The complete works of John Lyly now for the first time collected and edited from the earliest quartos with life, bibliography, essays, notes and index by R. Warwick Bond |
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 | The complete works of John Lyly |  |
471
SPEECHES DELIVERED TO HER MAIESTIE THIS LAST PROGRESSE, AT THE Right Honorable the Lady Rvssels, at Bissam, the Right Honorable the Lorde Chandos, at Sudley, at the Right Honorable the Lord Norris, at Ricorte.
476
[Swel Ceres now, for other Gods are shrinking]
At the bottome of the hill, entring into the hous Ceres with her Nymphes in an haruest Cart, meete her Maiesty, hauing a Crowne of wheat-ears with a Iewell, and after this song, vttered the speech following.
Swel Ceres now, for other Gods are shrinking,
Pomona pineth,
Fruitlesse her tree;
Faire Phœbus shineth
Onely on mee.
Conceite doth make me smile whilst I am thinking,
How euery one doth read my story,
How euery bough on Ceres lowreth,
Cause heauens plenty on me powreth,
And they in leaues doe onely glory,
All other Gods of power bereuen,
Ceres only Queene of heauen.
Pomona pineth,
Fruitlesse her tree;
Faire Phœbus shineth
Onely on mee.
Conceite doth make me smile whilst I am thinking,
How euery one doth read my story,
How euery bough on Ceres lowreth,
Cause heauens plenty on me powreth,
And they in leaues doe onely glory,
All other Gods of power bereuen,
Ceres only Queene of heauen.
With Robes and flowers let me be dressed,
Cynthia that shineth,
Is not so cleare,
Cynthia declineth,
When I appeere,
Yet in this Ile shee raignes as blessed,
And euery one at her doth wonder,
And in my eares still fonde Fame whispers,
Cynthia shalbe Ceres Mistres,
But first my Carre shall riue a sunder, [The cart parts in the middle.]
Helpe Phœbus helpe! my fall is suddaine;
Cynthia, Cynthia, must be soueraigne.
Cynthia that shineth,
Is not so cleare,
Cynthia declineth,
When I appeere,
Yet in this Ile shee raignes as blessed,
And euery one at her doth wonder,
And in my eares still fonde Fame whispers,
Cynthia shalbe Ceres Mistres,
But first my Carre shall riue a sunder, [The cart parts in the middle.]
Helpe Phœbus helpe! my fall is suddaine;
Cynthia, Cynthia, must be soueraigne.
479
[Sing you, plaie you, but sing and play my truth]
Sing you, plaie you, but sing and play my truth,This tree my Lute, these sighes my notes of ruth:
The Lawrell leafe for euer shall bee greene,
And chastety shalbe Apolloes Queene.
If gods maye dye, here shall my tombe be plaste,
And this engrauen, ‘Fonde Phœbus, Daphne chaste.’
[The Song.]
[My hart and tongue were twinnes, at once conceaued]
My hart and tongue were twinnes, at once conceaued;The eldest was my hart, borne dumbe by destenie,
The last my tongue, of all sweete thoughts bereaued,
Yet strung and tunde, to play harts harmonie.
Both knit in one, and yet asunder placed,
What hart would speake, the tongue doeth still discouer;
What tongue doth speake, is of the hart embraced,
And both are one to make a new found louer:
New founde, and onely founde in Gods and Kings,
Whose words are deedes, but deedes nor words regarded:
Chaste thoughts doe mount, and she with swiftest wings,
My loue with paine, my paine with losse rewarded:
Engraue vpon this tree, Daphnes perfection,
That neither men nor gods, can force affection.
[Nimpha mane, per me concordant carmina neruis.]
The song ended, the tree riued, and Daphne issued out, Apollo ranne after, with these words.Nimpha mane, per me concordant carmina neruis.
Faire Daphne staye, too chaste because too faire,
Yet fairer in mine eies, because so chaste,
And yet because so chaste, must I despaire?
And to despaire, I yeelded haue at last.
480
Possesse thy loue, thou knowest not how to measure,
A dunghill cock doeth often find a Iewell,
Enioying that, he knowes not to be treasure.
When broomy bearde, to sweepe thy lips presume,
When on thy necke, his rough hewen armes shall moue,
And gloate on thee with eies that drizell reume,
When that his toothlesse mouth shall call thee loue,
Noght will I saie of him, but pittie thee,
That beauty might, but would no wiser bee.
The verses, written in the tables which were giuen to her Maiesty
Let fame describe your rare perfection,Let nature paint your beauties glory,
Let loue engraue your true affection,
Let wonder write your vertues story,
By them and Gods must you be blazed,
Sufficeth men they stand amazed.
482
The Song.
[Hearbes, wordes, and stones, all maladies haue cured]
Hearbes , wordes, and stones, all maladies haue cured,Hearbes, wordes, and stones, I vsed when I loued.
Hearbes smels, words, winde, stones hardnes haue procured;
By stones, nor wordes, nor hearbes her minde was moued.
I askt the cause: this was a womans reason,
Mongst hearbes are weedes, and thereby are refused;
Deceite, as well as truth, speakes wordes in season,
False stones by foiles haue many one abused.
I sight, and then shee saide my fancie smoaked;
I gaz'd, shee saide my lookes were follies glauncing;
483
I started vp, shee saide my thoughtes were dauncing.
O, sacred loue! if thou haue any Godhead,
Teach other rules to winne a maidenheade.
[FINIS.]
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