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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19902-8.txt b/19902-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c82494 --- /dev/null +++ b/19902-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1972 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Affectionate Shepherd, by Richard Barnfield + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Affectionate Shepherd + +Author: Richard Barnfield + +Editor: James Orchard Halliwell + +Release Date: November 23, 2006 [EBook #19902] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD *** + + + + +Produced by Taavi Kalju and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + +THE + +AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD: + +BY + +RICHARD BARNFIELD. + +A.D. 1594. + +EDITED BY + +JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL, Esq. F.R.S. + +HON. M.R.I.A., HON. M.R.S.L., F.S.A., ETC. + +LONDON. + +REPRINTED FOR THE PERCY SOCIETY, + +BY T. RICHARDS, 100, ST. MARTIN'S LANE. + +M.DCCC.XLV. + + + + +COUNCIL + +OF + +The Percy Society. + + +_President._ + +THE RT. HON. LORD BRAYBROOKE, F.S.A. + +THOMAS AMYOT, ESQ. F.R.S. TREAS. S.A. + +WILLIAM HENRY BLACK, ESQ. + +WILLIAM CHAPPELL, ESQ. F.S.A. + +J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ. F.S.A. + +C. PURTON COOPER, ESQ. Q.C., F.R.S., F.S.A. + +PETER CUNNINGHAM, ESQ. + +JAMES HENRY DIXON, ESQ. + +WILLIAM JERDAN, ESQ. F.S.A., M.R.S.L. + +CAPTAIN JOHNS, R.M. + +T. J. PETTIGREW, ESQ. F.R.S., F.S.A. + +LEWIS POCOCK, ESQ. F.S.A. + +SIR CUTHBERT SHARP. + +WILLIAM SANDYS, ESQ. F.S.A. + +WILLIAM J. THOMS, ESQ. F.S.A. + +THOMAS WRIGHT, ESQ. M.A., F.S.A., _Secretary and Treasurer._ + + + + +PREFACE. + + +Two copies only of the poem by Barnfield here reprinted, are known to be +preserved; one in Sion College Library, and another, formerly in Heber's +possession, mentioned in "Bibliotheca Heberiana," iv. 15. Its merits and +great rarity have pointed it out as a work deserving to be more known +and appreciated. Barnfield is, perhaps, chiefly remembered by his +elegant pieces printed in the "Passionate Pilgrim," attributed by some +to Shakespeare; but Mr. Collier has distinctly proved them to belong to +the less eminent poet. The "Affectionate Shepherd" was his first +production, as he himself confesses in the preface to his "Cynthia," +1595, and it has received the well-merited commendation of Warton. +Besides these poems, he is the author of "The Complaint of Poetrie for +the death of Liberalitie," 4to. 1598, and others published at the same +time, reprints of which are in the British Museum; also "The Encomium +of Lady Pecunia, or the Praise of Money," a curious manuscript in the +Ashmolean Museum, and likewise printed in the author's life-time. It +should be mentioned that in the original copies of the following tract +are a few hexameter verses on the Rape of Helen, which have been omitted +as of an inferior kind to the other part of the work, and for still more +obvious reasons. The "Affectionate Shepherd" itself will be found +remarkably free from the coarseness which disfigures so much of the +Elizabethan literature,--an additional inducement, if any were +necessary, for rescuing it from the liability to destruction which is of +course incident to any book of such excessive rarity. Our thanks are due +to the Rev. H. Christmas, Librarian of Sion College, for the courtesy +and liberality with which he permitted our transcript to be made from a +volume of tracts possessing the greatest charm for the bibliographer; +for besides the present one, it contains the first edition of +Shakespeare's Lucrece, and several other pieces of nearly equal value, +in the finest possible condition. + + + + + THE + + AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD. + + CONTAINING THE COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS FOR + THE LOUE OF GANYMEDE. + + _Amor plus mellis, quam fellis, est._ + + London: + +Printed by John Danter, for T. G. and E. N., and + are to bee sold in Saint Dunstones + Church-yeard in Fleetstreet. + + 1594. + + + + +TO THE RIGHT EXCELLENT AND MOST BEAUTIFULL LADY, + THE LADIE PENELOPE RITCH. + + + Fayre lovely ladie, whose angelique eyes + Are vestall candles of sweet beauties treasure, + Whose speech is able to inchaunt the wise, + Converting joy to paine, and paine to pleasure; + Accept this simple toy of my soules dutie, + Which I present unto thy matchles beautie. + + And albeit the gift be all too meane, + Too meane an offring for thine ivorie shrine; + Yet must thy beautie my just blame susteane, + Since it is mortall, but thyselfe divine. + Then, noble ladie, take in gentle worth + This new-borne babe, which here my muse brings forth. + + Your Honours most affectionate and + perpetually devoted Shepheard: + + DAPHNIS. + + + + + THE + AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD. + + + + +THE TEARES OF AN AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD SICKE FOR LOVE, + OR THE COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS FOR THE + LOVE OF GANIMEDE. + + + Scarce had the morning starre hid from the light + Heavens crimson canopie with stars bespangled, + But I began to rue th' unhappy sight + Of that faire boy that had my hart intangled; + Cursing the time, the place, the sense, the sin; + I came, I saw, I viewd, I slipped in. + + If it be sinne to love a sweet-fac'd boy, + Whose amber locks trust up in golden tramels + Dangle adowne his lovely cheekes with joy, + When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels; + If it be sinne to love a lovely lad, + Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad. + + His ivory-white and alablaster skin + Is staind throughout with rare vermillion red, + Whose twinckling starrie lights doe never blin + To shine on lovely Venus, Beauties bed; + But as the lillie and the blushing rose, + So white and red on him in order growes. + + Upon a time the nymphs bestird them-selves + To trie who could his beautie soonest win; + But he accounted them but all as elves, + Except it were the faire Queene Guendolen: + Her he embrac'd, of her was beloved, + With plaints he proved, and with teares he moved. + + But her an old man had beene sutor too, + That in his age began to doate againe; + Her would he often pray, and often woo, + When through old age enfeebled was his braine: + But she before had lov'd a lustie youth, + That now was dead, the cause of all her ruth. + + And thus it hapned, Death and Cupid met + Upon a time at swilling Bacchus house, + Where daintie cates upon the boord were set, + And goblets full of wine to drinke carouse: + Where Love and Death did love the licor so, + That out they fall and to the fray they goe. + + And having both their quivers at their backe + Fild full of arrows; th' one of fatall steele, + The other all of gold; Deaths shaft was black, + But Loves was yellow: Fortune turnd her wheele, + And from Deaths quiver fell a fatall shaft, + That under Cupid by the winde was waft. + + And at the same time by ill hap there fell + Another arrow out of Cupids quiver, + The which was carried by the winde at will, + And under Death the amorous shaft did shiver: + They being parted, Love tooke up Deaths dart, + And Death tooke up Loves arrow for his part. + + Thus as they wandred both about the world, + At last Death met with one of feeble age: + Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurld + The unknowne arrow with a furious rage, + Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart; + But he, alas, with Love did wound his hart! + + This was the doting foole, this was the man + That lov'd faire Guendolena, Queene of Beautie; + Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can, + For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety: + Making him trim upon the holydaies, + And crownes his love with garlands made of baies. + + Now doth he stroke his beard, and now againe + He wipes the drivel from his filthy chin; + Now offers he a kisse, but high Disdaine + Will not permit her hart to pity him: + Her hart more hard than adamant or steele, + Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele. + + But leave we him in love up to the eares, + And tell how Love behav'd himselfe abroad; + Who seeing one that mourned still in teares, + A young man groaning under Loves great load, + Thinking to ease his burden, rid his paines, + For men have griefe as long as life remaines. + + Alas, the while that unawares he drue + The fatall shaft that Death had dropt before, + By which deceit great harme did then insue, + Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare: + His face, that was to Guendolen more deere + Than love of lords, or any lordly peere. + + This was that faire and beautifull young man, + Whom Guendolena so lamented for; + This is that Love whom she doth curse and ban, + Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor: + And if it were not for his mothers sake, + Even Ganimede himselfe she would forsake. + + Oh would shee would forsake my Ganimede, + Whose sugred love is full of sweete delight, + Upon whose forehead you may plainely reade + Loves pleasure grav'd in yvorie tables bright: + In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely see + Base Love still staind with foule indignitie. + + Oh would to God he would but pitty mee, + That love him more than any mortall wight! + Then he and I with love would soone agree, + That now cannot abide his sutors sight. + O would to God, so I might have my fee, + My lips were honey, and thy mouth a bee! + + Then shouldst thou sucke my sweete and my faire flower, + That now is ripe and full of honey-berries; + Then would I leade thee to my pleasant bower, + Fild full of grapes, of mulberries, and cherries: + Then shouldst thou be my waspe or else my bee, + I would thy hive, and thou my honey, bee. + + I would put amber bracelets on thy wrests, + Crownets of pearle about thy naked armes: + And when thou sitst at swilling Bacchus feasts + My lips with charmes should save thee from all harmes: + And when in sleepe thou tookst thy chiefest pleasure, + Mine eyes should gaze upon thine eyelids treasure. + + And every morne by dawning of the day, + When Phoebus riseth with a blushing face, + Silvanus chappel-clarkes shall chaunt a lay, + And play thee hunts-up in thy resting place: + My coote thy chamber, my bosome thy bed + Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head. + + And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad, + Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre, + The meades with Floras treasure should be strowde, + The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre. + And by a silver well with golden sands + Ile sit me downe, and wash thine yvory hands. + + And in the sweltring heate of summer time, + I would make cabinets for thee, my love; + Sweet-smelling arbours made of eglantine + Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy dove. + Cool cabinets of fresh greene laurell boughs + Should shadow us, ore-set with thicke-set eughes. + + Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs + Within the cristall of a pearle-bright brooke, + Paved with dainty pibbles to the brims, + Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thyselfe mayst looke; + Weele goe to Ladon, whose still trickling noyse + Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy joyes. + + Or if thoult goe unto the river side, + To angle for the sweet freshwater fish, + Arm'd with thy implements that will abide, + Thy rod, hooke, line, to take a dainty dish; + Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke, + Thy hooks of silver, and thy bayts of milke. + + Or if thou lov'st to hear sweet melodie, + Or pipe a round upon an oaten reede, + Or make thyselfe glad with some myrthfull glee, + Or play them musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede. + To Pans owne pype Ile helpe my lovely lad, + Pans golden pype, which he of Syrinx had. + + Or if thou darst to climbe the highest trees + For apples, cherries, medlars, peares, or plumbs, + Nuts, walnuts, filbeards, chestnuts, cervices, + The hoary peach, when snowy winter comes; + I have fine orchards full of mellowed frute, + Which I will give thee to obtaine my sute. + + Not proud Alcynous himselfe can vaunt + Of goodlier orchards or of braver trees + Than I have planted; yet thou wilt not graunt + My simple sute, but like the honey bees + Thou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone, + And loost mee for my coyne till I have none. + + Leave Guendolen, sweet hart; though she be faire, + Yet is she light; not light in vertue shining, + But light in her behaviour, to impaire + Her honour in her chastities declining; + Trust not her teares, for they can wantonnize, + When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes. + + If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home, + My sheepcote shall be strowed with new greene rushes: + Weele haunt the trembling prickets as they rome + About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes; + I have a pie-bald curre to hunt the hare, + So we will live with daintie forrest fare. + + Nay, more than this, I have a garden plot, + Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers; + Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot, + And dainty shelters when the welkin lowers: + Sweet-smelling beds of lillies, and of roses, + Which rosemary banks and lavender incloses. + + There growes the gilliflowre, the mynt, the dayzie + Both red and white, the blue-veynd violet; + The purple hyacinth, the spyke to please thee, + The scarlet dyde carnation bleeding yet: + The sage, the savery, and sweet margerum, + Isop, tyme, and eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe. + + The pinke, the primrose, cowslip and daffodilly, + The hare-bell blue, the crimson cullumbine, + Sage, lettis, parsley, and the milke-white lilly, + The rose and speckled flowre cald sops-in-wine, + Fine pretie king-cups, and the yellow bootes, + That growes by rivers and by shallow brookes. + + And manie thousand moe I cannot name + Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow, + I have for thee, and coneyes that be tame, + Young rabbets, white as swan, and blacke as crow; + Some speckled here and there with daintie spots: + And more I have two mylch and milke-white goates. + + All these and more Ile give thee for thy love, + If these and more may tyce thy love away: + I have a pidgeon-house, in it a dove, + Which I love more than mortall tongue can say. + And last of all Ile give thee a little lambe + To play withall, new weaned from her dam. + + But if thou wilt not pittie my complaint, + My teares, nor vowes, nor oathes, made to thy beautie: + What shall I doo but languish, die, or faint, + Since thou dost scorne my teares, and my soules duetie: + And teares contemned, vowes and oaths must faile, + And where teares cannot, nothing can prevaile. + + Compare the love of faire Queene Guendolin + With mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth love thee: + I love thee for thy qualities divine, + But shee doth love another swaine above thee: + I love thee for thy gifts, she for hir pleasure; + I for thy vertue, she for beauties treasure. + + And alwaies, I am sure, it cannot last. + But sometime Nature will denie those dimples: + Insteed of beautie, when thy blossom's past, + Thy face will be deformed full of wrinckles; + Then she that lov'd thee for thy beauties sake, + When age drawes on, thy love will soone forsake. + + But that I lov'd thee for thy gifts divine, + In the December of thy beauties waning, + Will still admire with joy those lovely eine, + That now behold me with their beauties baning. + Though Januarie will never come againe, + Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine. + + When will my May come, that I may embrace thee? + When will the hower be of my soules joying? + Why dost thou seeke in mirth still to disgrace mee? + Whose mirth's my health, whose griefe's my harts annoying: + Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessednes, + Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is. + + Thus doo I honour thee that love thee so, + And love thee so, that so doo honour thee + Much more than anie mortall man doth know, + Or can discerne by love or jealozie: + But if that thou disdainst my loving ever, + Oh happie I, if I had loved never! + + FINIS. + + Plus fellis quam mellis amor. + + + + +THE SECOND DAYES LAMENTATION OF THE AFFECTIONATE + SHEPHEARD. + + + Next morning, when the golden sunne was risen, + And new had bid good morrow to the mountaines; + When night her silver light had lockt in prison, + Which gave a glimmering on the christall fountaines: + Then ended sleepe, and then my cares began, + Ev'n with the uprising of the silver swan. + + Oh, glorious sunne! quoth I, viewing the sunne, + That lightenst everie thing but me alone: + Why is my summer season almost done, + My spring-time past, and ages autumne gone? + My harvest's come, and yet I reapt no corne: + My love is great, and yet I am forlorne. + + Witnes these watrie eyes my sad lament, + Receaving cisternes of my ceaseles teares; + Witnes my bleeding hart my soules intent, + Witnes the weight distressed Daphnis beares: + Sweet love, come ease me of thy burthens paine, + Or els I die, or else my hart is slaine. + + And thou, love-scorning boy, cruell, unkinde, + Oh, let me once againe intreat some pittie: + May be thou wilt relent thy marble minde, + And lend thine eares unto my dolefull dittie: + Oh, pittie him, that pittie craves so sweetly, + Or else thou shalt be never named meekly. + + If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my boy, + My sweet delight, the comfort of my minde, + My love, my dove, my sollace, and my joy; + But if I can no grace nor mercie finde, + Ile goe to Caucasus to ease my smart, + And let a vulture gnaw upon my hart. + + Yet if thou wilt but show me one kinde looke, + A small reward for my so great affection, + Ile grave thy name in Beauties golden booke, + And shrowd thee under Hellicon's protection: + Making the muses chaunt thy lovely prayse, + For they delight in shepheard's lowly layes. + + And when th'art wearie of thy keeping sheepe + Upon a lovely downe, to please thy minde, + Ile give thee fine ruffe-footed doves to keepe, + And pretie pidgeons of another kinde: + A robbin-redbrest shall thy minstrell bee, + Chirping thee sweet and pleasant melodie. + + Or if thou wilt goe shoote at little birds, + With bow and boult, the thrustle-cocke and sparrow, + Such as our countrey hedges can afford, + I have a fine bowe, and an yvorie arrow. + And if thou misse, yet meate thou shalt [not] lacke, + Ile hang a bag and bottle at thy backe. + + Wilt thou set springes in a frostie night + To catch the long-bill'd woodcocke and the snype, + By the bright glimmering of the starrie light, + The partridge, phæsant, or the greedie grype; + Ile lend thee lyme-twigs, and fine sparrow calls, + Wherewith the fowler silly birds inthralls. + + Or in a mystie morning if thou wilt + Make pitfalls for the larke and pheldifare, + Thy prop and sweake shall be both overguilt, + With Cyparissus selfe thou shalt compare + For gins and wyles, the oozels to beguile, + Whilst thou under a bush shalt sit and smile. + + Or with hare-pypes set in a muset hole, + Wilt thou deceave the deep-earth-delving coney; + Or wilt thou in a yellow boxen bole, + Taste with a wooden splent the sweet lythe honey; + Clusters of crimson grapes Ile pull thee downe, + And with vine-leaves make thee a lovely crowne. + + Or wilt thou drinke a cup of new-made wine, + Froathing at top, mixt with a dish of creame + And strawberries, or bilberries, in their prime, + Bath'd in a melting sugar-candie streame: + Bunnell and perry I have for thee alone, + When vynes are dead, and all the grapes are gone. + + I have a pleasant noted nightingale, + That sings as sweetly as the silver swan, + Kept in a cage of bone as white as whale, + Which I with singing of Philemon wan: + Her shalt thou have, and all I have beside, + If thou wilt be my boy, or els my bride. + + Then will I lay out all my lardarie + Of cheese, of cracknells, curds and clowted-creame, + Before thy malecontent ill-pleasing eye; + But why doo I of such great follies dreame? + Alas, he will not see my simple coate, + For all my speckled lambe, nor milk-white goate! + + Against my birth-day thou shalt be my guest, + Weele have greene-cheeses and fine silly-bubs, + And thou shalt be the chiefe of all my feast, + And I will give thee two fine pretie cubs, + With two yong whelps, to make thee sport withall, + A golden racket, and a tennis-ball. + + A guilded nutmeg, and a race of ginger, + A silken girdle, and a drawn-worke band, + Cuffs for thy wrists, a gold ring for thy finger, + And sweet rose-water for thy lilly-white hand; + A purse of silke, bespangd with spots of gold, + As brave a one as ere thou didst behold. + + A paire of knives, a greene hat and a feather, + New gloves to put upon thy milk-white hand, + Ile give thee, for to keep thee from the weather, + With phoenix feathers shall thy face be fand, + Cooling those cheekes, that being cool'd wexe red, + Like lillyes in a bed of roses shed. + + Why doo thy corall lips disdaine to kisse, + And sucke that sweete which manie have desired? + That baulme my bane, that meanes would mend my misse, + Oh, let me then with thy sweete lips b'inspired! + When thy lips touch my lips, my lips will turne + To corall too, and, being cold yce, will burne. + + Why should thy sweete love-locke hang dangling downe, + Kissing thy girdle-stud with falling pride? + Although thy skin be white, thy haire is browne: + Oh, let not then thy haire thy beautie hide! + Cut off thy locke, and sell it for gold wier: + The purest gold is tryde in hottest fier. + + Faire long-haire-wearing Absolon was kild, + Because he wore it in a braverie: + So that which gracde his beautie, Beautie spild, + Making him subject to vile slaverie, + In being hangd: a death for him too good, + That sought his owne shame and his father's blood. + + Againe we read of old king Priamus, + The haplesse syre of valiant Hector slaine, + That his haire was so long and odious + In youth, that in his age it bred his paine: + For if his haire had not been halfe so long, + His life had been, and he had had no wrong. + + For when his stately citie was destroyd, + That monument of great antiquitie, + When his poore hart, with griefe and sorrow cloyd, + Fled to his wife, last hope in miserie; + Pyrrhus, more hard than adamantine rockes, + Held him and halde him by his aged lockes. + + These two examples by the way I show, + To prove th' indecencie of men's long haire: + Though I could tell thee of a thousand moe, + Let these suffice for thee, my lovely faire, + Whose eye's my starre, whose smiling is my sunne, + Whose love did ende before my joyes begunne. + + Fond love is blinde, and so art thou, my deare, + For thou seest not my love and great desart; + Blinde love is fond, and so thou dost appeare, + For fond and blinde, thou greevst my greeving hart: + Be thou fond-blinde, blinde-fond, or one, or all, + Thou art my love, and I must be thy thrall! + + Oh lend thine yvorie forehead for loves booke, + Thine eyes for candles to behold the same; + That when dim-sighted ones therein shall looke, + They may discerne that proud disdainefull dame; + Yet claspe that booke, and shut that cazement light, + Lest, th'one obscurde, the other shine too bright. + + Sell thy sweet breath to th' daintie musk-ball makers, + Yet sell it so as thou mayst soone redeeme it: + Let others of thy beauty be pertakers, + Else none but Daphnis will so well esteeme it. + For what is beauty, except it be well knowne? + And how can it be knowne, except first showne? + + Learne of the gentlewomen of this age, + That set their beauties to the open view, + Making disdaine their lord, true love their page, + A custome zeale doth hate, desert doth rue: + Learne to looke red, anon waxe pale and wan, + Making a mocke of love, a scorne of man. + + A candle light, and cover'd with a vaile, + Doth no man good, because it gives no light; + So Beauty of her beauty seemes to faile, + When being not seene it cannot shine so bright: + Then show thyselfe and know thyselfe withall, + Lest climing high thou catch too great a fall. + + Oh foule eclipser of that fayre sun-shine, + Which is intitled Beauty in the best, + Making that mortall, which is els divine, + That staines the fayre which women steeme not least: + Get thee to Hell againe, from whence thou art, + And leave the center of a woman's hart. + + Ah be not staind, sweet boy, with this vilde spot, + Indulgence daughter, mother of Mischaunce; + A blemish that doth every beauty blot, + That makes them loath'd, but never doth advaunce + Her clyents, fautors, friends, or them that love her, + And hates them most of all, that most reprove her. + + Remember age, and thou canst not be prowd, + For age puls downe the pride of every man; + In youthfull yeares by Nature tis allowde + To have selfe-will, doo Nurture what she can; + Nature and Nurture once together met, + The soule and shape in decent order set. + + Pride looks aloft, still staring on the starres, + Humility looks lowly on the ground; + Th' one menaceth the gods with civill warres, + The other toyles till he have Vertue found. + His thoughts are humble, not aspiring hye, + But Pride looks haughtily with scornefull eye. + + Humillity is clad in modest weedes, + But Pride is brave and glorious to the show; + Humillity his friends with kindnes feedes, + But Pride his friends in neede will never know, + Supplying not their wants, but them disdaining, + Whilst they to pitty never neede complayning. + + Humillity in misery is reliev'd, + But Pride in neede of no man is regarded; + Pitty and Mercy weepe to see him griev'd, + That in distresse had them so well rewarded; + But Pride is scornd, contemnd, disdaind, derided, + Whilst Humblenes of all things is provided. + + Oh then be humble, gentle, meeke, and milde, + So shalt thou be of every mouth commended; + Be not disdainfull, cruell, proud, sweet childe, + So shalt thou be of no man much condemned: + Care not for them that vertue doo despise; + Vertue is loathde of fooles, lovde of the wise. + + O faire boy, trust not to thy beauties wings, + They cannot carry thee above the sunne: + Beauty and wealth are transitory things, + For all must ende that ever was begunne. + But Fame and Vertue never shall decay, + For Fame is toombles, Vertue lives for aye. + + The snow is white, and yet the pepper 's blacke, + The one is bought, the other is contemned: + Pibbles we have, but store of jeat we lacke, + So white comparde to blacke is much condemned. + We doo not praise the swanne because shees white, + But for she doth in musique much delite. + + And yet the silver-noted nightingale, + Though she be not so white, is more esteemed; + Sturgion is dun of hew, white is the whale, + Yet for the daintier dish the first is deemed: + What thing is whiter than the milke-bred lilly? + That knowes it not for naught, what man so silly? + + Yea, what more noysomer unto the smell + Than lillies are? What's sweeter then the sage? + Yet for pure white the lilly beares the bell, + Till it be faded through decaying age. + House-doves are white, and oozels blacke-birds bee, + Yet what a difference in the taste we see? + + Compare the cow and calfe with ewe and lambe, + Rough hayrie hydes with softest downy fell; + Hecfar and bull with weather and with ramme, + And you shall see how far they doo excell; + White kine with blacke, blacke coney-skins with gray, + Kine nesh and strong, skins deare and cheape alway. + + The whitest silver is not alwaies best, + Lead, tynne, and pewter are of base esteeme; + The yellow burnisht gold that comes from th' East, + And West, of late invented, may beseeme + The worlds ritch treasury, or Mydas eye; + The ritch mans god, poore mans felicitie. + + Bugle and jeat with snow and alablaster + I will compare; white dammasin with blacke; + Bullas and wheaton plumbs, to a good taster + The ripe red cherries have the sweetest smacke: + When they be greene and young, th' are sowre and naught; + But being ripe, with eagernes th' are baught. + + Compare the wyld cat to the brownish beaver, + Running for life, with hounds pursued sore, + When huntsmen of her pretious stones bereave her, + Which with her teeth sh' had bitten off before; + Restoratives and costly curious felts + Are made of them, and rich imbroydred belts. + + To what use serves a peece of crimbling chalke? + The agget stone is white, yet good for nothing: + Fie, fie, I am asham'd to heare thee talke, + Be not so much of thine owne image doating: + So faire Narcissus lost his love and life; + Beautie is often with itselfe at strife. + + Right diamonds are of a russet hieu, + The brightsome carbuncles are red to see too; + The saphyre stone is of a watchet blue, + To this thou canst not chuse but soone agree to: + Pearles are not white but gray, rubies are red: + In praise of blacke what can be better sed? + + For if we doo consider of each mortall thing + That flyes in welkin, or in water swims, + How everie thing increaseth with the spring, + And how the blacker still the brighter dims: + We cannot chuse, but needs we must confesse, + Sable excels milk-white in more or lesse. + + As for example, in the christall cleare + Of a sweete streame, or pleasant running river, + Where thousand formes of fishes will appeare, + Whose names to thee I cannot now deliver; + The blacker still the brighter have disgrac'd, + For pleasant profit and delicious taste. + + Salmon and trout are of a ruddie colour, + Whiting and dare is of a milk-white hiew; + Nature by them perhaps is made the fuller, + Little they nowrish, be they old or new: + Carp, loach, tench, eeles, though black and bred in mud, + Delight the tooth with taste, and breed good blud. + + Innumerable be the kindes, if I could name them, + But I a shepheard and no fisher am: + Little it skils whether I praise or blame them, + I onely meddle with my ew and lamb: + Yet this I say that blacke the better is, + In birds, beasts, frute, stones, flowres, herbs, mettals, fish. + + And last of all, in blacke there doth appeare + Such qualities as not in yvorie; + Black cannot blush for shame, looke pale for feare, + Scorning to weare another livorie. + Blacke is the badge of sober modestie, + The wonted weare of ancient gravetie. + + The learned sisters sute themselves in blacke, + Learning abandons white and lighter hues; + Pleasure and pride light colours never lacke, + But true religion doth such toyes refuse: + Vertue and gravity are sisters growne, + Since blacke by both, and both by blacke are knowne. + + White is the colour of each paltry miller, + White is the ensigne of each common woman; + White is white vertues for blacke vyces piller, + White makes proud fooles inferiour unto no man: + White is the white of body, blacke of minde, + Vertue we seldome in white habit finde. + + Oh, then be not so proud because th' art fayre, + Vertue is onely the ritch gift of God: + Let not selfe-pride thy vertues name impayre, + Beate not greene youth with sharpe repentance rod: + A fiend, a monster, a mishapen divel; + Vertues foe, vyces friend, the roote of evill. + + Apply thy minde to be a vertuous man; + Avoyd ill company, the spoyle of youth; + To follow vertues lore doo what thou can, + Whereby great profit unto the ensuth: + Reade bookes, hate ignorance, the foe to art, + The damme of errour, envy of the hart. + + Serve Jove upon thy knees both day and night, + Adore his name above all things on earth; + So shall thy vowes be gracious in his sight, + So little babes are blessed in their birth: + Thinke on no worldly woe, lament thy sin, + For lesser cease, when greater griefes begin. + + Sweare no vaine oathes, heare much, but little say, + Speake ill of no man, tend thine owne affaires; + Bridle thy wrath, thine angrie mood delay, + So shall thy minde be seldome cloyd with cares: + Be milde and gentle in thy speech to all, + Refuse no honest gaine when it doth fall. + + Be not beguild with words, prove not ungratefull, + Releeve thy neighbour in his greatest need, + Commit no action that to all is hatefull, + Their want with welth, the poore with plentie feed: + Twit no man in the teeth with what th' hast done; + Remember flesh is fraile, and hatred shunne. + + Leave wicked things, which men to mischiefe move, + Least crosse mis-hap may thee in danger bring: + Crave no preferment of thy heavenly Jove, + Nor anie honor of thy earthly king: + Boast not thyselfe before th' Almighties sight, + Who knowes thy hart, and anie wicked wight. + + Be not offensive to the peoples eye, + See that thy praiers harts true zeale affords, + Scorne not a man that's falne in miserie, + Esteeme no tatling tales, no babling words; + That reason is exiled alwaies thinke, + When as a drunkard rayles amidst his drinke. + + Use not thy lovely lips to loathsome lyes, + By craftie meanes increase no worldly wealth; + Strive not with mightie men (whose fortune flies), + With temp'rate diet nourish wholesome health: + Place well thy words, leave not thy frend for gold; + First trie, then trust, in ventring be not bold. + + In Pan repose thy trust; extoll his praise, + (That never shall decay, but ever lives): + Honor thy parents (to prolong thy dayes), + Let not thy left hand know what right hand gives: + From needie men turne not thy face away, + Though charitie be now yclad in clay. + + Heare shepheards oft (thereby great wisdome growes), + With good advice a sober answere make: + Be not remoov'd with every winde that blowes, + (That course doo onely sinfull sinners take): + Thy talke will shew thy fame or els thy shame; + (A pratling tongue doth often purchase blame.) + + Obtaine a faithfull frend that will not faile thee, + Think on thy mother's paine in her child-bearing; + Make no debate, least quickly thou bewaile thee, + Visit the sicke with comfortable chearing: + Pittie the prisner, helpe the fatherlesse, + Revenge the widdowes wrongs in her distresse. + + Thinke on thy grave, remember still thy end, + Let not thy winding-sheete be staind with guilt; + Trust not a fained reconciled frend, + More than an open foe (that blood hath spilt): + (Who tutcheth pitch, with pitch shalbe defiled), + Be not with wanton companie beguiled. + + Take not a flattring woman to thy wife, + A shameles creature, full of wanton words, + (Whose bad, thy good, whose lust will end thy life, + Cutting thy hart with sharpe two edged knife): + Cast not thy minde on her whose lookes allure, + But she that shines in truth and vertue pure. + + Praise not thyselfe, let other men commend thee; + Beare not a flattring tongue to glaver anie; + Let parents due correction not offend thee; + Rob not thy neighbor, seeke the love of manie; + Hate not to heare good counsell given thee, + Lay not thy money unto usurie. + + Restraine thy steps from too much libertie, + Fulfill not th' envious mans malitious minde; + Embrace thy wife, live not in lecherie; + Content thyselfe with what fates have assignde: + Be rul'd by reason, warning dangers save; + True age is reverend worship to thy grave. + + Be patient in extreame adversitie, + (Mans chiefest credit growes by dooing well). + Be not high-minded in prosperitie; + Falshood abhorre, no lying fable tell. + Give not thyselfe to sloth, (the sinke of shame, + The moath of time, the enemie to fame). + + This leare I learned of a bel-dame Trot, + (When I was yong and wylde as now thou art), + But her good counsell I regarded not, + I markt it with my eares, not with my hart. + But now I finde it too-too true (my sonne), + When my age-withered spring is almost done. + + Behold my gray head, full of silver haires, + My wrinckled skin, deepe furrowes in my face, + Cares bring old age, old age increaseth cares; + My time is come, and I have run my race: + Winter hath snow'd upon my hoarie head, + And with my winter all my joyes are dead. + + And thou love-hating boy, (whom once I loved), + Farewell, a thousand-thousand times farewell; + My teares the marble-stones to ruth have moved; + My sad complaints the babling ecchoes tell: + And yet thou wouldst take no compassion on mee, + Scorning that crosse which love hath laid upon mee. + + The hardest steele with fier doth mend his misse, + Marble is mollifyde with drops of raine; + But thou (more hard than steele or marble is), + Doost scorne my teares, and my true love disdaine, + Which for thy sake shall everlasting bee, + Wrote in the annalls of eternitie. + + By this, the night, (with darknes over-spred), + Had drawne the curtaines of her cole-blacke bed; + And Cynthia, muffling her face with a clowd, + (Lest all the world of her should be too proud) + Had taken conge of the sable night, + (That wanting her cannot be halfe so bright.) + + When I, poore forlorn man and outcast creature, + (Despairing of my love, despisde of beautie), + Grew malecontent, scorning his lovely feature, + That had disdaind my ever zealous dutie: + I hy'd me homeward by the moone-shine light, + Foreswaring love, and all his fond delight. + + FINIS. + + + + +THE SHEPHEARDS CONTENT, OR THE HAPPINES OF A HARMLES + LIFE. WRITTEN UPON OCCASION OF THE FORMER + SUBJECT. + + + Of all the kindes of common countrey life, + Methinkes a shepheards life is most content; + His state is quiet peace, devoyd of strife; + His thoughts are pure from all impure intent, + His pleasures rate sits at an easie rent; + He beares no mallice in his harmles hart, + Malicious meaning hath in him no part. + + He is not troubled with th' afflicted minde, + His cares are onely over silly sheepe; + He is not unto jealozie inclinde, + (Thrice happie man) he knowes not how to weepe; + Whilst I the treble in deepe sorrowes keepe. + I cannot keepe the meane; for why (alas) + Griefes have no meane, though I for meane doe passe. + + No briefes nor semi-briefes are in my songs, + Because (alas) my griefe is seldome short; + My prick-song's alwayes full of largues and longs, + (Because I never can obtaine the port + Of my desires: hope is a happie fort). + Prick song (indeed) because it pricks my hart; + And song, because sometimes I ease my smart. + + The mightie monarch of a royall realme, + Swaying his scepter with a princely pompe, + Of his desires cannot so steare the healme, + But sometime falls into a deadly dumpe; + When as he heares the shrilly sounding trumpe + Of forren enemies, or home-bred foes, + His minde of griefe, his hart is full of woes. + + Or when bad subjects gainst their soveraigne + (Like hollow harts) unnaturally rebell, + How carefull is he to suppresse againe + Their desperate forces, and their powers to quell + With loyall harts, till all againe be well. + When (being subdu'd) his care is rather more, + To keepe them under, than it was before. + + Thus is he never full of sweete content, + But either this or that his joy debars: + Now noblemen gainst noblemen are bent, + Now gentlemen and others fall at jarrs: + Thus is his countrey full of civill warrs; + He still in danger sits, still fearing death, + For traitors seeke to stop their princes breath. + + The whylst the other hath no enemie, + Without it be the wolfe and cruell fates, + (Which no man spare): when as his disagree, + He with his sheephooke knaps them on the pates, + Schooling his tender lambs from wanton gates. + Beasts are more kinde than men, sheepe seeke not blood, + But countrey caytives kill their countreyes good. + + The courtier he fawns for his princes favour, + In hope to get a princely ritch reward; + His tongue is tipt with honey for to glaver, + Pride deales the deck, whilst chance doth choose the card; + Then comes another and his game hath mard, + Sitting betwixt him and the morning sun; + Thus night is come before the day is done. + + Some courtiers, carefull of their princes health, + Attend his person with all dilligence; + Whose hand's their hart, whose welfare is their wealth, + Whose safe protection is their sure defence, + For pure affection, not for hope of pence: + Such is the faithfull hart, such is the minde, + Of him that is to vertue still inclinde. + + The skilfull scholler, and brave man at armes, + First plies his booke, last fights for countries peace; + Th' one feares oblivion, th' other fresh alarmes: + His paines nere ende, his travailes never cease; + His with the day, his with the night increase: + He studies how to get eternall fame, + The souldier fights to win a glorious name. + + The knight, the squire, the gentleman, the clowne, + Are full of crosses and calamities, + Lest fickle fortune should begin to frowne, + And turne their mirth to extreame miseries, + Nothing more certaine than incertainties! + Fortune is full of fresh varietie, + Constant in nothing but inconstancie. + + The wealthie merchant that doth crosse the seas, + To Denmarke, Poland, Spaine, and Barbarie, + For all his ritches, lives not still at ease; + Sometimes he feares ship-spoyling pyracie, + Another while deceipt and treacherie + Of his owne factors in a forren land; + Thus doth he still in dread and danger stand. + + Well is he tearmd a merchant-venturer, + Since he doth venter lands, and goods and all; + When he doth travell for his traffique far, + Little he knowes what fortune may befall, + Or rather, what mis-fortune happen shall: + Sometimes he splits his ship against a rocke, + Loosing his men, his goods, his wealth, his stocke. + + And if he so escape with life away, + He counts himselfe a man most fortunate, + Because the waves their rigorous rage did stay, + (When being within their cruell powers of late, + The seas did seeme to pittie his estate). + But yet he never can recover health, + Because his joy was drowned with his wealth. + + The painfull plough-swaine, and the husband-man, + Rise up each morning by the breake of day, + Taking what toyle and drudging paines they can, + And all is for to get a little stay; + And yet they cannot put their care away: + When night is come, their cares begin afresh, + Thinking upon their morrowes busines. + + Thus everie man is troubled with unrest, + From rich to poore, from high to low degree: + Therefore I thinke that man is truly blest, + That neither cares for wealth nor povertie, + But laughs at Fortune, and her foolerie, + That gives rich churles great store of golde and fee, + And lets poore schollers live in miserie. + + O, fading branches of decaying bayes, + Who now will water your dry-wither'd armes? + Or where is he that sung the lovely layes + Of simple shepheards in their countrey-farmes? + Ah! he is dead, the cause of all our harmes: + And with him dide my joy and sweete delight; + The cleare to clowdes, the day is turnd to night. + + SYDNEY, the syren of this latter age; + SYDNEY, the blasing-starre of England's glory; + SYDNEY, the wonder of the wise and sage; + SYDNEY, the subject of true vertues story: + This syren, starre, this wonder, and this subject, + Is dumbe, dim, gone, and mard by fortune's object. + + And thou, my sweete Amintas, vertuous minde, + Should I forget thy learning or thy love, + Well might I be accounted but unkinde, + Whose pure affection I so oft did prove, + Might my poore plaints hard stones to pitty move! + His losse should be lamented of each creature, + So great his name, so gentle was his nature. + + But sleepe his soule in sweet Elysium, + (The happy haven of eternall rest); + And let me to my former matter come, + Proving, by reason, shepheard's life is best, + Because he harbours vertue in his brest; + And is content, (the chiefest thing of all), + With any fortune that shall him befall. + + He sits all day lowd-piping on a hill, + The whilst his flocke about him daunce apace, + His hart with joy, his eares with musique fill: + Anon a bleating weather beares the bace, + A lambe the treble, and to his disgrace + Another answers like a middle meane, + Thus every one to beare a part are faine. + + Like a great king he rules a little land, + Still making statutes and ordayning lawes, + Which if they breake, he beates them with his wand; + He doth defend them from the greedy jawes + Of rav'ning woolves, and lyons bloudy pawes. + His field, his realme; his subjects are his sheepe; + Which he doth still in due obedience keepe. + + First he ordaines by act of parlament, + (Holden by custome in each country towne), + That if a sheepe (with any bad intent) + Presume to breake the neighbour hedges downe, + Or haunt strange pastures that be not his owne, + He shall be pounded for his lustines, + Untill his master finde out some redres. + + Also if any prove a strageller + From his owne fellowes in a forraine field, + He shall be taken for a wanderer, + And forc'd himselfe immediatly to yeeld; + Or with a wyde-mouth'd mastive curre be kild; + And if not claimd within a twelve month's space, + He shall remaine with land-lord of the place. + + Or if one stray to feede far from the rest, + He shall be pincht by his swift pye-bald curre; + If any by his fellowes be opprest, + The wronger, (for he doth all wrong abhorre), + Shall be well bangd so long as he can sturre, + Because he did anoy his harmeles brother, + That meant not harme to him nor any other. + + And last of all, if any wanton weather, + With briers and brambles teare his fleece in twaine, + He shall be forc'd t' abide cold frosty weather, + And powring showres of ratling stormes of raine, + Till his new fleece begins to grow againe: + And for his rashnes he is doom'd to goe + Without a new coate all the winter throw. + + Thus doth he keepe them still in awfull feare, + And yet allowes them liberty inough; + So deare to him their welfare doth appeare, + That when their fleeces gin to waxen rough, + He combs and trims them with a rampicke bough, + Washing them in the streames of silver Ladon, + To cleanse their skinnes from all corruption. + + Another while he wooes his country wench, + With chaplet crownd and gaudy girlonds dight, + Whose burning lust her modest eye doth quench; + Standing amazed at her heavenly sight, + Beauty doth ravish sense with sweet delight, + Clearing Arcadia with a smoothed browe, + When sun-bright smiles melt flakes of driven snowe. + + Thus doth he frollicke it each day by day, + And when night comes drawes homeward to his coate, + Singing a jigge or merry roundelay, + For who sings commonly so merry a noate, + As he that cannot chop or change a groate? + And in the winter nights his chiefe desire, + He turnes a crabbe or cracknell in the fire. + + He leads his wench a country horne-pipe round, + About a may-pole on a holy-day, + Kissing his lovely lasse with garlands crownd, + With whoopping heigh-ho singing care away. + Thus doth he passe the merry month of May, + And all th' yere after, in delight and joy; + Scorning a king, he cares for no annoy. + + What though with simple cheere he homely fares, + He lives content; a king can doo no more, + Nay, not so much, for kings have manie cares, + But he hath none, except it be that sore + Which yong and old, which vexeth ritch and poore, + The pangs of love. O! who can vanquish Love? + That conquers kingdomes, and the gods above. + + Deepe-wounding arrow, hart-consuming fire, + Ruler of reason, slave to tyrant beautie, + Monarch of harts, fuell of fond desire, + Prentice to folly, foe to fained duetie. + Pledge of true zeale, affections moitie, + If thou kilst where thou wilt, and whom it list thee, + Alas! how can a silly soule resist thee? + + By thee great Collin lost his libertie, + By thee sweet Astrophel forwent his joy; + By thee Amyntas wept incessantly, + By thee good Rowland liv'd in great annoy; + O cruell, peevish, vylde, blind-seeing boy, + How canst thou hit their harts, and yet not see? + If thou be blinde, as thou art faind to bee. + + A shepheard loves no ill, but onely thee; + He hath no care, but onely by thy causing: + Why doost thou shoot thy cruell shafts at mee? + Give me some respite, some short time of pausing: + Still my sweet love with bitter lucke th'art sawcing: + Oh, if thou hast a minde to shew thy might, + Kill mightie kings, and not a wretched wight. + + Yet, O enthraller of infranchizd harts, + At my poore hart if thou wilt needs be ayming, + Doo me this favour, show me both thy darts, + That I may chuse the best for my harts mayming, + A free consent is priviledgd from blaming. + Then pierce his hard hart with thy golden arrow, + That thou my wrong, that he may rue my sorrow. + + But let mee feele the force of thy lead pyle, + What should I doo with love when I am old? + I know not how to flatter, fawne, or smyle; + Then stay thy hand, O cruell bowman, hold! + For if thou strik'st me with thy dart of gold, + I sweare to thee by Joves immortall curse, + I have more in my hart than in my purse. + + The more I weepe, the more he bends his brow, + For in my hart a golden shaft I finde. + Cruell, unkinde, and wilt thou leave me so? + Can no remorce nor pittie move thy minde? + Is mercie in the heavens so hard to finde? + Oh, then it is no mervaile that on earth + Of kinde remorce there is so great a dearth. + + How happie were a harmles shepheards life, + If he had never knowen what love did meane; + But now fond Love in every place is rife, + Staining the purest soule with spots uncleane, + Making thicke purses thin, fat bodies leane. + Love is a fiend, a fire, a heaven, a hell, + Where pleasure, paine, and sad repentance dwell! + + There are so manie Danaes now a dayes, + That love for lucre, paine for gaine is sold; + No true affection can their fancie please, + Except it be a Jove, to raine downe gold + Into their laps, which they wyde open hold: + If _legem pone_ comes, he is receav'd, + When _Vix haud habeo_ is of hope bereav'd. + + Thus have I showed, in my countrey vaine, + The sweet content that shepheards still injoy; + The mickle pleasure and the little paine + That ever doth awayte the shepheards boy: + His hart is never troubled with annoy; + He is a king, for he commands his sheepe; + He knowes no woe, for he doth seldome weepe. + + He is a courtier, for he courts his love; + He is a scholler, for he sings sweet ditties; + He is a souldier, for he wounds doth prove; + He is the fame of townes, the shame of citties: + He scornes false fortune, but true vertue pitties. + He is a gentleman, because his nature + Is kinde and affable to everie creature. + + Who would not then a simple shepheard bee, + Rather than be a mightie monarch made? + Since he injoyes such perfect libertie + As never can decay, nor never fade: + He seldome sits in dolefull cypresse shade, + But lives in hope, in joy, in peace, in blisse, + Joying all joy with this content of his. + + But now good fortune lands my little boate + Upon the shoare of his desired rest: + Now must I leave awhile my rurall noate, + To thinke on him whom my soule loveth best; + He that can make the most unhappie blest; + In whose sweete lap Ile lay me downe to sleepe, + And never wake till marble stones shall weepe. + + FINIS. + + + + + SONNET. + + + Loe here behold these tributarie teares + Paid to thy faire but cruell tyrant eyes; + Loe here the blossome of my youthfull yeares, + Nipt with the fresh of thy wraths winter, dyes! + Here on Loves altar I doo offer up + This burning hart for my soules sacrifice; + Here I receave this deadly-poysned cu[p] + Of Circe charm'd, wherein deepe magicke lyes. + Then teares, if you be happie teares indeed, + And hart, if thou be lodged in his brest, + And cup, if thou canst helpe despaire with speed, + Teares, hart, and cup, conjoine to make me blest! + Teares move, hart win, cup cause, ruth, love, desire, + In word, in deed; by moane, by zeale, by fire. + + FINIS. + + + + +THE COMPLAINT OF CHASTITIE, BRIEFELY TOUCHING THE CAUSE + OF THE DEATH OF MATILDA FITZWALTERS, AN ENGLISH + LADIE, SOMETIME LOVED OF KING JOHN, AFTER + POYSONED. THE STORIE IS AT LARGE + WRITTEN BY MICHAEL DREYTON. + + + You modest dames, inricht with chastitie, + Maske your bright eyes with Vestaes sable vaile, + Since few are left so faire or chast as shee, + Matter for me to weepe, you to bewaile! + For manie seeming so, of Vertue faile, + Whose lovely cheeks, with rare vermilion tainted, + Can never blush, because their faire is painted. + + O faire-foule tincture, staine of woman kinde, + Mother of Mischiefe, daughter of Deceate, + False traitor to the soule, blot to the minde, + Usurping tyrant of true beauties seate! + Right cousner of the eye, lewd follies baite, + The flag of filthines, the sinke of shame, + The divells dye, dishonour of thy name! + + Monster of art, bastard of bad desier, + Il-worshipt idoll, false imagerie! + Ensigne of vice, to thine owne selfe a lier, + Silent inchaunter, mindes anatomie, + Sly bawd to lust, pandor to infamie, + Slaunder of Truth, truth of dissimulation, + Staining our clymate more than anie nation! + + What shall I say to thee, thou scorne of Nature, + Blacke spot of sinne, vylde lure of lecherie, + Injurious blame to everie fæmale creature, + Wronger of time, broker of trecherie, + Trap of greene youth, false womens witcherie, + Handmaid of pride, highway to wickednesse, + Yet pathway to repentance nere the lesse? + + Thou dost entice the minde to dooing evill, + Thou setst dissention twixt the man and wife; + A saint in show, and yet indeed a devill, + Thou art the cause of everie common strife; + Thou art the life of Death, the death of Life! + Thou doost betray thyselfe to infamie, + When thou art once discerned by the eye. + + Ah, little knew Matilda of thy being, + Those times were pure from all impure complection; + Then Love came of Desert, Desert of seeing, + Then Vertue was the mother of Affection, + But Beautie now is under no subjection; + Then women were the same that men did deeme, + But now they are the same they doo not seeme. + + What fæmale now intreated of a king + With gold and jewels, pearles and precious stones, + Would willingly refuse so sweete a thing, + Onely for a little show of Vertue ones? + Women have kindnes grafted in their bones. + Gold is a deepe-perswading orator, + Especially where few the fault abhor. + + But yet shee rather deadly poyson chose, + Oh cruell bane of most accursed clime! + Than staine that milk-white mayden virgin rose, + Which shee had kept unspotted till that time, + And not corrupted with this earthly slime. + Her soule shall live, inclosd eternally + In that pure shrine of immortality! + + This is my doome, and this shall come to passe, + For what are pleasures but still vading joyes? + Fading as flowers, brittle as a glasse, + Or potters clay, crost with the least annoyes? + All things in this life are but trifling toyes, + But Fame and Vertue never shall decay, + For Fame is toomblesse, Vertue lives for aye! + + FINIS. + + + + +NOTES. + + +P. 6, l. 1.--_Blin._] To cease. + + Mon that loveth falsnesse and nule never _blynne_, + Sore may him drede the lyf that he is ynne. + +_Wright's Political Songs_, p. 212. + +P. 7, l. 25.--_Her hart more hard than adamant or steele._] Compare +"Midsummer Night's Dream," ii. 2.-- + + "You draw me, _you hard-hearted adamant_; + But yet you draw not iron, for my heart + Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, + And I shall have no power to follow you." + +P. 8, l. 15.--_Ban._] Curse. + +P. 9, l. 13.--_Crownets._] Coronets. The term occurs in Shakespeare. + +P. 9, l. 22.--_Hunts-up._] Mr. Collier has printed a very curious song, +from which it appears that the _hunts-up_ was known as early as 28 Henry +VIII. The following extract will show the nature of it:-- + + "The hunt is up, the hunt is up, &c. + The Masters of Art and Doctors of Divinity + Have brought this name out of good unity, + Three noblemen have this to stay,-- + My lord of Norfolk, Lord of Surrey, + And my Lord of Shrewsbury, + The Duke of Suffolk might have made England merry." + +P. 10, l. 10.--_Eughes._] Yews. + +P. 10, l. 15.--_Ladon._] A river in Arcadia. + +P. 11, l. 2.--_Syrinx._] An Arcadian nymph, who, flying from Pan, was +turned into a reed, which was afterwards made into a pipe by the +pursuer. + +P. 11, l. 24.--_Prickets._] Bucks of the second year. + +P. 12, l. 10.--_Spyke._] Lavender. + +P. 12, l. 11.--_The scarlet dyde carnation bleeding yet._] The idea of a +bleeding flower gives additional grace to one of the most beautiful +passages in Shakespeare.-- + + "Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell; + It fell upon a little western flower, + Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound." + +P. 12, l. 13.--_Good for the blinde._] According to Gerard, p. 537, +"eiebright stamped and laid upon the eies, or the juice thereof, mixed +with white wine, and dropped into the eies, or the destilled water, +taketh awaie the darknesse and dimnesse of the eies, and cleereth the +sight." + +P. 12, l. 18.--_Sops in wine._] Pinks. + +P. 12, l. 19.--_Bootes._] The marsh marigold. According to Gerard, p. +671, this name for the plant was current only "in Cheshire and those +parts." + +P. 13, l. 2.--_Tyce._] To entice. + +P. 15, l. 6.--_The christall fountaines._] + + "Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams." + +_Midsummer Night's Dream_, iii. 2. + +P. 16, l. 24.--_Boult._] A short thick arrow. + +P. 16, l. 24.--_Thrustle-cocke._] The male thrush. + +P. 16, l. 25.--_Afforde._] "Afford's," orig. + +P. 17, l. 6.--_Grype._] A griffin. + +P. 17, l. 13.--_Oozels._] Blackbirds. See p. 24. + +P. 18, l. 3.--_As white as whale._] + + "This is the flower that smiles on every one, + That show his teeth _as white as whales bone_." + +_Love's Labour's Lost_, v. ii. + +P. 20, l. 12.--_My lovely faire._] Compare the Midsummer Night's Dream, +i. 1.-- + + ----"O, happy fair! + Your eyes are lode-stars." + +P. 22, l. 3.--_Fautors._] Abetters, supporters. + +P. 25, l. 1.--_When huntsmen, &c._] + + ----"imitatus castora, qui se + Eunuchum ipse facit, cupiens evadere damno + Testiculorum." + +_Juvenal_, xii. 84. + +P. 27, l. 1.--_White is the colour._] This stanza seems to have been +imitated in "Greenes Funeralls," 4to. London, 1594. See the "First +Sketches of Henry VI," Introduction, p. xxiii. + +P. 30, l. 4.--_Knife._] So in the original, but probably a mistake for +swords. + +P. 30, l. 8.--_Glaver._] To flatter. + +P. 35, l. 11.--_Deck._] Pack of cards. + +P. 40, l. 12.--_Rampicke._] Partially decayed; a term generally applied +to a tree which begins to decay at the top through age. + +P. 40, l. 21.--_Melt._] "Melts" in the original. + +P. 42, l. 24.--_Cruell, unkinde, and wilt thou leave me so._] Compare +Midsummer Night's Dream, iii. 2, "why unkindly didst thou leave me so?" + +P. 46, l. 3.--_After._] Afterwards. The poetical legend by Drayton, here +alluded to, will be found in the collected works of that writer. + +P. 48, l. 4.--_Ones._] Once. After this poem is inserted, in the +original, three pages entitled, "Hellens Rape, or a light Lanthorne for +light Ladies. Written in English hexameters." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Affectionate Shepherd, by Richard Barnfield + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD *** + +***** This file should be named 19902-8.txt or 19902-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/9/0/19902/ + +Produced by Taavi Kalju and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Affectionate Shepherd + +Author: Richard Barnfield + +Editor: James Orchard Halliwell + +Release Date: November 23, 2006 [EBook #19902] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD *** + + + + +Produced by Taavi Kalju and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h1>AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD:</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>RICHARD BARNFIELD.</h2> + +<h3>A.D. 1594.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h4>EDITED BY</h4> + +<h3>JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL, Esq. F.R.S.</h3> + +<h4>HON. M.R.I.A., HON. M.R.S.L., F.S.A., ETC.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h5>LONDON.</h5> + +<h5>REPRINTED FOR THE PERCY SOCIETY,</h5> + +<h5>BY T. RICHARDS, 100, ST. MARTIN'S LANE.</h5> + +<h5>M.DCCC.XLV.</h5> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>COUNCIL</h2> + +<h3>OF</h3> + +<h2>The Percy Society.</h2> + + +<div style="margin-left: 10em;"> +<i>President.</i><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Rt. Hon.</span> LORD BRAYBROOKE, F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +THOMAS AMYOT, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.R.S. <span class="smcap">Treas.</span> S.A.<br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM HENRY BLACK, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span><br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM CHAPPELL, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +J. PAYNE COLLIER, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +C. PURTON COOPER, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> Q.C., F.R.S., F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +PETER CUNNINGHAM, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span><br /> +<br /> +JAMES HENRY DIXON, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span><br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM JERDAN, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.S.A., M.R.S.L.<br /> +<br /> +CAPTAIN JOHNS, R.M.<br /> +<br /> +T. J. PETTIGREW, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.R.S., F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +LEWIS POCOCK, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +SIR CUTHBERT SHARP.<br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM SANDYS, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +WILLIAM J. THOMS, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> F.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +THOMAS WRIGHT, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span> M.A., F.S.A., <i>Secretary and Treasurer.</i><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>Two copies only of the poem by Barnfield here reprinted, are known to be +preserved; one in Sion College Library, and another, formerly in Heber's +possession, mentioned in "Bibliotheca Heberiana," iv. 15. Its merits and +great rarity have pointed it out as a work deserving to be more known +and appreciated. Barnfield is, perhaps, chiefly remembered by his +elegant pieces printed in the "Passionate Pilgrim," attributed by some +to Shakespeare; but Mr. Collier has distinctly proved them to belong to +the less eminent poet. The "Affectionate Shepherd" was his first +production, as he himself confesses in the preface to his "Cynthia," +1595, and it has received the well-merited commendation of Warton. +Besides these poems, he is the author of "The Complaint of Poetrie for +the death of Liberalitie," 4to. 1598, and others published at the same +time, reprints of which are in the British Museum; also "The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span> Encomium +of Lady Pecunia, or the Praise of Money," a curious manuscript in the +Ashmolean Museum, and likewise printed in the author's life-time. It +should be mentioned that in the original copies of the following tract +are a few hexameter verses on the Rape of Helen, which have been omitted +as of an inferior kind to the other part of the work, and for still more +obvious reasons. The "Affectionate Shepherd" itself will be found +remarkably free from the coarseness which disfigures so much of the +Elizabethan literature,—an additional inducement, if any were +necessary, for rescuing it from the liability to destruction which is of +course incident to any book of such excessive rarity. Our thanks are due +to the Rev. H. Christmas, Librarian of Sion College, for the courtesy +and liberality with which he permitted our transcript to be made from a +volume of tracts possessing the greatest charm for the bibliographer; +for besides the present one, it contains the first edition of +Shakespeare's Lucrece, and several other pieces of nearly equal value, +in the finest possible condition.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h1>AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD.</h1> + +<h3>CONTAINING THE COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS FOR<br /> +THE LOUE OF GANYMEDE.</h3> + +<h4><i>Amor plus mellis, quam fellis, est.</i></h4> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center">London:</p> + +<p class="center">Printed by John Danter, for T. G. and E. N., and<br /> +are to bee sold in Saint Dunstones<br /> +Church-yeard in Fleetstreet.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<h5>1594.</h5> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>TO THE RIGHT EXCELLENT AND MOST BEAUTIFULL LADY,<br /> +THE LADIE PENELOPE RITCH.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fayre lovely ladie, whose angelique eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are vestall candles of sweet beauties treasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose speech is able to inchaunt the wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Converting joy to paine, and paine to pleasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accept this simple toy of my soules dutie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I present unto thy matchles beautie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And albeit the gift be all too meane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too meane an offring for thine ivorie shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet must thy beautie my just blame susteane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since it is mortall, but thyselfe divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, noble ladie, take in gentle worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This new-borne babe, which here my muse brings forth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Your Honours most affectionate and<br /></span> +<span class="i12">perpetually devoted Shepheard:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16"><span class="smcap">Daphnis</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE<br /> +AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h3>THE TEARES OF AN AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD SICKE FOR LOVE,<br /> +OR THE COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS FOR THE<br /> +LOVE OF GANIMEDE.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scarce had the morning starre hid from the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heavens crimson canopie with stars bespangled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I began to rue th' unhappy sight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of that faire boy that had my hart intangled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cursing the time, the place, the sense, the sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I came, I saw, I viewd, I slipped in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If it be sinne to love a sweet-fac'd boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose amber locks trust up in golden tramels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dangle adowne his lovely cheekes with joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it be sinne to love a lovely lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His ivory-white and alablaster skin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is staind throughout with rare vermillion red,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whose twinckling starrie lights doe never blin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To shine on lovely Venus, Beauties bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as the lillie and the blushing rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So white and red on him in order growes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon a time the nymphs bestird them-selves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To trie who could his beautie soonest win;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he accounted them but all as elves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except it were the faire Queene Guendolen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her he embrac'd, of her was beloved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With plaints he proved, and with teares he moved.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But her an old man had beene sutor too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in his age began to doate againe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her would he often pray, and often woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When through old age enfeebled was his braine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she before had lov'd a lustie youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now was dead, the cause of all her ruth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus it hapned, Death and Cupid met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon a time at swilling Bacchus house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where daintie cates upon the boord were set,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And goblets full of wine to drinke carouse:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Love and Death did love the licor so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That out they fall and to the fray they goe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And having both their quivers at their backe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fild full of arrows; th' one of fatall steele,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other all of gold; Deaths shaft was black,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Loves was yellow: Fortune turnd her wheele,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And from Deaths quiver fell a fatall shaft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That under Cupid by the winde was waft.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And at the same time by ill hap there fell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Another arrow out of Cupids quiver,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which was carried by the winde at will,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And under Death the amorous shaft did shiver:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They being parted, Love tooke up Deaths dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death tooke up Loves arrow for his part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus as they wandred both about the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At last Death met with one of feeble age:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurld<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The unknowne arrow with a furious rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he, alas, with Love did wound his hart!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This was the doting foole, this was the man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lov'd faire Guendolena, Queene of Beautie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making him trim upon the holydaies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crownes his love with garlands made of baies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now doth he stroke his beard, and now againe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He wipes the drivel from his filthy chin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now offers he a kisse, but high Disdaine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will not permit her hart to pity him:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hart more hard than adamant or steele,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But leave we him in love up to the eares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tell how Love behav'd himselfe abroad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who seeing one that mourned still in teares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A young man groaning under Loves great load,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking to ease his burden, rid his paines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For men have griefe as long as life remaines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, the while that unawares he drue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fatall shaft that Death had dropt before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which deceit great harme did then insue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His face, that was to Guendolen more deere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than love of lords, or any lordly peere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This was that faire and beautifull young man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom Guendolena so lamented for;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is that Love whom she doth curse and ban,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if it were not for his mothers sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even Ganimede himselfe she would forsake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh would shee would forsake my Ganimede,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose sugred love is full of sweete delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon whose forehead you may plainely reade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loves pleasure grav'd in yvorie tables bright:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Base Love still staind with foule indignitie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh would to God he would but pitty mee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That love him more than any mortall wight!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Then he and I with love would soone agree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That now cannot abide his sutors sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O would to God, so I might have my fee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lips were honey, and thy mouth a bee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then shouldst thou sucke my sweete and my faire flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That now is ripe and full of honey-berries;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then would I leade thee to my pleasant bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fild full of grapes, of mulberries, and cherries:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then shouldst thou be my waspe or else my bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would thy hive, and thou my honey, bee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would put amber bracelets on thy wrests,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crownets of pearle about thy naked armes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when thou sitst at swilling Bacchus feasts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My lips with charmes should save thee from all harmes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when in sleepe thou tookst thy chiefest pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes should gaze upon thine eyelids treasure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And every morne by dawning of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Phœbus riseth with a blushing face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silvanus chappel-clarkes shall chaunt a lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And play thee hunts-up in thy resting place:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My coote thy chamber, my bosome thy bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The meades with Floras treasure should be strowde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by a silver well with golden sands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ile sit me downe, and wash thine yvory hands.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in the sweltring heate of summer time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would make cabinets for thee, my love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet-smelling arbours made of eglantine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy dove.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cool cabinets of fresh greene laurell boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should shadow us, ore-set with thicke-set eughes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the cristall of a pearle-bright brooke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paved with dainty pibbles to the brims,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thyselfe mayst looke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weele goe to Ladon, whose still trickling noyse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy joyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if thoult goe unto the river side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To angle for the sweet freshwater fish,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm'd with thy implements that will abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy rod, hooke, line, to take a dainty dish;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hooks of silver, and thy bayts of milke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if thou lov'st to hear sweet melodie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or pipe a round upon an oaten reede,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or make thyselfe glad with some myrthfull glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or play them musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To Pans owne pype Ile helpe my lovely lad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pans golden pype, which he of Syrinx had.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if thou darst to climbe the highest trees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For apples, cherries, medlars, peares, or plumbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nuts, walnuts, filbeards, chestnuts, cervices,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hoary peach, when snowy winter comes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have fine orchards full of mellowed frute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I will give thee to obtaine my sute.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not proud Alcynous himselfe can vaunt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of goodlier orchards or of braver trees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I have planted; yet thou wilt not graunt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My simple sute, but like the honey bees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loost mee for my coyne till I have none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave Guendolen, sweet hart; though she be faire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet is she light; not light in vertue shining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But light in her behaviour, to impaire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her honour in her chastities declining;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not her teares, for they can wantonnize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My sheepcote shall be strowed with new greene rushes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weele haunt the trembling prickets as they rome<br /></span> +<span class="i2">About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have a pie-bald curre to hunt the hare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we will live with daintie forrest fare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, more than this, I have a garden plot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dainty shelters when the welkin lowers:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet-smelling beds of lillies, and of roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which rosemary banks and lavender incloses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There growes the gilliflowre, the mynt, the dayzie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Both red and white, the blue-veynd violet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purple hyacinth, the spyke to please thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scarlet dyde carnation bleeding yet:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sage, the savery, and sweet margerum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Isop, tyme, and eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pinke, the primrose, cowslip and daffodilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hare-bell blue, the crimson cullumbine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sage, lettis, parsley, and the milke-white lilly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose and speckled flowre cald sops-in-wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fine pretie king-cups, and the yellow bootes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That growes by rivers and by shallow brookes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And manie thousand moe I cannot name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have for thee, and coneyes that be tame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Young rabbets, white as swan, and blacke as crow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some speckled here and there with daintie spots:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And more I have two mylch and milke-white goates.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All these and more Ile give thee for thy love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If these and more may tyce thy love away:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have a pidgeon-house, in it a dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which I love more than mortall tongue can say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And last of all Ile give thee a little lambe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To play withall, new weaned from her dam.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But if thou wilt not pittie my complaint,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My teares, nor vowes, nor oathes, made to thy beautie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What shall I doo but languish, die, or faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since thou dost scorne my teares, and my soules duetie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teares contemned, vowes and oaths must faile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where teares cannot, nothing can prevaile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Compare the love of faire Queene Guendolin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth love thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love thee for thy qualities divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But shee doth love another swaine above thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love thee for thy gifts, she for hir pleasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I for thy vertue, she for beauties treasure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And alwaies, I am sure, it cannot last.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sometime Nature will denie those dimples:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insteed of beautie, when thy blossom's past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy face will be deformed full of wrinckles;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she that lov'd thee for thy beauties sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When age drawes on, thy love will soone forsake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But that I lov'd thee for thy gifts divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the December of thy beauties waning,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will still admire with joy those lovely eine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That now behold me with their beauties baning.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though Januarie will never come againe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When will the hower be of my soules joying?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why dost thou seeke in mirth still to disgrace mee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose mirth's my health, whose griefe's my harts annoying:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessednes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus doo I honour thee that love thee so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love thee so, that so doo honour thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much more than anie mortall man doth know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or can discerne by love or jealozie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if that thou disdainst my loving ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh happie I, if I had loved never!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">FINIS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Plus fellis quam mellis amor.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE SECOND DAYES LAMENTATION OF THE AFFECTIONATE<br /> +SHEPHEARD.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Next morning, when the golden sunne was risen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And new had bid good morrow to the mountaines;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When night her silver light had lockt in prison,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which gave a glimmering on the christall fountaines:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then ended sleepe, and then my cares began,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ev'n with the uprising of the silver swan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, glorious sunne! quoth I, viewing the sunne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lightenst everie thing but me alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why is my summer season almost done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My spring-time past, and ages autumne gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My harvest's come, and yet I reapt no corne:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love is great, and yet I am forlorne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Witnes these watrie eyes my sad lament,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Receaving cisternes of my ceaseles teares;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witnes my bleeding hart my soules intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Witnes the weight distressed Daphnis beares:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet love, come ease me of thy burthens paine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or els I die, or else my hart is slaine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, love-scorning boy, cruell, unkinde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, let me once againe intreat some pittie:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +<span class="i0">May be thou wilt relent thy marble minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lend thine eares unto my dolefull dittie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, pittie him, that pittie craves so sweetly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else thou shalt be never named meekly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My sweet delight, the comfort of my minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love, my dove, my sollace, and my joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But if I can no grace nor mercie finde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ile goe to Caucasus to ease my smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let a vulture gnaw upon my hart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet if thou wilt but show me one kinde looke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A small reward for my so great affection,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ile grave thy name in Beauties golden booke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shrowd thee under Hellicon's protection:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making the muses chaunt thy lovely prayse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they delight in shepheard's lowly layes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when th'art wearie of thy keeping sheepe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon a lovely downe, to please thy minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ile give thee fine ruffe-footed doves to keepe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pretie pidgeons of another kinde:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A robbin-redbrest shall thy minstrell bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chirping thee sweet and pleasant melodie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if thou wilt goe shoote at little birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With bow and boult, the thrustle-cocke and sparrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as our countrey hedges can afford,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have a fine bowe, and an yvorie arrow.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And if thou misse, yet meate thou shalt [not] lacke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ile hang a bag and bottle at thy backe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou set springes in a frostie night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To catch the long-bill'd woodcocke and the snype,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the bright glimmering of the starrie light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The partridge, phæsant, or the greedie grype;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ile lend thee lyme-twigs, and fine sparrow calls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherewith the fowler silly birds inthralls.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or in a mystie morning if thou wilt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make pitfalls for the larke and pheldifare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy prop and sweake shall be both overguilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Cyparissus selfe thou shalt compare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For gins and wyles, the oozels to beguile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst thou under a bush shalt sit and smile.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or with hare-pypes set in a muset hole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wilt thou deceave the deep-earth-delving coney;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wilt thou in a yellow boxen bole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Taste with a wooden splent the sweet lythe honey;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clusters of crimson grapes Ile pull thee downe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with vine-leaves make thee a lovely crowne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or wilt thou drinke a cup of new-made wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Froathing at top, mixt with a dish of creame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strawberries, or bilberries, in their prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bath'd in a melting sugar-candie streame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bunnell and perry I have for thee alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When vynes are dead, and all the grapes are gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +<span class="i0">I have a pleasant noted nightingale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sings as sweetly as the silver swan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kept in a cage of bone as white as whale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which I with singing of Philemon wan:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her shalt thou have, and all I have beside,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou wilt be my boy, or els my bride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then will I lay out all my lardarie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of cheese, of cracknells, curds and clowted-creame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before thy malecontent ill-pleasing eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But why doo I of such great follies dreame?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, he will not see my simple coate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all my speckled lambe, nor milk-white goate!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Against my birth-day thou shalt be my guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weele have greene-cheeses and fine silly-bubs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou shalt be the chiefe of all my feast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I will give thee two fine pretie cubs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With two yong whelps, to make thee sport withall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A golden racket, and a tennis-ball.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A guilded nutmeg, and a race of ginger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A silken girdle, and a drawn-worke band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cuffs for thy wrists, a gold ring for thy finger,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sweet rose-water for thy lilly-white hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A purse of silke, bespangd with spots of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As brave a one as ere thou didst behold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A paire of knives, a greene hat and a feather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New gloves to put upon thy milk-white hand,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ile give thee, for to keep thee from the weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With phœnix feathers shall thy face be fand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cooling those cheekes, that being cool'd wexe red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like lillyes in a bed of roses shed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why doo thy corall lips disdaine to kisse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sucke that sweete which manie have desired?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That baulme my bane, that meanes would mend my misse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, let me then with thy sweete lips b'inspired!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy lips touch my lips, my lips will turne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To corall too, and, being cold yce, will burne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why should thy sweete love-locke hang dangling downe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kissing thy girdle-stud with falling pride?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although thy skin be white, thy haire is browne:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, let not then thy haire thy beautie hide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cut off thy locke, and sell it for gold wier:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The purest gold is tryde in hottest fier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Faire long-haire-wearing Absolon was kild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because he wore it in a braverie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that which gracde his beautie, Beautie spild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making him subject to vile slaverie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In being hangd: a death for him too good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sought his owne shame and his father's blood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Againe we read of old king Priamus,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The haplesse syre of valiant Hector slaine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That his haire was so long and odious<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In youth, that in his age it bred his paine:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +<span class="i0">For if his haire had not been halfe so long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life had been, and he had had no wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For when his stately citie was destroyd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That monument of great antiquitie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his poore hart, with griefe and sorrow cloyd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fled to his wife, last hope in miserie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pyrrhus, more hard than adamantine rockes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held him and halde him by his aged lockes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These two examples by the way I show,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To prove th' indecencie of men's long haire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I could tell thee of a thousand moe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let these suffice for thee, my lovely faire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose eye's my starre, whose smiling is my sunne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose love did ende before my joyes begunne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fond love is blinde, and so art thou, my deare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thou seest not my love and great desart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blinde love is fond, and so thou dost appeare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For fond and blinde, thou greevst my greeving hart:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be thou fond-blinde, blinde-fond, or one, or all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art my love, and I must be thy thrall!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh lend thine yvorie forehead for loves booke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine eyes for candles to behold the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That when dim-sighted ones therein shall looke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They may discerne that proud disdainefull dame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet claspe that booke, and shut that cazement light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest, th'one obscurde, the other shine too bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Sell thy sweet breath to th' daintie musk-ball makers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet sell it so as thou mayst soone redeeme it:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let others of thy beauty be pertakers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Else none but Daphnis will so well esteeme it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what is beauty, except it be well knowne?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And how can it be knowne, except first showne?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Learne of the gentlewomen of this age,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That set their beauties to the open view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making disdaine their lord, true love their page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A custome zeale doth hate, desert doth rue:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learne to looke red, anon waxe pale and wan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making a mocke of love, a scorne of man.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A candle light, and cover'd with a vaile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth no man good, because it gives no light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Beauty of her beauty seemes to faile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When being not seene it cannot shine so bright:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then show thyselfe and know thyselfe withall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest climing high thou catch too great a fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh foule eclipser of that fayre sun-shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which is intitled Beauty in the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making that mortall, which is els divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That staines the fayre which women steeme not least:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Get thee to Hell againe, from whence thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the center of a woman's hart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah be not staind, sweet boy, with this vilde spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Indulgence daughter, mother of Mischaunce;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A blemish that doth every beauty blot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That makes them loath'd, but never doth advaunce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her clyents, fautors, friends, or them that love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hates them most of all, that most reprove her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember age, and thou canst not be prowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For age puls downe the pride of every man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In youthfull yeares by Nature tis allowde<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To have selfe-will, doo Nurture what she can;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature and Nurture once together met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soule and shape in decent order set.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pride looks aloft, still staring on the starres,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Humility looks lowly on the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' one menaceth the gods with civill warres,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The other toyles till he have Vertue found.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His thoughts are humble, not aspiring hye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Pride looks haughtily with scornefull eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Humillity is clad in modest weedes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Pride is brave and glorious to the show;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humillity his friends with kindnes feedes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Pride his friends in neede will never know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Supplying not their wants, but them disdaining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst they to pitty never neede complayning.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Humillity in misery is reliev'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Pride in neede of no man is regarded;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pitty and Mercy weepe to see him griev'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in distresse had them so well rewarded;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But Pride is scornd, contemnd, disdaind, derided,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst Humblenes of all things is provided.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh then be humble, gentle, meeke, and milde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So shalt thou be of every mouth commended;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be not disdainfull, cruell, proud, sweet childe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So shalt thou be of no man much condemned:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care not for them that vertue doo despise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vertue is loathde of fooles, lovde of the wise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O faire boy, trust not to thy beauties wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They cannot carry thee above the sunne:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty and wealth are transitory things,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all must ende that ever was begunne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Fame and Vertue never shall decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Fame is toombles, Vertue lives for aye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snow is white, and yet the pepper 's blacke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The one is bought, the other is contemned:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pibbles we have, but store of jeat we lacke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So white comparde to blacke is much condemned.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We doo not praise the swanne because shees white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But for she doth in musique much delite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet the silver-noted nightingale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though she be not so white, is more esteemed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sturgion is dun of hew, white is the whale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet for the daintier dish the first is deemed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thing is whiter than the milke-bred lilly?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That knowes it not for naught, what man so silly?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, what more noysomer unto the smell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than lillies are? What's sweeter then the sage?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet for pure white the lilly beares the bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till it be faded through decaying age.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">House-doves are white, and oozels blacke-birds bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet what a difference in the taste we see?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Compare the cow and calfe with ewe and lambe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rough hayrie hydes with softest downy fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hecfar and bull with weather and with ramme,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you shall see how far they doo excell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White kine with blacke, blacke coney-skins with gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kine nesh and strong, skins deare and cheape alway.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The whitest silver is not alwaies best,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lead, tynne, and pewter are of base esteeme;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The yellow burnisht gold that comes from th' East,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And West, of late invented, may beseeme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worlds ritch treasury, or Mydas eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ritch mans god, poore mans felicitie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bugle and jeat with snow and alablaster<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I will compare; white dammasin with blacke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bullas and wheaton plumbs, to a good taster<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ripe red cherries have the sweetest smacke:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they be greene and young, th' are sowre and naught;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But being ripe, with eagernes th' are baught.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Compare the wyld cat to the brownish beaver,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Running for life, with hounds pursued sore,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When huntsmen of her pretious stones bereave her,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which with her teeth sh' had bitten off before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Restoratives and costly curious felts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are made of them, and rich imbroydred belts.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To what use serves a peece of crimbling chalke?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The agget stone is white, yet good for nothing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fie, fie, I am asham'd to heare thee talke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be not so much of thine owne image doating:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So faire Narcissus lost his love and life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beautie is often with itselfe at strife.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Right diamonds are of a russet hieu,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The brightsome carbuncles are red to see too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The saphyre stone is of a watchet blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To this thou canst not chuse but soone agree to:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pearles are not white but gray, rubies are red:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In praise of blacke what can be better sed?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For if we doo consider of each mortall thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That flyes in welkin, or in water swims,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How everie thing increaseth with the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how the blacker still the brighter dims:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We cannot chuse, but needs we must confesse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sable excels milk-white in more or lesse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As for example, in the christall cleare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a sweete streame, or pleasant running river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thousand formes of fishes will appeare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose names to thee I cannot now deliver;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The blacker still the brighter have disgrac'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For pleasant profit and delicious taste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Salmon and trout are of a ruddie colour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whiting and dare is of a milk-white hiew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature by them perhaps is made the fuller,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Little they nowrish, be they old or new:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carp, loach, tench, eeles, though black and bred in mud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delight the tooth with taste, and breed good blud.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Innumerable be the kindes, if I could name them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I a shepheard and no fisher am:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little it skils whether I praise or blame them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I onely meddle with my ew and lamb:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet this I say that blacke the better is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In birds, beasts, frute, stones, flowres, herbs, mettals, fish.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And last of all, in blacke there doth appeare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such qualities as not in yvorie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black cannot blush for shame, looke pale for feare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scorning to weare another livorie.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blacke is the badge of sober modestie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wonted weare of ancient gravetie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The learned sisters sute themselves in blacke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Learning abandons white and lighter hues;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasure and pride light colours never lacke,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But true religion doth such toyes refuse:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vertue and gravity are sisters growne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since blacke by both, and both by blacke are knowne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +<span class="i0">White is the colour of each paltry miller,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White is the ensigne of each common woman;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White is white vertues for blacke vyces piller,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White makes proud fooles inferiour unto no man:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White is the white of body, blacke of minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vertue we seldome in white habit finde.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, then be not so proud because th' art fayre,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vertue is onely the ritch gift of God:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not selfe-pride thy vertues name impayre,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beate not greene youth with sharpe repentance rod:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fiend, a monster, a mishapen divel;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vertues foe, vyces friend, the roote of evill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Apply thy minde to be a vertuous man;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Avoyd ill company, the spoyle of youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow vertues lore doo what thou can,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whereby great profit unto the ensuth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reade bookes, hate ignorance, the foe to art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The damme of errour, envy of the hart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Serve Jove upon thy knees both day and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adore his name above all things on earth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shall thy vowes be gracious in his sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So little babes are blessed in their birth:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinke on no worldly woe, lament thy sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For lesser cease, when greater griefes begin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweare no vaine oathes, heare much, but little say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Speake ill of no man, tend thine owne affaires;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Bridle thy wrath, thine angrie mood delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So shall thy minde be seldome cloyd with cares:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be milde and gentle in thy speech to all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Refuse no honest gaine when it doth fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be not beguild with words, prove not ungratefull,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Releeve thy neighbour in his greatest need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commit no action that to all is hatefull,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their want with welth, the poore with plentie feed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twit no man in the teeth with what th' hast done;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember flesh is fraile, and hatred shunne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave wicked things, which men to mischiefe move,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Least crosse mis-hap may thee in danger bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crave no preferment of thy heavenly Jove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor anie honor of thy earthly king:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boast not thyselfe before th' Almighties sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knowes thy hart, and anie wicked wight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be not offensive to the peoples eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See that thy praiers harts true zeale affords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorne not a man that's falne in miserie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Esteeme no tatling tales, no babling words;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That reason is exiled alwaies thinke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When as a drunkard rayles amidst his drinke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Use not thy lovely lips to loathsome lyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By craftie meanes increase no worldly wealth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strive not with mightie men (whose fortune flies),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With temp'rate diet nourish wholesome health:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Place well thy words, leave not thy frend for gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First trie, then trust, in ventring be not bold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In Pan repose thy trust; extoll his praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(That never shall decay, but ever lives):<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honor thy parents (to prolong thy dayes),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let not thy left hand know what right hand gives:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From needie men turne not thy face away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though charitie be now yclad in clay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heare shepheards oft (thereby great wisdome growes),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With good advice a sober answere make:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be not remoov'd with every winde that blowes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(That course doo onely sinfull sinners take):<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy talke will shew thy fame or els thy shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A pratling tongue doth often purchase blame.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Obtaine a faithfull frend that will not faile thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Think on thy mother's paine in her child-bearing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make no debate, least quickly thou bewaile thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Visit the sicke with comfortable chearing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pittie the prisner, helpe the fatherlesse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revenge the widdowes wrongs in her distresse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thinke on thy grave, remember still thy end,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let not thy winding-sheete be staind with guilt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust not a fained reconciled frend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More than an open foe (that blood hath spilt):<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who tutcheth pitch, with pitch shalbe defiled),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be not with wanton companie beguiled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Take not a flattring woman to thy wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shameles creature, full of wanton words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Whose bad, thy good, whose lust will end thy life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cutting thy hart with sharpe two edged knife):<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast not thy minde on her whose lookes allure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she that shines in truth and vertue pure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Praise not thyselfe, let other men commend thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beare not a flattring tongue to glaver anie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let parents due correction not offend thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rob not thy neighbor, seeke the love of manie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hate not to heare good counsell given thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay not thy money unto usurie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Restraine thy steps from too much libertie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fulfill not th' envious mans malitious minde;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embrace thy wife, live not in lecherie;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Content thyselfe with what fates have assignde:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be rul'd by reason, warning dangers save;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True age is reverend worship to thy grave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be patient in extreame adversitie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Mans chiefest credit growes by dooing well).<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be not high-minded in prosperitie;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Falshood abhorre, no lying fable tell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give not thyselfe to sloth, (the sinke of shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moath of time, the enemie to fame).<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This leare I learned of a bel-dame Trot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(When I was yong and wylde as now thou art),<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +<span class="i0">But her good counsell I regarded not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I markt it with my eares, not with my hart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now I finde it too-too true (my sonne),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When my age-withered spring is almost done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold my gray head, full of silver haires,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My wrinckled skin, deepe furrowes in my face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cares bring old age, old age increaseth cares;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My time is come, and I have run my race:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winter hath snow'd upon my hoarie head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with my winter all my joyes are dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou love-hating boy, (whom once I loved),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell, a thousand-thousand times farewell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My teares the marble-stones to ruth have moved;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My sad complaints the babling ecchoes tell:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet thou wouldst take no compassion on mee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorning that crosse which love hath laid upon mee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hardest steele with fier doth mend his misse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Marble is mollifyde with drops of raine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thou (more hard than steele or marble is),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doost scorne my teares, and my true love disdaine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which for thy sake shall everlasting bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrote in the annalls of eternitie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By this, the night, (with darknes over-spred),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had drawne the curtaines of her cole-blacke bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Cynthia, muffling her face with a clowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Lest all the world of her should be too proud)<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Had taken conge of the sable night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(That wanting her cannot be halfe so bright.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I, poore forlorn man and outcast creature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Despairing of my love, despisde of beautie),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grew malecontent, scorning his lovely feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That had disdaind my ever zealous dutie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hy'd me homeward by the moone-shine light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foreswaring love, and all his fond delight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">FINIS.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE SHEPHEARDS CONTENT, OR THE HAPPINES OF A HARMLES<br /> +LIFE. WRITTEN UPON OCCASION OF THE FORMER<br /> +SUBJECT.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of all the kindes of common countrey life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Methinkes a shepheards life is most content;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His state is quiet peace, devoyd of strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His thoughts are pure from all impure intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His pleasures rate sits at an easie rent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He beares no mallice in his harmles hart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Malicious meaning hath in him no part.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is not troubled with th' afflicted minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His cares are onely over silly sheepe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is not unto jealozie inclinde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Thrice happie man) he knowes not how to weepe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilst I the treble in deepe sorrowes keepe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot keepe the meane; for why (alas)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Griefes have no meane, though I for meane doe passe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No briefes nor semi-briefes are in my songs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because (alas) my griefe is seldome short;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +<span class="i0">My prick-song's alwayes full of largues and longs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Because I never can obtaine the port<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of my desires: hope is a happie fort).<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prick song (indeed) because it pricks my hart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And song, because sometimes I ease my smart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mightie monarch of a royall realme,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swaying his scepter with a princely pompe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his desires cannot so steare the healme,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sometime falls into a deadly dumpe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When as he heares the shrilly sounding trumpe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of forren enemies, or home-bred foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His minde of griefe, his hart is full of woes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or when bad subjects gainst their soveraigne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Like hollow harts) unnaturally rebell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How carefull is he to suppresse againe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their desperate forces, and their powers to quell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With loyall harts, till all againe be well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When (being subdu'd) his care is rather more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To keepe them under, than it was before.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus is he never full of sweete content,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But either this or that his joy debars:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now noblemen gainst noblemen are bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now gentlemen and others fall at jarrs:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus is his countrey full of civill warrs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He still in danger sits, still fearing death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For traitors seeke to stop their princes breath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The whylst the other hath no enemie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without it be the wolfe and cruell fates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which no man spare): when as his disagree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He with his sheephooke knaps them on the pates,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Schooling his tender lambs from wanton gates.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beasts are more kinde than men, sheepe seeke not blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But countrey caytives kill their countreyes good.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The courtier he fawns for his princes favour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In hope to get a princely ritch reward;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His tongue is tipt with honey for to glaver,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pride deales the deck, whilst chance doth choose the card;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then comes another and his game hath mard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sitting betwixt him and the morning sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus night is come before the day is done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some courtiers, carefull of their princes health,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Attend his person with all dilligence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose hand's their hart, whose welfare is their wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose safe protection is their sure defence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For pure affection, not for hope of pence:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is the faithfull hart, such is the minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of him that is to vertue still inclinde.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The skilfull scholler, and brave man at armes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First plies his booke, last fights for countries peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' one feares oblivion, th' other fresh alarmes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His paines nere ende, his travailes never cease;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His with the day, his with the night increase:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He studies how to get eternall fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The souldier fights to win a glorious name.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The knight, the squire, the gentleman, the clowne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are full of crosses and calamities,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest fickle fortune should begin to frowne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turne their mirth to extreame miseries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nothing more certaine than incertainties!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fortune is full of fresh varietie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Constant in nothing but inconstancie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wealthie merchant that doth crosse the seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Denmarke, Poland, Spaine, and Barbarie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all his ritches, lives not still at ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sometimes he feares ship-spoyling pyracie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Another while deceipt and treacherie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his owne factors in a forren land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus doth he still in dread and danger stand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well is he tearmd a merchant-venturer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since he doth venter lands, and goods and all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he doth travell for his traffique far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Little he knowes what fortune may befall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or rather, what mis-fortune happen shall:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes he splits his ship against a rocke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loosing his men, his goods, his wealth, his stocke.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if he so escape with life away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He counts himselfe a man most fortunate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because the waves their rigorous rage did stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(When being within their cruell powers of late,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The seas did seeme to pittie his estate).<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet he never can recover health,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because his joy was drowned with his wealth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The painfull plough-swaine, and the husband-man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rise up each morning by the breake of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taking what toyle and drudging paines they can,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all is for to get a little stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet they cannot put their care away:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When night is come, their cares begin afresh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thinking upon their morrowes busines.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus everie man is troubled with unrest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From rich to poore, from high to low degree:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore I thinke that man is truly blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That neither cares for wealth nor povertie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But laughs at Fortune, and her foolerie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gives rich churles great store of golde and fee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lets poore schollers live in miserie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, fading branches of decaying bayes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who now will water your dry-wither'd armes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where is he that sung the lovely layes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of simple shepheards in their countrey-farmes?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! he is dead, the cause of all our harmes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with him dide my joy and sweete delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cleare to clowdes, the day is turnd to night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sydney</span>, the syren of this latter age;<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sydney</span>, the blasing-starre of England's glory;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sydney</span>, the wonder of the wise and sage;<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sydney</span>, the subject of true vertues story:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This syren, starre, this wonder, and this subject,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is dumbe, dim, gone, and mard by fortune's object.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, my sweete Amintas, vertuous minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should I forget thy learning or thy love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well might I be accounted but unkinde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose pure affection I so oft did prove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might my poore plaints hard stones to pitty move!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His losse should be lamented of each creature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So great his name, so gentle was his nature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But sleepe his soule in sweet Elysium,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(The happy haven of eternall rest);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let me to my former matter come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proving, by reason, shepheard's life is best,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because he harbours vertue in his brest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And is content, (the chiefest thing of all),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With any fortune that shall him befall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He sits all day lowd-piping on a hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The whilst his flocke about him daunce apace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His hart with joy, his eares with musique fill:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Anon a bleating weather beares the bace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lambe the treble, and to his disgrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another answers like a middle meane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus every one to beare a part are faine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a great king he rules a little land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still making statutes and ordayning lawes,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Which if they breake, he beates them with his wand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He doth defend them from the greedy jawes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of rav'ning woolves, and lyons bloudy pawes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His field, his realme; his subjects are his sheepe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he doth still in due obedience keepe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">First he ordaines by act of parlament,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Holden by custome in each country towne),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That if a sheepe (with any bad intent)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Presume to breake the neighbour hedges downe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or haunt strange pastures that be not his owne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall be pounded for his lustines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untill his master finde out some redres.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Also if any prove a strageller<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From his owne fellowes in a forraine field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall be taken for a wanderer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And forc'd himselfe immediatly to yeeld;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or with a wyde-mouth'd mastive curre be kild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if not claimd within a twelve month's space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall remaine with land-lord of the place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if one stray to feede far from the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He shall be pincht by his swift pye-bald curre;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If any by his fellowes be opprest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wronger, (for he doth all wrong abhorre),<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be well bangd so long as he can sturre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because he did anoy his harmeles brother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That meant not harme to him nor any other.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And last of all, if any wanton weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With briers and brambles teare his fleece in twaine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall be forc'd t' abide cold frosty weather,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And powring showres of ratling stormes of raine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till his new fleece begins to grow againe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for his rashnes he is doom'd to goe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a new coate all the winter throw.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus doth he keepe them still in awfull feare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yet allowes them liberty inough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So deare to him their welfare doth appeare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That when their fleeces gin to waxen rough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He combs and trims them with a rampicke bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Washing them in the streames of silver Ladon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cleanse their skinnes from all corruption.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Another while he wooes his country wench,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With chaplet crownd and gaudy girlonds dight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose burning lust her modest eye doth quench;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Standing amazed at her heavenly sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beauty doth ravish sense with sweet delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clearing Arcadia with a smoothed browe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sun-bright smiles melt flakes of driven snowe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus doth he frollicke it each day by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when night comes drawes homeward to his coate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing a jigge or merry roundelay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For who sings commonly so merry a noate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As he that cannot chop or change a groate?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the winter nights his chiefe desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He turnes a crabbe or cracknell in the fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He leads his wench a country horne-pipe round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">About a may-pole on a holy-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissing his lovely lasse with garlands crownd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With whoopping heigh-ho singing care away.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus doth he passe the merry month of May,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all th' yere after, in delight and joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scorning a king, he cares for no annoy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What though with simple cheere he homely fares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He lives content; a king can doo no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, not so much, for kings have manie cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But he hath none, except it be that sore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which yong and old, which vexeth ritch and poore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pangs of love. O! who can vanquish Love?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That conquers kingdomes, and the gods above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deepe-wounding arrow, hart-consuming fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ruler of reason, slave to tyrant beautie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monarch of harts, fuell of fond desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prentice to folly, foe to fained duetie.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pledge of true zeale, affections moitie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou kilst where thou wilt, and whom it list thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! how can a silly soule resist thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By thee great Collin lost his libertie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By thee sweet Astrophel forwent his joy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thee Amyntas wept incessantly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By thee good Rowland liv'd in great annoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O cruell, peevish, vylde, blind-seeing boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How canst thou hit their harts, and yet not see?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou be blinde, as thou art faind to bee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A shepheard loves no ill, but onely thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He hath no care, but onely by thy causing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why doost thou shoot thy cruell shafts at mee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give me some respite, some short time of pausing:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still my sweet love with bitter lucke th'art sawcing:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, if thou hast a minde to shew thy might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kill mightie kings, and not a wretched wight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, O enthraller of infranchizd harts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At my poore hart if thou wilt needs be ayming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doo me this favour, show me both thy darts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I may chuse the best for my harts mayming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A free consent is priviledgd from blaming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then pierce his hard hart with thy golden arrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou my wrong, that he may rue my sorrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But let mee feele the force of thy lead pyle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What should I doo with love when I am old?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how to flatter, fawne, or smyle;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then stay thy hand, O cruell bowman, hold!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For if thou strik'st me with thy dart of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sweare to thee by Joves immortall curse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have more in my hart than in my purse.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The more I weepe, the more he bends his brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For in my hart a golden shaft I finde.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruell, unkinde, and wilt thou leave me so?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can no remorce nor pittie move thy minde?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is mercie in the heavens so hard to finde?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, then it is no mervaile that on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of kinde remorce there is so great a dearth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +<span class="i0">How happie were a harmles shepheards life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If he had never knowen what love did meane;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now fond Love in every place is rife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Staining the purest soule with spots uncleane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making thicke purses thin, fat bodies leane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love is a fiend, a fire, a heaven, a hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where pleasure, paine, and sad repentance dwell!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are so manie Danaes now a dayes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That love for lucre, paine for gaine is sold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No true affection can their fancie please,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except it be a Jove, to raine downe gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into their laps, which they wyde open hold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If <i>legem pone</i> comes, he is receav'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When <i>Vix haud habeo</i> is of hope bereav'd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus have I showed, in my countrey vaine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweet content that shepheards still injoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mickle pleasure and the little paine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ever doth awayte the shepheards boy:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His hart is never troubled with annoy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is a king, for he commands his sheepe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knowes no woe, for he doth seldome weepe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is a courtier, for he courts his love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is a scholler, for he sings sweet ditties;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is a souldier, for he wounds doth prove;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is the fame of townes, the shame of citties:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He scornes false fortune, but true vertue pitties.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is a gentleman, because his nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is kinde and affable to everie creature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Who would not then a simple shepheard bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rather than be a mightie monarch made?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since he injoyes such perfect libertie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As never can decay, nor never fade:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He seldome sits in dolefull cypresse shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lives in hope, in joy, in peace, in blisse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joying all joy with this content of his.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now good fortune lands my little boate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the shoare of his desired rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now must I leave awhile my rurall noate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thinke on him whom my soule loveth best;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He that can make the most unhappie blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whose sweete lap Ile lay me downe to sleepe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never wake till marble stones shall weepe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">FINIS.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<h3>SONNET.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loe here behold these tributarie teares<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Paid to thy faire but cruell tyrant eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loe here the blossome of my youthfull yeares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nipt with the fresh of thy wraths winter, dyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here on Loves altar I doo offer up<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This burning hart for my soules sacrifice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here I receave this deadly-poysned cu[p]<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Circe charm'd, wherein deepe magicke lyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then teares, if you be happie teares indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hart, if thou be lodged in his brest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cup, if thou canst helpe despaire with speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Teares, hart, and cup, conjoine to make me blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teares move, hart win, cup cause, ruth, love, desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In word, in deed; by moane, by zeale, by fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">FINIS.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE COMPLAINT OF CHASTITIE, BRIEFELY TOUCHING THE CAUSE<br /> +OF THE DEATH OF MATILDA FITZWALTERS, AN ENGLISH<br /> +LADIE, SOMETIME LOVED OF KING JOHN, AFTER<br /> +POYSONED. THE STORIE IS AT LARGE<br /> +WRITTEN BY MICHAEL DREYTON.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You modest dames, inricht with chastitie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Maske your bright eyes with Vestaes sable vaile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since few are left so faire or chast as shee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Matter for me to weepe, you to bewaile!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For manie seeming so, of Vertue faile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose lovely cheeks, with rare vermilion tainted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can never blush, because their faire is painted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O faire-foule tincture, staine of woman kinde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mother of Mischiefe, daughter of Deceate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False traitor to the soule, blot to the minde,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Usurping tyrant of true beauties seate!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Right cousner of the eye, lewd follies baite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flag of filthines, the sinke of shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The divells dye, dishonour of thy name!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Monster of art, bastard of bad desier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Il-worshipt idoll, false imagerie!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Ensigne of vice, to thine owne selfe a lier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Silent inchaunter, mindes anatomie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sly bawd to lust, pandor to infamie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slaunder of Truth, truth of dissimulation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Staining our clymate more than anie nation!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What shall I say to thee, thou scorne of Nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blacke spot of sinne, vylde lure of lecherie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Injurious blame to everie fæmale creature,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wronger of time, broker of trecherie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trap of greene youth, false womens witcherie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Handmaid of pride, highway to wickednesse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet pathway to repentance nere the lesse?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou dost entice the minde to dooing evill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou setst dissention twixt the man and wife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A saint in show, and yet indeed a devill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art the cause of everie common strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art the life of Death, the death of Life!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou doost betray thyselfe to infamie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou art once discerned by the eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, little knew Matilda of thy being,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those times were pure from all impure complection;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then Love came of Desert, Desert of seeing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then Vertue was the mother of Affection,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Beautie now is under no subjection;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then women were the same that men did deeme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now they are the same they doo not seeme.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What fæmale now intreated of a king<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gold and jewels, pearles and precious stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would willingly refuse so sweete a thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Onely for a little show of Vertue ones?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Women have kindnes grafted in their bones.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold is a deepe-perswading orator,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Especially where few the fault abhor.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But yet shee rather deadly poyson chose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh cruell bane of most accursed clime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than staine that milk-white mayden virgin rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shee had kept unspotted till that time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not corrupted with this earthly slime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soule shall live, inclosd eternally<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that pure shrine of immortality!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is my doome, and this shall come to passe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For what are pleasures but still vading joyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fading as flowers, brittle as a glasse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or potters clay, crost with the least annoyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All things in this life are but trifling toyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Fame and Vertue never shall decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Fame is toomblesse, Vertue lives for aye!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">FINIS.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h2>NOTES.</h2> + + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_6'>6</a>, l. 1.—<i>Blin.</i>] To cease.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mon that loveth falsnesse and nule never <i>blynne</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sore may him drede the lyf that he is ynne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><i>Wright's Political Songs</i>, p. 212.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_7'>7</a>, l. 25.—<i>Her hart more hard than adamant or steele.</i>] Compare +"Midsummer Night's Dream," ii. 2.—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You draw me, <i>you hard-hearted adamant</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet you draw not iron, for my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall have no power to follow you."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_8'>8</a>, l. 15.—<i>Ban.</i>] Curse.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, l. 13.—<i>Crownets.</i>] Coronets. The term occurs in Shakespeare.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, l. 22.—<i>Hunts-up.</i>] Mr. Collier has printed a very curious song, +from which it appears that the <i>hunts-up</i> was known as early as 28 Henry +VIII. The following extract will show the nature of it:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The hunt is up, the hunt is up, &c.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Masters of Art and Doctors of Divinity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have brought this name out of good unity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three noblemen have this to stay,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lord of Norfolk, Lord of Surrey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my Lord of Shrewsbury,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Duke of Suffolk might have made England merry."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, l. 10.—<i>Eughes.</i>] Yews.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, l. 15.—<i>Ladon.</i>] A river in Arcadia.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>P. <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, l. 2.—<i>Syrinx.</i>] An Arcadian nymph, who, flying from Pan, was +turned into a reed, which was afterwards made into a pipe by the +pursuer.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, l. 24.—<i>Prickets.</i>] Bucks of the second year.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, l. 10.—<i>Spyke.</i>] Lavender.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, l. 11.—<i>The scarlet dyde carnation bleeding yet.</i>] The idea of a +bleeding flower gives additional grace to one of the most beautiful +passages in Shakespeare.—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It fell upon a little western flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, l. 13.—<i>Good for the blinde.</i>] According to Gerard, p. 537, +"eiebright stamped and laid upon the eies, or the juice thereof, mixed +with white wine, and dropped into the eies, or the destilled water, +taketh awaie the darknesse and dimnesse of the eies, and cleereth the +sight."</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, l. 18.—<i>Sops in wine.</i>] Pinks.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, l. 19.—<i>Bootes.</i>] The marsh marigold. According to Gerard, p. +671, this name for the plant was current only "in Cheshire and those +parts."</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_13'>13</a>, l. 2.—<i>Tyce.</i>] To entice.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, l. 6.—<i>The christall fountaines.</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><i>Midsummer Night's Dream</i>, iii. 2.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, l. 24.—<i>Boult.</i>] A short thick arrow.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, l. 24.—<i>Thrustle-cocke.</i>] The male thrush.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, l. 25.—<i>Afforde.</i>] "Afford's," orig.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, l. 6.—<i>Grype.</i>] A griffin.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, l. 13.—<i>Oozels.</i>] Blackbirds. See p. 24.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, l. 3.—<i>As white as whale.</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This is the flower that smiles on every one,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That show his teeth <i>as white as whales bone</i>."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><i>Love's Labour's Lost</i>, v. ii.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>P. <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, l. 12.—<i>My lovely faire.</i>] Compare the Midsummer Night's Dream, +i. 1.—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">——"O, happy fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your eyes are lode-stars."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, l. 3.—<i>Fautors.</i>] Abetters, supporters.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, l. 1.—<i>When huntsmen, &c.</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">——"imitatus castora, qui se<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eunuchum ipse facit, cupiens evadere damno<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Testiculorum."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><i>Juvenal</i>, xii. 84.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, l. 1.—<i>White is the colour.</i>] This stanza seems to have been +imitated in "Greenes Funeralls," 4to. London, 1594. See the "First +Sketches of Henry VI," Introduction, p. xxiii.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, l. 4.—<i>Knife.</i>] So in the original, but probably a mistake for +swords.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, l. 8.—<i>Glaver.</i>] To flatter.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, l. 11.—<i>Deck.</i>] Pack of cards.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, l. 12.—<i>Rampicke.</i>] Partially decayed; a term generally applied +to a tree which begins to decay at the top through age.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, l. 21.—<i>Melt.</i>] "Melts" in the original.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, l. 24.—<i>Cruell, unkinde, and wilt thou leave me so.</i>] Compare +Midsummer Night's Dream, iii. 2, "why unkindly didst thou leave me so?"</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, l. 3.—<i>After.</i>] Afterwards. The poetical legend by Drayton, here +alluded to, will be found in the collected works of that writer.</p> + +<p>P. <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, l. 4.—<i>Ones.</i>] Once. After this poem is inserted, in the +original, three pages entitled, "Hellens Rape, or a light Lanthorne for +light Ladies. Written in English hexameters."</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Affectionate Shepherd, by Richard Barnfield + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD *** + +***** This file should be named 19902-h.htm or 19902-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/9/0/19902/ + +Produced by Taavi Kalju and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Affectionate Shepherd + +Author: Richard Barnfield + +Editor: James Orchard Halliwell + +Release Date: November 23, 2006 [EBook #19902] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD *** + + + + +Produced by Taavi Kalju and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + +THE + +AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD: + +BY + +RICHARD BARNFIELD. + +A.D. 1594. + +EDITED BY + +JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL, Esq. F.R.S. + +HON. M.R.I.A., HON. M.R.S.L., F.S.A., ETC. + +LONDON. + +REPRINTED FOR THE PERCY SOCIETY, + +BY T. RICHARDS, 100, ST. MARTIN'S LANE. + +M.DCCC.XLV. + + + + +COUNCIL + +OF + +The Percy Society. + + +_President._ + +THE RT. HON. LORD BRAYBROOKE, F.S.A. + +THOMAS AMYOT, ESQ. F.R.S. TREAS. S.A. + +WILLIAM HENRY BLACK, ESQ. + +WILLIAM CHAPPELL, ESQ. F.S.A. + +J. PAYNE COLLIER, ESQ. F.S.A. + +C. PURTON COOPER, ESQ. Q.C., F.R.S., F.S.A. + +PETER CUNNINGHAM, ESQ. + +JAMES HENRY DIXON, ESQ. + +WILLIAM JERDAN, ESQ. F.S.A., M.R.S.L. + +CAPTAIN JOHNS, R.M. + +T. J. PETTIGREW, ESQ. F.R.S., F.S.A. + +LEWIS POCOCK, ESQ. F.S.A. + +SIR CUTHBERT SHARP. + +WILLIAM SANDYS, ESQ. F.S.A. + +WILLIAM J. THOMS, ESQ. F.S.A. + +THOMAS WRIGHT, ESQ. M.A., F.S.A., _Secretary and Treasurer._ + + + + +PREFACE. + + +Two copies only of the poem by Barnfield here reprinted, are known to be +preserved; one in Sion College Library, and another, formerly in Heber's +possession, mentioned in "Bibliotheca Heberiana," iv. 15. Its merits and +great rarity have pointed it out as a work deserving to be more known +and appreciated. Barnfield is, perhaps, chiefly remembered by his +elegant pieces printed in the "Passionate Pilgrim," attributed by some +to Shakespeare; but Mr. Collier has distinctly proved them to belong to +the less eminent poet. The "Affectionate Shepherd" was his first +production, as he himself confesses in the preface to his "Cynthia," +1595, and it has received the well-merited commendation of Warton. +Besides these poems, he is the author of "The Complaint of Poetrie for +the death of Liberalitie," 4to. 1598, and others published at the same +time, reprints of which are in the British Museum; also "The Encomium +of Lady Pecunia, or the Praise of Money," a curious manuscript in the +Ashmolean Museum, and likewise printed in the author's life-time. It +should be mentioned that in the original copies of the following tract +are a few hexameter verses on the Rape of Helen, which have been omitted +as of an inferior kind to the other part of the work, and for still more +obvious reasons. The "Affectionate Shepherd" itself will be found +remarkably free from the coarseness which disfigures so much of the +Elizabethan literature,--an additional inducement, if any were +necessary, for rescuing it from the liability to destruction which is of +course incident to any book of such excessive rarity. Our thanks are due +to the Rev. H. Christmas, Librarian of Sion College, for the courtesy +and liberality with which he permitted our transcript to be made from a +volume of tracts possessing the greatest charm for the bibliographer; +for besides the present one, it contains the first edition of +Shakespeare's Lucrece, and several other pieces of nearly equal value, +in the finest possible condition. + + + + + THE + + AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD. + + CONTAINING THE COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS FOR + THE LOUE OF GANYMEDE. + + _Amor plus mellis, quam fellis, est._ + + London: + +Printed by John Danter, for T. G. and E. N., and + are to bee sold in Saint Dunstones + Church-yeard in Fleetstreet. + + 1594. + + + + +TO THE RIGHT EXCELLENT AND MOST BEAUTIFULL LADY, + THE LADIE PENELOPE RITCH. + + + Fayre lovely ladie, whose angelique eyes + Are vestall candles of sweet beauties treasure, + Whose speech is able to inchaunt the wise, + Converting joy to paine, and paine to pleasure; + Accept this simple toy of my soules dutie, + Which I present unto thy matchles beautie. + + And albeit the gift be all too meane, + Too meane an offring for thine ivorie shrine; + Yet must thy beautie my just blame susteane, + Since it is mortall, but thyselfe divine. + Then, noble ladie, take in gentle worth + This new-borne babe, which here my muse brings forth. + + Your Honours most affectionate and + perpetually devoted Shepheard: + + DAPHNIS. + + + + + THE + AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD. + + + + +THE TEARES OF AN AFFECTIONATE SHEPHEARD SICKE FOR LOVE, + OR THE COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS FOR THE + LOVE OF GANIMEDE. + + + Scarce had the morning starre hid from the light + Heavens crimson canopie with stars bespangled, + But I began to rue th' unhappy sight + Of that faire boy that had my hart intangled; + Cursing the time, the place, the sense, the sin; + I came, I saw, I viewd, I slipped in. + + If it be sinne to love a sweet-fac'd boy, + Whose amber locks trust up in golden tramels + Dangle adowne his lovely cheekes with joy, + When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels; + If it be sinne to love a lovely lad, + Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad. + + His ivory-white and alablaster skin + Is staind throughout with rare vermillion red, + Whose twinckling starrie lights doe never blin + To shine on lovely Venus, Beauties bed; + But as the lillie and the blushing rose, + So white and red on him in order growes. + + Upon a time the nymphs bestird them-selves + To trie who could his beautie soonest win; + But he accounted them but all as elves, + Except it were the faire Queene Guendolen: + Her he embrac'd, of her was beloved, + With plaints he proved, and with teares he moved. + + But her an old man had beene sutor too, + That in his age began to doate againe; + Her would he often pray, and often woo, + When through old age enfeebled was his braine: + But she before had lov'd a lustie youth, + That now was dead, the cause of all her ruth. + + And thus it hapned, Death and Cupid met + Upon a time at swilling Bacchus house, + Where daintie cates upon the boord were set, + And goblets full of wine to drinke carouse: + Where Love and Death did love the licor so, + That out they fall and to the fray they goe. + + And having both their quivers at their backe + Fild full of arrows; th' one of fatall steele, + The other all of gold; Deaths shaft was black, + But Loves was yellow: Fortune turnd her wheele, + And from Deaths quiver fell a fatall shaft, + That under Cupid by the winde was waft. + + And at the same time by ill hap there fell + Another arrow out of Cupids quiver, + The which was carried by the winde at will, + And under Death the amorous shaft did shiver: + They being parted, Love tooke up Deaths dart, + And Death tooke up Loves arrow for his part. + + Thus as they wandred both about the world, + At last Death met with one of feeble age: + Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurld + The unknowne arrow with a furious rage, + Thinking to strike him dead with Deaths blacke dart; + But he, alas, with Love did wound his hart! + + This was the doting foole, this was the man + That lov'd faire Guendolena, Queene of Beautie; + Shee cannot shake him off, doo what she can, + For he hath vowd to her his soules last duety: + Making him trim upon the holydaies, + And crownes his love with garlands made of baies. + + Now doth he stroke his beard, and now againe + He wipes the drivel from his filthy chin; + Now offers he a kisse, but high Disdaine + Will not permit her hart to pity him: + Her hart more hard than adamant or steele, + Her hart more changeable than Fortunes wheele. + + But leave we him in love up to the eares, + And tell how Love behav'd himselfe abroad; + Who seeing one that mourned still in teares, + A young man groaning under Loves great load, + Thinking to ease his burden, rid his paines, + For men have griefe as long as life remaines. + + Alas, the while that unawares he drue + The fatall shaft that Death had dropt before, + By which deceit great harme did then insue, + Stayning his face with blood and filthy goare: + His face, that was to Guendolen more deere + Than love of lords, or any lordly peere. + + This was that faire and beautifull young man, + Whom Guendolena so lamented for; + This is that Love whom she doth curse and ban, + Because she doth that dismall chaunce abhor: + And if it were not for his mothers sake, + Even Ganimede himselfe she would forsake. + + Oh would shee would forsake my Ganimede, + Whose sugred love is full of sweete delight, + Upon whose forehead you may plainely reade + Loves pleasure grav'd in yvorie tables bright: + In whose faire eye-balls you may clearely see + Base Love still staind with foule indignitie. + + Oh would to God he would but pitty mee, + That love him more than any mortall wight! + Then he and I with love would soone agree, + That now cannot abide his sutors sight. + O would to God, so I might have my fee, + My lips were honey, and thy mouth a bee! + + Then shouldst thou sucke my sweete and my faire flower, + That now is ripe and full of honey-berries; + Then would I leade thee to my pleasant bower, + Fild full of grapes, of mulberries, and cherries: + Then shouldst thou be my waspe or else my bee, + I would thy hive, and thou my honey, bee. + + I would put amber bracelets on thy wrests, + Crownets of pearle about thy naked armes: + And when thou sitst at swilling Bacchus feasts + My lips with charmes should save thee from all harmes: + And when in sleepe thou tookst thy chiefest pleasure, + Mine eyes should gaze upon thine eyelids treasure. + + And every morne by dawning of the day, + When Phoebus riseth with a blushing face, + Silvanus chappel-clarkes shall chaunt a lay, + And play thee hunts-up in thy resting place: + My coote thy chamber, my bosome thy bed + Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head. + + And when it pleaseth thee to walke abroad, + Abroad into the fields to take fresh ayre, + The meades with Floras treasure should be strowde, + The mantled meaddowes, and the fields so fayre. + And by a silver well with golden sands + Ile sit me downe, and wash thine yvory hands. + + And in the sweltring heate of summer time, + I would make cabinets for thee, my love; + Sweet-smelling arbours made of eglantine + Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy dove. + Cool cabinets of fresh greene laurell boughs + Should shadow us, ore-set with thicke-set eughes. + + Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs + Within the cristall of a pearle-bright brooke, + Paved with dainty pibbles to the brims, + Or cleare, wherein thyselfe thyselfe mayst looke; + Weele goe to Ladon, whose still trickling noyse + Will lull thee fast asleepe amids thy joyes. + + Or if thoult goe unto the river side, + To angle for the sweet freshwater fish, + Arm'd with thy implements that will abide, + Thy rod, hooke, line, to take a dainty dish; + Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silke, + Thy hooks of silver, and thy bayts of milke. + + Or if thou lov'st to hear sweet melodie, + Or pipe a round upon an oaten reede, + Or make thyselfe glad with some myrthfull glee, + Or play them musicke whilst thy flocke doth feede. + To Pans owne pype Ile helpe my lovely lad, + Pans golden pype, which he of Syrinx had. + + Or if thou darst to climbe the highest trees + For apples, cherries, medlars, peares, or plumbs, + Nuts, walnuts, filbeards, chestnuts, cervices, + The hoary peach, when snowy winter comes; + I have fine orchards full of mellowed frute, + Which I will give thee to obtaine my sute. + + Not proud Alcynous himselfe can vaunt + Of goodlier orchards or of braver trees + Than I have planted; yet thou wilt not graunt + My simple sute, but like the honey bees + Thou suckst the flowre till all the sweet be gone, + And loost mee for my coyne till I have none. + + Leave Guendolen, sweet hart; though she be faire, + Yet is she light; not light in vertue shining, + But light in her behaviour, to impaire + Her honour in her chastities declining; + Trust not her teares, for they can wantonnize, + When teares in pearle are trickling from her eyes. + + If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home, + My sheepcote shall be strowed with new greene rushes: + Weele haunt the trembling prickets as they rome + About the fields, along the hauthorne bushes; + I have a pie-bald curre to hunt the hare, + So we will live with daintie forrest fare. + + Nay, more than this, I have a garden plot, + Wherein there wants nor hearbs, nor roots, nor flowers; + Flowers to smell, roots to eate, hearbs for the pot, + And dainty shelters when the welkin lowers: + Sweet-smelling beds of lillies, and of roses, + Which rosemary banks and lavender incloses. + + There growes the gilliflowre, the mynt, the dayzie + Both red and white, the blue-veynd violet; + The purple hyacinth, the spyke to please thee, + The scarlet dyde carnation bleeding yet: + The sage, the savery, and sweet margerum, + Isop, tyme, and eye-bright, good for the blinde and dumbe. + + The pinke, the primrose, cowslip and daffodilly, + The hare-bell blue, the crimson cullumbine, + Sage, lettis, parsley, and the milke-white lilly, + The rose and speckled flowre cald sops-in-wine, + Fine pretie king-cups, and the yellow bootes, + That growes by rivers and by shallow brookes. + + And manie thousand moe I cannot name + Of hearbs and flowers that in gardens grow, + I have for thee, and coneyes that be tame, + Young rabbets, white as swan, and blacke as crow; + Some speckled here and there with daintie spots: + And more I have two mylch and milke-white goates. + + All these and more Ile give thee for thy love, + If these and more may tyce thy love away: + I have a pidgeon-house, in it a dove, + Which I love more than mortall tongue can say. + And last of all Ile give thee a little lambe + To play withall, new weaned from her dam. + + But if thou wilt not pittie my complaint, + My teares, nor vowes, nor oathes, made to thy beautie: + What shall I doo but languish, die, or faint, + Since thou dost scorne my teares, and my soules duetie: + And teares contemned, vowes and oaths must faile, + And where teares cannot, nothing can prevaile. + + Compare the love of faire Queene Guendolin + With mine, and thou shalt [s]ee how she doth love thee: + I love thee for thy qualities divine, + But shee doth love another swaine above thee: + I love thee for thy gifts, she for hir pleasure; + I for thy vertue, she for beauties treasure. + + And alwaies, I am sure, it cannot last. + But sometime Nature will denie those dimples: + Insteed of beautie, when thy blossom's past, + Thy face will be deformed full of wrinckles; + Then she that lov'd thee for thy beauties sake, + When age drawes on, thy love will soone forsake. + + But that I lov'd thee for thy gifts divine, + In the December of thy beauties waning, + Will still admire with joy those lovely eine, + That now behold me with their beauties baning. + Though Januarie will never come againe, + Yet Aprill yeres will come in showers of raine. + + When will my May come, that I may embrace thee? + When will the hower be of my soules joying? + Why dost thou seeke in mirth still to disgrace mee? + Whose mirth's my health, whose griefe's my harts annoying: + Thy bane my bale, thy blisse my blessednes, + Thy ill my hell, thy weale my welfare is. + + Thus doo I honour thee that love thee so, + And love thee so, that so doo honour thee + Much more than anie mortall man doth know, + Or can discerne by love or jealozie: + But if that thou disdainst my loving ever, + Oh happie I, if I had loved never! + + FINIS. + + Plus fellis quam mellis amor. + + + + +THE SECOND DAYES LAMENTATION OF THE AFFECTIONATE + SHEPHEARD. + + + Next morning, when the golden sunne was risen, + And new had bid good morrow to the mountaines; + When night her silver light had lockt in prison, + Which gave a glimmering on the christall fountaines: + Then ended sleepe, and then my cares began, + Ev'n with the uprising of the silver swan. + + Oh, glorious sunne! quoth I, viewing the sunne, + That lightenst everie thing but me alone: + Why is my summer season almost done, + My spring-time past, and ages autumne gone? + My harvest's come, and yet I reapt no corne: + My love is great, and yet I am forlorne. + + Witnes these watrie eyes my sad lament, + Receaving cisternes of my ceaseles teares; + Witnes my bleeding hart my soules intent, + Witnes the weight distressed Daphnis beares: + Sweet love, come ease me of thy burthens paine, + Or els I die, or else my hart is slaine. + + And thou, love-scorning boy, cruell, unkinde, + Oh, let me once againe intreat some pittie: + May be thou wilt relent thy marble minde, + And lend thine eares unto my dolefull dittie: + Oh, pittie him, that pittie craves so sweetly, + Or else thou shalt be never named meekly. + + If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my boy, + My sweet delight, the comfort of my minde, + My love, my dove, my sollace, and my joy; + But if I can no grace nor mercie finde, + Ile goe to Caucasus to ease my smart, + And let a vulture gnaw upon my hart. + + Yet if thou wilt but show me one kinde looke, + A small reward for my so great affection, + Ile grave thy name in Beauties golden booke, + And shrowd thee under Hellicon's protection: + Making the muses chaunt thy lovely prayse, + For they delight in shepheard's lowly layes. + + And when th'art wearie of thy keeping sheepe + Upon a lovely downe, to please thy minde, + Ile give thee fine ruffe-footed doves to keepe, + And pretie pidgeons of another kinde: + A robbin-redbrest shall thy minstrell bee, + Chirping thee sweet and pleasant melodie. + + Or if thou wilt goe shoote at little birds, + With bow and boult, the thrustle-cocke and sparrow, + Such as our countrey hedges can afford, + I have a fine bowe, and an yvorie arrow. + And if thou misse, yet meate thou shalt [not] lacke, + Ile hang a bag and bottle at thy backe. + + Wilt thou set springes in a frostie night + To catch the long-bill'd woodcocke and the snype, + By the bright glimmering of the starrie light, + The partridge, phaesant, or the greedie grype; + Ile lend thee lyme-twigs, and fine sparrow calls, + Wherewith the fowler silly birds inthralls. + + Or in a mystie morning if thou wilt + Make pitfalls for the larke and pheldifare, + Thy prop and sweake shall be both overguilt, + With Cyparissus selfe thou shalt compare + For gins and wyles, the oozels to beguile, + Whilst thou under a bush shalt sit and smile. + + Or with hare-pypes set in a muset hole, + Wilt thou deceave the deep-earth-delving coney; + Or wilt thou in a yellow boxen bole, + Taste with a wooden splent the sweet lythe honey; + Clusters of crimson grapes Ile pull thee downe, + And with vine-leaves make thee a lovely crowne. + + Or wilt thou drinke a cup of new-made wine, + Froathing at top, mixt with a dish of creame + And strawberries, or bilberries, in their prime, + Bath'd in a melting sugar-candie streame: + Bunnell and perry I have for thee alone, + When vynes are dead, and all the grapes are gone. + + I have a pleasant noted nightingale, + That sings as sweetly as the silver swan, + Kept in a cage of bone as white as whale, + Which I with singing of Philemon wan: + Her shalt thou have, and all I have beside, + If thou wilt be my boy, or els my bride. + + Then will I lay out all my lardarie + Of cheese, of cracknells, curds and clowted-creame, + Before thy malecontent ill-pleasing eye; + But why doo I of such great follies dreame? + Alas, he will not see my simple coate, + For all my speckled lambe, nor milk-white goate! + + Against my birth-day thou shalt be my guest, + Weele have greene-cheeses and fine silly-bubs, + And thou shalt be the chiefe of all my feast, + And I will give thee two fine pretie cubs, + With two yong whelps, to make thee sport withall, + A golden racket, and a tennis-ball. + + A guilded nutmeg, and a race of ginger, + A silken girdle, and a drawn-worke band, + Cuffs for thy wrists, a gold ring for thy finger, + And sweet rose-water for thy lilly-white hand; + A purse of silke, bespangd with spots of gold, + As brave a one as ere thou didst behold. + + A paire of knives, a greene hat and a feather, + New gloves to put upon thy milk-white hand, + Ile give thee, for to keep thee from the weather, + With phoenix feathers shall thy face be fand, + Cooling those cheekes, that being cool'd wexe red, + Like lillyes in a bed of roses shed. + + Why doo thy corall lips disdaine to kisse, + And sucke that sweete which manie have desired? + That baulme my bane, that meanes would mend my misse, + Oh, let me then with thy sweete lips b'inspired! + When thy lips touch my lips, my lips will turne + To corall too, and, being cold yce, will burne. + + Why should thy sweete love-locke hang dangling downe, + Kissing thy girdle-stud with falling pride? + Although thy skin be white, thy haire is browne: + Oh, let not then thy haire thy beautie hide! + Cut off thy locke, and sell it for gold wier: + The purest gold is tryde in hottest fier. + + Faire long-haire-wearing Absolon was kild, + Because he wore it in a braverie: + So that which gracde his beautie, Beautie spild, + Making him subject to vile slaverie, + In being hangd: a death for him too good, + That sought his owne shame and his father's blood. + + Againe we read of old king Priamus, + The haplesse syre of valiant Hector slaine, + That his haire was so long and odious + In youth, that in his age it bred his paine: + For if his haire had not been halfe so long, + His life had been, and he had had no wrong. + + For when his stately citie was destroyd, + That monument of great antiquitie, + When his poore hart, with griefe and sorrow cloyd, + Fled to his wife, last hope in miserie; + Pyrrhus, more hard than adamantine rockes, + Held him and halde him by his aged lockes. + + These two examples by the way I show, + To prove th' indecencie of men's long haire: + Though I could tell thee of a thousand moe, + Let these suffice for thee, my lovely faire, + Whose eye's my starre, whose smiling is my sunne, + Whose love did ende before my joyes begunne. + + Fond love is blinde, and so art thou, my deare, + For thou seest not my love and great desart; + Blinde love is fond, and so thou dost appeare, + For fond and blinde, thou greevst my greeving hart: + Be thou fond-blinde, blinde-fond, or one, or all, + Thou art my love, and I must be thy thrall! + + Oh lend thine yvorie forehead for loves booke, + Thine eyes for candles to behold the same; + That when dim-sighted ones therein shall looke, + They may discerne that proud disdainefull dame; + Yet claspe that booke, and shut that cazement light, + Lest, th'one obscurde, the other shine too bright. + + Sell thy sweet breath to th' daintie musk-ball makers, + Yet sell it so as thou mayst soone redeeme it: + Let others of thy beauty be pertakers, + Else none but Daphnis will so well esteeme it. + For what is beauty, except it be well knowne? + And how can it be knowne, except first showne? + + Learne of the gentlewomen of this age, + That set their beauties to the open view, + Making disdaine their lord, true love their page, + A custome zeale doth hate, desert doth rue: + Learne to looke red, anon waxe pale and wan, + Making a mocke of love, a scorne of man. + + A candle light, and cover'd with a vaile, + Doth no man good, because it gives no light; + So Beauty of her beauty seemes to faile, + When being not seene it cannot shine so bright: + Then show thyselfe and know thyselfe withall, + Lest climing high thou catch too great a fall. + + Oh foule eclipser of that fayre sun-shine, + Which is intitled Beauty in the best, + Making that mortall, which is els divine, + That staines the fayre which women steeme not least: + Get thee to Hell againe, from whence thou art, + And leave the center of a woman's hart. + + Ah be not staind, sweet boy, with this vilde spot, + Indulgence daughter, mother of Mischaunce; + A blemish that doth every beauty blot, + That makes them loath'd, but never doth advaunce + Her clyents, fautors, friends, or them that love her, + And hates them most of all, that most reprove her. + + Remember age, and thou canst not be prowd, + For age puls downe the pride of every man; + In youthfull yeares by Nature tis allowde + To have selfe-will, doo Nurture what she can; + Nature and Nurture once together met, + The soule and shape in decent order set. + + Pride looks aloft, still staring on the starres, + Humility looks lowly on the ground; + Th' one menaceth the gods with civill warres, + The other toyles till he have Vertue found. + His thoughts are humble, not aspiring hye, + But Pride looks haughtily with scornefull eye. + + Humillity is clad in modest weedes, + But Pride is brave and glorious to the show; + Humillity his friends with kindnes feedes, + But Pride his friends in neede will never know, + Supplying not their wants, but them disdaining, + Whilst they to pitty never neede complayning. + + Humillity in misery is reliev'd, + But Pride in neede of no man is regarded; + Pitty and Mercy weepe to see him griev'd, + That in distresse had them so well rewarded; + But Pride is scornd, contemnd, disdaind, derided, + Whilst Humblenes of all things is provided. + + Oh then be humble, gentle, meeke, and milde, + So shalt thou be of every mouth commended; + Be not disdainfull, cruell, proud, sweet childe, + So shalt thou be of no man much condemned: + Care not for them that vertue doo despise; + Vertue is loathde of fooles, lovde of the wise. + + O faire boy, trust not to thy beauties wings, + They cannot carry thee above the sunne: + Beauty and wealth are transitory things, + For all must ende that ever was begunne. + But Fame and Vertue never shall decay, + For Fame is toombles, Vertue lives for aye. + + The snow is white, and yet the pepper 's blacke, + The one is bought, the other is contemned: + Pibbles we have, but store of jeat we lacke, + So white comparde to blacke is much condemned. + We doo not praise the swanne because shees white, + But for she doth in musique much delite. + + And yet the silver-noted nightingale, + Though she be not so white, is more esteemed; + Sturgion is dun of hew, white is the whale, + Yet for the daintier dish the first is deemed: + What thing is whiter than the milke-bred lilly? + That knowes it not for naught, what man so silly? + + Yea, what more noysomer unto the smell + Than lillies are? What's sweeter then the sage? + Yet for pure white the lilly beares the bell, + Till it be faded through decaying age. + House-doves are white, and oozels blacke-birds bee, + Yet what a difference in the taste we see? + + Compare the cow and calfe with ewe and lambe, + Rough hayrie hydes with softest downy fell; + Hecfar and bull with weather and with ramme, + And you shall see how far they doo excell; + White kine with blacke, blacke coney-skins with gray, + Kine nesh and strong, skins deare and cheape alway. + + The whitest silver is not alwaies best, + Lead, tynne, and pewter are of base esteeme; + The yellow burnisht gold that comes from th' East, + And West, of late invented, may beseeme + The worlds ritch treasury, or Mydas eye; + The ritch mans god, poore mans felicitie. + + Bugle and jeat with snow and alablaster + I will compare; white dammasin with blacke; + Bullas and wheaton plumbs, to a good taster + The ripe red cherries have the sweetest smacke: + When they be greene and young, th' are sowre and naught; + But being ripe, with eagernes th' are baught. + + Compare the wyld cat to the brownish beaver, + Running for life, with hounds pursued sore, + When huntsmen of her pretious stones bereave her, + Which with her teeth sh' had bitten off before; + Restoratives and costly curious felts + Are made of them, and rich imbroydred belts. + + To what use serves a peece of crimbling chalke? + The agget stone is white, yet good for nothing: + Fie, fie, I am asham'd to heare thee talke, + Be not so much of thine owne image doating: + So faire Narcissus lost his love and life; + Beautie is often with itselfe at strife. + + Right diamonds are of a russet hieu, + The brightsome carbuncles are red to see too; + The saphyre stone is of a watchet blue, + To this thou canst not chuse but soone agree to: + Pearles are not white but gray, rubies are red: + In praise of blacke what can be better sed? + + For if we doo consider of each mortall thing + That flyes in welkin, or in water swims, + How everie thing increaseth with the spring, + And how the blacker still the brighter dims: + We cannot chuse, but needs we must confesse, + Sable excels milk-white in more or lesse. + + As for example, in the christall cleare + Of a sweete streame, or pleasant running river, + Where thousand formes of fishes will appeare, + Whose names to thee I cannot now deliver; + The blacker still the brighter have disgrac'd, + For pleasant profit and delicious taste. + + Salmon and trout are of a ruddie colour, + Whiting and dare is of a milk-white hiew; + Nature by them perhaps is made the fuller, + Little they nowrish, be they old or new: + Carp, loach, tench, eeles, though black and bred in mud, + Delight the tooth with taste, and breed good blud. + + Innumerable be the kindes, if I could name them, + But I a shepheard and no fisher am: + Little it skils whether I praise or blame them, + I onely meddle with my ew and lamb: + Yet this I say that blacke the better is, + In birds, beasts, frute, stones, flowres, herbs, mettals, fish. + + And last of all, in blacke there doth appeare + Such qualities as not in yvorie; + Black cannot blush for shame, looke pale for feare, + Scorning to weare another livorie. + Blacke is the badge of sober modestie, + The wonted weare of ancient gravetie. + + The learned sisters sute themselves in blacke, + Learning abandons white and lighter hues; + Pleasure and pride light colours never lacke, + But true religion doth such toyes refuse: + Vertue and gravity are sisters growne, + Since blacke by both, and both by blacke are knowne. + + White is the colour of each paltry miller, + White is the ensigne of each common woman; + White is white vertues for blacke vyces piller, + White makes proud fooles inferiour unto no man: + White is the white of body, blacke of minde, + Vertue we seldome in white habit finde. + + Oh, then be not so proud because th' art fayre, + Vertue is onely the ritch gift of God: + Let not selfe-pride thy vertues name impayre, + Beate not greene youth with sharpe repentance rod: + A fiend, a monster, a mishapen divel; + Vertues foe, vyces friend, the roote of evill. + + Apply thy minde to be a vertuous man; + Avoyd ill company, the spoyle of youth; + To follow vertues lore doo what thou can, + Whereby great profit unto the ensuth: + Reade bookes, hate ignorance, the foe to art, + The damme of errour, envy of the hart. + + Serve Jove upon thy knees both day and night, + Adore his name above all things on earth; + So shall thy vowes be gracious in his sight, + So little babes are blessed in their birth: + Thinke on no worldly woe, lament thy sin, + For lesser cease, when greater griefes begin. + + Sweare no vaine oathes, heare much, but little say, + Speake ill of no man, tend thine owne affaires; + Bridle thy wrath, thine angrie mood delay, + So shall thy minde be seldome cloyd with cares: + Be milde and gentle in thy speech to all, + Refuse no honest gaine when it doth fall. + + Be not beguild with words, prove not ungratefull, + Releeve thy neighbour in his greatest need, + Commit no action that to all is hatefull, + Their want with welth, the poore with plentie feed: + Twit no man in the teeth with what th' hast done; + Remember flesh is fraile, and hatred shunne. + + Leave wicked things, which men to mischiefe move, + Least crosse mis-hap may thee in danger bring: + Crave no preferment of thy heavenly Jove, + Nor anie honor of thy earthly king: + Boast not thyselfe before th' Almighties sight, + Who knowes thy hart, and anie wicked wight. + + Be not offensive to the peoples eye, + See that thy praiers harts true zeale affords, + Scorne not a man that's falne in miserie, + Esteeme no tatling tales, no babling words; + That reason is exiled alwaies thinke, + When as a drunkard rayles amidst his drinke. + + Use not thy lovely lips to loathsome lyes, + By craftie meanes increase no worldly wealth; + Strive not with mightie men (whose fortune flies), + With temp'rate diet nourish wholesome health: + Place well thy words, leave not thy frend for gold; + First trie, then trust, in ventring be not bold. + + In Pan repose thy trust; extoll his praise, + (That never shall decay, but ever lives): + Honor thy parents (to prolong thy dayes), + Let not thy left hand know what right hand gives: + From needie men turne not thy face away, + Though charitie be now yclad in clay. + + Heare shepheards oft (thereby great wisdome growes), + With good advice a sober answere make: + Be not remoov'd with every winde that blowes, + (That course doo onely sinfull sinners take): + Thy talke will shew thy fame or els thy shame; + (A pratling tongue doth often purchase blame.) + + Obtaine a faithfull frend that will not faile thee, + Think on thy mother's paine in her child-bearing; + Make no debate, least quickly thou bewaile thee, + Visit the sicke with comfortable chearing: + Pittie the prisner, helpe the fatherlesse, + Revenge the widdowes wrongs in her distresse. + + Thinke on thy grave, remember still thy end, + Let not thy winding-sheete be staind with guilt; + Trust not a fained reconciled frend, + More than an open foe (that blood hath spilt): + (Who tutcheth pitch, with pitch shalbe defiled), + Be not with wanton companie beguiled. + + Take not a flattring woman to thy wife, + A shameles creature, full of wanton words, + (Whose bad, thy good, whose lust will end thy life, + Cutting thy hart with sharpe two edged knife): + Cast not thy minde on her whose lookes allure, + But she that shines in truth and vertue pure. + + Praise not thyselfe, let other men commend thee; + Beare not a flattring tongue to glaver anie; + Let parents due correction not offend thee; + Rob not thy neighbor, seeke the love of manie; + Hate not to heare good counsell given thee, + Lay not thy money unto usurie. + + Restraine thy steps from too much libertie, + Fulfill not th' envious mans malitious minde; + Embrace thy wife, live not in lecherie; + Content thyselfe with what fates have assignde: + Be rul'd by reason, warning dangers save; + True age is reverend worship to thy grave. + + Be patient in extreame adversitie, + (Mans chiefest credit growes by dooing well). + Be not high-minded in prosperitie; + Falshood abhorre, no lying fable tell. + Give not thyselfe to sloth, (the sinke of shame, + The moath of time, the enemie to fame). + + This leare I learned of a bel-dame Trot, + (When I was yong and wylde as now thou art), + But her good counsell I regarded not, + I markt it with my eares, not with my hart. + But now I finde it too-too true (my sonne), + When my age-withered spring is almost done. + + Behold my gray head, full of silver haires, + My wrinckled skin, deepe furrowes in my face, + Cares bring old age, old age increaseth cares; + My time is come, and I have run my race: + Winter hath snow'd upon my hoarie head, + And with my winter all my joyes are dead. + + And thou love-hating boy, (whom once I loved), + Farewell, a thousand-thousand times farewell; + My teares the marble-stones to ruth have moved; + My sad complaints the babling ecchoes tell: + And yet thou wouldst take no compassion on mee, + Scorning that crosse which love hath laid upon mee. + + The hardest steele with fier doth mend his misse, + Marble is mollifyde with drops of raine; + But thou (more hard than steele or marble is), + Doost scorne my teares, and my true love disdaine, + Which for thy sake shall everlasting bee, + Wrote in the annalls of eternitie. + + By this, the night, (with darknes over-spred), + Had drawne the curtaines of her cole-blacke bed; + And Cynthia, muffling her face with a clowd, + (Lest all the world of her should be too proud) + Had taken conge of the sable night, + (That wanting her cannot be halfe so bright.) + + When I, poore forlorn man and outcast creature, + (Despairing of my love, despisde of beautie), + Grew malecontent, scorning his lovely feature, + That had disdaind my ever zealous dutie: + I hy'd me homeward by the moone-shine light, + Foreswaring love, and all his fond delight. + + FINIS. + + + + +THE SHEPHEARDS CONTENT, OR THE HAPPINES OF A HARMLES + LIFE. WRITTEN UPON OCCASION OF THE FORMER + SUBJECT. + + + Of all the kindes of common countrey life, + Methinkes a shepheards life is most content; + His state is quiet peace, devoyd of strife; + His thoughts are pure from all impure intent, + His pleasures rate sits at an easie rent; + He beares no mallice in his harmles hart, + Malicious meaning hath in him no part. + + He is not troubled with th' afflicted minde, + His cares are onely over silly sheepe; + He is not unto jealozie inclinde, + (Thrice happie man) he knowes not how to weepe; + Whilst I the treble in deepe sorrowes keepe. + I cannot keepe the meane; for why (alas) + Griefes have no meane, though I for meane doe passe. + + No briefes nor semi-briefes are in my songs, + Because (alas) my griefe is seldome short; + My prick-song's alwayes full of largues and longs, + (Because I never can obtaine the port + Of my desires: hope is a happie fort). + Prick song (indeed) because it pricks my hart; + And song, because sometimes I ease my smart. + + The mightie monarch of a royall realme, + Swaying his scepter with a princely pompe, + Of his desires cannot so steare the healme, + But sometime falls into a deadly dumpe; + When as he heares the shrilly sounding trumpe + Of forren enemies, or home-bred foes, + His minde of griefe, his hart is full of woes. + + Or when bad subjects gainst their soveraigne + (Like hollow harts) unnaturally rebell, + How carefull is he to suppresse againe + Their desperate forces, and their powers to quell + With loyall harts, till all againe be well. + When (being subdu'd) his care is rather more, + To keepe them under, than it was before. + + Thus is he never full of sweete content, + But either this or that his joy debars: + Now noblemen gainst noblemen are bent, + Now gentlemen and others fall at jarrs: + Thus is his countrey full of civill warrs; + He still in danger sits, still fearing death, + For traitors seeke to stop their princes breath. + + The whylst the other hath no enemie, + Without it be the wolfe and cruell fates, + (Which no man spare): when as his disagree, + He with his sheephooke knaps them on the pates, + Schooling his tender lambs from wanton gates. + Beasts are more kinde than men, sheepe seeke not blood, + But countrey caytives kill their countreyes good. + + The courtier he fawns for his princes favour, + In hope to get a princely ritch reward; + His tongue is tipt with honey for to glaver, + Pride deales the deck, whilst chance doth choose the card; + Then comes another and his game hath mard, + Sitting betwixt him and the morning sun; + Thus night is come before the day is done. + + Some courtiers, carefull of their princes health, + Attend his person with all dilligence; + Whose hand's their hart, whose welfare is their wealth, + Whose safe protection is their sure defence, + For pure affection, not for hope of pence: + Such is the faithfull hart, such is the minde, + Of him that is to vertue still inclinde. + + The skilfull scholler, and brave man at armes, + First plies his booke, last fights for countries peace; + Th' one feares oblivion, th' other fresh alarmes: + His paines nere ende, his travailes never cease; + His with the day, his with the night increase: + He studies how to get eternall fame, + The souldier fights to win a glorious name. + + The knight, the squire, the gentleman, the clowne, + Are full of crosses and calamities, + Lest fickle fortune should begin to frowne, + And turne their mirth to extreame miseries, + Nothing more certaine than incertainties! + Fortune is full of fresh varietie, + Constant in nothing but inconstancie. + + The wealthie merchant that doth crosse the seas, + To Denmarke, Poland, Spaine, and Barbarie, + For all his ritches, lives not still at ease; + Sometimes he feares ship-spoyling pyracie, + Another while deceipt and treacherie + Of his owne factors in a forren land; + Thus doth he still in dread and danger stand. + + Well is he tearmd a merchant-venturer, + Since he doth venter lands, and goods and all; + When he doth travell for his traffique far, + Little he knowes what fortune may befall, + Or rather, what mis-fortune happen shall: + Sometimes he splits his ship against a rocke, + Loosing his men, his goods, his wealth, his stocke. + + And if he so escape with life away, + He counts himselfe a man most fortunate, + Because the waves their rigorous rage did stay, + (When being within their cruell powers of late, + The seas did seeme to pittie his estate). + But yet he never can recover health, + Because his joy was drowned with his wealth. + + The painfull plough-swaine, and the husband-man, + Rise up each morning by the breake of day, + Taking what toyle and drudging paines they can, + And all is for to get a little stay; + And yet they cannot put their care away: + When night is come, their cares begin afresh, + Thinking upon their morrowes busines. + + Thus everie man is troubled with unrest, + From rich to poore, from high to low degree: + Therefore I thinke that man is truly blest, + That neither cares for wealth nor povertie, + But laughs at Fortune, and her foolerie, + That gives rich churles great store of golde and fee, + And lets poore schollers live in miserie. + + O, fading branches of decaying bayes, + Who now will water your dry-wither'd armes? + Or where is he that sung the lovely layes + Of simple shepheards in their countrey-farmes? + Ah! he is dead, the cause of all our harmes: + And with him dide my joy and sweete delight; + The cleare to clowdes, the day is turnd to night. + + SYDNEY, the syren of this latter age; + SYDNEY, the blasing-starre of England's glory; + SYDNEY, the wonder of the wise and sage; + SYDNEY, the subject of true vertues story: + This syren, starre, this wonder, and this subject, + Is dumbe, dim, gone, and mard by fortune's object. + + And thou, my sweete Amintas, vertuous minde, + Should I forget thy learning or thy love, + Well might I be accounted but unkinde, + Whose pure affection I so oft did prove, + Might my poore plaints hard stones to pitty move! + His losse should be lamented of each creature, + So great his name, so gentle was his nature. + + But sleepe his soule in sweet Elysium, + (The happy haven of eternall rest); + And let me to my former matter come, + Proving, by reason, shepheard's life is best, + Because he harbours vertue in his brest; + And is content, (the chiefest thing of all), + With any fortune that shall him befall. + + He sits all day lowd-piping on a hill, + The whilst his flocke about him daunce apace, + His hart with joy, his eares with musique fill: + Anon a bleating weather beares the bace, + A lambe the treble, and to his disgrace + Another answers like a middle meane, + Thus every one to beare a part are faine. + + Like a great king he rules a little land, + Still making statutes and ordayning lawes, + Which if they breake, he beates them with his wand; + He doth defend them from the greedy jawes + Of rav'ning woolves, and lyons bloudy pawes. + His field, his realme; his subjects are his sheepe; + Which he doth still in due obedience keepe. + + First he ordaines by act of parlament, + (Holden by custome in each country towne), + That if a sheepe (with any bad intent) + Presume to breake the neighbour hedges downe, + Or haunt strange pastures that be not his owne, + He shall be pounded for his lustines, + Untill his master finde out some redres. + + Also if any prove a strageller + From his owne fellowes in a forraine field, + He shall be taken for a wanderer, + And forc'd himselfe immediatly to yeeld; + Or with a wyde-mouth'd mastive curre be kild; + And if not claimd within a twelve month's space, + He shall remaine with land-lord of the place. + + Or if one stray to feede far from the rest, + He shall be pincht by his swift pye-bald curre; + If any by his fellowes be opprest, + The wronger, (for he doth all wrong abhorre), + Shall be well bangd so long as he can sturre, + Because he did anoy his harmeles brother, + That meant not harme to him nor any other. + + And last of all, if any wanton weather, + With briers and brambles teare his fleece in twaine, + He shall be forc'd t' abide cold frosty weather, + And powring showres of ratling stormes of raine, + Till his new fleece begins to grow againe: + And for his rashnes he is doom'd to goe + Without a new coate all the winter throw. + + Thus doth he keepe them still in awfull feare, + And yet allowes them liberty inough; + So deare to him their welfare doth appeare, + That when their fleeces gin to waxen rough, + He combs and trims them with a rampicke bough, + Washing them in the streames of silver Ladon, + To cleanse their skinnes from all corruption. + + Another while he wooes his country wench, + With chaplet crownd and gaudy girlonds dight, + Whose burning lust her modest eye doth quench; + Standing amazed at her heavenly sight, + Beauty doth ravish sense with sweet delight, + Clearing Arcadia with a smoothed browe, + When sun-bright smiles melt flakes of driven snowe. + + Thus doth he frollicke it each day by day, + And when night comes drawes homeward to his coate, + Singing a jigge or merry roundelay, + For who sings commonly so merry a noate, + As he that cannot chop or change a groate? + And in the winter nights his chiefe desire, + He turnes a crabbe or cracknell in the fire. + + He leads his wench a country horne-pipe round, + About a may-pole on a holy-day, + Kissing his lovely lasse with garlands crownd, + With whoopping heigh-ho singing care away. + Thus doth he passe the merry month of May, + And all th' yere after, in delight and joy; + Scorning a king, he cares for no annoy. + + What though with simple cheere he homely fares, + He lives content; a king can doo no more, + Nay, not so much, for kings have manie cares, + But he hath none, except it be that sore + Which yong and old, which vexeth ritch and poore, + The pangs of love. O! who can vanquish Love? + That conquers kingdomes, and the gods above. + + Deepe-wounding arrow, hart-consuming fire, + Ruler of reason, slave to tyrant beautie, + Monarch of harts, fuell of fond desire, + Prentice to folly, foe to fained duetie. + Pledge of true zeale, affections moitie, + If thou kilst where thou wilt, and whom it list thee, + Alas! how can a silly soule resist thee? + + By thee great Collin lost his libertie, + By thee sweet Astrophel forwent his joy; + By thee Amyntas wept incessantly, + By thee good Rowland liv'd in great annoy; + O cruell, peevish, vylde, blind-seeing boy, + How canst thou hit their harts, and yet not see? + If thou be blinde, as thou art faind to bee. + + A shepheard loves no ill, but onely thee; + He hath no care, but onely by thy causing: + Why doost thou shoot thy cruell shafts at mee? + Give me some respite, some short time of pausing: + Still my sweet love with bitter lucke th'art sawcing: + Oh, if thou hast a minde to shew thy might, + Kill mightie kings, and not a wretched wight. + + Yet, O enthraller of infranchizd harts, + At my poore hart if thou wilt needs be ayming, + Doo me this favour, show me both thy darts, + That I may chuse the best for my harts mayming, + A free consent is priviledgd from blaming. + Then pierce his hard hart with thy golden arrow, + That thou my wrong, that he may rue my sorrow. + + But let mee feele the force of thy lead pyle, + What should I doo with love when I am old? + I know not how to flatter, fawne, or smyle; + Then stay thy hand, O cruell bowman, hold! + For if thou strik'st me with thy dart of gold, + I sweare to thee by Joves immortall curse, + I have more in my hart than in my purse. + + The more I weepe, the more he bends his brow, + For in my hart a golden shaft I finde. + Cruell, unkinde, and wilt thou leave me so? + Can no remorce nor pittie move thy minde? + Is mercie in the heavens so hard to finde? + Oh, then it is no mervaile that on earth + Of kinde remorce there is so great a dearth. + + How happie were a harmles shepheards life, + If he had never knowen what love did meane; + But now fond Love in every place is rife, + Staining the purest soule with spots uncleane, + Making thicke purses thin, fat bodies leane. + Love is a fiend, a fire, a heaven, a hell, + Where pleasure, paine, and sad repentance dwell! + + There are so manie Danaes now a dayes, + That love for lucre, paine for gaine is sold; + No true affection can their fancie please, + Except it be a Jove, to raine downe gold + Into their laps, which they wyde open hold: + If _legem pone_ comes, he is receav'd, + When _Vix haud habeo_ is of hope bereav'd. + + Thus have I showed, in my countrey vaine, + The sweet content that shepheards still injoy; + The mickle pleasure and the little paine + That ever doth awayte the shepheards boy: + His hart is never troubled with annoy; + He is a king, for he commands his sheepe; + He knowes no woe, for he doth seldome weepe. + + He is a courtier, for he courts his love; + He is a scholler, for he sings sweet ditties; + He is a souldier, for he wounds doth prove; + He is the fame of townes, the shame of citties: + He scornes false fortune, but true vertue pitties. + He is a gentleman, because his nature + Is kinde and affable to everie creature. + + Who would not then a simple shepheard bee, + Rather than be a mightie monarch made? + Since he injoyes such perfect libertie + As never can decay, nor never fade: + He seldome sits in dolefull cypresse shade, + But lives in hope, in joy, in peace, in blisse, + Joying all joy with this content of his. + + But now good fortune lands my little boate + Upon the shoare of his desired rest: + Now must I leave awhile my rurall noate, + To thinke on him whom my soule loveth best; + He that can make the most unhappie blest; + In whose sweete lap Ile lay me downe to sleepe, + And never wake till marble stones shall weepe. + + FINIS. + + + + + SONNET. + + + Loe here behold these tributarie teares + Paid to thy faire but cruell tyrant eyes; + Loe here the blossome of my youthfull yeares, + Nipt with the fresh of thy wraths winter, dyes! + Here on Loves altar I doo offer up + This burning hart for my soules sacrifice; + Here I receave this deadly-poysned cu[p] + Of Circe charm'd, wherein deepe magicke lyes. + Then teares, if you be happie teares indeed, + And hart, if thou be lodged in his brest, + And cup, if thou canst helpe despaire with speed, + Teares, hart, and cup, conjoine to make me blest! + Teares move, hart win, cup cause, ruth, love, desire, + In word, in deed; by moane, by zeale, by fire. + + FINIS. + + + + +THE COMPLAINT OF CHASTITIE, BRIEFELY TOUCHING THE CAUSE + OF THE DEATH OF MATILDA FITZWALTERS, AN ENGLISH + LADIE, SOMETIME LOVED OF KING JOHN, AFTER + POYSONED. THE STORIE IS AT LARGE + WRITTEN BY MICHAEL DREYTON. + + + You modest dames, inricht with chastitie, + Maske your bright eyes with Vestaes sable vaile, + Since few are left so faire or chast as shee, + Matter for me to weepe, you to bewaile! + For manie seeming so, of Vertue faile, + Whose lovely cheeks, with rare vermilion tainted, + Can never blush, because their faire is painted. + + O faire-foule tincture, staine of woman kinde, + Mother of Mischiefe, daughter of Deceate, + False traitor to the soule, blot to the minde, + Usurping tyrant of true beauties seate! + Right cousner of the eye, lewd follies baite, + The flag of filthines, the sinke of shame, + The divells dye, dishonour of thy name! + + Monster of art, bastard of bad desier, + Il-worshipt idoll, false imagerie! + Ensigne of vice, to thine owne selfe a lier, + Silent inchaunter, mindes anatomie, + Sly bawd to lust, pandor to infamie, + Slaunder of Truth, truth of dissimulation, + Staining our clymate more than anie nation! + + What shall I say to thee, thou scorne of Nature, + Blacke spot of sinne, vylde lure of lecherie, + Injurious blame to everie faemale creature, + Wronger of time, broker of trecherie, + Trap of greene youth, false womens witcherie, + Handmaid of pride, highway to wickednesse, + Yet pathway to repentance nere the lesse? + + Thou dost entice the minde to dooing evill, + Thou setst dissention twixt the man and wife; + A saint in show, and yet indeed a devill, + Thou art the cause of everie common strife; + Thou art the life of Death, the death of Life! + Thou doost betray thyselfe to infamie, + When thou art once discerned by the eye. + + Ah, little knew Matilda of thy being, + Those times were pure from all impure complection; + Then Love came of Desert, Desert of seeing, + Then Vertue was the mother of Affection, + But Beautie now is under no subjection; + Then women were the same that men did deeme, + But now they are the same they doo not seeme. + + What faemale now intreated of a king + With gold and jewels, pearles and precious stones, + Would willingly refuse so sweete a thing, + Onely for a little show of Vertue ones? + Women have kindnes grafted in their bones. + Gold is a deepe-perswading orator, + Especially where few the fault abhor. + + But yet shee rather deadly poyson chose, + Oh cruell bane of most accursed clime! + Than staine that milk-white mayden virgin rose, + Which shee had kept unspotted till that time, + And not corrupted with this earthly slime. + Her soule shall live, inclosd eternally + In that pure shrine of immortality! + + This is my doome, and this shall come to passe, + For what are pleasures but still vading joyes? + Fading as flowers, brittle as a glasse, + Or potters clay, crost with the least annoyes? + All things in this life are but trifling toyes, + But Fame and Vertue never shall decay, + For Fame is toomblesse, Vertue lives for aye! + + FINIS. + + + + +NOTES. + + +P. 6, l. 1.--_Blin._] To cease. + + Mon that loveth falsnesse and nule never _blynne_, + Sore may him drede the lyf that he is ynne. + +_Wright's Political Songs_, p. 212. + +P. 7, l. 25.--_Her hart more hard than adamant or steele._] Compare +"Midsummer Night's Dream," ii. 2.-- + + "You draw me, _you hard-hearted adamant_; + But yet you draw not iron, for my heart + Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, + And I shall have no power to follow you." + +P. 8, l. 15.--_Ban._] Curse. + +P. 9, l. 13.--_Crownets._] Coronets. The term occurs in Shakespeare. + +P. 9, l. 22.--_Hunts-up._] Mr. Collier has printed a very curious song, +from which it appears that the _hunts-up_ was known as early as 28 Henry +VIII. The following extract will show the nature of it:-- + + "The hunt is up, the hunt is up, &c. + The Masters of Art and Doctors of Divinity + Have brought this name out of good unity, + Three noblemen have this to stay,-- + My lord of Norfolk, Lord of Surrey, + And my Lord of Shrewsbury, + The Duke of Suffolk might have made England merry." + +P. 10, l. 10.--_Eughes._] Yews. + +P. 10, l. 15.--_Ladon._] A river in Arcadia. + +P. 11, l. 2.--_Syrinx._] An Arcadian nymph, who, flying from Pan, was +turned into a reed, which was afterwards made into a pipe by the +pursuer. + +P. 11, l. 24.--_Prickets._] Bucks of the second year. + +P. 12, l. 10.--_Spyke._] Lavender. + +P. 12, l. 11.--_The scarlet dyde carnation bleeding yet._] The idea of a +bleeding flower gives additional grace to one of the most beautiful +passages in Shakespeare.-- + + "Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell; + It fell upon a little western flower, + Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound." + +P. 12, l. 13.--_Good for the blinde._] According to Gerard, p. 537, +"eiebright stamped and laid upon the eies, or the juice thereof, mixed +with white wine, and dropped into the eies, or the destilled water, +taketh awaie the darknesse and dimnesse of the eies, and cleereth the +sight." + +P. 12, l. 18.--_Sops in wine._] Pinks. + +P. 12, l. 19.--_Bootes._] The marsh marigold. According to Gerard, p. +671, this name for the plant was current only "in Cheshire and those +parts." + +P. 13, l. 2.--_Tyce._] To entice. + +P. 15, l. 6.--_The christall fountaines._] + + "Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams." + +_Midsummer Night's Dream_, iii. 2. + +P. 16, l. 24.--_Boult._] A short thick arrow. + +P. 16, l. 24.--_Thrustle-cocke._] The male thrush. + +P. 16, l. 25.--_Afforde._] "Afford's," orig. + +P. 17, l. 6.--_Grype._] A griffin. + +P. 17, l. 13.--_Oozels._] Blackbirds. See p. 24. + +P. 18, l. 3.--_As white as whale._] + + "This is the flower that smiles on every one, + That show his teeth _as white as whales bone_." + +_Love's Labour's Lost_, v. ii. + +P. 20, l. 12.--_My lovely faire._] Compare the Midsummer Night's Dream, +i. 1.-- + + ----"O, happy fair! + Your eyes are lode-stars." + +P. 22, l. 3.--_Fautors._] Abetters, supporters. + +P. 25, l. 1.--_When huntsmen, &c._] + + ----"imitatus castora, qui se + Eunuchum ipse facit, cupiens evadere damno + Testiculorum." + +_Juvenal_, xii. 84. + +P. 27, l. 1.--_White is the colour._] This stanza seems to have been +imitated in "Greenes Funeralls," 4to. London, 1594. See the "First +Sketches of Henry VI," Introduction, p. xxiii. + +P. 30, l. 4.--_Knife._] So in the original, but probably a mistake for +swords. + +P. 30, l. 8.--_Glaver._] To flatter. + +P. 35, l. 11.--_Deck._] Pack of cards. + +P. 40, l. 12.--_Rampicke._] Partially decayed; a term generally applied +to a tree which begins to decay at the top through age. + +P. 40, l. 21.--_Melt._] "Melts" in the original. + +P. 42, l. 24.--_Cruell, unkinde, and wilt thou leave me so._] Compare +Midsummer Night's Dream, iii. 2, "why unkindly didst thou leave me so?" + +P. 46, l. 3.--_After._] Afterwards. The poetical legend by Drayton, here +alluded to, will be found in the collected works of that writer. + +P. 48, l. 4.--_Ones._] Once. After this poem is inserted, in the +original, three pages entitled, "Hellens Rape, or a light Lanthorne for +light Ladies. Written in English hexameters." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Affectionate Shepherd, by Richard Barnfield + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD *** + +***** This file should be named 19902.txt or 19902.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/9/0/19902/ + +Produced by Taavi Kalju and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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