were better weake, then so (to) stronge to be.
11
“For strongest wightes, attempt the greatest thinges/“And greatest things, breede deepest danger styll/
“And deepest dangers, be the very springes,
“Where deathe dothe lurke, to woorke his crewell wyll/
“So that owre stronge men, hoppe against the hyll,/
“Whiche hope (by force) from deathe away to gett
“When force (indeed) doth drive them to his nett./
12
I have bene stronge (I thanke my God therefore)And did therein, rejoyce as most men dyd/
I lept, I ran̄e, I toylde and travailde soore,
My might and mayne, didd covett to be kidd/
But lo: beholde; my mery daies amydd,
One heady deede, my haughty harte did breake,
And since (full oft) I wisht I had bene weake./
13
Abundaunce breedes the Sooreyn of excesse,And of excesse youe knowe that vice ensewes/
Soe that Mens force, were better to be lesse,
Then by suche force, theire bodies to abuse.
I am (my selfe) to gyllty to accuse,/
“But sure the force, of marow and of might,
“Dothe cause oure fleshe, (oft) sett oure sowles but light/
14
The weakling hee: sitts buzzing at his booke,Or keepes full close, and loves to lyve in quyett
For lacke of force, hee warely dothe looke,
In every dishe whiche may dysturbe his dyett/
Hee neyther fights, nor roonethe after riott./
But staies his steppes, by meane & measure to,
And longer lyves, then many stronge men do./
543
15
Mylo was stronge, and few men stronger foundeBut many wyser, and, muche more esteemdd/
For every greate thing going on the grownde,
Ys nott therefore, the better alwaies deemd./
Thes Oliphants (in tyme past) peereles seemd,
Because theire sturdy joyntes did seldome bowe,
But smaller beastes can overcome them nowe./
16
And what greate good, gott Milo by his strengthe,Although in games, he gayned somtymes a gawde?
A smalle clefte oke, gan holde hym fast at lengthe,
Untyll wth beasts, hee were bothe champt & chawed/
Yea Hercules, whose might was never awed,
By womans wyles (yet) weakely lost his lyfe/
“Suche toyes (to tame the strongest men) are ryfe.
17
“For fortune fights not as thes fencers doe,“Withe equall blades, or weapones of assise/
“But markes her tyme, and takes her vaūtage to,
“And in awaite, full waryly Shee lyees/
“Yea when Shee lyst, Shee can suche blowes devise,
“As (unawares) doe give some sodeyne patt,
“And overthrowe, a Gyant wth a gnatt./
18
Greate laboure doth, deminish greatest force,And darke dysease, decreasethe strength as fast/
When bothe thes fayle, the mightiest massy corps,
Ys daūnted downe, wth Ages Axe at last/
So that when wightest wrastlyng tricks be past,
Coomes crooked Eldd, and geves a selly trypp,
Tyll from deathes foote, no stowrdy strong can skypp/
19
But I am strong (saythe one of Mylos mates)Yea stronge (so strong) as never yet had peare/
Yes yes forsothe/ who so the trewthe debates,
Shall finde that (who dothe most surpasse his pheare,
And of mankynd is strongest deemed here)
To many beasts, inferior yet shalbe/
What glory then, by all his force getts hee?/
544
20
Ytt were a boast, muche meeter for thes bulls,Thes Beares, thes bores, and such like boystrows beasts/
“For vertue keepes, her closett in owre skulles,
“And coomes but seldome in great noddyes nests/
“Shee leves greate loompes of fleshe, for follyes feasts/
“And shrowdes her selfe, full close within ye mynde,
“Yn bloode and bones, Shee lyttle place dothe fynde./
21
A pondrows packe, of to muche fleshe dothe clogge/A nemble mynde, wch (els) might leape full light./
Or at the least, yt setts the harte on gogg,
And makes the body headlong rōne owtright,
Untill all vertue vanishe owt of sight/
“Trew tale is this: who trusts to clyme by bones
“Shall seldome sitt, aloft by lofty ones./
22
Then take wee heede, that (trusting to this stay)The staffe breake nott, and so wee catche a fall/
For Surcuydrie can drowne in deepe decaye,
The highest harte, that ever yet seemd tall/
Oftymes men take in hande to tosse a ball,
Which withe a bownde, dothe lende thēselves a blowe,
And makes the lofty crowche and lye full lowe./
23
Tell mee but this, what mighty man hathe powre,To drive Sr deathe, one furlong from his doore?
What yowthe so strong, as to prolong his hower?
Or who can salve, Sr surfetts festring soore?
Ys yt not trewe, that moyling more and more,
Awake, on sleepe, att ease, or bating breathe,
Wee steale (by steppes) unto the gates of deathe?
24
Yf this be so, thē strengthe maye well delaye,The daies of payment, but the debte remaynes/
And crookednes, oure creditor will stay,
Tyll att the lengthe, he have his owne withe gaynes/
Yea shall I saye? he will (for brokers paynes)
Make might and mayne, paye feblenes & fayle,
Yea lyfe at last, when quycke & queaving quayle./
545
25
For as the tree that straighte & tallest growes,Is soonest soūght, and felde to buylde the bowre,
So strongest wyghtes, doe gett the greatest blowes,
And soonest learne, repentaunce of theire power/
“All thinges on earthe, must learne to knowe one howre/
“(I meane one ende), but soome come sooner to yt,
“And some delaye, though yet at last they do yt/
26
“At last they dye, who thought longe tyme to lyve,“At last they fade, whiche seemed freshe and fayre,
“At last they yeelde, wch (withe their strengthe) did strive
“And downe they fall, owt of theire stately chayre/
“They must descende, (but by unequall stayre)
“For he that clombe, as soft as snayles can slyde,
“Com̄es headlong downe, and maye no longer byde.
27
Man̄es mynde except, I see no sure acoūpt,(Nor all mennes mynds, I recken in this ranke)
Whiche maie presume, in height of Joyes to moūt/
For all things els, maye quickly breake theire banke/
They take muche paynes, and yet deserve small thanke/
“But sure man̄es mynde, yf yt be just and good,
“Ys muche more worthe, then mighty bones and bloode./
28
Yet trust who list, in puysaūce or in power,I cannot force, all fancies to my mynde/
The sweete it selfe, shall teache them what is sowre,
When least shall lacke, as muche as most would fynde/
The best, or worst, bydes ever styll behynde/
Then lett the strongest (ere his force be past)
Remember styll but Miloes end at last./
29
And let hym thynke, that right against hym standBothe Age and deathe, withe weapons redy bent/
For Age before comes leading on her hande,
A thowsand sores wch deathe to her hathe lent/
And deathe hymselfe, (when all those speares are spent)
Comes creping on alonely withe a darte,
And therewith styckes the strongest striving harte.
546
30
Yea in meane while, volupteows toyes do fight,Withe staves as strong, as age or death almost
And though they beare not weapons in or sight,
But florishe fayre, and make a gallant boast,
Yet when owr strength dothe trust upon them most,
And least regardes, to fend yt selfe therefro,
They turne owre Joyes, into a worlde of wo.
31
To glorye then, in thinges so lyttle wortheYs (peacocklyke) to prinke in strangers plumes/
Synce all the force, that nature bringeth forthe,
Ys not owre owne, (for all owre freakes and fumes)
Yt coomes withe tyme, and eke withe tyme consumes/
And he (in tyme) wch dyd the same us lende,
At all tymes woulde, yt shoulde for his be kende.
32
Well: make an ende, and marke what erst I sayed,Of yowthe and Bewtye, eche in theire degree,
The same might here in order well be layd,
To prove howe frayle, the freutes of forces bee/
For where thyngs lyke, (in every poynt) wee see,
There lyke (lykewise) the sequell and effect,
Must followe needes, in every right respect.
33
And for advyse, I saye no more but soe,Who bostethe most, of body styffe and strong,
Lett hym fooresee, that in his mynde eke growe,
A manly thought to marche the rest among/
“For (lett mee crave a pardon for my song)
“A cowards harte is never playner spyed,
“Then when it dothe, in strongest bones abyde.
34
This verse I venter thoughe I herde one vaunt,As men were Gyants and woulde beare no jest/
But yett you see, his threatnyngs could not daūt,
My manly Muze, nor make my penn to rest/
My selfe am bygg, and therefore thought I best,
To shewe some lofty cowrage in my writt,
Ells some might say my bowlts my selfe dyd hytt.
547
35
Be as be maye, the matter is not greate,A glancyng blowe, can make no greevous wounde/
But let me yett this sentence ones repeate,
“Inconstaunt Joyes, withowte grief are not fownde
Yf that be soe, was never force so sownde,
But sodeyne chaūce coulde chopp yt quytt in sonder!/
Yf stryfe breake strengthe (then) who can coūpt yt wonder?/
36
Now he that loves mee, lett hym give me drinke,I am so dry, that I can sing no more/
And in the cupp I will my selfe bethinke,
What force and strengthe are surest evermore/
I have yt, I/ lett syng yt owt therefore/
“The harts and love, of people more & lesse,
“Are powre (Saūs peere) who so the same posesse.
37
Nay then coōme Queene & clayme your dew indeede/For then the greatest, strongest, stowtest mann,
That ever yet, sprong owt of Adames seede,
Cannot compare, as my good Pryncesse can/
Synce Shee it is, whose might and mercie wāne,
The love longe synce, of all bothe highe and lowe,
And holdes them styll, and wyll not lett them go./
38
Thus whyle I dranke, I lyfte the cupp so highe,That in the bottome sawe I wrytten fayre,
Gascoigne thi Muze is taken withe a lye,
Synce force of love, no fortune can empayre,
And since thy Queene dothe sitt in Trewloves chayre/
No force: I coūpt yt neyther Synne nor shame,
To lye (alight) for love of suche a Dame.
Finis.
TAM Marti quam Mercurio.
548
The vanities of Activityes.
[THE FOURTHE SONGE.]
[1]
Ones in my lyfe, I saw a Bakers boye,Whiche went unto his Masters Fagott reeke,
(Beare withe me Queene for telling suche a toye)
Some sticks (by lyke) for Masters fyre to seeke/
One stycke he cutt, another sticke he breeke,
Som̄e long, some shorte, som̄e greate he tooke, som̄e small,
Tyll on his hedd the reeke fell downe and all./
2
And there the Boye, lay grovlyng on the grownd,Withe many fagotts rownde abowt his backe/
But when he felt hymselfe wthowten wounde,
He gan againe, some fagott sticks to cracke/
Att last his Master (doubting som̄e such wracke)
Came angrie owt, and chidd his boye awhyle,
But afterwards, he turnd his frowne to smyle./
3
My Boye (qd he) who badd the be so bolde,As for to plucke an olde howse on thy hedd?
Thou showldest foresee, that fagott sticks do hold,
Together fast, and seldome list to shedd/
Thow mightest have chanst, to bring a foole to bed,
By jesting so withe suche well joyned geare,
Touch one, styrr all, they lye so close yfeare./
4
But since it was, in service of my selfe,And since thow soughtest, but fewell for my fyre,
Bestirr thee now, packe up againe this pelfe/
None other penaunce, I of thee requyre/
The Boye was blythe, and had his deepe desire,
For so his Master laught and were well pleased,
His harme (thought he) was quyckly to be eased./
549
5
So (peereles prynce) my selfe maye be the Boye,Whiche sought for styckes, amydd youre fagott reeke/
I thought to proyne some griefe from everie Joye,
And for the same, I curiously dyd seeke/
But whiles at large, unpercially I speeke,
Behold your Cowrte, comes headlong on a heape,
And on my Muse, withe might and mayne they leape/
6
In deede I shoulde have marked in my mynde,That vertues marche, in mydest betweene extreames/
And harde yt were the fall of faults to fynde,
Withowt some shake, to fortunes better beames/
But laugh (good Queene) and (by those glistering gleames
Of your bright eies) I vowe to sing so long,
Tyll all youre cowrte be pleased withe my song.
7
To serve youre selfe, I tooke this woorke in hand,And ment to make, butt fewell for youre fyre/
I meane, I ment, to make abuses skand,
That use of good, (therby) might clyme the higher/
And though my woords, maie move some mynds to Ire,
Forgive me (Queene) and I will worke amayne,
Tyll fancies fagotts, piled be agayne./
8
Thus much I syng, because my playnesong note,Must yett be herd, much lowder then before,
And I must cleare, my hoarce unpleasant throate,
To make yow view, som̄e vanities yet moore/
I must be bolde, (thoughe rudely) for to roore,
That in all active quallityes, wee use,
Some griefe unseene, the smoothest Joye ensewes./
9
Now as the Captayne (wch at one fyeld fought,Hathe happely ones gott the upper hande)
Wyll at the next conflict, conduct in doubt,
Least fortune turne, and overthrow his band,
Even so my Muze dothe dread to come on sande,
Although Shee ones, have sayled by the same/
“Tydes turne, wynds wane, and grudge comes aftr game.
550
10
For now my woords waxe generall and large,So large as leave, no pleasure free from payne/
A harde attempt, and yett an easie charge,
To prove a trewth, whereas the case is playne/
And yf my Queene free hearing do me deigne,
I hoope herselfe, will soone confesse withe me,
That griefe maie growe, in all the joyes that be.
11
I graunt yong mynds, maye yowthfully delight,Yn sondrie sortes, of exercyse and sporte/
I graunt the meane, to heale a heavy spright,
Ys myrthe and glee, where jolly guests resort/
I graunt that pastyme ys the lowly porte,
Wherein mans mynde, maie shrewd yt selfe full oft,
Whyle crewell cares, bestowe theire blasts alloft./
12
But as the Bell, can hardly holde the hawke,From soaring sometymes when Shee list to gadd,
Even so the mynde (whiche woontedly dothe walke,
In fancies fields, most lyke a lusty ladd)
Can seldome be, so bridled from the badd,
But that delight, maie drawe one foote tofarre,
Whils vayne excesse, the mery meane dothe marre./
13
To prove this trew, who shall the game begynne?Must musicke first, bewraye her vayne delight?
And must she saye, that as the fowlers gynne,
Dothe lye full close in depthe of dangers dight,
Whiles yet his pype, dothe playe in pleasaunt plight:
Even soe, her sweete consents beguyle sometymes,
The highest harte, in harmonye that clymes?/
14
Alas alas, who sooner dothe deceave,Then doe the Cirenes wth theire sugred songes?
Of all the wooes, that wanton worldlyngs weave,
I finde not one more thrall to guylefull throngs
Then is the moane, to Musicke that belongs
“Synce mellyshe mowthes, can worst awaye wth gall,
“As highest clymes are most afearde to fall./
551
15
Yn deede suche dynne appeasethe angrye mynds,And Melancholye, ys removed thereby/
Somtymes removed, somtymes encrease yt fynds,
When madnes leades, the mowrnefulst moode awrye/
For Musicke waytes, and where yt can espye,
Or moane, or myrthe, yt dothe theire hewmore feede,
And what they dreamt, yt makes them doe yn deede./
16
Sett me asyde, and harke to holly Syres,Whose dyverse doomes, maye skarce discusse ye doubt/
For Ambrose first the use thereof requires,
Yn everie churche, and all the worlde abowt/
But Athanase, forbadd the same throughowt/
Att last came Austine, like a dreamyng Dadd,
And dyed in doubt, yf it were good or badd./
17
Yt is a trewth, and cannott be denyed,That Musicke styrres, som̄e mynds to godly thought./
Yt is as trew, and hathe byn often tryed,
That Musicke styrres, moe mynds to be but nought/
Yt maie be fownde, yf it be rightly sought,
That Musicke makes mo mery myndes starke madd,
Then secrete prayer sufferethe to be sadd./
18
The Serpent tickleth whome she list to sting/The Surgeon stroketh whome he meanes to strike,/
The fowler whistleth whome he fayne would wryng,
The Polipus (with colling) drawes in dike,
The dazled wyghts whome she (to drowne) doth like/
And Musycke mufflethe many men withe Joye,
Whose myrthe excesse, turnes quickly to anoy.
19
Amongst the vaynes, of variable Joyes,I must confesse, that Musicke pleasd me ones
But whiles I searcht, the semyquaver toyes,
The glāncing sharpes, the halfe notes for the nones;
And all that serves, to grace owre gladsome grones;
I founde a flatt, of follye owt of frame,
Whiche made me graunt my Musicke was but lame.
552
20
I meane I fownde, that (ravished thereby)My wandring mynde, sometyme forgott yt selfe/
And reason ranne, his cowrce so farr awrye,
That ere I wyst, my wytts were sett on shelfe
Of trothe my braynes, so full were of suche pelfe,
That som̄e reporte, contynually dyd ryng
Within myne eares, and made me seeme to singe.
21
I coulde not reade, but I must tune my words/I coulde not speake, but as yt were by note/
I coulde not muze[, but] that I thought some byrds,
With[in] my brest did rellease all by rote/
I coulde not praye, but eare there past my throte,
Fyve faithefull boones to God for my request,
I soonge the Syxth, and quyte forgott the rest./
22
Laughe nott (sweete Queene) for I shall not be founde,The onely man, whiche (sleping in delight,)
Hathe alwaies dreamt, on Musickes silver sownde
Some singe soe longe, tyll they bee madde owtright/
And thoughe the wise come seldome in suche plight/
“Yet Plato pleasd, in Musicke so to dreame,
“He thought yt helpt, the rulyng of a realme.
23
And wonderfull, it is that Neroes myndeWhich all the worlde (and more) coulde not suffize
Was never seene, so playnely to be pynde,
As Musicke set, the same before owre eyes/
Soe greate a kyng, to dye in hastie wyse,
Ytt greeved hym nott: but that so sweete a synger,
Shoulde dye so sone: that sorrowe seemde a stynger./
24
And lyke the Swanne, he soong before his deathe/Whiche maie suffise, to prove the tyckell trust,
That can be buylt, upon our fading breathe/
Yt maye suffise to shewe that all oure lust,
At last will leave us, yn the depthe of dust/
Yt serves to prove, that no man synges so sweete,
As can eschewe, withe bytter deathe to meete./
553
25
Som̄e spende muche tyme, in learning sweete consentsOn lute, on harpe, Cythren, and virginalls/
And som̄e take paynes withe wyndy Instruments,
As Fyfes and flutes, cornetts and such like calles/
Of whome the last, to follye more be thralles/
The first but wringe, theire fyngers owt of frame,
But thes make mowthes, and shew a seemely shame./
26
Att everye spowte, that stands abowt a Towre,Men maye beholde suche Gorgons in theire grace/
When paynters please, to make a thing seeme sowre,
They portraye then, the forme of some suche face/
And yet owre owne, blynde judgements be so base,
Wee thinke that Joye, to lende us some reliefe,
Whiche we beholde, exprest and done wth griefe./
27
I dwell to longe, in Musickes copye holde,For nowe the dawncers come and call for rome/
But had they bells, then might they be so bolde,
To keepe the fyelde, and challenge all that com̄e,
Synce bells and babells, are alike to som̄e,/
And sure I see, no neighbours any where,
That were so meete, to lyve and dwell so neare./
28
For daūce allone, (I meane wthowt some noyse,)And that woulde seeme, a very madd mans parte/
But instruments, or Musycke of the voyce,
Doe cover many suche fonde crymes by arte/
Soe that me thynks, they best maie make a marte./
Musicke yt selfe, a mery madbraynd toy,
And dan̄cing sure, a madder kynde of joye./
29
What shoulde I coūpt, oure tossings and oure turnes,Owre frysks, oure flyngs, and all owr motions made/
Butt fewell geven, unto the fyre whiche burnes,
Within owr brests; whose flame can never fade?
For when Dame nature yn mans mynde did wade/
And sawe fonde fancye occupye the place,
She fury sent, to byd that Dame a base./
554
30
And thence proceede, the movings wch we make,As forward, backward, lefte hande turne, and right/
Upwards, and downewards, tyll owre hartes do quake/
And last of all, (to shew owre selves owtright)
A turne on toe, must grace owre giddy spright,
Untyll sometymes, we stoomble in the same,
And fall downeright, to geve the gazers game./
31
Dancyng delights, are like a whyrlyng wheele,Which turnethe mylls, or suche lyke frames abowt/
Yt takes no rest, as they doe restles reele/
Yt weares it selfe, as they doe owt of doubt/
And (yf my Muse be bolld to tell trewth mought)
Thes tryppers strive, to throwe theire braynes awaye,
As wheeles voyde water to the Dam̄es decaye./
32
But dyd yt hurte theire owne myndes and no moe,The losse were light, and easie to be borne/
The gazers eyes, are ofte mysguyded soe,
As makes a hornepype to begett a horne/
The mery night begetts a madder morne/
For he that (over night) did (syngle) trace,
Can (shortely after) dan̄ce a dooble pace./
33
The Matrones mynde leaves of her coomly looke,The mayde must mynce, and strive to streyne her feete,/
The bryde her selfe, forgetts her marriage booke,
And learnes that daye, some lessons muche unmeete/
She learnes sometymes, to dan̄ce and turne in streete,
When her brydgroome, had rather have her home,
For bett nor worse, She shoulde (from hym) so rome./
34
Were I commaunded, to defyne in fewe,What daūcyng is, and what consysts therein
I should be bolde, my logycke thus to shew/
Daūcyng is first, a pors[u]yvaūt for Synne,
To tempt the best, that ever yet hathe bene/
A clenly clooke, to cover (often tymes)
The slye pretence, of many subtyle crymes./
555
35
Yn daūce the hande, hathe libertye to touche,The eye to gaze, the arme for to embrace,
Whiche (otherwhere) might gyve greate cause of gruch/
The exercyse, acquytts a blushing face,
And lends muche leave, wth much more tyme & place/
The darksome nyght, sharpe enemye to shame,
By candles light, betrayethe many a dame./
36
But wherefore stand I thus upon this text?Whoso can daūce as Scipio seemd to doe,
Not wantonly, nor as his witts were vext,
Nor mynsing fyne, like such as meane to woe,
But withe suche grace, as love and malyce to,
Might bothe com̄end, and be afeard to blame,
I saie dan̄ce so, and dan̄ce in Christ his name./
37
But every Byrde, hathe not an Eagles eye,Nor all yt clyme, the Martren maie ensew/
My Queene (I graunt) dothe every vice defye,
Her Dames lykewise offences do eschewe/
Theire dan̄cyng bydds all Idle thoughts adieu./
I ment not them, I meane but such as seeke,
To breake my backe, wth fancies fagott reeke.
38
And synce I must, leape lightly and away,Before the force, of all those fagotts fall,
Amongst the leapers let me take my waye,
And see whatt faults I fynde amongst them all/
Beleve me (Queene) what ever me befall,
I will tell trewth, the devyll hymselfe to shame,
Although therby I seeme to purchase blame./
39
I wyll not spare to speake as Petrark spake,Who sayd that leapers (leape they never so well)
Cannott withe Squyrells full compare (yett) make/
Nor he whose roon̄yng alwaies wȳnes the bell,
Shall therein seeme, a hare (yet) to excell/
Nor he that vaults, or gambolds best in shape,
Can coome abowt (yet) nymbly lyke an Ape./
556
40
A lambe can leape, full lightly in his yowthe,Which afterwards, proves heavie heelde and slowe,
For loompyshe age, the lightest lym̄es ensewth,/
And (at an ynche) doth, followe where they goe/
Then he that roōnes so fast, or leapeth so,
Where wyll he light, but in the lappe of death?
And (streynyng force) he seemes to shorten breath./
41
For yf we coūpt, those pleasures worthy price,Whiche (in them selves) do purchase privy payne,
Then might we prayse (as well) bothe cards and dyse,
Whiche lyve by losse, and few (god knowes) yt gayne/
Thexample not unlyke: for bothe be vayne,
That one playes pownds, and lacketh pence at length,
That other streynes, and styll decreasethe strength./
42
To see som̄e one, sitt scratching of his hedde(Yea teare his bearde sometymes), when he hathe lost,
Another chafing, tyll his cheekes be redd,
And bothe waxe warme to co[ū]tervayle theire cost/
To see the cardes and dyse abowt howse tost/
Tyll anger vex bothe father, kȳne, and brother:
Ys it not madnes? sure it is none other./
43
But lacke of other actyve quallyties,Ys cause that this shoulde be in place profest/
Then lett my Muse bestyrre her to devyse,
The best that be, and lett thes others rest/
Wrastlyng is thought, meete for a martiall guest,
And therefore seemes, defended from the blames,
Which grow wth griefe in other Joyfull games/
44
Yet hee thatt marks what I have sayed before,Of leaping, roōnyng, vaultyng, and suche lyke
The same of this maie well be sayed and more,
For here of two, that one must lye in dyke/
And yf therewithe he doe his fall dyslyke,
From wrastlyng trycks, they fall to warlyke blowes,
Suche earnest oft, in deepest dalliaunce growes/
557
45
But ryding is, of nobles muche desired,And what can be brought in agaynst the same?
Alas alas, my Muze must needes by tyred,
To recken griefe in every kynde of game/
But trust me (Queene) I am not yet so lame,
But that I can in ryding finde some fault,
As earst I dyd in them which leape and vault./
46
For sett asyde, the danger of a fall,(Which so maye chan̄ce, that (woulde wee ride or no,)
Agaynst owre wylles, at last wee must or shall,
When withe a broken legg wee cannott goe)
I can rehearce yett many myschieves mo,
And sundry greeves, thatt &c. &c.
Left. unperfect for feare of Horsmen/
TAm Marti quam Mercurio.
558
COMMENDATORY VERSES
GEORGE GASCOIGNE Squire in commendation of this booke.
[_]
[To The French Littleton. A most easie, perfect and absolute way to learne the frenche tongue. 1566.]
So farre abrode, and cost them there so dere
Is now founde out, within our contrey here
And better cheape, amongst us may be bought
I meane the frenche: that pearle of pleasant speeche
Which some sought far, & bought it with their lives
With sickenesse some, yea some with bolts & gyves
But all with payne, this peerelesse pearle did seeche:
Now Holyband (A frendly frenche in deede)
Hath tane such payne, for everie english ease
That here at home, we may this language learne:
And for the price, he craveth no more meede
But thākeful harts, to whome his perles may please
Oh thank him thē, that so much thank doth earne.
Tam Marti quam Mercurio.
559
George Gascoigne, in the commendation of the noble Arte of Venerie.
As God himselfe declares, the life of man was lent,Bicause it should (with feare of him) in gladsome wise be spent.
And Salomon doth say, that all the rest is vaine,
Unlesse that myrth and merie cheere, may follow toile and paine.
If that be so in deede, what booteth then to buylde
High towers & halles of stately port, to leave an unknown child?
Or wherefore hoord we heapes of coyne and worldly wealth,
Whiles therwithall that caytif care, cōmes creeping in by stelth?
The needie neighbors grudge to see the rychman thryve,
Such malice worldly mucke doth breede in every man alyve.
Contention commes by coyne, and care doth contecke sew,
And sodeine death by care is caught, all this you know is true.
Since death is then the end, which all men seeke to flye,
And yet are all men well aware, that Man is borne to dye,
Why leade not men such lives, in quiet comely wise,
As might with honest sport & game, their worldly minds suffise?
Amongst the rest, that game, which in this booke is taught,
Doth seeme to yeld as much content, as may on earth be sought.
And but my simple Muze, both myrth and meane mistake,
It is a meane of as much mirth, as any sport can make.
It occupies the mynde, which else might chaunce to muse
On mischiefe, malice, filth and fraudes, that mortall men do use.
And as for exercise, it seemes to beare the bell,
Since by the same, mens bodies be, in health mainteyned well.
It exercyseth strength, it exercyseth wit,
And all the poars and sprites of Man, are exercised by it,
It shaketh off all slouth, it presseth downe all pryde,
It cheres the hart, it glads the eye, & through the ears doth glyde.
560
And leave the sluggish sleepe for such, as leachers lust devyse.
How true they tread their steps, in exercises traine,
Which frisking flings & lightbraind leaps, may seeme always to staine.
Howe appetite is bred (with health) in homely cates,
While Surfet sits in vaine excesse, & Banquet breeds debates.
How cries of well mouthd hounds, do countervaile the cost,
Which many a man (beyond his reach) on instruments hath lost.
How setting of Relayes, may represent the skyll,
Which souldiours use in Embushes, their furious foes to kyll.
How Foxe and Badgerd both, make patterns (in their denne)
Of Plotformes, Loopes, and Casamats, devisde by warlike men.
How fighting out at Bay, of Hart, Bucke, Goate, or Bore,
Declares the valiant Romains death, when might may do no more.
How sight of such delights, doth scorne all common showes,
Of Enterludes, of Tumblers tricks, of antikes, mocks, & mowes.
And how the nimble Hare, by turning in hir course,
Doth plainly prove that Pollicie, sometime surpasseth force.
The Venson not forgot, most meete for Princes dyshe:
All these with more could I rehearse, as much as wit could wyshe.
But let these few suffice, it is a Noble sport,
To recreate the mindes of Men, in good and godly sort.
A sport for Noble peeres, a sport for gentle bloods,
The paine I leave for servants such, as beate the bushie woods
To make their masters sport. Then let the Lords rejoyce,
Let gentlemen beholde the glee, and take thereof the choyce.
For my part (being one) I must needes say my minde,
That Hunting was ordeyned first, for Men of Noble kinde.
And unto them therefore, I recommend the same,
As exercise that best becōmes, their worthy noble name.
Tam Marti quàm Mercurio.
561
George Gascoigne To the reader of this Booke.
To salve a sore, with oyntment, oyle, or balme,Deserves (no doubt) reward and thanke alwayes.
With drogues or drāmes, to cure a sickely qualme,
Deserves (likewyse) a palme of perfect prayse:
But when mens mindes, (with mothes of secret mone)
Are frett and frownst: When cankerwormes of care,
Consume the hart, tyll hope of health be gone,
Then comfort craves, both thankes and prayses rare.
For looke howmutch, the mynde of man surmountes,
Our bloud and bones, whych are (indeede) but drosse,
Somutch the wyse, that comfort most accoumptes,
Whych helpes the hart whom tyringe troubles tosse.
Then let this woorcke, due thankes, and prayses finde,
Whose Text doth teach, true comfortes for the mynde.
Tam Marti, quam Mercurio.
567
A PROPHETICAL SONET of the same George Gascoine, upon the commendable travaile which Sir Humfrey Gilbert hath disclosed in this worke.
Men praise Columbus for the passing skilWhich he declared, in Cosmographie,
And nam'd him first (as yet we cal him stil)
The 2. Neptune, dubd by dignity.
Americus Vesputius, for his paine,
Neptune the 3. ful worthely was named,
And Magellanus, by good right did gaine,
Neptune the 4. ful fitly to be famed.
But al those three, and al the world beside,
Discovered not, a thing of more emprice,
Then in this booke, is learnedly descride,
By vertue of my worthie friendes device.
Yf such successe, to him (as them) then fall,
Neptune the 5. we justly may him call.
Tam Marti quam Mercurio.
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