THE 
 SPENSER ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 1548-1591 A.D. 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. 
 
BRITISH ANTHOLOGIES. 
 
 I. THE DUNBAR ANTHOLOGY . . . 1401-1508 A.D. 
 
 II. THE SURREY AND WYATT ANTHOLOGY 1509-1547 A.D. 
 
 III. THE SPENSER ANTHOLOGY . . . 1548-1591 A.D. 
 
 IV. THE SHAKESPEARE ANTHOLOGY . . 1592-1616 A.D. 
 V. THE JONSON ANTHOLOGY . . . 1617-1637 A.D. 
 
 VI. THE MILTON ANTHOLOGY . . 1638-1674 A.D. 
 
 VII. THE DRYDEN ANTHOLOGY . . . 1675-1700 A.D. 
 
 VIII. THE POPE ANTHOLOGY . . . 1701-1744 A.D. 
 
 IX. THE GOLDSMITH ANTHOLOGY . i745- J 774 A.D. 
 
 X. THE COWPER ANTHOLOGY . . . 1775-1800 A.D. 
 
KDMUND SPENSEK. 
 
SELECTIONS 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE ENGLISH POETS 
 
 * 
 
 THE SPENSER ANTHOLOGY. 
 i 48-1591. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 PROFESSOR EDWARD ARBER, F.S.A., 
 
 KELLOW OF KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON, ETC. 
 
 WITH PORTRAITS. 
 
 ' A thing of beauty is a joy for ever ; 
 
 Its loveliness increases.' 
 
 KEATS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY FROWDE, 
 
 OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE, AMEN CORNER, E.G. 
 
 NEW YORK: 91 & 93 FIFTH AVENUE. 
 1901. 
 
LIST OF PORTRAITS. 
 
 EDMUND SPENSER Frontispiece. 
 
 CAPTAIN GEORGE GASCOIGNE . . . To face p. 130 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 2 o6 
 
 FPLKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE . . 224 
 
 SAMUEL DANIEL 290 
 
 MARY HERBERT, COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE 292 
 
 EDWARD DE VERE, EARL OF OXFORD . 296 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Anonymous Poems 56-59, 64, 65, 70, 116-123, 173-182, 192, 193, 196, 
 197, 227, 269, 280, 281, 300 
 
 [BALDWIN (c. 1563); WILLIAM 7 6] 
 
 BEW (c. 1576); M 106,107 
 
 BIRCH (c. 1559); WILLIAM . 66-69 
 
 BRETON (1545-1626); NICHOLAS 186-191 
 
 CAMPION, M.D. (? -1607) ; THOMAS 288, 289 
 
 CECIL, Lord BURLEGH (1520-1598).; WILLIAM ... 115 
 
 CHURCHYARD (1520-1604); Captain THOMAS . . . 142-144 
 
 DANIEL (1562-1619); SAMUEL 290,291 
 
 D., E. [? Sir EDWARD DYER] (c. 1588) 232-236 
 
 DYER (? -1607) ; Sir EDWARD 228-231 
 
 EDWARDS (1523-1566); RICHARD 102-106 
 
 ELIZABETH (1533-1603); Queen 156,157 
 
 FLETCHER the Elder, LL.D. (1549-1611); GILES. . . 237-240 
 
 GASCOIGNE (1525-1577); Captain GEORGE .... 130-134 
 
 GIFFORD (c. 1580); HUMPHREY 145-149 
 
 GOOGE (1540-1594); BARNABY 97-101 
 
 GREENE (1560-1592) ; ROBERT 241-268 
 
 GREVILLE, Lord BROOKE (1554-1628); FULKE . . . 224-226 
 
 GRIMALD (1519-1562); NICHOLAS 60-63 
 
 HARINGTON (P-I562); JOHN 74,75 
 
 HARVEY (1545-1630); GABRIEL 282,283 
 
 HERBERT, Countess of PEMBROKE (1555-1621) ; MARY (SID- 
 NEY, afterwards) 292-294 
 
 v 
 
Contents. 
 
 HKYWOOD, D.D., S.J. (1535-1598); Rev. JASPER . 
 
 HKYNVOOD (1497-1580); JOHN 
 
 HOUIII. (f. 1581); THOMAS 
 
 Hi VMS (? -1597); WILLIAM 
 
 JAMKS I (1566-1625); King 
 
 IB, M.D. (1558-1625) ; THOMAS . 
 
 I.YI.Y (1554-1604); JOHN 
 
 T.OMERIE (1556-1610) ; Captain ALEXANDER 
 
 08-1597); GEORGE 
 
 11(1552-1618); Sir WALTER . 
 SACKYILLE, Earl of DORSET (1536-1608) ; THOMAS . 
 
 SCOTT (1525-1584) ; ALEXANDER 
 
 Sii'NKY (1554 1586); Sir PHILIP 
 
 SPENSER (1552-1599); EDMUND 
 
 STILL, Hishop of BATH and WELLS (1543-1608); JOHN 
 
 TURBERVILE (1540-1610); GEORGE . 
 
 i.R (1524-1580); THOMAS 
 
 UDALL (1505-1556); NICHOLAS 
 
 . Earl of OXFORD (1550-1604); EDWARD DE 
 
 >N (? -1582); THOMAS 
 
 WHETSTONE (c. 1576); GEORGE 
 
 FIRST LINES AND NOTES 
 
 PAGE 
 136 
 
 53-55 
 
 150-155 
 
 137 
 
 194, 195 
 . 270-279 
 . 198-204 
 . 169-172 
 . 183-185 
 . 284-287 
 
 77-96 
 
 71-73 
 205-223, 299 
 
 i-4/lj 
 
 135 
 
 . 108-114 
 
 . 124-129 
 
 48-52 
 
 295-299 
 . 158-168 
 . 138-141 
 
 301 
 
 GLOSSARY AND INDEX 3o6 
 
 Vi 
 
THE 
 
 SPENSER 
 ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 I548-I59I A.D. 
 
 IT hath been, through all Ages, ever seen, 
 
 That with the praise of Arms and Chivalry, 
 The prize of Beauty still hath joined been ; 
 And that for Reason's special privity. 
 For either doth, on other much rely. 
 
 For He, meseems, most fit the Fair to serve, 
 That can her best defend from villany ; 
 
 And She most fit, his service doth deserve, 
 That fairest is ; and from her faith will never swerve ! 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. IT! 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 THE TEMPTATION OF SIR GUYON, 
 
 BY MAMMON. 
 
 VII. 
 
 As pilot well expert in perilous wave, 
 
 That to a steadfast star his course hath bent, 
 When foggy mists, or cloudy tempests, have, 
 The faithful light of that fair lamp yblent, 
 And covered heaven with hideous dreariment, 
 Upon his Card and Compass firms his eye, 
 The masters of his long experiment ; 
 
 And to them does the steady helm apply, 
 Bidding his winged vessel fairly forward fly: 
 
 So GUYON, having lost his trusty guide, 
 
 Late left beyond that Idle Lake, proceeds 
 Yet on his way, of none accompanied ; 
 And evermore himself with comfort feeds 
 Of his own virtues and praiseworthy deeds. 
 So long he yode, yet no adventure found 
 Which Fame, of her shrill trumpet worthy reedes ; 
 
 For still he travelled through wide wasteful ground, 
 That nought but desert wilderness showed all around. 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 At last, he came unto a gloomy glade, 
 
 Covered with boughs and shrubs from heaven's light, 
 Where as he sitting found, in secret shade, 
 An uncouth, savage, and uncivil wight, 
 Of grisly hue, and foul ill-favoured sight. 
 
 His face with smoke was tanned, and eyes were bleared ; 
 His head and beard with soot were ill bedight. 
 
 His coal-black hands did seem to have been seared 
 In smith's fire-spitting forge ; and nails, like claws appeared. 
 
 His iron coat, all overgrown with rust, 
 
 Was underneath enveloped with gold ; 
 Whose glist'ring gloss darkened with filthy dust, 
 Well yet appeared to have been, of old, 
 A work of rich entail and curious mould, 
 
 Woven with antics and wild imagery. 
 And in his lap, a mass of coin he told 
 And turned upsidown, to feed his eye 
 And covetous desire, with his huge treasury. 
 
 And round about him lay, on every side, 
 
 Great heaps of gold that never could be spent : 
 Of which some were rude ore, not purified 
 Of MULCIBER'S devouring element ; 
 Some others were new driven, and distent 
 
 Into great ingoes, and to wedges square ; 
 Some in round plates, withouten monirnent : 
 
 But most were stamped ; and in their metal bare 
 The antique shapes of Kings and Kesars strange and rare. 
 
 Soon as he GUYON saw, in great affright 
 And haste he rose, for to remove aside 
 Those precious hills from stranger's envious sight ; 
 
 B 2 3 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 And down them poured, through a hole full wide, 
 Into the hollow earth, them there to hide. 
 
 But GUYON, lightly to him leaping, stayed 
 His hand, that trembled as one terrified : 
 
 And though himself were at the sight dismayed, 
 Yet him, perforce, restrained ; and to him doubtful said. 
 
 ' What art thou, man ! (if man at all thou art !) 
 
 That here in desert hast thine habitance ; 
 And these rich hills of wealth dost hide apart 
 
 From the World's eye, and from her right usance ? ' 
 Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askance, 
 
 In great disdain, he answered, ' Hardy Elf ! 
 That darest view my direful countenance ! 
 
 I read thee rash, and heedless of thyself, 
 To trouble my still seat, and heaps of precious pelf! 
 
 ' God of the World and worldlings I me call ! 
 
 Great MAMMON! greatest God below the sky! 
 That, of my plenty, pour out unto all ; 
 And unto none, my graces do envy ! 
 Riches, Renown, and Principality, 
 
 Honour, Estate, and all this Worldes good, 
 For which men suink and sweat incessantly, 
 
 Fro me dc flow into an ample flood ; 
 And in the hollow earth have their eternal brood. 
 
 ' Wherefore if me thou deign to serve and sue ; 
 
 At thy command, lo! all these mountains be! 
 Or if, to thy great mind, or greedy view, 
 
 All these may not suffice ; there shall to thee 
 
 Ten times so much be numbered frank and free ! ' 
 MAMMON!' said he, 'thy Godhead's vaunt is vain; 
 
 4 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 And idle offers of thy golden fee ! 
 
 To them that covet such eye-glutting gain, 
 Proffer thy gifts ; and fitter servants entertain ! 
 
 ' Me ill befits, that in der-doing Arms 
 
 And Honour's suit my vowed days do spend, 
 Unto thy bounteous baits and pleasing charms 
 (With which weak men thou witchest !) to attend ! 
 Regard of worldly muck doth foully blend 
 
 And low abase the high heroic spright, 
 That joys for crowns and kingdoms to contend ! 
 
 Fair shields, gay steeds, bright Arms be my delight 
 Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous Knight ! ' 
 
 'Vain-glorious Elf!' said he, 'dost not thou weet 
 
 That money can, thy wants at will supply? 
 Shields, steeds, and Arms, and all things for thee meet, 
 It can purvey in twinkling of an eye ; 
 And crowns and kingdoms to thee multiply! 
 
 Do not I Kings create ; and throw the crown 
 Sometimes to him that low in dust doth lie? 
 
 And him that reigned, into his room thrust down ; 
 And, whom I lust, do heap with glory and renown ? ' 
 
 ' All otherwise,' said he, ' I riches read ; 
 
 And deem them root of all disquietness ! 
 First got with guile, and then preserved with dread, 
 And after spent with pride and lavishness ; 
 Leaving behind them grief and heaviness. 
 
 Infinite mischiefs of them do arise! 
 Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitterness, 
 
 Outrageous wrong and hellish covetise; 
 That noble heart, as great dishonour, doth despise ! 
 
 5 
 
1 -.dm mid Spenser. 
 
 'Ne thine be kingdoms ; ne the sceptres thine ! 
 
 But realms and rulers thou dost both confound ; 
 And loyal truth to treason dost incline ! 
 
 Witness, the guiltless blood poured oft on ground ! 
 The crowned often slain ; the slayer crowned ! 
 
 The sacred diadem in pieces rent ; 
 And purple robe gored with many a wound ! 
 
 Castles surprised ! great cities sacked and brent ! 
 So mak'st thou Kings ; and gainest wrongful government ! 
 
 ' Long were to tell, the troublous storms that toss 
 
 The private state ; and make the life unsweet ! 
 Who swelling sails in Caspian Sea doth cross, 
 And in frail wood on Adrian Gulf doth fleet, 
 Doth not, I ween, so many evils meet ! ' 
 
 Then MAMMON, waxing wroth, ' And why then,' said, 
 4 Are mortal men so fond and indiscreet, 
 So evil thing to seek unto their aid ? 
 And having not, complain ! and having it, upbraid ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed,' quoth he, ' through foul intemperance, 
 
 Frail men are oft captived in covetise ! 
 But would they think, with how small allowance 
 Untroubled Nature doth herself suffice, 
 Such superfluities they would despise ; 
 
 Which, with sad cares, impeach our native joys I 
 At the well-head, the purest streams arise ; 
 
 But mucky filth his branching arms annoys, 
 And with uncomely weeds the gentle wave accloys. 
 
 'The Antique World, in his first flow'ring youth, 
 
 Found no defect in his Creator's grace; 
 But, with glad thanks and unreproved truth, 
 6 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 The gifts of sovereign bounty did embrace ! 
 Like Angels' life was then Men's happy case. 
 
 But later Ages' pride, like corn-fed steed, 
 Abused her plenty and fat-swollen increase 
 
 To all licentious lust ; and gan exceed 
 The measure of her mean, and natural first need. 
 
 ' Then gan a cursed hand, the quiet womb 
 
 Of his great grandmother, with steel to wound ; 
 And the hid treasures in her sacred tomb, 
 With sacrilege to dig. Therein he found 
 Fountains of gold and silver to abound ; 
 
 Of which the matter of his huge desire 
 And pompous pride eftsoons he did compound. 
 
 Then Avarice gan through his veins inspire 
 His greedy flames ; and kindled life-devouring fire ! ' 
 
 ' Son ! ' said he then, ' let be thy bitter scorn ; 
 
 And leave the rudeness of [that] Antique Age 
 To them that lived therein in state forlorn ! 
 Thou, that dost live in later Times, must wage 
 Thy works for wealth; and life for gold engage! 
 
 If then thee list my offered grace to use; 
 Take what thou please of all this surplusage ! 
 If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse ; 
 But thing refused do not afterward accuse ! ' 
 
 ' Me list not,' said the Elfin Knight, ' receive 
 
 Thing offered, till I know it well be got! 
 Ne wot I, but thou didst these goods bereave 
 From rightful owner, by unrighteous lot ! 
 Or that blood-guiltiness, or guile, them blot ! ' 
 c Perdy ! ' quoth he, ' yet never eye did view, 
 
 7 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Ne tongue did tell, ne hand these handled not ! 
 
 But safe I have them kept in secret mew 
 From heaven's sight, and power of all which them pursue.' 
 
 ' What secret place,' quoth he, ' can safely hold 
 
 So huge a mass ; and hide from heaven's eye ? 
 Or where hast thou thy won, that so much gold 
 Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery ? ' 
 ' Come thou,' quoth he, ' and see ! ' So by-and-by 
 Through that thick covert he him led, and found 
 A darksome way, which no man could descry, 
 
 That deep descended through the hollow ground, 
 And was with dread and horror compassed around 
 
 At length, they came into a larger space, 
 
 That stretched itself into an ample plain ; 
 Through which a beaten broad highway did trace, 
 That straight did lead to PLUTO'S grisly reign. 
 By that way's side, there sat infernal Pain, 
 
 And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife: 
 The one, in hand, an iron whip did strain, 
 
 The other brandished a bloody knife ; 
 And both did gnash their teeth, and both did threaten life ! 
 
 On th' other side, in one consort there sat 
 
 Cruel Revenge, and rancorous Despite, 
 Disloyal Treason, and heart-burning Hate: 
 But gnawing Jealousy, out of their sight 
 Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bite. 
 
 And trembling Fear still to and fro did fly, 
 And found no place where safe he shroud him might. 
 
 Lamenting Sorrow did in darkness lie ; 
 And Shame, his ugly face did hide from living eye. 
 8 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 And over them, sad Horror, with grim hue, 
 Did always soar, beating his iron wings : 
 And after him, owls and night-ravens flew, 
 The hateful messengers of heavy things ; 
 Of death and dolour telling sad tidings : 
 Whiles sad CEL^ENO, sitting on a clift, 
 A Song of bale and bitter sorrow sings, 
 
 That heart of flint asunder could have rift ; 
 Which having ended, after him she flieth swift. 
 
 All these before the Gates of PLUTO lay ; 
 
 By whom, they passing, spake unto them nought 
 But th' Elfin Knight with wonder, all the way, 
 Did feed his eyes, and filled his inner thought. 
 At last, him to a little door he brought, 
 
 That to the Gate of Hell, which gaped wide, 
 Was next adjoining, ne them parted ought. 
 
 Betwixt them both was but a little stride, 
 That did the House of Richesse from Hell Mouth divide. 
 
 Before the door sat self-consuming Care, 
 
 Day and night keeping wary watch and ward, 
 For fear lest Force or Fraud should, unaware, 
 Break in ; and spoil the treasure there in guard. 
 Ne would he suffer Sleep once thitherward 
 
 Approach, albe his drowsy den were next ; 
 For next to Death is Sleep to be compared. 
 
 Therefore his House is unto his annext. 
 Here Sleep, there Richesse; and Hell Gate them both betwixt. 
 
 So soon as MAMMON there arrived, the door 
 
 To him did open, and afforded way. 
 Him followed eke Sir GUYON evermore, 
 
Spenser. 
 
 Nc darkness him, nc danger, might dismay. 
 Soon as he entered was, the door straightway 
 
 Did shut ; and from behind it, forth there leapt 
 An ugly fiend, more foul than dismal day, 
 
 The which, with monstrous stalk, behind him stept, 
 And ever as he went, due watch upon him kept. 
 
 Well hoped he, ere long, that hardy guest 
 
 (If ever covetous hand, or lustful eye, 
 Or lips, he laid on thing that liked him best; 
 Or ever sleep his eye-strings did untie,) 
 Should be his prey ! And therefore still on high 
 
 He over him did hold his cruel claws ; 
 Threatening with greedy gripe to do him die, 
 And rend in pieces, with his ravenous paws, 
 If ever he transgressed the fatal Stygian laws. 
 
 That House's form within was rude and strong, 
 
 Like a huge cave hewn out of rocky clift ; 
 From whose rough vault the ragged breaches hung 
 Embossed with massy gold of glorious gift, 
 And with rich metal loaded every rift, 
 
 That heavy ruin they did seem to threat : 
 And over them ARACHNE high did lift 
 
 Her cunning web, and spread her subtle net, 
 Enwrapped in foul smoke and clouds more black than jet. 
 
 Both roof, and floor, and walls, were all of gold : 
 
 But overgrown with dust and old decay ; 
 And hid in darkness, that none could behold 
 The hue thereof. For view of cheerful day 
 Did never in that House itself display : 
 But a faint shadow of uncertain light, 
 10 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away ; 
 
 Or as the moon, clothed with cloudy night, 
 Does show to him, that walks in fear and sad affright 
 
 In all that room was nothing to be seen 
 
 But huge great iron chests and coffers strong ; 
 All barred with double bands, that none could ween 
 Them to efforce by violence, or wrong. 
 On every side, they placed were along: 
 
 But all the ground with skulls were scattered 
 And dead men's bones, which round about were flung ; 
 
 Whose lives, it seemed, whilom there were shed, 
 And their vile carcases now left unburied. 
 
 They forward pass, ne GuYON yet spoke word, 
 
 Till that they came unto an iron door ; 
 Which to them opened of his own accord, 
 And showed of richesse such exceeding store 
 As eye of man did never see before ! 
 
 Nor ever could within one place be found, 
 Though all the wealth, which is, or was of yore, 
 
 Could gathered be through all the world around ; 
 And that above, were added to that under, ground! 
 
 The charge thereof, unto a covetous Spright 
 Commanded was: who thereby did attend, 
 And warily awaited, day and night, 
 
 From other covetous fiends it to defend ; 
 Who it to rob and ransack did intend. 
 
 Then MAMMON, turning to that Warrior, said, 
 ' Lo ! here the Worldes bliss ! Lo ! here the end 
 
 To which all men do aim rich to be made ! 
 Such grace now to be happy is before thee laid ! ' 
 
 ii 
 
Iiihnund Spenser. 
 
 * Certes ! ' said he, ' I nill thine offered grace ; 
 
 Ne to be made so happy do intend ! 
 Another bliss before mine eyes I place ! 
 Another happiness ! another end ! 
 To them that list, these base regards I lend ! 
 But I, in Arms and in achievements brave 
 Do rather choose my flitting hours to spend ; 
 And to be Lord of those that riches have, 
 Than them to have myself, and be their servile slave ! ' 
 
 Thereat, the fiend, his gnashing teeth did grate ; 
 And grieved, so long to lack his greedy prey : 
 For well he weened that so glorious bait 
 
 Would tempt his guest to take thereof assay. 
 Had he so done; he had him snatched away 
 More light than culver in the falcon's fist ! 
 Eternal GOD thee save from such decay ! 
 
 But when as MAMMON saw his purpose mist, 
 Him to entrap un 'wares another way he wist. 
 
 Thence, forward he him led, and shortly brought 
 
 Unto another room ; whose door forthright 
 To him did open, as it had been taught. 
 Therein a hundred ranges weren pight, 
 And hundred furnaces all burning bright 
 
 By every furnace, many fiends did bide, 
 Deformed creatures, horrible in sight ; 
 
 And every fiend his busy pains applied 
 To melt the golden metal, ready to be tried. 
 
 One with great bellows gathered filling air ; 
 
 And, with forced wind, the fuel did inflame. 
 Another did the dying brands repair 
 
 12 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 With iron tongs, and sprinkled oft the same 
 With liquid waves, fierce VULCAN'S rage to tame : 
 
 Who, mastering them, renewed his former heat. 
 Some scummed the dross, that from the metal came. 
 
 Some stirred the molten ore with ladles great : 
 And every one did swink, and every one did sweat. 
 
 But when as earthly wight they present saw, 
 
 Glist'ring in Arms and battailous array, 
 From their hot work, they did themselves withdraw 
 To wonder at the sight : for, till that day, 
 They never creature saw that came that way. 
 
 Their staring eyes sparkling with fervent fire, 
 And ugly shapes, did nigh the Man dismay ; 
 
 That, were it not for shame, he would retire ! 
 Till that him thus bespake their Sovereign Lord and Sire. 
 
 ' Behold, thou Fairy's son ! with mortal eye, 
 
 That living eye before did never see ! 
 The thing that thou didst crave so earnestly 
 
 To weet, Whence all the wealth, late showed by me, 
 Proceeded ? lo ! now is revealed to thee ! 
 
 Here is the Fountain of the Worldes good ! 
 Now, therefore, if thou wilt enriched be, 
 
 Avise thee well, and change thy wilful mood ; 
 Lest thou, perhaps, hereafter wish, and be withstood ! ' 
 
 ' Suffice it then, thou Money God ! ' quoth he, 
 
 ' That all thine idle offers I refuse ! 
 All that I need, I have ! What needeth me 
 To covet more than I have cause to use? 
 With such vain shows, thy worldlings vile abuse ! 
 But give me leave to follow mine emprise ! ' 
 
 13 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 MAMMON was much displeased ; yet no'te he choose, 
 
 But bear the rigour of his bold mesp[r]ise, 
 And thence him forward led, him further to entice. 
 
 He brought him, through a darksome narrow strait, 
 
 To a broad Gate all built of beaten gold. 
 The Gate was open ; but therein did wait 
 A sturdy villain, striding stiff and bold, 
 As [if] the highest God defy he would ! 
 
 In his right hand, an iron club he held ; 
 But he himself was all of golden mould : 
 
 Yet had both life and sense, and well could weld 
 That cursed weapon, when his cruel foes he quelled. 
 
 DISDAIN he called was ; and did disdain 
 
 To be so called, and who so did him call. 
 Stern was to look, and full of stomach vain, 
 His portance terrible, and stature tall, 
 Far passing th' height of men terrestrial, 
 
 Like a huge giant of the TITANS' race ; 
 That made him scorn all creatures great and small, 
 
 And with his pride, all others' power deface. 
 More fit, among black fiends than men to have his place. 
 
 Soon as those glitterand Arms he did espy, 
 
 That, with their brightness, made that darkness light, 
 His harmful club he gan to hurtle high, 
 And threaten battle to the Fairy Knight. 
 Who likewise gan himself to battle dight, 
 
 Till MAMMON did his hasty hand withhold ; 
 And counselled him abstain from perilous fight: 
 
 For nothing might abash the villain bold, 
 Ne mortal steel impierce his miscreated mould! 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 So having him with reason pacified, 
 
 And the fierce carl commanding to forbear, 
 He brought him in. The room was large and wide, 
 As it some Guild, or solemn Temple, were. 
 Many great golden pillars did upbear 
 
 The massy roof, and riches huge sustain ; 
 And every pillar decked was full dear 
 
 With crowns, and diadems, and titles vain, 
 Which mortal Princes wore, whiles they on earth did reign. 
 
 A rout of people there assembled were, 
 Of every sort and nation under sky ; 
 Which, with great uproar, pressed to draw near 
 To th' upper part : where was advanced high 
 A stately siege of sovereign majesty : 
 
 And thereon sat a woman gorgeous gay, 
 And richly clad in robes of royalty ; 
 
 That never earthly Prince in such array 
 His glory did enhance, and pompous pride display. 
 
 Her face right wondrous fair did seem to be, 
 
 That her broad beauty's beam great brightness threw 
 Through the dim shade, that all men might it see. 
 Yet was not that same her own native hue, 
 But wrought by art and counterfeited shew, 
 
 Thereby more Lovers unto her to call. 
 Nathless most heavenly fair in deed and view 
 
 She by creation was, till she did fall. 
 Thenceforth she sought for helps to cloak her crime withal. 
 
 There, as in glist'ring glory she did sit, 
 
 She held a great gold chain ylinked well ; 
 Whose upper end to highest Heaven was knit. 
 
 15 
 
Spenser. 
 
 And lower part did reach to lowest Hell : 
 And all that press did round about her swell 
 
 To catchen hold of that long chain ; thereby 
 To climb aloft, and others to excel. 
 
 That was Ambition, rash desire to sty ; 
 And every link thereof, a step of dignity. 
 
 Some thought to raise themselves to high degree 
 
 By riches and unrighteous reward ; 
 Some, by close shouldering ; some, by flattery ; 
 Others, through friends ; others, for base regard ; 
 And all, by wrong ways, for themselves prepared. 
 Those that were up themselves, kept others low. 
 Those that were low themselves, held others hard ; 
 
 Ne suffered them to rise, or greater grow. 
 But every one did strive his fellow down to throw. 
 
 Which when as GUYON saw, he gan inquire, 
 
 What meant that press about that Lady's throne ? 
 And what she was, that did so high aspire? 
 Him MAMMON answered, 'That goodly one, 
 Whom all that folk, with such contention, 
 
 Do flock about, my dear, my daughter is ! 
 Honour and Dignity from her alone 
 
 Derived are; and all this Worldes bliss, 
 For which ye men do strive : few get ; but many miss ! 
 
 'And fair PHiLOTlMfc she rightly hight 
 
 The fairest wight that woneth under sky: 
 But that this darksome Nether World her light 
 Doth dim, with horror and deformity. 
 Worthy of Heaven and high felicity ! 
 
 From whence, the Gods have, her for envy thrust. 
 16 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 But, sith thou hast found favour in mine eye, 
 
 Thy Spouse I will her make, if that thou lust ! 
 That she may thee advance for works and merits just.' 
 
 ' Gramercy ! MAMMON ! ' said the gentle Knight, 
 
 ' For so great grace and offered high estate ; 
 But I, that am frail flesh and earthly wight, 
 Unworthy Match for such immortal mate 
 Myself well wot, and mine unequal fate. 
 
 And were I not: yet is my troth yplight 
 And love avowed to other Lady, late, 
 
 That to remove the same I have no might. 
 To change love causeless is reproach to warlike Knight ! ' 
 
 MAMMON emmoved was with inward wrath ; 
 
 Yet, forcing it to feign, him forth thence led 
 Through grisly shadows, by a beaten path, 
 Into a Garden goodly garnished 
 With herbs and fruits, whose kinds mote not be red. 
 
 Not such as Earth, out of her fruitful womb, 
 Throws forth to men, sweet and well savoured : 
 
 But direful deadly black, both leaf and bloom, 
 Fit to adorn the dead, and deck the dreary tomb ! 
 
 There, mournful cypress grew in greatest store, 
 
 And trees of bitter gall, and heben sad ; 
 Dead sleeping poppy, and black hellebore, 
 Cold coloquintida, and tetra mad, 
 Mortal samnitis, and cicuta bad, 
 
 With which th' unjust Athenians made to die 
 Wise SOCRATES : who, thereof quaffing glad, 
 
 Poured out his life, and last philosophy, 
 To the fair CRITIAS, his dearest belamy. 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. C I^ 
 
I '.limit ltd Spenser. 
 
 The Garden of PROSERPINA this hight, 
 
 And, in the midst thereof, a Silver Seat ; 
 With a thick arbour goodly overdight, 
 In which she often used, from open heat 
 Herself to shroud, and pleasures to entreat. 
 
 Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree, 
 With branches broad dispread and body great, 
 
 Clothed with leaves, that none the wood mote see ; 
 And loaden all with fruit as thick as it might be. 
 
 Their fruit were golden apples glist'ring bright, 
 
 That goodly was their glory to behold. 
 On earth, like never grew ; ne living wight 
 Like ever saw but they from hence were sold. 
 For those which HERCULES, with conquest bold, 
 
 Got from great ATLAS' daughters, hence began ; 
 And planted there, did bring forth fruit of gold. 
 
 And those with which th' Euboean young man wan 
 Swift ATALANTA ; when, through craft, he her outran. 
 
 Here also sprung that goodly golden fruit 
 
 With which ACONTIUS got his Lover true ; 
 Whom he had long time sought with fruitless suit. 
 Here eke that famous Golden Apple grew, 
 The which amongst the Gods false ATE threw, 
 
 For which th' Idaean Ladies disagreed, 
 Till partial PARIS dempt it VENUS' due; 
 
 And had of her, fair HELEN for his meed, 
 That many noble Greeks and Trojans made to bleed. 
 
 The warlike Elf much wondered at this tree 
 
 So fair and great, that shadowed all the ground ; 
 And his broad branches, laden with rich fee, 
 18 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Did stretch themselves without the utmost bound 
 Of this great Garden compassed with a mound ; 
 
 Which overhanging, they themselves did steep 
 In a black flood, which flowed about it round : 
 
 That is the river of Cocytus deep ; 
 In which full many souls do endless wail and weep. 
 
 Which to behold, he clomb up to the bank, 
 
 And, looking down, saw many damned wights 
 In those sad waves (which direful deadly stank) 
 Plunged continually of cruel Sprights ; 
 That with their piteous cries and yelling shrights, 
 
 They made the further shore resounden wide. 
 Amongst the rest of those same rueful sights, 
 
 One cursed creature he by chance espied, 
 That drenched lay full deep, under the Garden side. 
 
 Deep was he drenched to the upmost chin ; 
 
 Yet gaped still, as coveting to drink 
 Of the cold liquor which he waded in, 
 
 And, stretching forth his hand, did often think 
 To reach the fruit, which grew upon the brink : 
 
 But both the fruit from hand, and flood from mouth 
 Did fly aback ; and made him vainly swink ; 
 
 The whiles he starved with hunger and with drouth. 
 He daily died ; yet never throughly dyen couth. 
 
 The Knight him seeing labour so in vain, 
 
 Asked, Who he was ? and What he meant thereby ? 
 Who, groaning deep, thus answered him again : 
 ' Most cursed of all creatures under sky ! 
 Lo ! TANTALUS ! I here tormented lie ! 
 
 Of whom, high JOVE wont whilom feasted be. 
 c 2 19 
 
! : .ilmniu1 Spenser. 
 
 Lo ! here I now, for want of food, do die ! 
 
 But if that thou be such as I thee see, 
 Of grace, I pray thee, give to eat and drink to me ! ' 
 
 'Nay! Nay! thou greedy TANTALUS!' quoth he, 
 
 ' Abide the fortune of thy present fate ! 
 And unto all that live in high degree, 
 Ensample be of mind intemperate, 
 To teach them how to use their present state.' 
 
 Then gan the cursed wretch aloud to cry, 
 Accusing highest JOVE and Gods ingrate ; 
 
 And eke blaspheming Heaven bitterly 
 As author of unjustice, there to let him die. 
 
 He looked a little further, and espied 
 
 Another wretch, whose carcase deep was drent 
 Within the river, which the same did hide: 
 But both his hands, most filthy feculent, 
 Above the water were on high extent ; 
 
 And fained to wash themselves incessantly, 
 Yet nothing cleaner were, for such intent : 
 
 But rather fouler seemed to the eye; 
 So lost his labour vain and idle industry. 
 
 The Knight, him calling, asked, Who he was? 
 Who, lifting up his head, him answered thus, 
 ' I PILATE am, the falsest Judge, alas ! 
 And most unjust ! that, by unrighteous 
 And wicked doom, to Jews despiteous 
 
 Delivered up the Lord of Life to die : 
 And did acquit a murd'rer felonous. 
 
 The whiles my hands I washed in purity, 
 The whiles my soul was soiled with foul iniquity.' 
 
 20 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Infinite moe, tormented in like pain, 
 
 He there beheld too long here to be told ! 
 Ne MAMMON would there let him long remain ; 
 For terror of the tortures manifold, 
 In which the damned souls he did behold. 
 
 But roughly him bespake, ' Thou fearful fool ! 
 Why takest not of that same fruit of gold? 
 
 Ne sittest down on that same Silver Stool, 
 To rest thy weary person in the shadow cool ? ' 
 
 All which he did, to do him deadly fall 
 
 In frail intemperance, through sinful bait ; 
 To which if he inclined had at all, 
 
 That dreadful fiend, which did behind him wait, 
 Would him have rent in thousand pieces straight! 
 
 But he was wary wise, in all his way, 
 And well perceived his deceitful sleight ; 
 Nor suffered lust his safety to betray. 
 So goodly did beguile the Guiler of his prey ! 
 
 And now he has so long remained there 
 
 That vital powers gan wax both weak and wan 
 For want of food and sleep : which two upbear, 
 Like mighty pillars, this frail life of Man ; 
 That none without the same enduren can. 
 
 For now, three days of men were full outwrought, 
 Since he this hardy enterprise began. 
 
 Forthy, great MAMMON fairly he besought, 
 Into the world to guide him back, as he him brought. 
 
 The God, though loth, yet was constrained t' obey. 
 
 For longer time than that, no living wight 
 Below the earth might suffered be to stay ! 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 So back again him brought to living light. 
 But all so soon as his enfeebled spright 
 
 Gan suck this vital air into his breast, 
 As overcome with too exceeding might, 
 
 The life did flit away out of her nest ; 
 And all his senses were with deadly fit opprest. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And is there care in Heaven ? And is there love 
 
 In heavenly Spirits to these creatures base, 
 That may compassion of their evils move ? 
 
 There is ! Else much more wretched were the case 
 Of men than beasts. But, O, th' exceeding grace 
 
 Of Highest GOD ! that loves his creatures so, 
 And all his works with mercy doth embrace, 
 That blessed Angels He sends to and fro, 
 To serve to wicked Man ! to serve his wicked foe ! ... 
 
 The Palmer lent his ear unto the noise, 
 
 To weet who called so importunely. 
 Again he heard a more enforced voice 
 That bade him come in haste ! He by-and-by 
 His feeble step directed to the cry; 
 
 Which to that shady delve him brought at last, 
 Where MAMMON earst did sun his treasury. 
 
 There the good GUYON, he found slumb'ring fast 
 In senseless dream : which sight, at first, him sore aghast. 
 
 22 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 HOW SIR SCUDAMOUR WAN THE LADY 
 
 A MO RET TO HIS WIFE, 
 
 IN THE TEMPLE OF VENUS. 
 
 X. 
 
 'TRUE he it said, whatever man it said, 
 
 " That Love with gall and honey doth abound ! " 
 But if the one be with the other weighed, 
 For every dram of honey therein found, 
 A pound of gall doth over it redound ! 
 
 That I, too true, by trial have approved. 
 For since the day that first, with deadly wound, 
 
 My heart was lanced, and learned to have loved, 
 I never joyed hour ; but still with care was moved ! 
 
 'And yet such grace is given them from above, 
 
 That all the cares and evil which they meet 
 May nought at all their settled minds remove: 
 
 But seem, 'gainst common sense, to them most sweet, 
 As boasting in their martyrdom unmeet. 
 
 So all that ever yet I have endured 
 I count as nought, and tread down under feet ; 
 
 Since of my Love, at length I rest assured, 
 That to disloyalty she will not be allured ! 
 
 23 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 'Long were to tell, the travail and long toil 
 
 Through which this Shield of Love I late have won; 
 And purchased this peerless Beauty's spoil. 
 That harder may be ended, than begun ! 
 But since ye so desire ; your will be done ! 
 
 Then hark, ye gentle Knights and Ladies free ! 
 My hard mishaps that ye may learn to shun ! 
 
 For though sweet Love to conquer glorious be ; 
 Yet is the pain thereof much greater than the fee ! 
 
 ' What time the fame of this renowned prize 
 
 Flew first abroad, and all men's ears possest; 
 I, having Arms then taken, gan avise 
 To win me honour by some noble gest ; 
 And purchase me some place amongst the best. 
 
 I boldly thought (so young men's thoughts are bold !) 
 That this same brave emprise for me did rest ; 
 
 And that both Shield, and She whom I behold, 
 Might be my lucky lot ; sith all by lot we hold. 
 
 ' So on that hard Adventure forth I went ; 
 And to the place of peril shortly came. 
 That was a Temple fair and ancient, 
 
 Which of great mother VENUS bare the name ; 
 And far renowned through exceeding fame : 
 
 Much more than that which was in Paphos built, 
 Or that in Cyprus, both long since this same, 
 Though all the pillars of the one were gilt ; 
 And all the other's pavement were with ivory spilt 
 
 'And it was seated in an Island strong, 
 Abounding all with delices most rare ; 
 And walled by Nature 'gainst invaders' wrong, 
 24 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 That none mote have access, nor inward fare, 
 But by one way, that passage did prepare. 
 
 It was a Bridge, ybuilt in goodly wise, 
 With curious corbs and pendants graven fair ; 
 
 And, arched all with Porches, did arise 
 On stately pillars framed after the Doric guise. 
 
 'And for defence thereof, on th' other end 
 
 There reared was a Castle fair and strong, 
 That warded all which in, or out, did wend; 
 And flanked both the Bridge's sides along, 
 'Gainst all that would it fain to force, or wrong : 
 
 And therein wonned twenty valiant Knights, 
 All twenty tried in war's experience long ; 
 
 Whose office was, against all manner wights, 
 By all means, to maintain that Castle's ancient rights. 
 
 'Before that Castle was an open plain, 
 
 And in the midst thereof a Pillar placed, 
 On which this Shield, of many sought in vain, 
 THE SHIELD OF LOVE, whose guerdon me hath graced, 
 Was hanged on high, with golden ribbands laced : 
 
 And in the marble stone was written this, 
 With golden letters goodly well enchased, 
 
 BLESSED THE MAN THAT WELL CAN USE HIS BLISS ; 
 WHOSE EVER BE THE SHIELD, FAIR AMORET BE HIS ! 
 
 'Which when I read, my heart did inly [yjearn, 
 And pant with hope of that Adventure's hap ; 
 Ne stayed further news thereof to learn, 
 
 But, with my spear, upon the Shield did rap, 
 That all the Castle ringed with the clap ! 
 
 Straight forth issued a Knight, all armed to proof, 
 
 2 5 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 And bravely mounted to his most mishap ; 
 
 Who, staying naught to question from aloof. 
 Ran fierce at me, that fire glanced from his horse's hoof. 
 
 ' Whom boldly I encountered, as I could ; 
 
 And, by good fortune, shortly him unseated. 
 Kftsoons outsprung two more of equal mould ; 
 But I them both with equal hap defeated. 
 So all the twenty I likewise entreated ; 
 
 And left them groaning there upon the plain. 
 Then pressing to the Pillar, I repeated 
 
 The read thereof, for guerdon of my pain ; 
 And taking down the Shield, with me did it retain. 
 
 ' So forth, without impediment, I past 
 
 Till to the Bridge's Utter Gate I came ; 
 The which I found sure locked and chained fast. 
 I knocked ; but no man answered me by name. 
 I called ; but no man answered to my claim. 
 
 Yet I persevered still to knock and call 
 Till, at the last, I spied, within the same, 
 
 Where one stood peeping through a crevice small ; 
 To whom I called aloud, half angry therewithal. 
 
 1 That was to weet, the Porter of the place ; 
 
 Unto whose trust the charge thereof was lent. 
 His name was DOUBT, that had a double face; 
 Th' one forward looking, th' other backward bent, 
 Therein resembling JANUS ancient, 
 
 Which hath in charge the Ingate of the Year : 
 And evermore his eyes about him went, 
 As if some proved peril he did fear ; 
 Or did misdoubt some ill, whose cause did not appear. 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 'On th' one side, he: on th' other, sat DELAY 
 Behind the Gate, that none her might espy. 
 Whose manner was, all passengers to stay, 
 And entertain with her occasions sly ; 
 Through which, some lost great hope unheedily, 
 
 Which never they recover might again. 
 And others, quite excluded forth, did lie 
 
 Long languishing there, in unpitied pain ; 
 And seeking often entrance afterwards in vain. 
 
 ' Me when as he had privily espied, 
 
 Bearing the Shield which I had conquered late ; 
 He kenned it straight, and to me opened wide : 
 So in I passed, and straight he closed the Gate. 
 But, being in, DELAY, in close await, 
 
 Caught hold on me, and thought my steps to stay 
 Feigning full many a fond excuse to prate, 
 
 And time to steal, the treasure of Man's day ; 
 Whose smallest minute lost, no riches render may ! 
 
 'But, by no means, my way I would forslow, 
 For aught that ever she could do, or say! 
 But, from my lofty steed dismounting low, 
 Passed forth on foot : beholding all the way 
 The goodly works, and stones of rich assay 
 
 Cast into sundry shapes by wondrous skill, 
 That like on earth nowhere I reckon may ; 
 
 And, underneath, the river rolling still 
 With murmur soft, that seemed to serve the workman's will. 
 
 4 Thence forth I passed to the Second Gate, 
 
 The Gate of Good Desert, whose goodly pride 
 And costly frame were long here to relate. 
 
 27 
 
I id in u nd Spenser. 
 
 The same to all stood always open wide : 
 lUit in the Porch did evermore abide 
 
 A hideous Giant, dreadful to behold, 
 That stopped the entrance with his spacious stride ; 
 
 And with the terror of his countenance bold 
 Full many did affray, that else fain enter would. 
 
 1 His name was DANGER, dreaded over all ; 
 
 Who, day and night, did watch and duly ward 
 From fearful cowards entrance to forestall ; 
 And faint-heart fools, whom show of peril hard 
 Could terrify from Fortune's fair award. 
 
 For, oftentimes, faint hearts, at first espial 
 Of his grim face, were from approaching scared. 
 
 Unworthy they of grace, whom one denial 
 Excludes from fairest hope, withouten further trial ! 
 
 'Yet many doughty warriors, often tried 
 In greater perils to be stout and bold, 
 Durst not the sternness of his look abide : 
 
 But, soon as they his countenance did behold, 
 Began to faint, and feel their courage cold. 
 Again, some others that, in hard assays, 
 Were cowards known, and little count did hold, 
 
 Either through gifts, or guile, or such-like ways, 
 Crept in, by stooping low, or stealing of the keys. 
 
 ' But I (though meanest man of many moe ; 
 
 Yet, much disdaining unto him to lout, 
 Or creep between his legs, so in to go) 
 
 Resolved him to assault, with manhood stout ; 
 And either beat him in, or drive him out ! 
 
 Eftsoons, advancing that enchanted Shield, 
 28 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 With all my might, I gan to lay about ! 
 
 Which when he saw, the glave which he did wield 
 He gan forthwith t' avale: and way unto me yield. 
 
 'So, as I entered, I did backward look, 
 
 For fear of harm that might lie hidden there, 
 And lo ! his hind parts, whereof heed I took, 
 Much more deformed fearful ugly were, 
 Than all his former parts did earst appear. 
 
 For Hatred, Murder, Treason, and Despite, 
 With many moe, lay in ambushment there, 
 
 Awaiting to entrap the wareless wight, 
 Which did not them prevent with vigilant foresight. 
 
 'Thus, having passed all peril, I was come 
 
 Within the compass of that Island's space, 
 The which did seem, unto my simple doom, 
 The only pleasant and delightful place 
 That ever trodden was of footing's trace. 
 For all that Nature, by her mother-wit, 
 Could frame in earth, and form of substance base. 
 
 Was there: and all that Nature did omit, 
 Art, playing second Nature's part, supplied it. 
 
 ' No tree, that is of count, in greenwood grows, 
 
 From lowest juniper to cedar tall ; 
 No flower in field, that dainty odour throws, 
 And decks his branch with blossoms over all ; 
 But there was planted, or grew natural : 
 
 Nor sense of Man so coy and curious nice, 
 But there mote find to please itself withal. 
 
 Nor heart could wish for any quaint device, 
 But there it present was ; and did frail sense entice. 
 
 29 
 
I : .i1ninnd Speuser. 
 
 1 In such luxurious plenty of all pleasure, 
 It seemed a second Paradise to guess ! 
 So lavishly enriched with Nature's treasure, 
 That if the happy souls, which do possess 
 Th' Elysian Fields and live in lasting blesse, 
 Should happen this, with living eye to see ; 
 They soon would loathe their lesser happiness, 
 
 And wish to life returned again to be, 
 That in this joyous place, they mote have joyance free. 
 
 ' Fresh shadows, fit to shroud from sunny ray ; 
 
 Fair lawns, to take the sun, in season due ; 
 Sweet springs, in which a thousand Nymphs did play; 
 Soft-rumbling brooks, that gentle slumber drew ; 
 High-reared mounts, the lands about to view ; 
 
 Low-looking dales, disloigned from common gaze ; 
 Delightful bowers, to solace Lovers true ; 
 
 False labyrinths, fond runners' eyes to daze: 
 All which, by Nature made, did Nature's self amaze. 
 
 'And all without were walks and alleys dight 
 
 With divers trees enranged in even ranks ; 
 And here and there were pleasant arbours pight, 
 And shady seats, and sundry flow' ring banks, 
 To sit, and rest the walkers' weary shanks. 
 
 And therein thousand pairs of Lovers walked, 
 Praising their God ; and yielding him great thanks : 
 
 Ne ever aught but of their true loves talked ; 
 Nc ever for rebuke, or blame, of any balked. 
 
 'All these together, by themselves did sport 
 
 Their spotless pleasures, and sweet love's content 
 But, far away from these, another sort 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Of Lovers linked in true hearts' consent 
 Which loved not as these, for like intent ; 
 
 But on chaste virtue grounded their desire, 
 Far from all fraud, or feigned blandishment ; 
 
 Which in their spirits' kindling zealous fire, 
 Brave thoughts and noble deeds did evermore aspire. 
 
 'Such were great HERCULES, and HYLAS dear; 
 
 True JONATHAN, and DAVID trusty tried ; 
 Stout THESEUS, and PIRITHOUS his fere ; 
 PYLADES, and ORESTES by his side ; 
 Mild TlTUS, and GESIPPUS without pride ; 
 
 DAMON, and PYTHIAS, whom death could not sever : 
 All these, and all that ever had been tied 
 
 In bands of friendship, there did live for ever ! 
 Whose lives although decayed ; yet loves decayed never ! 
 
 'Which when as I, that never tasted bliss 
 
 Nor happy hour, beheld with gazeful eye, 
 I thought there was none other heaven than this ; 
 And gan their endless happiness envy! 
 That, being free from fear and jealousy, 
 
 Might frankly there, their love's desire possess : 
 Whilst I, through pains and per'lous jeopardy, 
 Was forced to seek my life's dear Patroness ! 
 Much dearer be the things which come through hard distress ! 
 
 'Yet all those sights, and all that else I saw, 
 
 Might not my steps withhold ; but that forthright 
 
 Unto that purposed place I did me draw, 
 
 Where as my Love was lodged day and night. 
 The Temple of great VENUS, that is hight 
 
 The Queen of Beauty, and of LOVE the mother, 
 
r.dnntml Spenser. 
 
 There worshipped of every living wight ; 
 
 Whose goodly workmanship far passed all other 
 That ever were on earth ; all were they set together. 
 
 ' Not that same famous Temple of DIANE 
 Whose height, all Ephesus did oversee ; 
 And which all Asia sought with vows profane, 
 One of the World's Seven Wonders said to be, 
 Might match with this, by many a degree ! 
 
 Nor that, which that wise King of Jewry framed, 
 With endless cost, to be th' Almighty's see ! 
 
 Nor all that else, through all the world is named 
 To all the heathen Gods, might like to this be claimed ! 
 
 'I, much admiring that so goodly frame, 
 
 Unto the Porch approached, which open stood : 
 But therein sat an amiable Dame, 
 
 That seemed to be of very sober mood ; 
 
 And in her semblant shewed great womanhood. 
 
 Strange was her 'tire ! For on her head a crown 
 She wore, much like unto a Danish hood, 
 
 Powdered with pearl and stone ; and all her gown 
 Enwoven was with gold, that raught full low adown. 
 
 ' On either side of her, two young men stood, 
 
 Both strongly armed, as fearing one another : 
 Yet were they brethren both, of half the blood, 
 Begotten by two fathers of one mother, 
 Though of contrary natures, each to other. 
 
 The one of them hight LOVE ; the other, HATE. 
 HATE was the elder, LOVE, the younger, brother. 
 
 Yet was the younger stronger in his state 
 Than th' elder ; and him mastered still in all debate. 
 33 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 ' Nathless that Dame so well them tempered both, 
 
 That she them forced hand to join in hand: 
 Albe that HATRED was thereto full loth; 
 And turned his face away, as he did stand, 
 Unwilling to behold that lovely band. 
 
 Yet she was of such grace and virtuous might, 
 That her commandment he could not withstand ; 
 
 But bit his lip, for felonous despite, 
 And gnashed his iron tusks at that displeasing sight. 
 
 'CONCORD, she cleped was in common reede, 
 
 Mother of blessed Peace and Friendship true. 
 They both her twins, both born of heavenly seed, 
 And she herself likewise divinely grew ; 
 The which right well her works divine did shew. 
 
 For Strength, and Wealth, and Happiness she lends ; 
 And Strife, and War, and Anger does subdue. 
 Of little, much ; of foes, she maketh friends ; 
 And to afflicted minds, sweet rest and quiet sends. 
 
 By her, the heaven is in his course contained ; 
 And all the world, in state unmoved stands, 
 As their Almighty Maker first ordained, 
 And bound them with inviolable bands : 
 Else would the waters overflow the lands, 
 
 And fire devour the air, and Hell them quite ; 
 But that she holds them with her blessed hands. 
 
 She is the Nurse of Pleasure and Delight ; 
 And unto VENUS' grace, the gate doth open right. 
 
 By her, I, ent'ring, half dismayed was. 
 
 But she in gentle wise me entertained, 
 And 'twixt herself and LOVE did let me pass : 
 
 BRIT. ANTH III. D 33 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 But HATRED would my entrance have restrained, 
 And, with his club, me threatened to have brained ; 
 
 Had not the Lady, with her powerful speech ; 
 Him from his wicked will uneath refrained. 
 
 And th 1 ftther eke his malice did impeach, 
 Till I was throughly past the peril of his reach. 
 
 ' Into the inmost Temple thus I came ; 
 
 Which fuming all with frankincense I found, 
 And odours rising from the altars' flame. 
 Upon a hundred marble pillars round, 
 The roof up high was reared from the ground ; 
 
 All decked with crowns, and chains, and girlonds gay, 
 And thousand precious gifts, worth many a pound, 
 
 The which sad Lovers, for their vows did pay ; 
 And all the ground was strowed with flowers as fresh as May. 
 
 'A hundred altars round about were set, 
 
 All flaming with their sacrifices' fire ; 
 That, with the steam thereof, the Temple sweat ; 
 Which, rolled in clouds, to heaven did aspire, 
 And in them bore True Lovers' vows entire. 
 And eke a hundred brazen caldrons bright, 
 To bathe in joy and amorous desire ; 
 
 Every of which was to a Damsel hight, 
 For all the Priests were Damsels, in soft linen dight. 
 
 ' Right in the midst, the Goddess' self did stand 
 
 Upon an altar of some costly mass, 
 Whose substance was uneath to understand ; 
 
 For neither precious stone, nor dureful brass, 
 
 Nor shining gold, nor mould'ring clay it was ; 
 But much more rare and precious to esteem, 
 
 34 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Pure in aspect, and like to crystal glass ; 
 
 Yet glass was not, if one did rightly deem, 
 But being fair and brickie, likest glass did seem. 
 
 ' But it in shape and beauty did excel 
 
 All other Idols, which the heathen adore : 
 Far passing that which, by surpassing skill, 
 PHIDIAS did make in Paphos isle, of yore ; 
 With which, that wretched Greek, that life forlore, 
 
 Did fall in love ! Yet this much fairer shined, 
 But covered with a slender veil afore ; 
 
 And both her feet and legs together twined 
 Were with a snake, whose head and tail were fast combined. . . . 
 
 'And all about her neck and shoulders flew 
 
 A flock of little Loves, and Sports, and Joys, 
 With nimble wings of gold and purple hue : 
 
 Whose shapes seemed not like to terrestrial boys ; 
 But like to Angels playing heavenly toys, 
 
 The whilst their eldest brother was away. 
 CUPID, their eldest brother. He enjoys 
 
 The wide Kingdom of Love with lordly sway ; 
 And to his law compels all creatures to obey. 
 
 ' And all about her altar scattered lay 
 
 Great sorts of Lovers piteously complaining, 
 Some of their loss ; some of their love's delay ; 
 Some of their pride ; some, paragons' disdaining ; 
 Some fearing fraud ; some fraudulently feigning ; 
 
 As every one had cause of good, or ill. 
 Amongst the rest, some one, through love's constraining, 
 
 Tormented sore, could not contain it still ; 
 But thus brake forth, that all the Temple it did fill. 
 
 J>a 35 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 '"Great VENUS! Queen of Beauty and of Grace! 
 
 The Joy of Gods and men ! that under sky 
 Dost fairest shine, and most adorn thy place ; 
 That, with thy smiling look, dost pacify 
 The raging seas, and mak'st the storms to fly ; 
 
 Thee, Goddess ! thee, the winds, the clouds, do fear ' 
 And when thou spread'st thy mantle forth on high, 
 
 The waters play, and pleasant lands appear, 
 And heavens laugh, and all the world shews joyous cheer. 
 
 ' " Then doth the daedale earth throw forth to thee, 
 
 Out of her fruitful lap, abundant flowers ; 
 And then all living wights, soon as they see 
 The Spring break forth out of his lusty bowers, 
 They all do learn to play the paramours. 
 
 First, do the merry birds, thy pretty Pages ! 
 Privily pricked with thy lustful powers, 
 
 Chirp loud to thee, out of their leafy cages ; 
 And thee, their mother, call, to cool their kindly rages. 
 
 "So all the world by thee at first was made, 
 
 And daily yet thou dost the same repair; 
 Ne aught on earth that merry is and glad, 
 Ne aught on earth that lovely is and fair, 
 But thou the same for pleasure didst prepare ! 
 
 Thou art the root of all that joyous is ! 
 Great God of men and women ! Queen of th' Air ! 
 
 Mother of Laughter ! and Well-spring of Bliss ! 
 O, grant that, of my Love, at last, I may not miss ! " 
 
 'So did he say. But I, with murmur soft, 
 
 That none might hear the sorrow of my heart, 
 
 Yet, inly groaning deep, and sighing oft, 
 36 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Besought her to grant ease unto my smart ; 
 And to my wound her gracious help impart ! 
 
 Whilst thus I spake, behold ! with happy eye, 
 I spied where, at the Idol's feet apart, 
 
 A bevy of fair Damsels close did lie ; 
 Waiting when as the Anthem should be sung on high. 
 
 'The first of them did seem of riper years 
 
 And graver countenance than all the rest : 
 Yet all the rest were eke her equal peers ; 
 Yet unto her obeyed all the best. 
 Her name was WOMANHOOD. That, she exprest 
 
 By her sad semblant and demeanour wise. 
 For steadfast still her eyes did fixed rest ; 
 Ne roved at random, after gazers' guise, 
 Whose luring baits ofttimes do heedless hearts entice. 
 
 ' And next to her sat goodly SHAMEFASTNESS ; 
 
 Ne ever durst her eyes from ground uprear, 
 Ne ever once did look up from her desse ; 
 As if some blame of evil she did fear, 
 That in her cheeks made roses oft appear. 
 
 And her against, sweet CHEERFULNESS was placed ; 
 Whose eyes, like twinkling stars in evening clear, 
 
 Were decked with smiles, that all sad humours chased, 
 And darted forth delights, the which her goodly graced. 
 
 'And next to her, sat sober MODESTY, 
 
 Holding her hand upon her gentle heart: 
 And her against sat comely COURTESY, 
 That unto every person knew her part : 
 And her before, were seated overthwart 
 Soft SILENCE and submisse OBEDIENCE. 
 
 37 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Both linked together, never to dispart ; 
 
 Both gifts of GOD, not gotten but from thence, 
 Both girlonds of his Saints, against their foes' offence. 
 
 ' Thus sat they all around in seemly rate, 
 
 And in the midst of them a goodly Maid, 
 Even in the lap of WOMANHOOD, there sat ; 
 The which was all in lily white arrayed 
 With silver streams amongst the linen strayed, 
 
 Like to the Morn, when first her shining face 
 Hath to the gloomy world itself bewrayed. 
 That same was fairest AMORET in place, 
 Shining with beauty's light, and heavenly virtue's grace. 
 
 'Whom soon as I beheld, my heart gan throb, 
 
 And wade in doubt, what best were to be done. 
 For Sacrilege, meseemed, the Church to rob : 
 And Folly seemed, to leave the thing undone, 
 Which, with so strong attempt, I had begun ! 
 
 Tho (shaking off all doubt and shamefast fear, 
 Which Lady's love, I heard, had never won, 
 
 'Mongst men of worth !) I to her stepped near ; 
 And by the lily hand, her laboured up to rear. 
 
 'Thereat, that foremost Matron me did blame 
 
 And sharp rebuke, for being overbold ; 
 Saying, " It was to Knight unseemly shame, 
 Upon a recluse Virgin to lay hold, 
 That unto VENUS' services was sold ! " 
 
 To whom I thus, " Nay ! but it fitteth best 
 For CUPID'S Man with VENUS' Maid to hold ! 
 
 For ill your Goddess' services are drest 
 By Virgins ; and her sacrifices let to rest ! " 
 38 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 'With that, my Shield I forth to her did show, 
 
 Which, all that while, I closely had concealed : 
 On which when CUPID with his killing bow 
 And cruel shafts emblazoned she beheld, 
 At sight thereof she was with terror quelled ; 
 
 And said no more. But I, which, all that while, 
 The pledge of faith, her hand engaged, held, 
 
 Like wary hind within the weedy soil, 
 For no intreaty, would forgo so glorious spoil! 
 
 'And evermore upon the Goddess' face 
 
 Mine eye was fixed, for fear of her offence. 
 Whom when I saw, with amiable grace, 
 To laugh at me, and favour my pretence ; 
 I was emboldened with more confidence : 
 
 And nought, for niceness, nor for envy, sparing, 
 In presence of them all, forth led her thence ; 
 All looking on, and, like astonished, staring, 
 Yet to lay hand on her, not one of all them daring. 
 
 ' She often prayed, and often me besought, 
 
 Sometime with tender tears, to let her go ! 
 Sometime with witching smiles ; but yet for nought 
 That ever she, to me could say, or do, 
 Could she her wished freedom from me woo : 
 
 But forth I led her through the Temple Gate, 
 By which I hardly passed, with much ado, 
 
 But that same Lady, which me friended late 
 In entrance, did me also friend in my retreat. 
 
 39 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 1 No less did DANGER threaten me with dread, 
 
 When as he saw me, maugre all his power, 
 That glorious spoil of Beauty with me lead, 
 Than Cerberus, when ORPHEUS did reco'er 
 His Leman from the Stygian Prince's bower: 
 
 But evermore my Shield did me defend 
 Against the storm of every dreadful stour. 
 
 Thus safely, with my Love, I thence did wend.' 
 So ended he his Tale ; where I this Canto end. 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 THE FOURTH ECLOGUE OF 
 THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR. 
 
 APRIL. 
 THENOT. HOBBINOL. 
 
 THE. TELL me, good HOBBINOL! what gars thee greet? 
 
 What ! hath some wolf thy tender lambs ytorn ? 
 Or is thy bagpipe broke ? that sounds so sweet ! 
 
 Or art thou of thy loved Lass forlorn ? 
 Or bene thine eyes attempered to the year, 
 
 Quenching the gasping furrows' thirst with rain? 
 Like April shower, so stream the trickling tears 
 
 Adown thy cheek, to quench thy thirsty pain. 
 
 HOB. Nor this, nor that, so much doth make me mourn; 
 But for the Lad, whom long I loved so dear, 
 Now loves a Lass, that all his love doth scorn. 
 He, plunged in pain, his tressed locks doth tear. 
 Shepherd's delights, he doth them all forswear. 
 His pleasant pipe, which made us merriment, 
 He wilfully hath broke ; and doth forbear 
 His wonted Songs, wherein he all outwent. 
 
 41 
 
I : .dmitnd Spenser. 
 
 THE. What is he for a Lad, you so lament? 
 
 Is Love such pinching pain to them that 
 
 prove ? 
 
 And hath he skill to make so excellent; 
 Yet hath so little skill to bridle Love ? 
 
 HOB. COLIN, thou ken'st ! the southern Shepherd's Boy, 
 Him LOVE hath wounded with a deadly dart. 
 
 Whilom on him was all my care and joy, 
 Forcing, with gifts, to win his wanton heart : 
 But now from me his madding mind is start, 
 
 And woos the Widow's daughter of the Glen. 
 So now fair ROSALIND hath bred his smart ! 
 
 So now his friend is changed for a frenne ! 
 
 THE. But if his Ditties bene so trimly dight ; 
 
 I pray thee, HOBBINOL ! record some one ! 
 The whiles our flocks do graze about in sight, 
 And we close shrouded in this shade alone. 
 
 . Contented, I ! Then will I sing his Lay 
 Of fair ELISA, Queen of Shepherds all ; 
 Which once he made, as by a spring he lay ; 
 And tuned it unto the waters' fall. 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 ' Ye dainty Nymphs ! that in this blessed brook 
 
 Do bathe your breast, 
 Forsake your wat'ry bowers, and hither look, 
 
 At my request! 
 
 And eke you Virgins ! that on Parnasse dwell, 
 Whence floweth Helicon, the learned Well, 
 
 Help me to blaze 
 
 Her worthy praise ; 
 Which, in her sex doth all excel ! 
 
 'Of fair ELISA be your silver Song! 
 
 That blessed wight ! 
 The flower of Virgins ! may she flourish long 
 
 In princely plight ! 
 
 For she is SYRINX' daughter, without spot ; 
 Which PAN, the Shepherds' God, of her begot. 
 
 So sprang her grace 
 
 Of heavenly race ! 
 No mortal blemish may her blot ! 
 
 ' See, where she sits upon the grassy green, 
 
 (O, seemly sight!) 
 Yclad in scarlet, like a Maiden Queen, 
 
 And ermines white ; 
 Upon her head a cremosin coronet, 
 With damask roses and claffadillies set, 
 
 Bay leaves between, 
 
 And primroses green 
 Embellish the sweet violet. 
 
 43 
 
Edmttnd Spenser. 
 
 'Tell me, have ye seen her angelic face, 
 
 Like PHCEBE fair ? 
 Her heavenly 'haviour, her princely grace, 
 
 Can you well compare ? 
 The red rose meddled with the white yfere 
 In either cheek depeincten lively cheer ! 
 
 Her modest eye, 
 
 Her majesty, 
 Where have you seen the like, but there ? 
 
 1 1 saw PHCEBUS thrust out his golden head, 
 
 Upon her to gaze ; 
 But when he saw how broad her beams did spread, 
 
 It did him amaze ! 
 
 He blushed to see another sun below ; 
 Ne durst again his fiery face out show ! 
 
 Let him, if he dare! 
 
 His brightness compare 
 With hers, to have the overthrow. 
 
 ' Shew thyself, CYNTHIA ! with thy silver rays, 
 
 And be not abashed! 
 When she the beams of her beauty displays ; 
 
 O, how art thou dashed ! 
 
 But I will not match her with LATONA'S seed ! 
 Such folly, great sorrow to NIOBE did breed! 
 
 Now she is a stone, 
 
 And makes daily moan ; 
 Warning all others to take heed. 
 44 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 ' PAN may be proud that ever he begot 
 
 Such a bellibone ; 
 And SYRINX rejoice, that ever was her lot 
 
 To bear such a one ! 
 
 Soon as my younglings cryen for the dam, 
 To her will I offer a milk-white lamb ! 
 
 She is my Goddess plain ; 
 
 And I, her Shepherd's Swain ! 
 Albe forswonk and forswat I am. 
 
 ' I see CALLIOPE speed her to the place, 
 
 Where my Goddess shines ; 
 And after her, the other Muses trace, 
 
 With their violins. 
 
 Bene they not bay branches, which they do bear ? 
 All for ELISA, in her hand to wear! 
 
 So sweetly they play 
 
 And sing, all the way, 
 That it a Heaven is to hear ! 
 
 ' Lo ! how finely the Graces can it foot 
 
 To the instrument ! 
 They dancen deftly, and singen soot, 
 
 In their merriment [even ? 
 
 Wants not a fourth Grace, to make the dance 
 Let that room to my Lady be given ! 
 
 She shall be a Grace, 
 
 To fill the fourth place ; 
 And reign with the rest in Heaven ! 
 
 45 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 'And whither runs this bevy of Ladies bright, 
 
 Ranged in a row ? 
 They bene all Ladies of the Lake benight, 
 
 That unto her go ! 
 
 CHLORIS, that is the chiefest Nymph of all, 
 Of olive branches bears a coronal. 
 
 Olives bene for peace, 
 
 When wars do surcease ; 
 Such for a Princess bene principal ! 
 
 'Ye Shepherds' daughters, that dwell on the Green, 
 
 Hie you there apace! 
 Let none come there, but that Virgins bene, 
 
 To adorn her Grace ! 
 
 And when you come where as she is in place, 
 See that your rudeness do not you disgrace ! 
 
 Bind your fillets fast ! 
 
 And gird in your waist, 
 For more fineness, with a tawdry lace ! 
 
 ' Bring hither the pink and purple columbine, 
 
 With gillyflowers ! 
 Bring coronations and sops-in-wine ; 
 
 Worn of paramours ! 
 
 Strow me the ground with daffadowndillies, 
 And cowslips, and kingcups, and loved lilies ! 
 
 The pretty paunce, 
 
 And the chevisaunce, 
 Shall match with the fair flower delice ! 
 46 
 
Edmund Spenser. 
 
 ' Now, rise up, ELISA ! decked as thou art, 
 
 In royal array! 
 And now, ye dainty damsels may depart 
 
 Each one her way ! 
 
 I fear, I have troubled your troops too long 
 Let Dame ELISA thank you, for her Song ! 
 
 And if you come hither, 
 
 When damsons I gather, 
 I will part them all you among ! ' 
 
 THE. And was this same Song of COLIN'S own making? 
 Ah ! foolish boy ! that is with Love yblent ! 
 Great pity is, he be in such taking ! 
 
 For naught caren that bene so lewdly bent. 
 
 HOB. Sicker, I hold him for a greater fon, 
 
 That loves the thing he cannot purchase ! 
 But let us homeward ! for night draweth on ; 
 And twinkling stars, the daylight hence chase. 
 
 THENOT'S EMBLEM. 
 O, guam te memorem Virgo! 
 
 EMBLEM. 
 O, Dea certe ! 
 
 47 
 
Nicholas Udall. 
 
 SONGS PROM THE FIRST ENGLISH 
 
 'ROISTER DOISTER: 
 
 ACTED BEFORE 1553. 
 MATTHEW MERRYGREEKE. 
 
 He entertth singing. 
 
 'As long liveth the merry man,' they say 
 'As doth the sorry man, and longer by a day; ' 
 Vet the grasshopper, for all his summer piping, 
 Starveth in winter with hungry griping. 
 Therefore another said saw doth men advise, 
 ' That they be together both merry and wise.' 
 
 This lesson must I practise, or else ere long 
 With me, MATTHEW MERRYGREEKE, it will be wrong ! 
 Indeed, men so call me ! For, by him that us bought! 
 Whatever chance betide, I can take no thought ! 
 Yet wisdom would that I did myself bethink 
 Where to be provided, this day, of meat and drink ! 
 For know ye, that, for all this merry note of mine, 
 H e might appose me now, that should ask, Where I dine ? 
 
 My living lieth here and there, of GOD's grace ! 
 Sometime with this good man, sometime in that place. 
 Sometime LEWIS LOIT'RER biddeth me come near. 
 Somewhiles WATKIN WASTER makes us good cheer. 
 Sometime DAVY DICEPLAYER, when he hath well cast, 
 48 
 
Nicholas UdalL 
 
 Keepeth revel rout, as long as it will last. 
 Sometime TOM TITIVILLE maketh us a feast. 
 Sometime with sir \_Rev^\ HUGH PYE I am a bidden guest. 
 Sometime at NICHOL NEVERTHRIVE'S I get a sop. 
 Sometime I am feasted with BRIAN BLINKINSOP. 
 Sometime I hang on HANKIN HODDYDODDY'S sleeve : 
 But, this day, on RALPH ROISTER DOISTER'S,DV his leave! 
 
 For, truly, of all men, he is my chief banker, 
 Both for meat and money ; and my chief shoetanker. 
 For soothe ROISTER DOISTER in that he doth say; 
 And require what ye will, ye shall have no ' Nay ! ' 
 
 But now of ROISTER DOISTER somewhat to express, 
 That ye may esteem him after his worthiness, 
 In these twenty towns, and seek them throughout, 
 Is not the like stock whereon to graff a lout ! 
 
 All the day long, is he facing and craking 
 Of his great acts in fighting and fraymaking : 
 But when ROISTER DOISTER is put to his proof; 
 To keep the Queen's peace is more for his behoof! 
 
 If any woman smile, or cast on him an eye ; 
 Up is he to the hard ears in love by-and-by ! 
 And, in all the hot haste, must she be his Wife ; 
 Else farewell, his good days ! and farewell, his life ! 
 Master RALPH ROISTER DOISTER is but dead and gone ; 
 Except she on him take some compassion ! 
 
 Then chief of counsel must be MATTHEW MERRYGREEKE! 
 'What if I, for marriage to such a one seek?' 
 Then must I soothe it, whatever it is ! 
 For what he saith, or doth, cannot be amiss ! [son* ! 
 Hold up his ' Yea ! ' and ' Nay ! ' ; be his ' nowne white 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. 
 
Nicholas Udall. 
 
 Praise and rouse him well; and ye have his heart won! 
 For so well liketh he his own fond fashions ; 
 That he taketh pride of false commendations ! 
 
 But such sport have I with him, as I would not leese, 
 Though I should be bound to live with bread and cheese! 
 For exalt him ! and have him as ye lust indeed ; 
 Yea ! to hold his finger in a hole, for a need ! 
 I can, with a word, make him fain, or loth ! 
 I can, with as much, make him pleased, or wroth ! 
 I can, when I will, make him merry and glad ! 
 I can, when me lust, make him sorry and sad ! 
 I can set him in hope ; and eke in despair ! 
 I can make him speak rough, and make him speak fair ! 
 
 But I marvel I see him not, all this same day ! 
 I will seek him out ! But, lo ! he cometh this way ! 
 I have yond espied him sadly coming; 
 And in love, for twenty pound ! by his glumming ! 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 WHOSO to marry a minion Wife 
 Hath had good chance and hap, 
 
 Must love her and cherish her all his life; 
 And dandle her in his lap ! 
 
 If she will fare well, if she will go gay, 
 
 A good husband ever still, 
 Whatever she lust to do, or to say, 
 
 Must let her have her own will! 
 
 50 
 
Nicholas Udall. 
 
 About what affairs soever he go, 
 He must shew her all his mind ! 
 
 None of his counsel she may be kept free, 
 Else is he a man unkind ! 
 
 I MUN be married a Sunday ! 
 I mun be married a Sunday ! 
 Whosoever shall come that way, 
 I mun be married a Sunday! 
 
 ROISTER DOISTER is my name! 
 ROISTER DOISTER is my name ! 
 A lusty brute I am the same ! 
 I mun be married a Sunday ! &c. 
 
 CHRISTIAN CUSTANCE have I found ! 
 CHRISTIAN CUSTANCE have I found ! 
 A Widow worth a thousand pound ! 
 I mun be married a Sunday! &c. 
 
 CUSTANCE is as sweet as honey ! 
 CUSTANCE is as sweet as honey! 
 I, her lamb; and she, my coney! 
 I mun be married a Sunday ! &c. 
 
 When we shall make our Wedding Feast ; 
 When we shall make our Wedding Feast; 
 There shall be cheer for man and beast ! 
 I mun be married a Sunday ! &c. 
 
 E 2 51 
 
Nicholas Udall. 
 
 Placebo dilexi. 
 
 MASTER ROISTER DOISTER will straight go home and 
 
 die.... 
 Thus you see, To-day a man ; to-morrow, none ! 
 
 Yet, saving for a woman's extreme cruelty, 
 He might have lived yet a month, or two, or three ! 
 But in spite of CUSTANCE, which hath him wearied; 
 His Maship shall be worshipfully buried ! 
 And while some piece of his soul is yet him within, 
 Some part of his Funerals let us here begin ! 
 
 Dirige. He will go darkling to his grave ! 
 Neque lux, neque crux, nisi solum clink. 
 Never Gent'man so went toward Heaven, I think ! 
 
 Yet, Sirs! as ye will the bliss of Heaven win, 
 When he cometh to the grave, lay him softly in! 
 And all men take heed, by this one Gentleman, 
 How you set your love upon an unkind woman ! 
 For these women be all such mad peevish elves, 
 They will not be won, except it please themselves ! 
 But, in faith! CUSTANCE, if ever ye come in Hell; 
 Master ROISTER DOISTER shall serve you as well! 
 Good-night, ROGER, old knave ! Farewell, ROGER, old 
 
 knave ! 
 
 Good-night, ROGER, old knave ! knave ! knap ! 
 Nequando. Audivi vocem. Requiem czternam. 
 
 52 
 
John Heywood. 
 
 A PRAISE OF HIS LADY 
 
 [QUEEN MARY}. 
 
 GIVE place, you Ladies ! and be gone 
 Boast not yourselves at all ! 
 
 For here at hand approacheth one, 
 Whose face will stain you all ! 
 
 The virtue of her lively looks 
 Excels the precious stone ! 
 
 I wish to have none other books 
 To read, or look upon ! 
 
 In each of her two crystal eyes 
 
 Smileth a naked boy ! 
 It would you all in heart suffice 
 
 To see those lamps of joy ! 
 
 I think Nature hath lost the mould, 
 Where she her shape did take; 
 
 Or else I doubt if Nature could 
 So fair a creature make. 
 
 53 
 
Heywood. 
 
 She may be well compared 
 
 Unto the Phoenix kind ; 
 Whose like was never seen, or heard, 
 
 That any man can find. 
 
 In life, she is DIANA chaste; 
 
 In troth, PENELOPE : 
 In word and eke in deed steadfast. 
 
 4 What will you more ? ' we say. 
 
 If all the World were sought so far, 
 Who could find such a wight ? 
 
 Her beauty twinkleth like a star 
 Within the frosty night 
 
 Her rosial colour comes and goes 
 With such a comely grace, 
 
 More redier too than doth the rose, 
 Within her lively face. 
 
 At BACCHUS' feast none shall her meet, 
 
 Ne at no wanton play : 
 Nor gazing in an open street, 
 
 Nor gadding as a stray. 
 54 
 
John Heywood. 
 
 The modest mirth that she doth use 
 Is mixed with shamefastness. 
 
 All vice she doth wholly refuse ; 
 And hateth idleness ! 
 
 O, LORD ! it is a world to see 
 How Virtue can repair, 
 
 And deck in her such honesty ; 
 Whom Nature made so fair. 
 
 Truly, she doth as far exceed 
 Our women nowadays; 
 
 As doth the gillyflower, a weed ! 
 And more, a thousand ways ! 
 
 How might I do, to get a graff 
 
 Of this unspotted tree ! 
 For all the rest are plain but chaff; 
 
 Which seem good corn to be. 
 
 This gift alone I shall her give ! 
 
 When Death doth what he can, 
 Her honest fame shall ever live 
 
 Within the mouth of Man ! 
 
 55 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 A PRAISE OF MISTRESS RICE. 
 
 I HEARD when FAME, with thund'ring voice, did summon to appear 
 The chief of Nature's children, all that kind hath placed here, 
 To view what bruit by virtue got, their lives could justly crave, 
 And bade them shew, What praise, by truth, they worthy were to have ! 
 
 Wherewith I saw, how VENUS came, and put herself in place ; 
 And gave her Ladies leave at large to stand and plead their case. 
 Each one was called by name a row, in that Assembly there, 
 That hence are gone ; or here remains in Court, or otherwhere. 
 A solemn silence was proclaimed. The judges sat and heard 
 What Truth could tell, or Craft could feign, and who should be 
 preferred. 
 
 Then BEAUTY stepped before the Bar, whose breast and neck 
 
 were bare ; 
 
 With hair trussed up, and on her head a caul of gold she ware. 
 Thus CUPID'S thralls began to flock, whose hungry eyes did say, 
 That she had stained all the Dames that present were that day. 
 For ere she spake with whispering words, the press was filled through- 
 And FANCY forced common voice thereat to give a shout : [out ; 
 Which cried to FAME, ' Take forth thy trump ; and sound her praise 
 
 on high, 
 That glads the heart of every wight, that her beholds with eye ! ' 
 
 ' What stir and rule,' quod ORDER then, ' do these rude people 
 We hold her best, that shall deserve a praise for virtue's sake ! ' [make ! 
 
 This sentence was no sooner said, but BEAUTY therewith blushed. 
 The audience ceased with the same, and everything was hushed. 
 56 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Then FINENESS thought, by training talk, to win that BEAUTY lost ; 
 And whet her tongue with jolly words ; and spared for no cost. 
 Yet WANTONNESS could not abide ; but brake her tale in haste : 
 And peevish PRIDE, for peacock's plumes, would needs be highest 
 
 placed. 
 
 And therewithal came CURIOUSNESS, and carped out of frame. 
 The audience laughed to hear the strife, as they beheld the same. 
 
 Yet REASON soon appeased the bruit; her reverence made and done, 
 She purchased favour for to speak, and thus her tale begun. 
 
 ' O, happy judges ! call for her, for she deserves the same, 
 Where temperance governs Beauty's flowers ; and glory is not sought : 
 And shamefast meekness mast'reth pride, and virtue dwells in thought. 
 Bid her come forth, and show her face ! or else assent each one, 
 That True Report shall grave her name in gold, or marble stone ; 
 For all the World to read at will, what worthiness doth rest 
 In perfect pure unspotted life, which she hath here possest.' 
 
 Then SKILL rose up, and sought the press, to find, if that he might, 
 A person of such honest name, that men would praise of right. 
 This one I saw full sadly sit, and shrink herself aside ; 
 Whose sober looks did show what gifts her wifely grace did hide. 
 
 ' Lo ! here,' quod SKILL, 'good people all ! is LUCRECE left alive; 
 And she shall most accepted be, that least for praise did strive ! ' 
 
 No longer FAME could hold her peace ; but blew a blast so high, 
 That made an echo in the air, and sounding through the sky. 
 The voice was loud, and thus it said, ' Come, rise with happy days ! 
 Thy honest life hath won thee fame ; and crowned thee with praise ! ' 
 
 And when I heard my Mistress' name, I thrust amidst the throng, 
 And clapped my hands; and wished of GOD, that she might prosper 
 long ! 
 
 57 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 THE smoky sighs, the bitter tears, 
 
 That I, in vain, have wasted ; 
 The broken sleeps, the woe and fears 
 That long in me have lasted ; 
 The love and all I owe to thee ; 
 Here I renounce, and make me free ! 
 
 Which freedom I have by thy guilt, 
 
 And not by my deserving ; 
 Since so unconstantly thou wilt 
 Not love, but still be swerving; 
 
 To leave me oft, which was thine own, 
 Without cause Why, as shall be known ! 
 
 The fruits were fair, the which did grow 
 
 Within thy garden planted ; 
 The leaves were green of every bough, 
 And moisture nothing wanted : 
 Yet or the blossoms gan to fall, 
 The caterpillar wasted all ! 
 
 Thy body was the garden place, 
 And sugared words it beareth ; 
 The blossom all thy faith it was, 
 Which as the canker weareth ; 
 The caterpillar is the same 
 That hath won thee, and lost thy name! 
 SB 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 I mean thy Lover loved now 
 
 By thy pretended folly ; 
 
 Which will prove like, thou shalt find how ! 
 Unto a tree of holly : 
 
 That bark and berry bears always, 
 The one, birds feeds ; the other, slays ! 
 
 And right well, mightst thou have thy wish 
 
 Of thy Love new acquainted ; 
 For thou art like unto the dish 
 That ADRIANUS painted ; 
 
 Wherein were grapes portrayed so fair 
 That fowls, for food did there repair. 
 
 But I am like the beaten fowl, 
 That from the net escaped ; 
 And thou art like the ravening owl, 
 That, all the night, hath waked 
 For none intent, but to betray 
 The sleeping fowl before the day. 
 
 Thus hath thy love been unto me 
 
 As pleasant and commodious, 
 
 As was the fire made on the sea 
 
 By NAUPL'US' hate so odious; 
 
 Therewith to train the Greekish host 
 From Troy's return, where they were lost. 
 
 59 
 
Nicholas GriiuaJd. 
 
 A FUNERAL SONG, 
 
 UPON THE DECEASE OF ANNES HIS M OTHER. 
 
 YEA, and a good cause, why thus should I plain ! 
 For what is he can quietly sustain 
 So great a grief, with mouth as still as stone ! 
 My love! my life! of joy my jewel is gone! 
 
 This hearty zeal, if any wight disprove, 
 As woman's work, whom feeble mind doth move ; 
 He neither knows the mighty Nature's laws ; 
 Nor touching elders' deeds hath seen old saws! 
 
 MARTIUS, to vanquish Rome was set on fire; 
 But vanquished fell, at mother's boon, his ire. 
 Into Hesperian land SERTORIUS fled, 
 Of parent aye chief care had in his head. 
 Dear weight on shoulders Sicil brethren bore ; 
 While Etna's giant spouted flames full sore. 
 Not more of TYNDAR'S imps hath Sparta spoke, 
 Than Arge of charged necks with parents' yoke. 
 
 Nor only them thus did fore-time entreat; 
 Then was the Nurse also in honour great! 
 CAIET' the Phrygian, from amid fire flame 
 Rescued, who gave to Latin strands the name. 
 ACCA, in double sense LUPA ycleped, 
 To Roman Calendars a feast hath heaped. 
 His Capra, JOVE among the stars hath pight 
 In welkin clear, yet lo ! she shineth bright! 
 Hyades as gratefully Lyai did place ; 
 60 
 
Nicholas Grimald. 
 
 Who, in prime tide, supports the Bull's fair face. 
 
 And should I not express my inward woe ; 
 
 When you, most loving dam! so soon hence go ! . . . 
 
 Me brought to light, your tender arms sustained; 
 And with my lips your milky paps I strained. 
 You me embraced, in bosom soft you me 
 Cherished, as I your only child had be ! 
 Of issue fair, with numbers were you blest; 
 Yet I, the best beloved of all the rest ! 
 
 Good luck, certain fore-reading mothers have ; 
 And you of me a special judgement gave. 
 Then, when firm pace I fixed on the ground, 
 When tongue can cease to break the lisping sound, 
 You me, straightway, did to the Muses send, 
 Ne suffered long a loitering life to spend. 
 What gain the wool, what gain the wed, had brought, 
 It was his meed, that me there daily taught. 
 
 When with MINERVE I had acquaintance won, 
 And PHCEBUS seemed to love me as his son ; 
 Brownshold I bade, at parent's hest, farewell ; 
 And gladly there in Schools I gan to dwell, 
 Where Granta gives the Ladies nine such place, 
 That they rejoice to see their blissful case. 
 With joys at heart in this Parnasse I bode, 
 While, through his Signs, five times great TITAN glode ; 
 And twice as long by that fair Ford, where as 
 Swan-feeder Thames no further course can pass. 
 
 61 
 
Nicholas Grimald. 
 
 O, what desire had you therewhile of me ! 
 'Mid doubtful dreads, what joys were wont to be ! 
 Now linen clothes wrought with those fingers fine, 
 Now other things of yours, did you make mine! 
 Till your last threads gan CLOTHO to untwine, 
 And of your days, the date extreme assign. 
 
 Hearing the chance, your neighbours made much 
 
 moan, 
 
 A dearworth Dame ! they thought their comfort gone ! 
 Kinswomen wept! Your charge, the maidens, wept! 
 Your daughters wept, whom you so well had kept ! 
 But my good Sire gave, with soft words, relief; 
 And cloaks, with outward cheer, his inward grief: 
 Lest, by his care, your sickness should augment ; 
 And on his case your thoughtful heart be bent. 
 
 You, not forgetting yet a mother's mood, 
 When, at the door, dart-thirling Death there stood, 
 Did say, ' Adieu, dear Spouse ! My race is run ! 
 Whereso he be, I have left you a son ! ' 
 And ' NICHOLAS ' you named, and named again, 
 With other speech aspiring heavenly reign ; 
 When into air your sprit departed fled ; 
 And left the corpse acold in lukewarm bed. 
 
 62 
 
Nicholas Grimald. 
 
 Ah ! could you thus, dear mother ! leave us all ? 
 Now should you live that yet, before your fall 
 My Songs you might have sung, have heard my voice; 
 And in commodities of your own rejoice ! 
 My sisters, yet unwedded, who shall guide ! 
 With whose good lessons shall they be applied ! 
 
 Have, mother ! monuments of our sore smart ! 
 No costly tomb, areared with curious art; 
 Nor Mausolean mass hung in the air; 
 Nor lofty steeples, that will once appair : 
 But wailful Verse, and doleful Song, accept! 
 
 By Verse, the names of ancient peers be kept! 
 By Verse, lives HERCULES ! By Verse, ACHIL. ! 
 HECTOR, ENE, by Verse, be famous still ! 
 Such former years, such death hath chanced thee : 
 Closed with good end, good life is wont to be! 
 
 But now, my sacred parent ! fare you well ! 
 GOD shall cause us again together dwell, 
 What time this universal globe shall hear 
 Of the Last Trump the ringing voice : great fear 
 To some ; to such as you a heavenly cheer ! 
 Till then reposed, rest you in gentle sleep ! 
 While He, to whom you are bequeathed, you keep ! 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 THE SINGING PART WHO liveth so merry, in all this land, 
 [ = THE SOLO]. As doth the poor Widow that selleth sand ? 
 CHORUS. And ever she singeth, as I can guess, 
 'Will you buy any sand, Mistress?' 
 
 THE SINGING PART. The Broom-man maketh his living most 
 
 sweet, [street. 
 
 With carrying of brooms from street to 
 
 CHORUS. Who would desire a pleasanter thing [sing ! 
 
 Than, all the day long, to do nothing but 
 
 THE SINGING PART. The Chimney-sweeper, all the long day, 
 
 He singeth, and sweepeth the soot away. 
 
 CHORUS. Yet, when he comes home, although he 
 
 be weary, 
 With his sweet Wife, he maketh full merry ! 
 
 THE SINGING PART. The Cobbler, he sits cobbling till noon ; 
 
 And cobbleth his shoes till they be done. 
 
 CHORUS. Yet doth he not fear, and so doth say ; 
 
 For he knows his work will soon decay! 
 
 THE SINGING PART. The Merchant-man doth sail on the seas, 
 
 And lie on shipboard with little ease. 
 CHORUS. Always in doubt the rock is near, [cheer ? 
 How can he be merry, and make good 
 64 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 THE SINGING PART. The Husbandman, all day, goeth to plow ; 
 And when he comes home, he serveth 
 
 his sow. 
 
 CHORUS. He moileth and toileth, all the long year ; 
 
 How can he be merry, and make good 
 cheer ? 
 
 THE SINGING PART. The Serving-man waiteth from street to 
 
 street, 
 With blowing his nails, and beating his 
 
 feet: 
 
 CHORUS. And serveth for Forty Shillings a year, 
 
 That 'tis impossible to make good cheer. 
 
 THE SINGING PART. Who Hveth so merry, and maketh such 
 
 sport, 
 
 As those that be of the poorest sort? 
 CHORUS. The poorest sort, wheresoever they be, 
 
 They gather together by one, two, or three ! 
 And every man will spend his penny; 
 What makes such a shot, among a great 
 many! 
 
 BRIT. ANTH TTI. F 65 
 
William Birch. 
 
 A SONG 
 
 BETWEEN THE QUEEN'S MAJESTY 
 AND ENGLAND. 
 
 ENGLAND. Come over the born, BESSY ! Come over the born, 
 Sweet BESSY ! come over to me ! [BESSY ! 
 And I shall thee take ; and my dear Lady make, 
 Before all other that ever I see ! 
 
 BESSY. Methinks, I hear a voice ! at whom I do rejoice, 
 And answer thee now I shall ! [come away ; 
 
 Tell me, I say, What art thou, that biddest me 
 And so earnestly dost me call ? 
 
 E. I am thy Lover fair ! hath chose thee to mine heir, 
 
 And my name is Merry England ; 
 Therefore come away, and make no more delay ! 
 Sweet BESSY, give me thy hand ! 
 
 B. Here is my hand, my dear Lover, England ! 
 I am thine, both with mind and heart, 
 For ever to endure, thou mayst be sure ! 
 Until death us two depart. 
 
 E. Lady, this long space, have I loved thy Grace, 
 
 More than I durst well say ! 
 Hoping, at the last, when all storms were past, 
 
 For to see this joyful day. 
 66 
 
William Birch, 
 
 B. Yet, my Lover, England ! ye shall understand 
 
 How Fortune on me did lower ! 
 I was tumbled and tossed from pillar to post, 
 And prisoner in the Tower ! 
 
 E. Dear Lady ! we do know how that tyrants not a few 
 
 Went about for to seek thy blood ; 
 And, contrary to right, they did what they might, 
 That now bear two faces in one hood ! 
 
 B. Then was I carried to Woodstock, and kept close under lock, 
 
 That no man might with me speak ; 
 And, against all reason, they accused me of treason, 
 And 'ticeably they did me threat ! 
 
 E. O, my Lover fair ! my darling and mine heir ! 
 
 Full sore for thee I did lament ! 
 
 But no man durst speak, but they would him threat ; 
 And quickly make him repent ! 
 
 B. Then was I delivered their hands ; but was fain to put in 
 And good sureties for my forthcoming, [bands 
 Not from my house to depart, nor nowhere else to start ; 
 As though I had been away running ! 
 
 E. Why, dear Lady ! I trow those mad men did not know 
 
 That ye were daughter unto King HARRY, 
 And a Princess of birth, one of the noblest on earth, 
 And sister unto Queen MARY. 
 
 F 2 67 
 
William Birch. 
 
 B. Yes ! Yet I must forgive all such as do live, 
 
 If they will hereafter amend ! 
 
 And for those that are gone, GOD forgive them every one; 
 And his mercy on them extend ! 
 
 E. Yet, my Lover dear ! tell me now here, 
 
 For what cause had ye this punishment? 
 For the commons did not know, nor no man would then 
 The chief cause of your imprisonment. [shew, 
 
 B. No, nor they themselves, that would have decayed my 
 But only by power and abusion ! [wealth ; 
 
 They could not detect me ; but that they did suspect me, 
 That I was not of their religion. 
 
 E. O, cruel tyrants, and also monstrous giants, 
 
 That would such a sweet blossom devour ! 
 But the LORD, of his might, defended thee in right ; 
 And shortened their arm and power. 
 
 B. Yet, my Lover dear! mark me well here! 
 Though they were men of the Devil, 
 The Scripture plainly saith, All they that be of faith 
 Must needs do good against evil ! 
 
 E. O, sweet Virgin pure! Long may ye endure, 
 
 To reign over us in this land ! [LORD ! 
 
 For your works do accord, ye are the Handmaid of the 
 
 For he hath blessed you with his hand. 
 68 
 
William Birch, 
 
 B. My sweet realm ! be obedient to GOD's holy command- 
 And my proceedings embrace ! [ment ; 
 
 And for that that is abused, shall be better used ; 
 And that within short space ! 
 
 E. Dear Lady and Queen ! I trust it shall be seen, 
 
 Ye shall reign quietly without strife ; 
 And if any traitors there be, of any kind or degree, 
 I pray, GOD send them short life! 
 
 B. I trust all faithful hearts will play true subjects' parts ! 
 Knowing me their Queen, and true heir, by right ; 
 And that much the rather, for the love of my father, 
 That worthy Prince, King HENRY the Eighth ! 
 
 E. Therefore let us pray to GOD, both night and day, 
 
 Continually and never to cease, 
 
 That He will preserve your Grace, to reign over us long 
 In tranquillity, wealth, and peace ! [space 
 
 BOTH. 
 
 All honour, laud, and praise be to the LORD GOD 
 Who hath all Princes' hearts in his hands, [always ! 
 
 That, by his power and might, He may guide them aright 
 For the wealth of all Christian lands ! 
 
 Finis. 
 
 GOD save the Queen! 
 
 69 
 
Anonymous* 
 
 IK ever I marry, I'll marry a Maid! 
 
 To marry a Widow, I'm sore afraid! 
 
 For Maids they are simple, and never will grudge ! 
 
 But Widows full oft, as they say, know too much! 
 
 A Maid is so sweet, and so gentle of kind ; 
 
 That a Maid is the Wife I will choose to my mind ! 
 
 A Widow is froward, and never will yield ; 
 
 Or if such there be, you will meet them but seld ! 
 
 A Maid ne'er complaineth, do what so you will ; 
 But what you mean well, a Widow takes ill ! 
 A Widow will make you a drudge, and a slave ; 
 And, cost ne'er so much, she will ever go brave ! 
 
 A Maid is so modest, she seemeth a rose, 
 
 When first it beginneth the bud to unclose ; 
 
 But a Widow, full blown, full often deceives ; [leaves ! 
 
 And the next wind that bloweth, shakes down all her 
 
 The Widows be lovely, I never gainsay ; 
 But too well all their beauty they know to display : 
 But a Maid hath so great hidden beauty in store, 
 She can spare to a Widow ; yet never be poor ! 
 
 Then if ever I marry, give me a fresh Maid ! 
 
 If to marry with any I be not afraid. 
 
 But to marry with any, it asketh much care; 
 
 And some Bachelors hold, they are best as they are! 
 
 7 
 
Alexander Scott. 
 
 I WILL be plane, 
 And lufe affane ; 
 For as I mene, 
 
 So tak me ! 
 Gif I refrane 
 For wo, or pane, 
 Your lufe certane; 
 
 Forsaik me! 
 
 Gif trew report 
 To yow resort 
 Of my gud port; 
 
 So tak me ! 
 Gif I exort 
 In evil sort ; 
 Without confort 
 
 Forsaik me! 
 
 Gif diligens 
 
 In your presens 
 
 Schaw my pretens ; 
 
 So tak me ! 
 Gif negligens, 
 In my absens, 
 Schaw my offens; 
 
 Forsaik me ! 
 
Alexander Scott. 
 
 Your and no mo, 
 Quhair evir I go, 
 Gif I so do ; 
 
 So tak me ! 
 Gif I fle fro, 
 And dois not so ; 
 Evin as your fo, 
 
 Forsaik me! 
 
 Gif I do prufe 
 That I yow luf 
 Nixt GOD abufe; 
 
 So tak me! 
 Gif I remufe 
 Fra your behufe, 
 Without excuss; 
 
 Forsaik me! 
 
 Be land, or se, 
 Quhair evir I be, 
 As ye find me, 
 
 So tak me! 
 And gif I le 
 And from yow flee, 
 Ay quhill I de, 
 
 Forsaik me! 
 73 
 
Alexander Scott. 
 
 It is hot waist, 
 Mo wirdis to taist, 
 Ye haif my laist ; 
 
 So tak me! 
 Gif ye our cast, 
 My lyf is past! 
 Ewin at the last, 
 
 Forsaik me! 
 
 My Deir ! adew ! 
 Most clier of hew, 
 Now on me rew, 
 
 And so tak me! 
 Gif I persew, 
 And beis nocht trew ; 
 Cheiss ye ane new, 
 
 And forsaik me ! 
 
 73 
 
John Harington. 
 
 VERSES MADE ON ISABELLA MARKHAM, 
 WHEN I FIRST THOUGHT HER FAIR, AS SHE STOOD 
 AT THE PRINCESS'S WINDOW, IN GOODLY ATTIRE, 
 AND TALKED TO DIVERS IN THE COURT-YARD. 
 
 WHENCE comes my love ? O, heart, disclose ! 
 'T\vas from cheeks that shame the rose ! 
 From lips that spoil the ruby's praise ! 
 From eyes that mock the diamond's blaze ! 
 Whence comes my woe ? as freely own ! 
 Ah ! me ! 'twas from a heart like stone ! 
 
 The blushing cheek speaks modest mind. 
 The lips, befitting words most kind. 
 The eye doth tempt to love's desire ; 
 And seems to say, 'tis CUPID'S fire. 
 Yet all so fair, but speak my moan ; 
 Since nought doth say the heart of stone! 
 
 Why thus, my love, so kind bespeak 
 Sweet lip, sweet eye, sweet blushing cheek ; 
 Yet not a heart to save my pain ? 
 O, VENUS! take thy gifts again! 
 Make not so fair to cause our moan ; 
 Or make a heart that 's like our own ! 
 
 74 
 
. John Harington. 
 
 TO SWEET ISABELLA MARKHAM, 
 
 AFTERWARDS HIS WlFE. 
 
 MARVELLOUS be thy matchless gifts of mind; 
 
 And for thy shape, Eurythmia rightly grown ! 
 Reckless of praise, a praise rare in thy kind, 
 
 Great in desert, small in desire well known. 
 A mansion meet, where Chastity doth dwell. 
 
 Ripe in all good, of evil the seed unsown ; 
 Endued with thews that do the rest excel ; 
 
 Temp' ranee hath won, and Constancy doth hold ; 
 Wisdom hath taught that mildness mast'reth might. 
 
 I am unskilled the rest how to unfold. 
 Let envious eyes deem that, by exact sight 
 
 Of beauty, hue, and parts of price untold! 
 But yet I read thy look with reverent care : 
 Each wight is wise, that, warned, can beware! 
 
 75 
 
William Baldwin. 
 
 FROM 'A MIRROR FOR MAGISTRATES,' 1563. 
 
 Then said the Reader [ WILLIAM BALDWIN, the Editor], 
 ' The next here whom I find miserable, are King EDWARD'S 
 two sons cruelly murdered in the Tower of London.' 
 
 'Have you their tragedy?' 
 
 ' No, surely ! ' quod I. ' The Lord VAUX undertook to pen 
 it : but what he hath done therein, I am not certain ; and there- 
 fore I let it pass till I know farther. 
 
 ' I have here the Duke of BUCKINGHAM'S, King RICHARD'S 
 chief instrument, written by Master THOMAS SACKVILLE.' 
 
 ' Read it, we pray you ! ' said they. 
 
 1 With a good will ! ' quod I, ' but first you shall hear his 
 Preface, or Induction.' 
 
 ' Hath he made a Preface ? ' quod one. ' What meaneth he 
 thereby, seeing none other hath used the like order ? ' 
 
 'I will tell you the cause thereof,' quod I, 'which is this. 
 After that he understood that some of the [Privy] Council 
 [in 1555] would not suffer the book to be printed in such order 
 as we agreed and determined ; he purposed with himself to 
 have gotten, at my hands, all the tragedies \tragical stories in 
 verse} that were before the Duke of BUCKINGHAM'S, which he 
 would have preserved in one volume : and from that time back- 
 ward, even to the time of WILLIAM the Conqueror, he deter- 
 mined to continue and perfect all the story himself, in such 
 order, as LYDGATE, following BOCCHAS \Bocc ACCIO\, had 
 already used. And therefore to make a meet Induction into 
 the matter, he devised this poesy ; which, in my judgement. 
 is so well penned that I would not have any verse thereof left 
 out of our volume. Now that you know the cause and mean- 
 ing of his doing, you shall also hear what he hath done.' 
 76 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 His Induction beginneth thus : 
 
 THE wrathful Winter, 'preaching on apace, 
 
 With blust'ring blasts had all ybared the treen : 
 And old SATURNUS, with his frosty face, 
 
 With chilling cold had pierced the tender green, 
 The mantles rent, wherein enwrapped been 
 
 The gladsome groves that now lay overthrown, 
 The tapets torn, and every bloom down blown. 
 
 The soil, that earst so seemly was to seen. 
 
 Was all despoiled of her beauty's hue ; 
 And soot fresh flowers, wherewith the Summer's Queen 
 Had clad the earth, now BOREAS' blasts down blew : 
 And small fowls flocking, in their song did rue 
 The Winter's wrath, wherewith each thing defaced 
 In woeful wise bewailed the Summer past. 
 
 Hawthorn had lost his motley livery. 
 
 The naked twigs were shivering all for cold, 
 And dropping down the tears abundantly. 
 
 Each thing, methought, with weeping eye me told 
 The cruel season, bidding me withhold 
 Myself within ; for I was gotten out 
 Into the fields, where as I walked about. 
 
 When, lo ! the night, with misty mantles spread, 
 
 Gan dark the day, and dim the azure skies; 
 And VENUS in her message HERMES sped 
 To bloody MARS, to will him not to rise, 
 While she herself approached in speedy wise : 
 And Virgo, hiding her disdainful breast, 
 With THETIS now had laid her down to rest. 
 
 77 
 
Thomas Sackvillc, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Whiles Scorpio, dreading Sagittarius' dart, 
 
 Whose bow pressed bent in sight, the string had slipped, 
 Down slid into the ocean flood apart. 
 
 The Bear that in the Irish seas had dipped 
 His grisly feet, with speed from thence he whipped: 
 For THETIS, hasting from the Virgin's bed, 
 Pursued the Bear; that, ere she came, had fled. 
 
 And PHAETON now near reaching to his race, 
 
 With glist'ring beams, gold streaming where they bent, 
 Was pressed to enter in his resting-place. 
 Erythius, that in the cart first went, 
 Had, even now, attained his journey's stent ; 
 And, fast declining, hid away his head, 
 While TITAN couched him in his purple bed. 
 
 And pale CYNTHIA, with her borrowed light, 
 
 Beginning to supply her brother's place, 
 Was past the noonstead six degrees in sight, 
 When sparkling stars amid the heaven's face, 
 With twinkling light, shone on the earth apace ; 
 That, while they brought about the nightes chair, 
 The dark had dimmed the day ere I was 'ware. 
 
 And sorrowing I, to see the Summer flowers, 
 
 The lively green, the lusty leas, forlorn ; 
 The sturdy trees so shattered with the showers, 
 The fields so fade, that flourished so beforne : 
 It taught me well, all earthly things be born 
 To die the death ! For nought long time may last ! 
 The Summer's beauty yields to Winter's blast! 
 78 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Then looking upward to the heaven's learns, 
 
 With night's stars thick powdered everywhere; 
 Which erst so glistened with the golden streams 
 
 That cheerful PHCEBUS spread down from his Sphere 
 Beholding dark oppressing day so near, 
 The sudden sight reduced to my mind 
 The sundry changes that in earth we find. 
 
 That (musing on this worldly wealth in thought ; 
 Which comes and goes more faster than we see 
 The flickering flame that with the fire is wrought) 
 My busy mind presented unto me 
 Such Fall of Peers as in this realm had be ; 
 
 That oft I wished some would their woes descrive, 
 To warn the rest, whom Fortune left alive. 
 
 And straight forth stalking with redoubled pace, 
 
 For that I saw the night drew on so fast ; 
 In black all clad, there fell before my face 
 A piteous wight, whom woe had all forwaste. 
 Forth from her eyen the crystal tears outbrast ; 
 And, sighing sore, her hands she wrung and fold, 
 Tare all her hair, that ruth was to behold 1 
 
 Her body small, forwithered, and forspent, 
 
 As is the stalk that Summer's drought opprest ; 
 Her welked face with woeful tears besprent ; 
 Her colour pale, and (as it seemed her best) 
 In woe and plaint reposed was her rest. 
 
 And as the stone that drops of water wears, 
 So dented were her cheeks with fall of tears. 
 
 79 
 
Tito tit as Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Her eyes swollen with flowing streams afloat, 
 
 Wherewith her looks thrown up full piteously ; 
 Her forceless hands together oft she smote ; 
 With doleful shrikes, that echoed in the sky: 
 Whose plaint such sighs did strait accompany, 
 That, in my doom, was never man did see 
 A wight by half so woe-begone as she ! 
 
 I stood aghast, beholding all her plight, 
 
 'Tween dread and dolour so distrained in heart, 
 That, while my hairs upstarted with the sight, 
 The tears out streamed, for sorrow of her smart. 
 But when I saw no end that could apart 
 
 The deadly dewle, which she so sore did make ; 
 With doleful voice then thus to her I spake. 
 
 ' Unwrap thy woes, whatever wight thou be ! 
 
 And stint betime to spill thyself with plaint ! 
 Tell, What thou art? and Whence? For well I see 
 Thou canst not dure, with sorrow thus attaint ! ' 
 And with that word of sorrow, all forfaint 
 She looked up, and, prostrate as she lay, 
 With piteous sound, lo! thus she gan to say. 
 
 ' Alas ! I, wretch ! whom thus thou seest distrained 
 
 With wasting woes, that never shall aslake! 
 SORROW, I am ! in endless torments pained 
 Among the Furies in the Infernal Lake : 
 Where PLUTO, God of Hell so grisly black, 
 
 Doth hold his throne, and Letheus' deadly taste 
 Doth 'reave remembrance of each thing forepast. 
 80 
 
Thomas Sackmlle, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 'Whence come I am, the dreary destiny 
 
 And luckless lot for to bemoan of those 
 Whom FORTUNE, in this Maze of Misery 
 
 Of wretched Chance, most woeful Mirrors chose ; 
 That, when thou seest how lightly they did lose 
 
 Their pomp, their power, and that they thought most sure 
 Thou mayst soon deem no earthy joy may dure ! ' 
 
 Whose rueful voice no sooner had outbrayed 
 
 Those woeful words, wherewith she sorrowed so, 
 But out, alas! she shright, and never stayed; 
 Fell down, and all-to-dashed herself for woe. 
 The cold pale dread my limbs gan overgo, 
 And I so sorrowed at her sorrows eft, 
 That, what with grief and fear, my wits were reft. 
 
 I stretched myself, and strait my heart revives, 
 
 That dread and dolour erst did so appal ; 
 Like him that with the fervent fever strives, 
 
 When sickness seeks his castle, Health, to scale: 
 With gathered sp'rits, so forced I fear to avale ; 
 And rearing her, with anguish all fordone, 
 My sp'rits returned, and then I thus begun. 
 
 ' O, SORROW ! alas ! sith SORROW is thy name ! 
 
 And that to thee, this drear doth well pertain; 
 In vain, it were to seek to cease the same ! 
 But as a man, himself with sorrow slain, 
 So I, alas ! do comfort thee in pain ! 
 That here in sorrow art forsunk so deep 
 That, at thy sight, I can but sigh and weep ! ' 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. G 8 1 
 
7 7/0 n i as Sackvillc, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 I had no sooner spoken of a stike ; 
 
 Hut that the storm so rumbled in her breast, 
 As AEOLUS could never roar the like ! 
 
 And showers down rained from her eyen so fast 
 That all bedreynt the place! till, at the last, 
 Well eased they the dolour of her mind ; 
 As rage of rain doth swage the stormy wind. 
 
 For forth she paced in her fearful tale. 
 
 ' Come ! come ' quod she, ' and see what I shall show ! 
 Come, hear the plaining and the bitter bale 
 Of worthy men, by Fortune's overthrow. 
 Come thou, and see them ruing all in row. 
 
 They were but shades that erst in mind thou rolled ! 
 Come ! come with me ! thine eyes shall them behold ! ' 
 
 What could these words but make me more aghast! 
 
 To hear her tell, whereon I mused whilere. 
 So was I mazed therewith, till, at the last, 
 Musing upon her words, and what they were, 
 All suddenly well lessened was my fear; 
 For to my mind returned, how she telled 
 Both what she was, and where her wun she held. 
 
 Whereby I knew, that she a Goddess was ; 
 
 And therewithal resorted to my mind 
 My thought, that late presented me the Glass 
 Of brittle state, of cares that here we find, 
 Of thousand woes to silly men assigned ; 
 
 And how she now bid me come and behold, 
 To see with eye, that erst in thought I rolled. 
 82 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Flat down I fell ; and, with all reverence, 
 
 Adored her : perceiving now that she, 
 A Goddess sent by godly Providence, 
 
 In earthly shape thus showed herself to me, 
 To wail and rue this world's uncertainty ; 
 
 And while I honoured thus her Godhead's might ; 
 With plaining voice, these words to me she shright. 
 
 ' I shall thee guide first to the Grisly Lake ; 
 
 And thence unto the blissful Place of Rest ! 
 Where thou shalt see and hear the plaint they make, 
 That whilom here bare swing among the best. 
 This shalt thou see ! But great is the unrest 
 That thou must bide, before thou canst attain 
 Unto the dreadful place where these remain.' 
 
 And with these words, as I upraised stood, 
 
 And gan to follow her, that straight forth paced ; 
 Ere I was 'ware, into a desert wood 
 
 We now were come ; where, hand in hand embraced, 
 She led the way ; and through the thick so traced 
 As, but I had been guided by her might, 
 It was no way for any mortal wight ! 
 
 But, lo ! while, thus amid the desert dark, 
 
 We passed on with steps and pace unmeet, 
 A rumbling roar, confused with howl and bark 
 Of dogs, shook all the ground under our feet ; 
 And struck the din within our ears so deep 
 As, half distraught, unto the ground I fell. 
 Besought return, and not to visit Hell ! 
 
 G 2 6 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 But she, forthwith uplifting me apace, 
 
 Removed my dread ; and, with a steadfast mind, 
 Hade me come on, for here was now the place ! 
 The place where we our travel's end should find ! 
 Wherewith, I arose ; and to the place assigned 
 
 Astoined I stalked; when straight we approached near 
 The doleful place, that you will dread to hear. 
 
 A hideous hole, all vast, withouten shape, 
 
 Of endless depth, o'erwhelmed with ragged stone, 
 With ugly mouth and grisly jaws doth gape, 
 And to our sight confounds itself in one. 
 Here entered we, and, yeding forth, anon 
 A horrible loathly Lake we might discern, 
 As black as pitch, that cleped is Avcrne. 
 
 A deadly gulf where nought but rubbish grows, 
 
 With foul black swelth, in thickened lumps that lies ; 
 Which up in the air such stinking vapours throws 
 That over there may fly no fowl but dies, 
 Choked with the pest'lent savours that arise. 
 
 Hither we come ; whence forth we still did pace 
 In dreadful fear, amid the dreadful place. 
 
 And, first, within the Porch and Jaws of Hell 
 
 Sat deep REMORSE OF CONSCIENCE, all besprent 
 With tears ; and to herself oft would she tell 
 Her wretchedness ; and, cursing, never stent 
 To sob and sigh ; but ever thus lament 
 
 With thoughtful care, as she that all in vain 
 Would wear and waste continually in pain. 
 84 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Her eyes unsteadfast, rolling here and there, 
 
 Whirled on each place, as place that vengeance brought, 
 So was her mind continually in fear, 
 
 Tossed and tormented with the tedious thought 
 Of those detested crimes which she had wrought. 
 With dreadful cheer, and looks thrown to the sky, 
 Wishing for death ; and yet she could not die ! 
 
 Next, saw we DREAD, all trembling how he shook, 
 
 With foot uncertain proffered here and there, 
 Benumbed of speech ; and with a ghastly look 
 Searched every place, all pale and dead for fear. 
 His cap borne up with staring of his hair, 
 
 Stoined and amazed at his own shade, for dread ; 
 And fearing greater dangers than was need. 
 
 And next, within the Entry of this Lake, 
 
 Sat fell REVENGE, gnashing her teeth for ire, 
 Devising means how she may vengeance take, 
 Never in rest, till she have her desire ; 
 But frets within so far forth with the fire 
 Of wreaking flames, that now determines she 
 To die by death ; or venged by death to be ! 
 
 When fell REVENGE, with bloody foul pretence, 
 
 Had showed herself, as next in order set, 
 With trembling limbs we softly parted thence, 
 Till in our eyes another sight we met ; 
 When fro my heart a sigh forthwith I fet, 
 Ruing, alas ! upon the woeful plight 
 Of MISERY, that next approached in sight. 
 
Thomas Sackvillc, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 His face was lean, and some deal pined away; 
 
 And eke his hands consumed to the bone ; 
 But what his body was, I cannot say, 
 For on his carcase raiment had he none 
 Save clouts and patches pieced one by one. 
 
 With staff in hand, and scrip on shoulders cast, 
 His chief defence against the winter's blast. 
 
 His food, for most, was wild fruits of the tree, 
 
 Unless, sometime some crumbs fell to his share ; 
 Which, in his wallet long, God wot ! kept he, 
 As on the which full daint'ly would he fare. 
 His drink, the running stream ; his cup, the bare 
 Of his palm closed ; his bed, the hard cold ground, 
 To this poor life was MISERY y bound. 
 
 Whose wretched state when we had well beheld 
 
 With tender ruth on him, and on his feres, 
 In thoughtful cares forth then our pace we held ; 
 And, by-and-by, another Shape appears 
 Of greedy CARE, still brushing up the breres, 
 His knuckles knobbed, his flesh deep dented in, 
 With tawed hands, and hard ytanned skin. 
 
 The morrow gray no sooner hath begun 
 
 To spread his light, even peeping in our eyes, 
 When he is up, and to his work yrun ! 
 
 But let the night's black misty mantles rise, 
 And with foul dark never so much disguise 
 The fair bright day ; yet ceaseth he no while ! 
 But hath his candles to prolong his toil. 
 86 
 
Thomas Sackmlle, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 By him, lay heavy SLEEP, the cousin of DEATH, 
 
 Flat on the ground, and still as any stone, 
 A very corpse, save yielding forth a breath ! 
 
 Small keep took he, whom FORTUNE frowned on ; 
 Or whom she lifted up into the throne 
 Of high renown ; but as a living death, 
 So dead-alive, of life he drew the breath! 
 
 The body's rest, the quiet of the heart, 
 
 The travail's ease, the still night's fere was he ; 
 And of our life in earth the better part. 
 'Reaver of sight ; and yet in whom we see 
 Things oft that 'tide, and oft that never be ! 
 Without respect, esteeming equally 
 King CRCESUS' pomp and IRUS' poverty. 
 
 And, next in order, sad OLD AGE we found. 
 
 His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind, 
 With drooping cheer, still poring on the ground, 
 As on the place where Nature him assigned 
 To rest, when that the Sisters had untwined 
 His vital thread ; and ended, with their knife, 
 The fleeting course of fast declining life. 
 
 There heard we him, with broken and hollow plaint, 
 
 Rue with himself his end approaching fast ; 
 And, all for nought, his wretched mind torment 
 With sweet remembrance of his pleasures past, 
 And fresh delights of lusty Youth forwaste: 
 
 Recounting which, how would he sob and shrike! 
 And to be young again, of JOVE beseech. 
 
 87 
 
Thomas Sac faille, Rarl of Dorset. 
 
 But and the cruel Fates so fixed be 
 
 That time forepast cannot return again ; 
 This one request of JOVE yet prayed he ! 
 
 That, in such withered plight and wretched pain, 
 As ELD, accompanied with his loathsome Train, 
 Had brought on him, all were it woe and grief, 
 He might a while yet linger forth his life ; 
 
 And not so soon descend into the pit ; 
 
 Where DEATH, when he the mortal corpse hath slain, 
 With retchless hand, in grave doth cover it! 
 Thereafter never to enjoy again 
 The gladsome light ; but in the ground plain, 
 In depth of darkness, waste and wear to nought, 
 As he had never into the world been brought. 
 
 But who had seen him sobbing, how he stood 
 
 Unto himself, and how he would bemoan 
 His youth forepast ; as though it wrought him good 
 To talk of youth, all were his youth foregone : 
 He would have mused, and marvelled much whereon 
 This wretched AGE should life desire so fain ; 
 And knows full well, his life doth but length his pain ! 
 
 Crook-backed he was, tooth-shaken, and blear-eyed ; 
 
 Went on three feet, and sometime crept on four 
 With old lame bones, that rattled by his side ; 
 His scalp all pilled, and he, with eld forlore. 
 His withered fist still knocking at DEATH'S door: 
 Fumbling and drivelling as he draws his breath, 
 For brief, the shape and messenger of DEATH. 
 88 
 
Thomas Sackmlle^ Earl of Dorset. 
 
 And fast by him, pale MALADY was placed, 
 
 Sore sick in bed, her colour all forgone, 
 Bereft of stomach, savour, and of taste ; 
 
 Ne could she brook no meat but broths alone ! 
 Her breath corrupt. Her keepers every one 
 Abhorring her. Her sickness past recure; 
 Detesting physic, and all physic's cure. 
 
 But O, the doleful sight that then we see! 
 
 We turned our look, and on the other side 
 A grisly shape of FAMINE mought we see ! 
 
 With greedy looks, and gaping mouth that cried 
 And roared for meat, as she should there have died. 
 Her body thin and bare as any bone, 
 Whereto was left nought but the case alone. 
 
 And that, alas ! was gnawen on everywhere, 
 All full of holes, that I ne mought refrain 
 From tears, to see how she her arms could tear ; 
 And with her teeth gnash on the bones in vain : 
 When, all for nought, she fain would so sustain 
 Her starven corpse ; that rather seemed a shade, 
 Than any substance of a creature made. 
 
 Great was her force, whom stone wall could not stay! 
 
 Her tearing nails snatching at all she saw. 
 With gaping jaws, that by no means ymay 
 Be satisfied from hunger of her jaw ; 
 But eats herself, as she that hath no law. 
 Gnawing, alas ! her carcase all in vain ; 
 Where you may count each sinew, bone, and vein. 
 
 89 
 
Thomas Sackvillc, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 On her, while we thus firmly fixed our eyes, 
 That bled for ruth of such a dreary sight, 
 Lo! suddenly, she shright in so huge wise 
 
 As made Hell Gates to shiver with the might ! 
 Wherewith a dart we saw how it did light 
 
 Right on her breast ; and therewithal pale DEATH 
 Enthrilling it, to 'reave her of her breath. 
 
 And, by-and-by, a dumb dead corpse we saw, 
 Heavy and cold, the shape of DEATH aright, 
 That daunts all earthly creatures to his law ; 
 Against whose force in vain it is to fight ! 
 Ne Peers, ne Princes, nor no mortal wight, 
 
 Ne towns, ne realms, cities, ne strongest tower : 
 But all, perforce, must yield unto his power 1 
 
 His dart anon, out of the corpse he took ; 
 
 And in his hand (a dreadful sight to see !) 
 With great triumph, eftsoons the same he shook, 
 That most of all my fears affrayed me ! 
 His body dight with nought but bones, perdy ! 
 The naked shape of Man there saw I plain, 
 All save the flesh, the sinew, and the vein. 
 
 Lastly, stood WAR in glittering Arms yclad, 
 
 With visage grim, stern looks, and blackly hued. 
 In his right hand a naked sword he had, 
 That to the hilts was all with blood embrued : 
 And in his left, that Kings and kingdoms rued, 
 Famine and Fire he held ; and therewithal 
 He razed towns, and threw down towers and all. 
 90 
 
Thomas Satkmlle, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Cities he sacked ; and realms that whilom flowered 
 
 In honour, glory, and rule, above the best, 
 He overwhelmed ; and all their fame devoured, 
 Consumed, destroyed, wasted ; and never ceast 
 Till he their wealth, their name, and all opprest ! 
 His face forhewed with wounds ; and by his side 
 There hung his Targe, with gashes deep and wide. 
 
 In midst of which, depainted there we found 
 
 Deadly Debate, all full of snaky hair, 
 That with a bloody fillet was ybound, 
 
 Outbreathing nought but discord everywhere ! 
 And round about were portrayed here and there, 
 The hugie hosts, DARIUS and his Power, 
 His Kings, Princes, his Peers, and all his flower, 
 
 Whom great Macedo[n] vanquished there in fight, 
 
 With deep slaughter, despoiling all his pride, 
 Pierced through his realms, and daunted all his might. 
 Duke HANNIBAL beheld I there beside. 
 In Canna's Field, victor how he did ride ; 
 And woeful Romans that in vain withstood, 
 And Consul PAULUS covered all in blood. 
 
 Yet saw I more, the fight at Trasimene 
 
 And Trebery Field ; and eke when HANNIBAL 
 And worthy SCIPIO last in Arms were seen, 
 Before Carthago Gate, to try for all 
 The World's Empire, to whom it. should befall. 
 There saw I POMPEY and CESAR clad in Arms, 
 Their host allied, and all their civil harms. 
 
Thomas Sack-cilJc, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 With conquerors' hands forbathed in their own blood ; 
 
 And CAESAR weeping over POMPEY'S head. 
 Yet saw I SYLLA and MARIUS, where they stood, 
 Their great cruelty ; and the deep bloodshed 
 Of friends. CYRUS, I saw, and his host dead ; 
 
 And how the Queen, with great despite, hath flung 
 His head in blood of them she overcame. 
 
 XERXES the Persian King yet saw I there ; 
 
 With his huge host that drank the rivers dry, 
 Dismounted hills, and made the vales uprear. 
 His host and all yet saw I slain, perdy ! 
 Thebes I saw all razed, how it did lie 
 
 In heaps of stone ; and Tyrus put to spoil, 
 With walls and towers flat evened with the soil. 
 
 But Troy, alas ! methought, above them all, 
 
 It made mine eyes in very tears consume ; 
 When I beheld the woeful weird befall, 
 
 That by the wrathful will of Gods was come: 
 And JOVE'S unmoved sentence and foredoom 
 On PRIAM King, and on his town, so bent. 
 I could not lin, but I must there lament ! 
 
 And that the more, sith Destiny was so stern 
 
 As force, perforce, there might no force avail ; 
 But she must fall ! And by her fall, we learn 
 
 That cities, towers, wealth, world, and all, shall quail ! 
 No manhood, might, nor nothing, mought prevail : 
 All were there pressed full many a Prince and Peer ; 
 And many a Knight, that sold his death full dear ! 
 92 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Not worthy HECTOR, worthiest of them all! 
 
 Her hope ! her joy ! His force is now for nought ! 
 O, Troy ! Troy ! there is no boot but bale ! 
 The hugie Horse within thy walls is brought ! 
 Thy turrets fall ! Thy Knights, that whilom fought 
 In Arms amid the Field, are slain in bed ! 
 Thy Gods defiled, and all thy honour dead ! 
 
 The flames upspring ; and cruelly they creep 
 From wall to roof, till all to cinders waste ! 
 Some fire the houses, where the wretches sleep ! 
 Some rush in here ; some run in there as fast ! 
 In everywhere, or sword, or fire, they taste ! 
 
 The walls are torn ! The towers whirled to the ground ! 
 There is no mischief but may there be found ! 
 
 CASSANDRA yet there saw I, how they haled 
 
 From PALLAS' House, with spercled tress undone, 
 Her wrists fast bound, and with Greeks' rout impaled. 
 And PRIAM eke, in vain how he did run 
 To Arms: whom PYRRHUS, with despite, hath done 
 To cruel death, and bathed him in the baine 
 Of his sons' blood, before the altar slain. 
 
 But how can I descrive the doleful sight 
 
 That in the Shield so lifelike fair did shine ! 
 Since, in this world, I think was never wight 
 Could have set forth the half, not half so fine ! 
 I can no more but tell, how there is seen 
 Fair Ilium fall in burning red gleeds down ; 
 And to the soil great Troy, NEPTUNUS' town. 
 
 93 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Hcrcfrom, when scarce I could mine eyes withdraw, 
 That filled with tears as doth the springing well ; 
 We passed on so far forth till we saw 
 Rude Acheron, a loathsome Lake to tell, 
 That boils and bubs up swelth as black as Hell. 
 Where grisly CHARON, at their fixed tide, 
 Still ferries ghosts unto the farther side. 
 
 The aged God no sooner SORROW spied, 
 
 But, hasting strait unto the bank apace, 
 With hollow call, unto the rout he cried, 
 
 To swerve apart ; and give the Goddess place ! 
 Strait it was done. When to the shore we pace, 
 Where, hand in hand as we then linked fast, 
 Within the boat we were together placed. 
 
 And forth we launch, full fraughted to the brink, 
 
 When, with the unwonted weight, the rusty keel 
 Began to crack, as if the same should sink. 
 We hoise up mast and sail, that, in a while, 
 We fet the shore : where scarcely we had while 
 For to arrive, but that we heard anon 
 A three-sound bark confounded all in one. 
 
 We had not long forth passed, but that we saw 
 
 Black Cerberus, the hideous hound of Hell, 
 With bristles reared, and with a three-mouthed jaw, 
 Fordinning the air with his horrible yell, 
 Out of the deep dark cave, where he did dwell. 
 The Goddess strait he knew ; and by-and-by 
 He 'peased and couched, while that we passed by. 
 94 
 
Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Thence came we to the horror and the Hell ; 
 
 The large great kingdoms, and the dreadful reign 
 Of PLUTO in his throne, where he did dwell ; 
 The wide waste places and the hugie plain, 
 The waitings, shrikes, and sundry sorts of pain ; 
 The sighs, the sobs, the deep and deadly groan. 
 Earth, air, and all, resounding plaint and moan ! 
 
 Here puled the babes ; and here the maids unwed, 
 
 With folded hands, their sorry chance bewailed. 
 Here wept the guiltless slain ; and Lovers dead, 
 That slew themselves when nothing else availed. 
 A thousand sorts of sorrows here that wailed 
 
 With sighs and tears, sobs, shrikes, and all yfere, 
 That, Oh ! alas ! it was a Hell to hear ! 
 
 We stayed us strait and, with a rueful fear, 
 
 Beheld this heavy sight ; while from mine eyes 
 The vapoured tears downstilled here and there. 
 And SORROW eke, in far more woeful wise, 
 Took on with plaint, upheaving to the skies 
 
 Her wretched hands, that, with her cry, the rout 
 Gan all, in heaps, to swarm us round about. 
 
 ' Lo, here ! ' quod SORROW, ' Princes of renown, 
 
 That, whilom, sat on top of FORTUNE'S Wheel, 
 Now laid full low ; like wretches whirled down, 
 
 Even with one frown, that stayed but with a smile ! 
 And now, behold the thing that thou erewhile 
 
 Saw only in thought ; and what thou now shalt hear. 
 Recount the same to Kesar, King, and Peer ! ' 
 
 95 
 
Thomas SackinUc, Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Then first came HENRY, Duke of BUCKINGHAM, 
 His cloak of black all pilled and quite forworn, 
 Wringing his hands, and FORTUNE oft doth blame ; 
 Which, of a Duke, hath made him now her scorn. 
 With ghastly looks, as one in manner lorn, 
 
 Oft spread his arms, stretched hands he joins as fast, 
 With rueful cheer, and vapoured eyes upcast. 
 
 His cloak he rent, his manly breast he beat, 
 
 His hair all torn, about the place it lay. 
 My heart so molt to see his grief so great, 
 As feelingly, methought, it dropped away ! 
 His eyes they whirled about, withouten stay. 
 With stormy sighs the place did so complain, 
 As if his heart, at each, had burst in twain ! 
 
 Thrice he began to tell his doleful tale, 
 
 And thrice the sighs did swallow up his voice ; 
 At each of which, he shriked so withal, 
 
 As though the heavens rived with the noise! 
 Till, at the last, recovering his voice, 
 
 Supping the tears that all his breast berained, 
 On cruel FORTUNE, weeping, thus he plained. 
 
Barnaby Googe. 
 
 UNHAPPY Tongue ! Why didst thou not consent, 
 
 When first mine eyes did view that princely face, 
 To shew good will, that heart oppressed then meant ; 
 
 And, whilst time was, to sue for present grace ? 
 O, fainting Heart ! Why didst thou then conceal 
 
 Thine inward fires, that flamed in every vein ? 
 When pity and gentleness were bent to heal ; 
 
 Why didst thou not declare thy raging pain? 
 When well thou mightst have moved her gentle mind, 
 
 Why didst thou then keep back thy woeful plain ? 
 Thou knew'st full well, redress is hard to find, 
 
 When in thine own affairs thy courage faints ! 
 But since She is gone ; bewail thy grief no more ! 
 Since thou thyself wert causer of the sore. 
 
 TO DOCTOR BALE, 
 
 BISHOP OF OSSORY. 
 
 GOOD aged BALE ! that, with thy hoary hairs, 
 
 Dost yet persist to turn the painful book ! 
 O, happy man ! that hast obtained such years ; 
 
 And leav'st not yet on papers pale to look ! 
 Give over now to beat thy wearied brain ; 
 
 And rest thy pen, that long hath laboured sore ! 
 For aged men unfit, sure, is such pain; 
 
 And thee beseems to labour now no more ! 
 But thou, I think, Don PLATO'S part wilt play 
 With book in hand, to have thy dying day. 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. H 97 
 
Barnaby Googe. 
 
 THE rushing rivers that do run, 
 
 The valleys sweet adorned new, 
 That lean their sides against the sun, 
 With flowers fresh of sundry hue, 
 Both ash, and elm, and oak so high, 
 Do all lament my woeful cry ! 
 
 While Winter black, with hideous storms, 
 
 Doth spoil the ground of Summer's green ; 
 While Springtime sweet the leaf returns 
 That, late, on tree could not be seen ; 
 
 While Summer burns ; while harvest reigns ; 
 So still do rage my restless pains ! 
 
 No end I find in all my smart; 
 But endless torment I sustain, 
 Since first, alas ! my woeful heart 
 
 By sight of thee, was forced to plain ! 
 Since that I lost my liberty ! 
 Since that thou mad'st a slave of me ! 
 
 My heart, that once abroad was free, 
 
 Thy beauty hath in durance brought! 
 Once Reason ruled and guided me ; 
 
 And now is Wit consumed with thought! 
 Once I rejoiced above the sky; 
 And now, for thee, alas! I die! 
 98 
 
Barnaby Googe. 
 
 Once I rejoiced in company ; 
 
 And now my chief and whole delight 
 Is from my friends away to fly, 
 
 And keep alone my wearied spright ! 
 Thy face divine and my desire, 
 From flesh hath me transformed to fire ! 
 
 O, NATURE! thou that first didst frame 
 
 My Lady's hair of purest gold, 
 Her face of crystal to the same, 
 Her lips of precious ruby's mould, 
 Her neck of alabaster white, 
 Surmounting far each other wight ; 
 
 Why didst thou not, that time, devise, 
 
 Why didst thou not foresee before, 
 The mischief that thereof doth rise ; 
 
 And grief on grief doth heap with store ? 
 To make her heart of wax alone, 
 And not of flint and marble stone ! 
 
 O, Lady! shew thy favour yet! 
 
 Let not thy Servant die for thee! 
 Where Rigour ruled, let Mercy sit! 
 Let Pity conquer Cruelty ! 
 
 Let not Disdain, a fiend of Hell ! 
 
 Possess the place where Grace should dwell ! 
 
 H 2 99 
 
Barnaby Googe. 
 
 ' SWEET Muse ! tell me, where is my heart become ? 
 
 For well I feel, it is from hence away. 
 My senses all doth sorrow so benumb, 
 
 That absent thus, I cannot live a day. 
 I know, for troth, there is a special place 
 
 Where as it most desireth for to be ! 
 For oft it leaves me thus in doleful case ; 
 
 And hither comes, at length, again to me.' 
 
 ' Wouldst thou so fain be told, where is thy heart ? 
 
 Sir Fool ! in place where as it should not be ! 
 Tied up so fast ; that it can never start, 
 
 Till Wisdom get again thy liberty! 
 In place where thou as safe mayst dwell, sweet Daw! 
 As may the hart lie by the lion's paw ! 
 And where for thee, as much, be sure ! they pass, 
 As did the Master, once, for ^Esop's ass ! ' 
 
 WHEN I do hear thy Name, 
 Alas! my heart doth rise, 
 
 And seeks forthwith to see the salve 
 That most contents mine eyes ! 
 
 But when I see thy Face, 
 That hath procured my pain ; 
 
 Then boils my blood in every part, 
 
 And beats in every vein ! 
 100 
 
Barnaby Googe. 
 
 Thy Voice, when I do hear, 
 Then colour comes and goes ! 
 
 Some time as pale as earth I look; 
 Some time, as red as rose ! 
 
 If thy sweet Face do smile, 
 
 Then who so well as I ! 
 If thou but cast a scornful look, 
 
 Then out ! alas ! I die ! 
 
 But still I live in pain ! 
 
 My fortune willeth so, 
 That I should burn ; and thou yet know 
 
 No whit of all my woe ! 
 
 OF MONEY. 
 
 [See G. TURBERVILE'S Answer to this Poem at page 114.] 
 
 GIVE Money me ! take Friendship whoso list ! 
 
 For friends are gone ; come once adversity ! 
 When Money yet remaineth safe in chest, 
 
 That quickly can thee bring from misery! 
 Fair face show friends, when riches do abound ! 
 
 Come time of proof! ' Farewell, they must away! ' 
 Believe me well, they are not to be found ; 
 
 If GOD but send thee once a low'ring day ! 
 Gold never starts aside ; but, in distress, 
 Finds ways enough to ease thy heaviness. 
 
 TOI 
 
Richard Edwards. 
 
 AMANTIUM IR^ AMOR1S 
 REDINTEGRATIO EST. 
 
 IN going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept, 
 I heard a Wife sing to her child, that long before had wept. 
 She sighed sore, and sang full sweet to bring the babe to rest, 
 That would not cease ; but cried still, in sucking at her breast. 
 She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child ; 
 She rocked it, and rated it, till that on her it smiled. 
 Then did she say, ' Now have I found this proverb true to 
 
 prove, 
 The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love' 
 
 Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write, 
 In register for to remain of such a worthy wight. 
 As She proceeded thus in Song unto her little brat, 
 Much matter uttered She of weight, in place where as she sat : 
 And proved plain, there was no beast, nor creature bearing life, 
 Could well be known to live in love, without discord and 
 
 strife. 
 
 Then kissed She her little babe, and sware, by GOD above, 
 The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love. 
 102 
 
Richard Edwards. 
 
 She said, That neither King, ne Prince, ne Lord, could 
 
 live aright, 
 Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood and 
 
 their might. 
 
 When manhood shall be matched so, that fear can take no place, 
 Then weary works make warriors, each other to embrace, 
 And leave their force, that failed them ; which did consume 
 
 the rout, 
 
 That might before have lived their time and Nature out. 
 Then did She sing, as one that thought no man could her 
 
 reprove, 
 The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love. 
 
 She said, She saw no fish, ne fowl, nor beast within her haunt, 
 That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt. 
 Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed 
 And force the fight to fall to play, in pasture where they feed. 
 So noble Nature can well end the work she hath begun, 
 And bridle well that will not cease, her tragedy in some. 
 Thus in her Song She oft rehearsed, as did her well behove, 
 The falling out of faithful friends, is the renewing of love. 
 
 ' I marvel much, pardy,' quoth She, 'for to behold the rout, 
 To see Man, Woman, Boy, beast, to toss the world about ! 
 Some kneel, some crouch ; some beck, some check ; and some 
 
 can smoothly smile ; 
 
 And some embrace others in arms, and there think many a wile. 
 Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble, and some 
 
 stout ; 
 
 Yet are they never friends in deed, until they once fall out ! ' 
 Thus ended She her Song, and said before she did remove, 
 The falling out of faitliful friends, is the renewing of love. 
 
 103 
 
Richard Edwards. 
 
 WHEN Women first Dame NATURE wrought, 
 ' All good,' quoth she ; ' none shall be nought ! 
 All wise shall be ; none shall be fools : 
 For Wit shall spring from Women's schools! 
 In all good gifts they shall excel ! 
 Their nature all, no tongue can tell!' 
 Thus NATURE said. I heard it, I ! 
 I pray you, ask them, if I do lie ? 
 
 By NATURE'S grant, this must ensue, 
 No woman false ; but all are true ! 
 None sow debate ; but love maintain ! 
 None joys to see her Lover's pain ! 
 As turtles true, their chosen one 
 They love ; and pine, where he is gone ! 
 This is most true ; none can deny ! 
 I pray you, ask them, if I do lie ? 
 
 104 
 
Richard Edwards. 
 
 No lamb so meek as Women be ; 
 Their humble hearts from pride are free ! 
 Rich things they wear ; and wot you Why ? 
 Only to please their husband's eye ! 
 They never strive their wills to have ; 
 Their husband's love, nought else, they crave ! 
 Vain talk in them, none can espy ! 
 I pray you, ask them, if I do lie ? 
 
 If vice the earth should overcome, 
 And no wight left under the sun ; 
 If wealth would wring the poor ; and might, 
 With open force, would suppress right ; 
 If no rule were left on the ground ; 
 In Women yet, it might be found! 
 The star of goodness in them doth lie! 
 I pray you, ask them, if I do lie ? 
 
 The eagle, with his piercing eye, 
 Shall burn and waste the mountains high ; 
 Huge rocks shall fleet, as ship with sail ; 
 The crab shall run ; swim shall the snail ; 
 Springs shall return from whence they came ; 
 Sheep shall be wild, and tigers tame : 
 Or these my words false you shall try! 
 Ha! Ha! methinks, I make a lie! 
 
 105 
 
Edwards and Bew. 
 
 IN COMMENDATION OF MUSIC. 
 
 Where griping grief the heart would wound, and doleful dumps then oppress ; 
 There Music, with her silver sound, is wont with speed to give redress ! 
 Of troubled mind for every sore, sweet Music hath a salve therefore. 
 In joy, it makes our mirth abound ! In grief, it cheers our heavy sprights ! 
 The careful head release hath found by Music's pleasant sweet delights ! 
 Our senses (what should I say more !) are subject unto Music's lore ! 
 The Gods, by Music, hath their prey ! The soul therein doth joy ! 
 For, as the Roman Poets say, in seas, whom pirates would destroy, 
 A dolphin saved from death most sharp, ARION playing on his harp. 
 A heavenly gift, that turns the mind like as the stern doth rule the ship. 
 Music ! whom the Gods assigned to comfort Man, whom cares would nip, 
 Sith thou both man and beast dost move, what wise man then will thee 
 reprove ? 
 
 M. BEW. 
 
 A. Shall I no way win you to grant my desire? 
 
 B. What woman will grant you the thing yoii require f 
 
 A. You only to love me, is all that I crave ! 
 
 B. You only to leave me, is all I would have ! 
 
 A. My Dear! alas! now say not so! 
 
 B. To love you best, I must say 'No!' 
 
 A. Yet will I not flit! B. Then, play on the bit I 
 
 A. I will! B. Do still! A. Yet kill not! B. I will not I 
 
 A. Make me your man! B. Beshrew me, then! 
 
 A. The swifter I follow, then you fly away! 
 
 B. Swift hawks, in their flying, ofttimes miss their prey ! 
 
 A. Yet some killeth deadly, that fly to the mark! 
 
 B. You shall touch no feather ! Thereof take no cark ! 
 
 A. Yet hope shall further my desire! 
 
 B. You blow the coals, and raise no fire ! 
 
 106 
 
M. Bew. 
 
 A. Yet will I not flit! B. Then, play on the bit! 
 
 A. I will! B. Do still! A. Yet kill not! B. I will not! 
 
 A. Make me your man ! B. Beshrew me, then ! 
 
 A. To love is no danger, where true love is meant ! 
 
 B. I "will love no ranger, lest that I repent ! 
 
 A. My love is no ranger, I make GOD avow! 
 
 B. To trust your smooth sayings I, sure, know not how ! 
 
 A. Most truth I mean, as time shall well try ! 
 
 B. No truth in men, I oft espy! 
 
 A. Yet will I not flit! B. Then, play on the bit! 
 
 A. I will! B. Do still! A. Yet kill not! B. I will not! 
 
 A. Make me your man! B. Beshrew me, then! 
 
 A. Some women may say 'Nay!' and mean love most true! 
 
 B. Some women can make fools of as wise men as you ! 
 
 A. In time, I shall catch you ; I know when and where ! 
 
 B. I will soon dispatch yoti ! You shall not come there ! 
 
 A. Some speed at length, that oft have mist ! 
 
 B. I am well armed ! Come, when you list ! 
 
 A . Yet will I not flit ! B. Then, play on the bit ! 
 
 A. I will! B. Do still! A. Yet kill not! B. I will not! 
 
 A. Make me your man ! B. Beshrew me, then ! 
 
 A. Yet work your kind kindly! Grant me love for love! 
 
 B. I will use you friendly, as I shall you prove ! 
 
 A. Most true you shall find me, I this do protest! 
 
 B. Then, sure, you shall bind me to grant your request ! 
 
 A. O, happy thread now have I spun ! 
 
 B. You sing before the conquest won ! 
 
 A. Why then! will you swerve? B. Even as yott deserve! 
 A. Love still ! B. I will ! A. Yet kill not ! B. I will not! 
 A. Make me your man ! B. Come to me, then! 
 
 107 
 
George Turbervile. 
 
 A CONTROVERSY OF A CONQUEST IN 
 LOVE, 'TWIXT FORTUNE AND VENUS. 
 
 WHILST Fisher cast his line, the hov'ring fish to hook, 
 By hap, a rich man's daughter on the Fisher cast her look. 
 
 She fried with frantic love. They married eke at last. 
 Thus Fisher was from low estate, in top of treasure placed, [she 
 
 Stood FORTUNE by,and smiled. ' Howsay you, Dame ! ' quoth 
 To VENUS, ' was this conquest yours ; or is it due to me ? ' 
 
 1 'Twas I ! ' quoth VULCAN's Wife, ' with help of CUPID'S bow, 
 That made thiswanton wench to rage,and match herself so low!' 
 
 ' Not so ! 'twas FORTUNE, I ! that brought the trull in place ; 
 And FORTUNE was it, that the man stood so in Maiden's grace ! 
 By FORTUNE fell their love! 'Twas FORTUNE strake the stroke! 
 Then debtor is this man to me, that did the Match provoke ! ' 
 
 OF A GENTLEWOMAN, 
 
 THAT WILLED HER LOVER TO WEAR GREEN BAYS, 
 IN TOKEN OF HER STEADFAST LOVE TO HIM. 
 
 B. TOLD me, ' That the Bay would aye be green ; 
 
 And never change his hue, for Winter's threat! 
 Wherefore/ quoth she, 'that plainly may be seen 
 
 What love thy Lady bears, the Laurel get ! 
 108 
 
George Turbermle. 
 
 ' A branch aloft upon the helmet wear ! 
 
 Presuming that until the laurel die, 
 And lose his native colour ; I will bear 
 
 A faithful heart, and never swerve awry ! ' 
 
 I, silly soul ! did smile with joyful brow ; 
 
 Hoping that DAPHNIS would retain her hue, 
 And not have changed ; and likewise that the vow 
 
 My Lady made, would make my Lady true ! 
 
 O, Gods ! behold the chance ! I wore the tree, 
 And honoured it as stay of steadfast love ; 
 
 But, suddenly, the laurel might I see 
 
 To look as brown as doth the brownest dove. 
 
 I marvelled much at this unwonted sight. 
 
 Within a day or two, came news to me, [quite. 
 That she had changed ; and swerved her friendship 
 Wherefore affy in neither trull, nor tree ! 
 For I perceive, that colours lightly change ; 
 And Ladies' love, on sudden, waxeth strange ! 
 
 109 
 
George Turbervile. 
 
 OF LADY VENUS, 
 
 THAT, HAVING LOST HER SON CuPID, GOD OF LoVE, AND 
 DESIROUS TO UNDERSTAND OF HIM AGAIN, DECLARES, 
 BY THE WAY, THE NATURE OF LOVE AND AFFEC- 
 TIONS OF THE SAME, BY PRETTY DESCRIPTIONS. 
 
 WHAT time the Lady VENUS sought her little son, 
 That CUPID hight, and found him not : she thus begun. 
 ' My friends ! ' quoth she, ' if any chance, in open street 
 Or crossing paths, that wand'ring amorous Elf to meet ; 
 That runagate, I say, is mine ! Whoso, by hap, 
 Shall first bring tidings of the Boy, in VENUS' lap 
 Is sure to sit ; and have, in price of taken pain, 
 A sugared kiss. But he that brings him home again, 
 A buss ! yea ! not a buss alone doubtless shall have ; 
 But, like a friend, I will entreat him passing brave ! 
 
 ' I tell you, 'tis a proper youth ! Mark every limb 
 And member of my strayed son, that is so trim ! 
 Not sallow white his body is ; but like to flame ! 
 A fierce and fiery rolling eye sets out the same! 
 A mischievous wily heart in breast the Boy doth bear ; 
 But yet his words are honey-like and sweet to ear ! 
 His talking tongue, and moaning mind, asunder go ! 
 Smooth filed style, for little cost, he will bestow ; 
 But, being once inflamed with ire and raging wrath, 
 A cruel cankered dogged heart the urchin hath ! 
 False, foxly, subtle Boy, and glozing lying Lad ; 
 He sports, to outward sight ; but inward chafes like mad ! 
 no 
 
George Turbermle. 
 
 ' A curled sconce he hath, with angry frowning brow. 
 A little hand ; yet dart a cruel way can throw ! 
 To shady Acheron sometimes he flings the same, 
 And deepest damp of hollow Hell, those imps to tame ! 
 
 4 Upon his carcase, not a cloth ; but naked he 
 Of garments goes ! His mind is wrapped ; and not to see ! 
 Much like a feathered fowl he flies ; and wags his wings, 
 Now here, now there. The Man sometimes this Miser wrings; 
 Sometimes again the Lass to love he doth enforce ! 
 Of neither kind, nor Man, nor Maid, he hath remorse ! 
 
 ' A little bow, the Boy doth bear in tender hand ; 
 And in the same, an arrow nocked to string doth stand. 
 A slender shaft ! yet such a one as far will fly ; 
 And being shot from CUPID'S bow, will reach the sky! 
 
 ' A pretty golden quiver hangs there all behind 
 Upon his back ; wherein, whoso doth look, shall find 
 A sort of sharp and lurching shafts, unhappy Boy! 
 Wherewith his Lady Mother eke he doth annoy 
 Sometimes ; but, most of all, the foolish fretting Elf, 
 In cruel wise, doth cruelly torment and vex himself. 
 
 * Do beat the Boy ! and spare him not at all ! if thou 
 On him do chance to light. Although from childish brow 
 And moisted eyes the trickling tears, like floods, distil ; 
 Believe him not ! for chiefly then, beguile he will ! 
 Not if he smile, unloose his pinioned arms ! Take heed ! 
 With pleasant honey words though he thine ears do feed ; 
 And crave a kiss ! beware, thou kiss him not at all ! 
 For, in his lips, vile venom lurks, and bitter gall. 
 Or if, with friendly face, he seem to yield his bow 
 And shafts to thee ; his proffered gifts, my friend ! forgo ! 
 Touch not, with tender hand, the subtle flatt'ring Dart 
 Of Love ! for fear the fire thereof do make thee smart ! 
 
 in 
 
George Turbermle. 
 
 TO A GENTLEWOMAN, 
 
 THAT ALWAYS WILLED HIM TO WEAR ROSEMARY 
 
 (A TREE THAT IS ALWAYS GREEN) FOR HER SAKE t 
 
 AND IN TOKEN OF HIS GOOD WILL TO HER. 
 
 THE green that you did wish me wear 
 
 Aye for your love, 
 And on my helm a branch to bear, 
 
 Not to remove ; 
 
 Was ever you to have in mind, 
 Whom CUPID hath my fere assigned. 
 
 As I, in this, have done your will, 
 And mind to do ; 
 
 So I request you to fulfil 
 My fancy too. 
 
 A green and loving heart to have; 
 
 And this is all that I do crave! 
 
 For if your flowering heart should change 
 
 His colour green ; 
 Or you, at length, a Lady strange 
 
 Of me be seen : 
 
 Then will my branch, against his use, 
 His colour change for your refuse. 
 112 
 
George Turbermle, 
 
 As Winter's force cannot deface 
 This branch his hue ; 
 
 So let no change of love disgrace 
 Your friendship true ! 
 
 You were mine own ; and so be still ! 
 
 So shall we live and love our fill ! 
 
 Then may I think myself to be 
 
 Well recompensed, 
 For wearing of the tree that is 
 
 So well defenced 
 
 Against all weather that doth fall ; 
 When wayward Winter spits his gall. 
 
 And when we meet, to try me true, 
 Look on my head! 
 
 And I will crave an oath of you, 
 Where faith be fled ? 
 
 So that we both assured be ; 
 
 Both I, of you; and you, of me! 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. HI. I 113 
 
George Turbervile. 
 
 TO MASTER GOOGE' S FANCY, 
 
 THAT BEGINS 
 MONEY ME! TAKE FRIENDSHIP WHOSO LIST!' 
 
 [See page roi.] 
 
 FRIEND GOOGE ! Give me the faithful Friend to trust ; 
 And take the fickle coin, for me, that lust ! 
 For Friends, in time of trouble and distress, 
 With help and sound advice, will soon redress 
 Each growing grief that gripes the pensive breast ; 
 When Money lies locked up in covert chest. 
 
 Thy coin will cause a thousand cares to grow ; 
 Which if thou hadst no coin, thou couldst not know ! 
 Thy Friend no care, but comfort, will procure ! 
 Of him, thou mayst at need thyself assure ! 
 Thy Money makes the thief in wait to lie ; 
 Whose fraud, thy Friend, and falsehood will descry ! 
 Thou canst not keep unlocked thy careful coin; 
 But some from thee, thy Money will purloin ! 
 Thy faithful Friend will never start aside ; 
 But take his share of all that shall betide! 
 When thou art dead, thy Money is bereft ; 
 But, after life, thy trusty Friend is left ! 
 Thy Money serves another Master then ; 
 Thy faithful Friend links with none other man! 
 
 So that, friend GOOGE ! I deem it better, I ! 
 
 To choose the Friend, and let the Money lie ! 
 114 
 
William Cecil, Lord Burlegh. 
 
 TO MISTRESS ANNE CECIL, 
 
 UPON MAKING HER A N~EW YEARS GIFT, 
 JANUARY 1, 1567. 
 
 As years do grow, so cares increase ; 
 
 And time will move to look to thrift ! 
 Though years in me work nothing less ; 
 Yet, for your years, and New Year's gift, 
 This housewife's toy is now my shift ! 
 To set you on work, some thrift to feel ; 
 I send you now a Spinning Wheel ! 
 
 But one thing first, I wish and pray, 
 
 Lest thirst of thrift might soon you tire, 
 Only to spin one pound a day ; 
 
 And play the rest, as time require ! 
 Sweat not ! (O, fie !) fling rock in fire ! 
 
 GOD send, who sendeth all thrift and wealth, 
 You, long years ; and your father health ! 
 
 1 2 115 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 LOVE me little ; love me long ! 
 Is the burden of my Song, 
 Love that is too hot and strong 
 
 Burneth soon to waste! 
 Still, I would not have thee cold ! 
 Not too backward, or too bold! 
 Love that lasteth till 'tis old 
 
 Fadeth not in haste ! 
 
 Love me little ; love me long ! &c. 
 
 If thou lovest me too much, 
 
 It will not prove as true as touch! 
 
 Love me little, more than such, 
 
 For I fear the end ! 
 I am with little well content! 
 And a little, from thee sent, 
 Is enough, with true intent 
 
 To be steadfast friend ! 
 
 Love me little ; love me long ! &c. 
 
 Say, thou lov'st me while thou live ; 
 I to thee my love will give ! 
 Never dreaming to deceive 
 
 Whiles that life endures. 
 Nay, and after death, in sooth, 
 I to thee will keep my truth, 
 As now, when in my May of youth ; 
 
 This my love assures! 
 
 Love me little; love me long! &c. 
 116 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Constant love is moderate ever, 
 And it will through life persever! 
 Give me that, with true endeavour, 
 
 I will it restore ! 
 A suit of durance let it be 
 For all weathers that for me, 
 For the land, or for the sea, 
 
 Lasting evermore. 
 
 Love me little ; love me long ! &c. 
 
 Winter's cold, or Summer's heat, 
 Autumn's tempests, on it beat; 
 It can never know defeat ! 
 
 Never can rebel ! 
 
 Such the love that I would gain! 
 Such the love, I tell thee plain, 
 Thou must give ; or woo in vain ! 
 
 So to thee, farewell ! 
 
 Love me little ; love me long ! &c. 
 
 THE VALOROUS ACTS PERFORMED AT GAUNT, BY THE 
 
 BRAVE BONNY LASS, MARY AMBEEE / WHO, IN REVENGE OF 
 
 HER LOVE'S DEATH, DID PLAY HER PART MOST GALLANTLY. 
 
 WHEN Captains courageous, whom death could not 
 Had roundly besieged the city of Gaunt ; [daunt, 
 And manly they marched by two and by three, 
 And the foremost in battle was MARY AMBREE. 
 
 117 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Thus being enforced to fight with her foes, 
 On each side most fiercely they seemed to close : 
 Each one sought for honour in every degree ; 
 But none so much wan it as MARY AMBKEE. 
 
 When brave Sergeant Major was slain in the fight, 
 Who was her own True Love, her joy, and delight ; 
 She swore, unrevenged his blood should not be ! 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBKEE ? 
 
 She clothed herself from the top to the toe, 
 With Buff of the bravest and seemly to show : 
 A fair shirt of mail over that striped she. 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBKEE ? 
 
 A helmet of proof she put on her head, 
 A strong armed sword she girt on her side, 
 A fair goodly gauntlet on her hand wore she. 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBREE ? 
 
 Then took she her sword and her target in hand, 
 And called on all those, that would be of her Band, 
 To wait on her person. There came thousands three. 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBREE ? 
 
 ' Before you shall perish, the worst of you all, 
 Or come to any danger of Enemy's thrall ; 
 This hand and this life of mine shall set you free ! ' 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBKEE? 
 118 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 The drums and the trumpets did sound out alarm, 
 And many a hundred did lose leg and arm : 
 And many a thousand, she brought on their knee. 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBREE ? 
 
 The sky then she filled with smoke of her shot, 
 And her enemies' bodies with bullets so hot! 
 For one of her own men, a score killed she ! 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBREE ? 
 
 And then her false Gunner did spoil her intent, 
 Her powder and bullets away he had spent : 
 And then with her weapon, she slashed him in three! 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBREE ? 
 
 Then took she her Castle, where she did abide. 
 Her enemies besieged her on every side; 
 To beat down her Castle walls they did agree, 
 And all for to overcome MARY AMBREE ! 
 
 Then took she her sword and her target in hand, 
 And on her Castle walls stoutly did stand ; 
 So daring the Captains to match any three ! 
 O, what a brave Captain was MARY AMBREE! 
 
 At her, then they smiled ; not thinking in heart, 
 That she could have performed so valorous a part. 
 The one said to the other, ' We shortly shall see 
 This gallant brave Captain before us to flee ! ' 
 
 119 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 ' Why, what do you think, or take me to be ? ' 
 With these brave soldiers so valiant spake she. 
 'A Knight, Sir, of England; and Captain,' quod they, 
 'Whom shortly we mean to take prisoner away.' 
 
 ' No Captain of England ! Behold, in your sight, 
 Two breasts in my bosom ; and therefore no Knight ! 
 No Knight, Sirs, of England ; nor Captain,' quoth she, 
 ' But even a poor bonny Lass, MARY AMBREE ! ' 
 
 ' But, art thou a woman ? as thou dost declare, 
 That hath made us thus spend our armour in war ? 
 The like, in our lives, we never did see ; 
 And therefore we'll honour brave MARY AMBREE !' 
 
 The Prince of great PARMA heard of her renown ; 
 Who long had advanced for England's fair crown. 
 In token he sent [her] a glove and a ring; 
 And said, She should be his Bride at his wedding. 
 
 1 Why, what do you think, or take me to be ? 
 Though he be a Prince of great dignity ; 
 It shall never be said, in England so free, 
 That a stranger did marry with MARY AMBREE!' 
 
 Then unto fair England, she back did return ; 
 Still holding the foes of brave England in scorn. 
 In valour no man was ever like she ! 
 Was not this a brave bonny Lass, MARY AMBREE ? 
 
 120 
 
Anonymo^ts. 
 
 In this woman's praises, I'll here end my Song ; 
 Whose heart was approved in valour most strong. 
 Let all sorts of people, whatever they be, 
 Sing forth the brave valours of MARY AMBREE ! 
 
 THE man is blest 
 
 That lives in rest, 
 And so can keep him still ; 
 
 And he 's accurst, 
 
 That was the first 
 That gave his Wife her will ! 
 
 What pain and grief, 
 
 Without relief, 
 Shall we poor men sustain, 
 
 If every GILL 
 
 Shall have her will, 
 And over us shall reign! 
 
 Then all our Wives 
 
 During their lives 
 Will look to do the same ; 
 
 And bear in hand, 
 
 It is as land 
 That goeth not from the name. 
 
 121 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 There is no man 
 Whose wisdom can 
 
 Reform a wilful Wife 
 But only GOD, 
 Who made the rod 
 
 For our unthrifty life. 
 
 Let us therefore 
 
 Cry out and roar, 
 And make to GOD request, 
 
 That He redress 
 
 This wilfulness ; 
 And set our hearts at rest. 
 
 Wherefore, good Wives, 
 
 Amend your lives ! 
 And we will do the same; 
 
 And keep not still 
 
 That naughty will 
 That hath so evil a name ! 
 
 122 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 AT liberty I sit, and see 
 
 Them, that have erst laughed me to scorn, 
 Whipped with the whip that scourged me : 
 
 And now they ban that they were born ! 
 
 I see them sit full soberly, 
 
 And think their earnest looks to hide ; 
 Now in themselves, they cannot spy 
 
 That they or this in me have spied. 
 
 I see them sitting all alone, 
 
 Marking the steps each word and look ; 
 And now they tread, where I have gone, 
 
 The painful path that I forsook ! 
 
 Now I see well, I saw no whit ; 
 
 When they saw well, that now are blind ! 
 But happy hap hath made me quit; 
 
 And just judgement hath them assigned. 
 
 I see them wander all alone, 
 
 And tread full fast, in dreadful doubt, 
 
 The selfsame path that I have gone! 
 
 Blessed be the hap that brought me out! 
 
 At liberty all this I see, 
 
 And say no word but erst among, 
 Smiling at them, that laughed at me! 
 
 Lo ! such is hap ! Mark well my Song ! 
 
 123 
 
Thomas Tusser. 
 
 THE LADDER OF THIRTY-FOUR STEPS, 
 
 TO CLIMB TO THRIFT, 
 
 BY HUSBANDRY. 
 
 1. To take thy Calling thankfully, 
 And shun the path to beggary. 
 
 2. To grudge, in youth, no drudgery 
 To come by knowledge perfectly. 
 
 3. To count no travail slavery, 
 That brings in penny savourly. 
 
 4. To follow profit earnestly; 
 But meddle not with pilfery. 
 
 5. To get by honest practisy, 
 And keep thy gettings covertly. 
 
 6. To lash not out too lashingly, 
 For fear of pinching penury. 
 
 124 
 
Thomas Tusser. 
 
 7. To get good plot to occupy ; 
 And store and use it husbandly. 
 
 8. To shew to Landlord courtesy; 
 And keep thy covenants orderly. 
 
 9. To hold that thine is lawfully, 
 For stoutness, or for flattery. 
 
 10. To wed good Wife for company; 
 And live in wedlock honestly. 
 
 11. To furnish house with householdry, 
 And make provision skilfully. 
 
 12. To join to Wife good family; 
 And none to keep for bravery. 
 
 13. To surfer none live idly, 
 For fear of idle knavery. 
 
 14. To 'courage Wife in housewifery; 
 And use well-doers gently. 
 
 15. To keep no more but needfully, 
 And count excess unsavoury. 
 
 1 6. To raise betimes up readily, 
 Both snorting HOB and MARGERY. 
 
Thomas Tusscr. 
 
 i 7. To walk thy pastures usually, 
 To spy ill neighbours' subtlety. 
 
 1 8. To hate revengement hastily, 
 For losing love and amity. 
 
 19. To live by neighbour neighbourly, 
 And shew him no discourtesy. 
 
 20. To answer stranger civilly; 
 But shew him not thy secrecy. 
 
 21. To use no friend deceitfully, 
 And offer no man villany. 
 
 22. To learn how foe to pacify; 
 But trust him not too trustily! 
 
 23. To keep thy touch substantially; 
 And in thy word use constancy. 
 
 24. To make thy bands advisedly; 
 
 And come not bound through surety. 
 
 25. To hate to live in infamy, 
 Through craft and living naughtily. 
 
 26. To banish house of blasphemy, 
 Lest crosses cross unluckily! 
 
 136 
 
Thomas Tusser. 
 
 27. To stop mischance, through policy, 
 For chancing too unhappily. 
 
 28. To bear thy crosses patiently; 
 For worldly things are slippery! 
 
 29. To train thy child up virtuously, 
 That virtue, vice may qualify. 
 
 30. To bridle ' wild oats ' fantasy. 
 To spend thee naught unthriftily. 
 
 31. To pray to GOD continually, 
 To aid thee against thine enemy. 
 
 32. To spend the Sabbath holily ; 
 And help the poor in misery. 
 
 33. To live in conscience quietly; 
 And keep thyself from malady. 
 
 34. To ease thy sickness speedily, 
 Ere help be past recovery. 
 
 These be the Steps unfeignedly 
 To climb to Thrift, by Husbandry. 
 
 127 
 
T/iomas Tusser. 
 
 THE PLOUGHMAN'S FEASTING DAYS. 
 
 FEASTING DAYS. 
 
 1. GOOD Housewives, whom GOD hath enriched enough, 
 Forget not the Feasts that belong to the Plough ! 
 The meaning is only to joy and be glad ; 
 
 For comfort, with labour, is fit to be had. 
 
 PLOUGH MONDAY. 
 
 2. Plough Monday, next after that Twelfth-tide is past, 
 Bids, 'Out with the plough ! The worst husband is last! ' 
 If Ploughman get hatchet, or whip, to the screen ; 
 Maids loseth their cock, if no water be seen ! 
 
 SHROVETIDE. 
 
 3. At Shrovetide to shroving, go thrash the fat hen ! 
 If blindfold can kill her, then give it thy men ! 
 
 ' Maids ! fritters and pancakes enough see ye make ! 
 Let Slut have one pancake, for company's sake.' 
 
 SHEEP-SHEARING. 
 
 4. ' Wife ! make us a dinner ! Spare flesh, neither corn ! 
 
 Make wafers and cakes; for our sheep must be shorn ! 
 
 At Sheep-shearing, neighbours none other thing crave 
 
 ButGood Cheer and Welcome, like neighbours to have.' 
 
 128 
 
J^komas Tnsser. 
 
 THE WAKE DAY. 
 
 5. ' Fill oven with flawns ! JENNY, pass not for sleep ; 
 To-morrow, thy father, his Wake Day will keep ! 
 Then every Wanton may dance at her will ! 
 Both TOMKIN with TOMLIN ; and JANKIN with GILL.' 
 
 HARVEST HOME. 
 
 . For all this good feasting ; yet art thou not loose 
 Till Ploughman thou givest his Harvest Home goose. 
 Though goose go in stubble ; I pass not for that ! 
 Let goose have a goose ; be she lean ! be she fat ! 
 
 SEED CAKE. 
 
 7. 'Wife ! some time this week, if the weather hold clear, 
 An end of wheat sowing, we make for this year. 
 Remember you therefore, though I do it not, 
 
 The Seed Cake! the Pasties! the Furmenty Pot!' 
 
 TWICE A WEEK ROAST. 
 
 8. Good Ploughmen look, weekly, of custom and right, 
 For roast meat on Sundays, and Thursdays at night. 
 Thus doing and keeping such custom and guise ; 
 They call thee, Good Housewife! They love thee 
 
 likewise ! 
 
 D::IT. ANTH. in. K 129 
 
Captain George Gascoigne. 
 
 THE ARRAIGNMENT OF A LOVER. 
 
 AT BEAUTY'S Bar as I did stand, 
 
 When FALSE SUSPECT accused me, 
 'GEORGE!' quod the Judge, 'hold up thy hand! 
 Thou art arraigned of flattery ; 
 
 Tell therefore, how thou wilt be tried? 
 Whose judgement here, wilt thou abide ? ' 
 
 ' My Lord ! ' quod I, ' this Lady here, 
 
 Whom I esteem above the rest, 
 Doth know my guilt, if any were ; 
 
 Wherefore her doom shall please me best ! 
 Let her be Judge and Juror both, 
 To try me guiltless, by mine oath ! ' 
 
 Quod BEAUTY, ' No ! It fitteth not 
 
 A Prince herself to judge the cause ; 
 WILL is our Justice, well you wot! 
 Appointed to discuss our laws. 
 If you will guiltless seem to go, 
 GOD and your country quit you so!' 
 
 Then CRAFT, the Crier, called a Quest, 
 
 Of whom was FALSEHOOD foremost fere. 
 A pack of pickthanks were the rest, 
 Which came false witness for to bear. 
 The Jury such, the Judge unjust, 
 Sentence was said, ' I should be trussed ! ' 
 130 
 
CAPTAIN GEORGE GASCOIGNE. 
 PRESENTING A WORK TO QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
Captain George Gascoigne. 
 
 JEALOUS, the Jailor, bound me fast 
 To hear the verdict of the Bill. 
 'GEORGE!' quod the Judge, 'now, thou art cast! 
 Thou must go hence to Heavy Hill ; 
 And there be hanged, all but the head. 
 GOD rest thy soul, when thou art dead ! ' 
 
 Down fell I then, upon my knee, 
 
 All flat before Dame BEAUTY'S face, 
 And cried, ' Good Lady ! pardon me ; 
 Which here appeal unto your grace ! 
 You know, if I have been untrue, 
 It was in too much praising you ! 
 
 'And though this Judge do make such haste 
 
 To shed, with shame, my guiltless blood ; 
 Yet let your pity first be placed 
 
 To save the man, that meant you good ! 
 So shall you shew yourself a Queen ; 
 And I may be your Servant seen.' 
 
 Quod BEAUTY, ' Well ! because I guess 
 
 What thou dost mean henceforth to be, 
 Although thy faults deserve no less 
 Than Justice here hath judged thee, 
 Wilt thou be bound, to stint all strife, 
 And be true prisoner all thy life ? ' 
 
 K 2 131 
 
Captain George Gascoigne. 
 
 'Yea! Madam!' quod I, 'that I shall! 
 Lo ! FAITH and TRUTH my Sureties ! ' 
 1 Why then,' quod she, ' come, when I call ! 
 I ask no better warrantise ! ' 
 Thus am I BEAUTY'S bounden thrall; 
 At her command, when she doth call. 
 
 Ever or Never ! 
 
 WITH her in arms, that had my heart in hold, 
 
 I stood, of late, to plead for pity so ; 
 And as I did her lovely looks behold, 
 
 She cast a glance upon my rival foe. 
 His fleering face provoked her to smile ; 
 
 When my salt tears were drowned in disdain. 
 He glad. I sad. He laughed, alas! the while! 
 
 I wept for woe ! I pined for deadly pain ! 
 And when I saw none other boot prevail, 
 
 But Reason's rule must guide my skilful mind 
 'Why then,' quod I, 'old proverbs never fail! 
 
 For yet was never good cat out of kind ; 
 Nor woman true! but, even as stories tell, 
 " Won with an egg ; and lost again with shell 
 
 132 
 
Captain George Gascoigne. 
 
 THE LULLABY OF A LOVER. 
 
 SING, Lullaby ! as women do ; 
 
 Wherewith they bring their babes to rest 
 And Lullaby! can I sing too, 
 
 As womanly as can the best ! 
 With Lullaby, they still the child; 
 And, if I be not much beguiled, 
 Full many wanton babes have I ; 
 Which must be stilled with Lullaby ! 
 
 First, Lullaby my youthful years ! 
 
 It is now time to go to bed ; 
 For crooked age and hoary hairs 
 
 Have won the[ir] haven within my head! 
 With Lullaby, then Youth be still ! 
 With Lullaby, content thy will ! 
 Since courage quails, and comes behind; 
 Go, sleep, and so beguile thy mind! 
 
 Next, Lullaby my gazing Eyes ! 
 
 Which wonted were to glance apace ; 
 For every Glass may now suffice 
 
 To show the furrows in my face. 
 With Lullaby, then wink awhile! 
 With Lullaby, your looks beguile ! 
 Let no fair face, nor Beauty bright, 
 Entice you eft with vain delight! 
 
Captain George Gascoigne. 
 
 And Lullaby my wanton Will ! 
 
 Let Reason's rule now reign thy thought 
 Since, all too late, I find, by skill, 
 
 How dear I have thy fancies bought! 
 With Lullaby, now take thine ease! 
 With Lullaby, thy doubts appease ! 
 For trust to this, if thou be still, 
 My body shall obey thy Will ! 
 
 Eke Lullaby, my loving boy ! 
 
 My little ROBIN, take thy rest ! 
 Since age is cold, and nothing coy, 
 
 Keep close thy coin ; for so is best ! 
 With Lullaby, be thou content ! 
 With Lullaby, thy lusts relent! 
 Let others pay, which hath mo pence ; 
 Thou art too poor for such expense ! 
 
 Thus, Lullaby my Youth, mine Eyes, 
 My Will, my Ware, and all that was ! 
 
 I can no mo delays devise ; 
 
 But welcome Pain ! let Pleasure pass ! 
 
 With Lullaby, now take your leave ! 
 
 With Lullaby, your dreams deceive ! 
 
 And when you rise, with waking eye, 
 
 Remember then this Lullaby ! 
 
 Ever, or Never ! 
 
yohn Still, Bishop of Bath and Wells. 
 
 BACK and side go bare ! go bare ! 
 
 Both foot and hand go cold ! 
 But belly, God send thee good ale enough ; 
 
 Whether it be new or old ! 
 
 I cannot eat but little meat ; my stomach is not good ; 
 But, sure, I think that I can drink with him that wears a hood ! 
 Though I go bare ; take ye no care, I am nothing acold ! 
 I stuff my skin so full within of jolly good ale and old. 
 Back and side go bare ! go bare ! &c. 
 
 I love no roast but a nut-brown toast, and a crab laid in the fire ! 
 A little bread shall do me stead ! much bread I not desire! 
 No frost, nor snow, no wind, I trow, can hurt me if I would ; 
 I am so wrapped, and throughly lapped of jolly good ale 
 and old ! 
 
 Back and side go bare ! go bare ! &c. 
 
 And TYB my Wife, that as her life loveth well good ale to seek, 
 Full oft drinks she, till ye may see the tears run down her cheek ; 
 Then doth she troll to me the bowl, even as a Malt Worm 
 
 should ; 
 And saith, ' Sweet Heart ! I took my part of this jolly good 
 
 ale and old !' 
 
 Back and side go bare ! go bare ! &c. 
 
 Now let them drink till they nod and wink, even as Good 
 
 Fellows should do, 
 
 They shall not miss to have the bliss good ale doth bring men to! 
 And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, or have them 
 
 lustily trolled, 
 
 God save the lives of them and their Wives, whether they 
 be young or old ! 
 
 Back and side go bare ! go bare ! &c. 
 
 '35 
 
Rev. yasper Heywuod, D.D., 
 
 LOOK, ERE YOU LEAP ! 
 
 IF thou in surety safe wilt sit, 
 
 If thou delight at rest to dwell, 
 Spend no more words than shall seem fit! 
 Let tongue, in silence, talk expel ! 
 
 In all things that thou seest men bent ; 
 See all ! say nought ! hold thee content ! 
 
 In worldly works degrees are three, 
 
 Makers, Doers, and Lookers-on. 
 The Lookers-on have liberty, 
 Both the others to judge upon ; 
 Wherefore, in all, as men are bent, 
 See all ! say nought ! hold thee content ! 
 
 The Makers oft are in fault found ; 
 
 The Doers doubt of praise, or shame ; 
 The Lookers-on find surest ground ; 
 
 They have the fruit, yet free from blame : 
 This doth persuade in all here meant, 
 See all ! say nought ! hold thee content ! 
 
 The proverb is not, South and West, 
 
 Which hath been said, long time ago, 
 ' Of little meddling cometh rest ; 
 The busy man ne'er wanteth woe ! ' 
 The best way is, in all worlds, sent, 
 See all! say nought! hold thee content! 
 136 
 
William Hunnis. 
 
 A DIALOGUE 
 BETWEEN THE AUTHOR AND HIS EYE. 
 
 AUTHOR. MY Eye! why didst thou light on that which was not thine ? 
 Why hast thou, with thy sight, thus slain a Heart of mine ? 
 O, thou unhappy Eye ! Would God ! thou hadst been blind, 
 When first thou didst her spy ; for whom this grief I find ! 
 
 EYE. Why, Sir ! It is not I, that do deserve such blame ! 
 Your Fancy, not your Eye, is causer of the same ! 
 For I am ready pressed, as Page that serves your ease, 
 To search what thing is best, that might your Fancy please. 
 
 AUTHOR. I sent thee forth to see ; but not so long to bide ! 
 
 Though Fancy went with thee, thou wert my Fancy's guide ! 
 Thy message being done, thou mightst return again ! 
 So CUPID, VENUS' son, no whit my heart should pain. 
 
 EYE. Where Fancy beareth sway, there CUPID will be bold; 
 And Reason flies away from CUPID'S shaft of gold ! 
 If you find cause[d] thereby, some deal of painful smart ; 
 Alas ! blame not your Eye ; but blame consent of Heart ! 
 
 AUTHOR. My Heart must I excuse, and lay the fault on thee ; 
 
 Because thy sight did choose, when Heart from thought 
 
 was free. 
 
 Thy sight thus brought consent ; consent hath bred my grief; 
 And grief bids, Be content ! with sorrow for relief. 
 
 137 
 
George Whetstone. 
 
 VERSES 
 
 WRITTEN OF TWENTY GOOD PRECEPTS, 
 
 AT THE REQUEST OF MASTER ROBERT CuDDEN, 
 
 OF GRAY'S INN. 
 
 OLD friendship binds (though fain I would refuse !), 
 In this discourse, to please your honest mind ! 
 
 For trust me, friend ! the counselling words I use, 
 Are rather forced of cause, than come of kind ! 
 
 Your Themes are short ! and yet in substance large, 
 As of the least, some would a volume write ! 
 
 The first, Serve GOD f a service of such charge 
 As should not be forslowed day or night! 
 
 For what we do, is present in his eye ; 
 
 Well-doing, then, He must with grace regard! 
 And, using course, if He ill-doing spy, 
 
 He cannot but the lewd with wrath reward! 
 
 Obey thy Prince! or Tyburn cool thy pride! 
 
 The head commands the feet to go, or stay ; 
 So we, our Prince, even as our head and guide, 
 
 In what she wills, of duty must obey! 
 138 
 
George Whetstone. 
 
 Like well thy friend ! but try him ere thou love ! 
 
 For friends, we may, to ^Esop's tongues compare! 
 The faithful friend, no fortune can remove! 
 
 The fair-mouth foe, in need doth feed thy care ! 
 
 Shun many words! A sentence short and sweet! 
 
 For lavish speech is cause of much unrest. 
 It makes men oft their friends in sorrow meet; 
 
 And best applied, fair words seld 'bide the test ! 
 
 Avoid anger ! or look to live in woe! 
 
 The harebrained jade is far more spurred and beat 
 Than cooler horse, which meaner metal shows. 
 
 The like reward the hasty man doth get ! 
 
 Appease debate! An honest work in truth! 
 
 Much physic oft increaseth sickly qualms. 
 Recounting wrongs so many makes so wroth 
 
 As lives, legs, arms, are often dealt for alms ! 
 
 Be merciful! Have DIVES' scourge in mind! 
 
 None lives so just but some way doth offend ! 
 Then, cruel man ! what favour shouldst thou find, 
 
 When thou thy ears, to pity will not bend ? 
 
 Slander no man ! Mirth is a leech to moan ! 
 
 Health, physic helps, Fortune restoreth wealth ; 
 But honest fame, by slander spoiled and gone, 
 
 Health, Wealth, nor Mirth can satisfy the stealth! 
 
 139 
 
George Whetstone. 
 
 the truth ! Once there, one trial stands. 
 Note well, the fall of good SUSANNA'S foes ! 
 Upon thy life oft lieth life and lands! 
 
 A weighty charge, lest thou the truth disclose. 
 
 Take heed of drink ! Therein much mischief lies ! 
 
 It doth disclose the secrets of the breast! 
 What worse account than for none to be wise ; 
 
 When none is past to be esteemed a beast ! 
 
 Disdain no man ! Misjudgement often blinds ! 
 
 All is not fire like flame, that seems to blaze ! 
 Once homely weeds oft hide more gallant minds 
 
 Than gaudy coats, which set each eye to gaze. 
 
 Thy secrets keep / or make thyself a slave ! 
 
 The babbling fool is made a jesting stock! 
 When closely men account, and credit have ; 
 
 Then best that thou thy tongue with silence lock ! 
 
 Try, ere thou trust thy faith, lest falsehood 'quite! 
 
 The crocodile, with tears doth win her prey! 
 The Flatterer so, doth seem a Saint in sight; 
 
 To cut thy throat, in absence, if he may ! 
 
 Cherish the poor ! A work in Nature due. 
 
 Brute beasts relieve the feeble of their kind. 
 Then, Man ! for shame, with succour, see thou rue 
 
 Of Man distressed, the sick, the lame, or blind ! 
 140 
 
George Whetstone. 
 
 Aid honest minds ! and praise shall be thy meed ! 
 
 The subtle wretch, for pence, with fraud will fish ! 
 The honest man had rather starve in need, 
 
 Than, by deceit, to feed dishonest wish ! 
 
 Shun wanton Dames ! as Sirens they entice ! 
 
 Both body and purse, they witch, wound, and waste ! 
 And, in the end (for all this saucy price !), 
 
 Their sweet delights, of sour repentance taste ! 
 
 Succour Soldiers ! They watch to keep thy wealth ! 
 
 In wars they serve, that thou in peace mayst feed ! 
 Then if, through lack, the soldier live by stealth, 
 
 I wish a Churl fair hanged in his stead ! 
 
 Strangers favour ! Thy fortune is unknown ! 
 
 In Youth, or Age, none lives but needs a friend ! 
 And, using grace, if thou be overthrown, 
 
 Thou yet mayst hope, thy grief with grace to end ! 
 
 Provide for age ! or look to die with grief ! 
 
 Some, forced through shame, their aged friends do aid. 
 But Oh ! sour looks so salve this sweet relief, 
 
 As, day and night, with sighs they are dismayed ! 
 
 Think on thy end! The tide for none doth wait! 
 
 Even so, pale Death, for no man's will doth stay ! 
 Then, while thou mayst, thy worldly reck'ning straight ! 
 
 Lest, when thou wouldst, Death doth good will dismay ! 
 141 
 
Captain Thomas Churchyard. 
 
 OF BEAUTY AND BOUNTY. 
 
 WHEN BEAUTY, VENUS' daughter dear, from JOVE descended down, 
 To reign on earth an Empress here, with sceptre and with crown, 
 To PLEASURE'S Palace she repaired, where, with a princely port, 
 She held an open household long, in feasts and royal sport. 
 The fame whereof ran through the World so shrill in every ear, 
 That well was him, and glad was she, that might come banquet there. 
 
 The Lists were made, the Scaffold decked, each thing in good array, 
 The Lords full brave, the Ladies fine, the Courtiers trim and gay. 
 And as these States in triumph were all placed in their degrees, 
 And to behold the shivered staves, the people swarmed like bees; 
 In stepped a goodly armed Knight, on courser white as snow, 
 And twice he passed the Tilt about, as soft as horse could go. 
 And when he came where BEAUTY sat, he paused with bowed head, 
 And loud in open audience then, ' All hail ! fair Queen ! ' he said. 
 'I come,' quod he, 'from MANHOOD'S Court, the worthiest Prince alive, 
 Who keeps his Kingdom all by sword, and doth for honour strive, 
 By battle, and by breaking lance : who sent me hither plain, 
 To challenge, for my Mistress' sake, the stoutest in thy Train.' 
 
 No sooner he his message said, but in there rushed a band; 
 Whose clattering harness caused their steeds upon no ground to stand. 
 The dust flew up. The press did shrink. The foaming horses neighed. 
 The trumpets blew. The lance in rest, the spurs on sides, they laid. 
 'Fie, coward Knights!' quod COURAGE then, 'can all you fight 
 
 with one ? ' 
 
 So they retired ; and to the shock, came YOUTH all armed alone. 
 142 
 
Captain Thomas Churchyard. 
 
 These Champions met, as earth should shake, so fierce they seemed 
 
 to be, 
 
 As man become a lion wood, and horse in air should fly. 
 At each encounter crashed their staves, and fell amid the throng. 
 The buffets were so freely dealt, the blood through beaver sprung. 
 The Queen cried, ' Holla ! Cease ! ' quod she, ' you turn your 
 
 sport to spite ! 
 Some cause your choler doth increase; and mars the pastime quite!' 
 
 'A cause!' quod YOUTH, 'most worthy Dame, and my liege Lady dear! 
 Came ever yet before a Prince, so stout a Challenge here ? 
 Who dare with VENUS' daughter boast, Dame BEAUTY justly called, 
 That came from skies, and sat next JOVE, in sacred honour stalled. 
 Though BEAUTY sprang from earthly cause, and had but shape of kind, 
 And did no heavenly gifts possess, nor virtues lodge in mind ; 
 Yet BOLDNESS' churlish Challenge brave, too saucy is, you know ! 
 And BEAUTY hath too many friends, to see her handled so !' 
 
 When BOLDNESS heard this taunting tale, and marked the people's 
 
 cheer, 
 
 He thrusted through the thickest throng, and drew the Scaffold near, 
 And, all on knees, he craved to speak, and answer to his case. 
 On whom the Queen, for honour's sake, did shew a gracious face. 
 ' Speak on ! ' quod she. So stepped he up ; and thus to her he said. 
 
 ' O, puissant Prince ! thinks YOUTH, of brags that BOLDNESS stands 
 
 afraid ! 
 
 I am a branch of MANHOOD'S blood ; that STOUT CONCEIT begat, 
 The hope and help of high attempts, and stay of every State. 
 That hither came, for that no Court can be where I am not, 
 No Tourney seen, no Triumph made, no fame nor glory got. 
 And wot you well ! a Princess too, in Court I serve this hour, 
 That is as great in some respects, as she is small in power. 
 If stately honour can be guessed, by goodly graces trim ; 
 Or perfect beauty be possessed where BOUNTY swims at brim ; 
 
 H3 
 
Captain Thomas Churchyard. 
 
 Or wisdom under seemly shades may shine, or yet be seen. 
 My Mistress is a worthy Dame, though BEAUTY be a Queen ! 
 Report hath blown to MANHOOD'S ears the truth of that I tell. 
 Then BOLDNESS needs not blush to boast, that BOUNTY bears the bell ! 
 And since you license me to speak ; I dare, devoid of blame, 
 Light such a torch unto your eyes, shall show this Lady's name. 
 1 When sky is clear, and summer set, to shew the weather fair, 
 I mean, when calmly blows the wind, and pleasant is the air ; 
 A Marigold then you may find, full near an Eglantine : [shine. 
 
 Whose flowers, within the North, new bud ; and yet in Court doth 
 Her countenance carries such a State, full right amid her face, 
 As though therein, the Muses nine had made their mansion place. 
 A rattling sound, unto your ears, of her now here I show ; 
 Now rack and wrest my meaning out, and you my mind shall know.' 
 
 This said, each one on other looked, and he on horseback leapt 
 And some, that dwelt in their conceit, full close in corners crept. 
 The glorious sort, that gaped for fame where no deserts could be, 
 Did draw aback, and pressed apace, with plain reproach to flee. 
 The haughty minds held down their heads, high looks gan blush for 
 
 fear. 
 As YOUTH beheld this sudden change, he thought, no tarrying there. 
 
 The Gods, regarding from the stars, what strife by BEAUTY rose, 
 Bade VENUS call her daughter home : and homeward so she goes. 
 
 Then saw I BOLDNESS turn again, who gave, for BOUNTY'S wear, 
 A garland of the goodliest flowers that ever earth did bear : 
 And forced her for to take the same, in sign of glory won ; 
 As BEAUTY mounted to the Gods, and all the Triumph done. 
 
 The people, seeing BEAUTY gone, with one assent did cry, 
 'That BOUNTY pleased more their minds, than BEAUTY did the eye! ' 
 
 144 
 
Humphrey Gifford. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 LAID in my quiet bed to rest, 
 
 When sleep my senses all had drowned, 
 Such dreams arose within my breast 
 
 As did with fear my mind confound. 
 
 Methought, I wandered in a Wood, 
 Which was as dark as Pit of Hell, 
 
 In most whereof such waters stood, 
 That where to pass, I could not tell! 
 
 The lion, tiger, wolf, and bear, 
 
 There thundered forth such hideous cries, 
 As made huge echoes in the air, 
 
 And seemed almost to pierce the skies. 
 
 Long vexed with care, I there abode ; 
 
 And to get forth, I wanted power. 
 At every footstep that I trod, 
 
 I feared some beast would me devour! 
 
 Abiding thus perplexed with pain, 
 This case within myself I scanned, 
 
 That human help was all in vain, 
 Unless the LORD with us do stand. 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. L 145 
 
Gifford. 
 
 Then falling flat upon my face, 
 
 In humble sort, to GOD I prayed, 
 That, in this dark and dreadful place, 
 
 He would vouchsafe to be mine aid ! 
 
 Arising then, a wight with wings, 
 
 Of ancient years, methinks, I see : 
 A burning torch in hand he brings; 
 
 And thus began to speak to me. 
 
 'That GOD, whose aid thou didst implore, 
 Hath sent me hither, for thy sake ! 
 
 Pluck up thy sp'rits ! Lament no more ! 
 With me, thou must thy journey take ! ' 
 
 Against a huge and lofty hill, 
 
 With swiftest pace, methinks, we go ; 
 
 Where such a sound mine ears did fill, 
 As moved my heart to bleed for woe. 
 
 Methought, I heard a woeful wight, 
 
 In doleful sort pour forth great plaints ; 
 
 Whose cries did so my mind affright, 
 
 That, even with fear, each member faints. 
 
 4 Fie ! ' quoth my guide, ' what means this change ? 
 
 Pass on apace, with courage bold ! 
 Hereby doth stand a prison strange, 
 
 Where wondrous things thou mayst behold!' 
 146 
 
Humphrey Gifford. 
 
 Then came we to a Fort of Brass ; 
 
 Where, peering through great iron grates, 
 We saw a woman sit, alas ! 
 
 Which ruthfully bewailed her fates. 
 
 Her face was far more white than snow; 
 
 And on her head a crown she ware, 
 Beset with stones, that glistered so 
 
 As hundred torches had been there. 
 
 Her Song was, 'Woe, and well away! 
 
 What torments here do I sustain ! * 
 A new mishap did her dismay, 
 
 Which more and more increased her pain. 
 
 An ugly creature, all in black, 
 
 Ran to her seat, and flang her down ; 
 
 Who rent her garments from her back, 
 And spoiled her of her precious crown. 
 
 This crown he placed upon his head; 
 
 And, leaving her in doleful case, 
 With swiftest pace, away he fled : 
 
 And darkness came in all the place. 
 
 But then to hear the woeful moan 
 
 And piteous groans that she forth sent! 
 
 He had, no doubt, a heart of stone, 
 That could give ear, and not lament ! 
 
 L 2 147 
 
Humphrey Gifford. 
 
 Then quoth my guide, ' Note well my talk ; 
 
 And thou shalt hear this Dream declared ! 
 The Wood, in which thou first didst walk, 
 
 Unto the World may be compared. 
 
 ' The roaring beasts plainly express 
 The sundry Snares, in which we fall ; 
 
 This Gaol is named Deep Distress, 
 In which Dame VIRTUE lies as thrall. 
 
 'She is the wight which here within 
 So dolefully doth howl and cry. 
 
 Her foe is called DEADLY SIN, 
 That proffered her this villany. 
 
 ' My name is TIME, whom GOD hath sent 
 To warn thee of thy soul's decay ! 
 
 In time, therefore, thy sins lament; 
 Lest time from thee be ta'en away ! ' 
 
 As soon as he, these words had said, 
 With swiftest pace away he flies ! 
 
 And I hereat was so afraid, 
 
 That drowsy sleep forsook mine eyes. 
 
 148 
 
Humphrey Gifford. 
 
 FOR SOLDIERS. 
 
 YE buds of BRUTUS' land, courageous Youths, now play your parts ! 
 Unto your tackle stand ! Abide the brunt, with valiant hearts ! 
 For news is carried to and fro, That we must forth to warfare go ! 
 Men muster now in every place; and soldiers are pressed forth apace ! 
 Faint not ! Spend blood, to do your Queen and country good ! 
 Fair words, good pay, will make men cast all care away ! 
 
 The time of war is come ! Prepare your corslet, spear, and shield ! 
 Methinks, I hear the drum strike doleful marches to the Field ! 
 ' Tantara ! Tantara ! ' the trumpets sound ; which makes our hearts with 
 
 joy abound. 
 
 The roaring guns are heard afar, and every thing denounceth war. 
 Serve GOD ! Stand stout ! Bold courage brings this gear about! 
 Fear not ! Forth run ! Faint heart, fair Lady never won ! 
 
 Ye curious Carpet Knights, that spend the time in sport and play, 
 Abroad, and see new sights ! Your country's cause calls you away ! 
 Do not, to make your Ladies game, bring blemish to your worthy name ! 
 Away to Field, and win renown ! With courage, beat your enemies down ! 
 Stout hearts gain praise, when dastards sail in Slander's seas ! 
 Hap what hap shall, we, sure, shall die but once for all ! 
 
 ' Alarm ! ' methinks they cry. Be packing, Mates! Be gone with speed ! 
 Our foes are very nigh! Shame have that man that shrinks at need! 
 Unto it boldly let us stand ! GOD will give right the upper hand ! 
 Our cause is good, we need not doubt ! In sign of courage, give a shout ! 
 March forth ! Be strong ! Good hap will come ere it be long ! 
 Shrink not ! Fight well ! For lusty lads must bear the bell ! 
 
 All you that will shun evil, must dwell in warfare every day ! 
 The World, the Flesh, and Devil always do seek our souls' decay, 
 Strive with these foes, with all your might ! So shall you fight a worthy 
 fight! 
 
 That conquest doth deserve most praise, where Vice does yield to 
 
 Virtue's ways. 
 
 Beat down foul sin ! A worthy crown then shall ye win ! 
 If we live well, in Heaven with CHRIST our souls shall dwell ! 
 
 149 
 
Thomas Hoivell. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 To climb the high and haughty hill, 
 Where Poets press for praise by skill, 
 
 I list no labour waste ! 
 The Water Nymphs, I never viewed ; 
 Nor Ladies of the Lake pursued, 
 
 That poor ACTVEON chased ! 
 King ARTHUR'S Knights long since are fled, 
 
 In force that did excel : 
 And all those Ladies now lie dead, 
 Whose lives old Poets tell. 
 Revealing their dealing, 
 I purpose not to write : 
 But dreaming a strange thing ; 
 Lo ! here I do recite. 
 
 A fair pavilion finely pight, 
 In sleep, appeared in my sight; 
 Amidst whereof, in green and white, 
 The Goddess sat of all delight ; 
 Beset about with Ladies true, 
 Which did to her such service due, 
 As few, I deem, the like hath seen 
 Idone to any earthly Queen. 
 150 
 
Thomas Howell. 
 
 Her Nymphs all, they were 
 Of such comely cheer, 
 HELEN'S face may give place, 
 Where they appear. 
 
 These Ladies, on this Goddess bright 
 Attendance gave both day and night, 
 
 To work what she would will ; 
 Some sitting here, some standing there, 
 As for the time they placed were, 
 
 According to their skill. 
 For VENUS then, in majesty, 
 
 Methought, in banquet sat; 
 Attended on most curiously, 
 
 As best beseemed her State, 
 Some serving, 
 Some carving, 
 In Office as they stood. 
 Some playing, 
 Some singing, 
 With glad and cheerful mood. 
 
 That, sure, methought, in Heaven I was, 
 To see this sight, it so did pass ! 
 But, at the last, this banquet past, 
 Of Suitors then, a noble rout 
 
Thomas Howell. 
 
 There did appear, with drooping cheer, 
 Beseeching VENUS, them to hear ! 
 Who straight inclined, with willing mind, 
 To peise the plaints that each put out. 
 
 Wherewithal kneeled down 
 
 A wight of renown ; 
 
 Who cried thus, ' O, VENUS ! 
 
 Let Fate cease to frown ! 
 
 ' Have pity on her painful plight ; 
 Whose life is led without delight, 
 
 In sighs and sorrows still ! 
 My youth/ said she, ' with age I waste 
 For wealth, my parents me so placed ; 
 
 God know'th against my will ! ' 
 With that, another stepped in place; 
 And craved, with wailing voice, 
 ' O, noble Goddess ! of thy grace, 
 Grant me, my wished choice ! ' 
 Thus seeking, Dame liking, 
 They call on VENUS high! 
 Still suing, renewing 
 Their plaints with wat'ry eye. 
 
 Some out do cry on jealousy ! 
 And some, of great uncourtesy 
 With tears complain, that find disdain; 
 Where they have loved faithfully. 
 152 
 
Thomas How ell. 
 
 Another sort do eke resort, 
 Exclaiming loud on false report ; 
 Whereby their fame and noble name, 
 Without desert, oft bruit doth blame ; 
 And some Ladies say, 
 Their Lords run astray; 
 Whose wanting, and scanting, 
 Oft works their decay! 
 
 As thus, in course, each made his plaint ; 
 I, woeful wretch ! through love attaint, 
 
 In press myself did vaunt; 
 And unto VENUS, as I thought, 
 I hasted fast, and her besought 
 
 My Lady's love to grant ! 
 But, out ! alas ! even therewithal 
 
 A sudden thund'ring noise, 
 As Heaven and Earth should fail and fall, 
 My sp'rits from sleep did raise. 
 Then waking, heart aching, 
 I languished lay in woe ; 
 Bewailing the failing 
 Of wished purpose so. 
 
 And to myself, lo ! thus I said, 
 ' What stranged sight hath me dismayed ! 
 May visions rare, or dreams, declare 
 Such sudden change from joy to care ? 
 
 '53 
 
Thomas Howell. 
 
 From great delight, such moaning cheer, 
 May Goddesses abide to hear ? 
 No! No! Nought else but Fancy, sure, 
 My yielding heart doth lead and lure, 
 Aye the wight to mind, 
 Where love doth me bind; 
 Whose Servant attendant, 
 The Gods me assigned ! ' 
 
 OF THE GOLDEN WORLD. 
 
 'THE Golden World is past/ saith some 
 But now say I, ' That World is come ! 
 Now all things may, for gold be had, 
 For gain of gold, both good and bad ! 
 Now honour high for gold is bought ; 
 That earst of greater price was thought. 
 For gold, the fool aloft doth rise ; 
 And oft is placed above the wise. 
 For gold, the subtle shew their skill. 
 For gold, the wicked win their will. 
 For gold, who shuns to wrest a wrong, 
 And make it seem as right and strong ? 
 Who spares to plead as pleaseth thee ; 
 If bring thou do a golden fee ? 
 
Thomas Hoivell. 
 
 The fatherless is quite forgot ; 
 Where golden gifts do fall to lot. 
 For gold, the Widow is oppressed ; 
 And rightful heirs are dispossessed. 
 Poor IRUS' cause, at door doth stand, 
 If CRCESUS come with gold in hand. 
 What mischief may almost be thought, 
 That now, for gold, not daily wrought ? 
 A heap of ills, for gold are cloaked ; 
 Yea ! Vice, for gold, hath Virtue choked. 
 For gain of gold, the flatterer smiles ; 
 And oft thee fawns, with sundry wiles. 
 I will not here, though golden traps, 
 Say, Lovers light in Ladies' laps ! 
 But, brief to be, What can you crave, 
 That now, for gold, you may not have ? 
 Then, truth to tell, and not to feign, 
 Right now the Golden World doth reign ! ' 
 
Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 WHEN I was fair and young, and favour graced me, 
 Of many was I sought, their Mistress for to be : 
 But I did scorn them all, and answered them therefore, 
 ' Go, go, go, seek some otherwhere ! 
 
 Importune me no more ! ' 
 
 How many weeping eyes I made to pine with woe, 
 How many sighing hearts, I have no skill to show: 
 Yet I the prouder grew, and answered them therefore, 
 ' Go, go, go, seek some otherwhere ! 
 
 Importune me no more ! ' 
 
 Then spake fair VENUS' son, that proud victorious Boy, 
 And said, ' Fine Dame ! since that you be so coy ; 
 I will so pluck your plumes, that you shall say no more, 
 " Go, go, go, seek some otherwhere ! 
 
 Importune me no more!" 
 
 When he had spoke these words, such change grew 
 
 in my breast, 
 That neither night nor day since that, I could take 
 
 any rest. 
 
 Then, lo ! I did repent that I had said before, 
 ' Go, go, go, seek some otherwhere ! 
 
 Importune me no more!' 
 156 
 
Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 I GRIEVE ; and dare not show my discontent ! 
 
 I love ; and yet am forced to seem to hate ! 
 I do; yet dare not say, I ever meant! 
 
 I seem stark mute ; but inwardly do prate ! 
 I am, and not ; I freeze, and yet am burned ; 
 Since from myself, my other self I turned! 
 
 My care is like my shadow in the sun ; 
 
 Follows me, flying ! flies, when I pursue it ! 
 Stands and lies by me ! do'th what I have done ! 
 This too familiar CARE doth make me rue it ! 
 Nor means I find, to rid him from my breast, 
 Till, by the end of things, it be supprest. 
 
 Some gentler Passions slide into my mind ; 
 
 For I am soft, and made of melting snow. 
 Or be more cruel, LOVE ! and so be kind : 
 Let me, or float, or sink ! be high, or low ! 
 Or let me live with some more sweet content; 
 Or die ! and so forget what Love e'er meant. 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 AURORA now began to rise again 
 
 From wat'ry couch, and from old TITHON'S side, 
 In hope to kiss, upon Acteian plain, 
 
 Young CEPIIALUS, and through the golden glide. 
 
 On eastern coast she cast so great a light, 
 That PHGEBUS thought it time to make retire 
 
 From THETIS' bower, wherein he spent the night, 
 To light the world again with heavenly fire. 
 
 No sooner gan his winged steeds to chase 
 The Stygian night, mantled in dusky veil, 
 
 But poor AMYNTAS hasteth him apace, 
 In deserts, thus to weep a woeful tale. 
 
 ' Now, silent Shades, and all that dwell therein, 
 As birds, or beasts, or worms that creep on 
 ground, 
 
 Dispose yourselves to tears! while I begin 
 To rue the grief of mine eternal wound. 
 
 ' And, doleful Ghosts ! whose nature flies the light, 
 Come, seat yourselves with me on ev'ry side ; 
 
 And, whilst I die, for want of my delight, 
 Lament the woes that Fancy me betide! 
 
 ' PHILLIS is dead ! the mark of my desire, 
 My cause of love, and shipwreck of my joys. 
 
 PHILLIS is gone ! that set my heart on fire, 
 That clad my thoughts with ruinous annoys. 
 158 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 ' PHILLIS is fled ! and bides, I know not where ! 
 
 PHILLIS, alas ! the praise of Womankind ; 
 PHILLIS, the sun of this our hemisphere ; 
 
 Whose beams made me, and many others, blind. 
 
 ' But blinded me, poor man ! above the rest, 
 That, like old CEDIPUS, I live in thrall: 
 
 Still feel the worst, and never hope the best ! 
 My mirth is moan ! my honey drowned in gall ! 
 
 ' Her fair, but cruel, eyes bewitched my sight! 
 
 Her sweet, but fading, speech enthralled my thought ! 
 And in her deeds, I reaped such delight 
 
 As brought both will and liberty to nought. 
 
 ' Therefore, all hope of happiness, Adieu ! 
 
 Adieu, Desire ! the source of all my care. 
 Despair me tells, my weal will ne'er renew 
 
 Till this, my soul, doth pass in CHARON'S crare. 
 
 ' Meantime, my mind must suffer Fortune's scorn ; 
 
 My thoughts still wound, like wounds that still are 
 
 green ; 
 My weakened limbs be laid on beds of thorn. 
 
 My life decays, although my death foreseen. 
 
 ' Mine eyes (now eyes no more ; but seas of tears !), 
 Weep on your fill ! to cool my burning breast : 
 
 Where LOVE did place Desire 'twixt Hope and Fears. 
 I say, Desire, the author of unrest! 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 ' And, would to Gods ! PHILLIS ! where'er thou be, 
 Thy soul did see the sour of mine estate ! 
 
 My joys eclipsed, for only want of thee ! 
 My being, with myself, at foul debate! 
 
 ' My humble vows ! my sufferance of woe ! 
 
 My sobs and sighs and ever-watching eyes ! 
 My plaintive tears ! my wand'ring to and fro ! 
 
 My will to die ! my never-ceasing cries ! 
 
 ' No doubt but then, thy sorrows would persuade 
 The doom of Death to cut my vital twist; 
 
 That I with thee, amidst th' Infernal Shade, 
 And thou with me, might sport us, as we list! 
 
 ' O, if thou wait in fair PROSERPINE'S Train, 
 
 And hearest ORPHEUS, near th' Elysian springs ; 
 
 Entreat thy Queen, to free thee thence again! 
 And let the Thracian guide thee with his strings ! ' 
 
 How long, with vain complaining, 
 How long, with dreary tears, and joys refraining, 
 Shall we renew his dying ! 
 Whose happy soul is flying, 
 Not in a place of sadness, 
 But of eternal gladness. 
 
 Sweet SIDNEY lives in Heaven! Therefore letourweeping 
 Be turned to Hymns and Songs of pleasant greeting! 
 160 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 IN prime of youthly years, as then not wounded 
 
 With LOVE'S impoisoned dart, or bitter gall ; 
 Nor mind, nor thoughts, on fickle Fancy grounded; 
 
 But careless hunting after Pleasure's ball : 
 I took delight to laugh at Lovers' folly ; 
 
 Accounting Beauty but a fading blossom ! 
 What I esteemed profane, they deemed holy ; 
 
 Joying the thraldom, which I counted loathsome. 
 Their plaints were such, as nothing might relieve them ! 
 
 Their hearts did wellnigh break, Love's pain enduring! 
 Yet still I smiled, to see how Love did grieve them ; 
 
 U nwise they were, their sorrows self-procuring ! 
 Thus whilst they honoured CUPID for a God; 
 I held him as a Boy, not past the rod ! 
 
 LONG time I fought, and fiercely waged war 
 
 Against the God of amorous desire ! 
 Who sets the Senses, 'mongst themselves at jar; 
 
 The heart inflaming with his lustful fire. 
 The winged Boy, upon his mother's knee 
 
 Wantonly playing, near to Paphos' shrine, 
 Scorning that I should check his Deity, 
 
 Whose dreaded power tamed the Gods divine, 
 From forth his quiver drew the keenest dart, 
 
 Wherewith high JOVE he oftentimes had wounded, 
 And fiercely aimed it at my stubborn heart : 
 
 But back again the idle shaft rebounded ! 
 
 LOVE saw, and frowned that he was so beguiled. 
 I laughed outright; and VENUS sweetly smiled. 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. 
 
 M 161 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 SHE smiled to see her son in such a rage ; 
 
 I laughed to think how I had LOVE prevented ! 
 He frowned, and vowed, Nought should his ire assuage 
 
 Till I had stooped to Love ; and Love repented ! 
 The more, he raged, the greater grew our laughter ! 
 
 The more we laughed, the fiercer was his ire ! 
 And, in his anger, sware my poor heart's slaughter ; 
 
 Which in my breast Beauty should set on fire. 
 Fair VENUS, seeing her dear son in choler, 
 
 Fearing mishap by his too hasty anger, 
 Persuaded him, that she would work my dolour; 
 
 And, by her means, procure my endless languor. 
 So LOVE and Love's Queen ( LOVE having consented) 
 Agreed that I by Love should be tormented ! 
 
 THO, taking in her lap the God of Love, 
 
 She lightly mounted through the crystal air, 
 And in her coach, ydrawn with silver doves, 
 
 To VULCAN'S smoky forge she did repair. 
 Where, having won the CYCLOPS to her will, 
 
 LOVE'S quiver fraught with arrows of the best, 
 His bended bow in hand, all armed to kill ; 
 
 He vowed revenge, and threatened my unrest 
 And to be sure that he would deadly strike me, 
 
 His blindfold eyes he did a while uncover; 
 Choosing an arrow that should much mislike me, 
 
 He bade, ' Wound him that scorns to be a Lover ! ' 
 But when he saw his bootless arrow shiver; 
 He brake his bow, and cast away his quiver! 
 162 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 HOPELESS, and helpless too, poor LOVE amated 
 To see himself affronted with disdain ; 
 And all his skill and power spent in vain 
 
 At me, the only object that he hated. 
 
 Now CYTHEREA, from Olympus mount 
 
 Descending from the Sphere, with her dear son, 
 With dovelike wings to Acidalion. 
 
 LOVE on her knee, she, by the crystal fount, 
 
 Advised the Boy, What scandal it would be 
 If Fame should, to the open World discover, 
 How I survived and scorned LOVES sacred power! 
 
 Then CUPID, lightly leaping from her knee, 
 Unto his mother vowed my discontenting. 
 Unhappy vow, the ground of my lamenting ! 
 
 Then, on the sudden, fast away he fled ! 
 
 He fled apace, as from pursuing foe ; 
 Ne ever looked he back, ne turned his head, 
 
 Until he came where as he wrought my woe. 
 Tho, casting from his back his bended bow, 
 
 He quickly clad himself in strange disguise ; 
 In strange disguise that no man might him know, 
 
 So couched himself within my Lady's eyes. 
 But in her ej'es, such glorious beams did shine, 
 
 That wellnigh burnt LOVE'S particoloured wings. 
 Whilst I stood gazing on her sun-bright eyen, 
 
 The wanton Boy, She in my bosom flings! 
 He built his pleasant bower in my breast; 
 So I in love, and LOVE in me, doth rest ! 
 
 M 2 163 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 IN long time past, when, in DIANA'S chase, 
 
 A bramble bush pricked VENUS in the foot, 
 Old ^SCULAPIUS helped her heavy case, 
 Before the hurt had taken any root : 
 
 Wherehence, although his beard were crisping hard, 
 She yielded him a kiss for his reward. 
 
 My luck was like to his, this other day, 
 
 When She whom I, on earth do worship most, 
 For kissing me, vouchsafed thus to say, 
 
 ' Take this for once ! and make thereof no boast ! ' 
 Forthwith my heart gave sign of joy by skips ; 
 As though our souls had joined, by joining lips. 
 
 And since that time, I thought it not amiss 
 
 To judge which was the best of all these three ; 
 Her Breath, her Speech, or that her dainty Kiss ? 
 And, sure, of all the Kiss best liked me! 
 For that was it, which did revive my heart, 
 Oppressed and almost dead with daily smart. 
 
 COME, gentle DEATH! Who calls? One that 's opprcst ! 
 What is thy will? That thou abridge my woe, 
 By cutting off my life! Cease thy request! 
 I cannot kill thee yet ! Alas ! why so ? 
 
 TJwu wanCst thy heart ! Who stole the same away ? 
 
 LOVE, whom thou servst. Intreat him, if thou may ! 
 164 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 Come, come, come, LOVE ! Who calleth me so oft ? 
 
 Thy vassal true, whom thou shouldst know by right. 
 
 What makes thy cry so faint ? My voice is soft, 
 
 And almost spent, by wailing day and night. 
 
 Why then, what 's thy request ? That thou restore 
 To me my heart ; and steal the same no more ! 
 
 And thou, O, DEATH ! when I possess my heart, 
 
 Dispatch me then at once ! Why so ? 
 
 By promise, thou art bound to end my smart! 
 
 Why if thy heart return ; then what 's thy woe ? 
 That, brought from cold, it never will desire 
 To rest with me ; which am more hot than fire. 
 
 THIS latter night, amidst my troubled rest, 
 
 A dismal dream my fearful heart appalled ; 
 Whereof the sum was this. LOVE made a feast 
 To which all neighbour Saints and Gods were called. 
 The cheer was more than mortal men can think ; 
 And mirth grew on, by taking in their drink. 
 
 Then JOVE, amidst his cups, for service done, 
 
 Gan thus to jest with GANYMEDE, his boy. 
 ' I fain would find for thee, my pretty son, 
 A fairer Wife, than PARIS brought to Troy ! ' 
 1 Why, Sir ! ' quoth he, ' if PHCEBUS stand my friend, 
 Who knows the World, this gearwill soon have end!' 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 Then JOVE replied, 'That PHCEBUS should not choose, 
 
 But do his best to find the fairest face : 
 And She, once found, should neither will, nor choose ; 
 But yield herself, and change her dwelling-place.' 
 Alas! how much was then my heart affright! 
 Which bade me wake, and watch my fair delight. 
 
 THE NYMPHS, MEETING THEIR MAY QUEEN, 
 ENTERTAIN HER WITH THIS DITTY. 
 
 WITH fragrant flowers, we strew the way ; 
 And make this our chief holiday : 
 For though this clime was blessed of yore ; 
 Yet was it never proud before ! 
 
 O, beauteous Queen of second Troy! 
 
 Accept of our unfeigned joy ! 
 
 Now th' air is sweeter than sweet balm ; 
 And Satyrs dance about the palm ! 
 Now earth, with verdure newly dight, 
 Gives perfect signs of her delight! 
 
 O, beauteous Queen of second Troy ! &c. 
 
 Now birds record new harmony ; 
 And trees do whistle melody! 
 Now every thing that Nature breeds 
 Doth clad itself in pleasant weeds! 
 
 O, beauteous Queen of second Troy ! c. 
 166 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 AWAY, Despair ! the death of hopeless hearts ! 
 
 For Hope and Truth assured me long ago, 
 That Pleasure is the end of ling'ring smarts ; 
 
 When time, with just content rewardeth woe. 
 Sweet Virtue's Throne is built in Labour's Tower ! 
 
 Where laurel wreaths are twist for them alone 
 Whose galls are burst, with often tasted sour ; [moan. 
 
 Whose bliss, from bale is sprung ; whose mirth, from 
 I therefore strive by toils to raise my name, 
 
 And jASON-like to gain a Golden Fleece. 
 The end of ev'ry work doth crown the same, 
 
 As witness well the happy harms of Greece; 
 For if the Greeks had soon got PRIAM'S seat, 
 The glory of their pains had not been great ! 
 
 AUTHOR. IN all this world, I think none loves but I ! 
 ECHO. None loves but 1 1 AUTHOR. Thou foolish tattling guest ! 
 
 In this, thou tell'st a lie ! ECHO. Thou telVst a lie ! 
 AUTHOR. Why ! LOVE himself, he lodgeth in my breast ! 
 ECHO. He lodgeth in my breast ! AUTHOR. I pine for grief ; 
 
 And yet I want relief! ECHO. I want relief! 
 AUTHOR. No star more fair than She whom I adore ! 
 ECHO. Than He whom I adore ! AUTHOR. Herehence I burn 
 
 Still more and more ! ECHO. Iburnstitt more and more ! 
 AUTHOR. LOVE, let my heart return ! ECHO. My heart, return ! 
 AUTHOR. Is then the Saint, for whom thou makest moan, 
 
 And whom I love, but one ? ECHO. I love but one ! 
 AUTHOR. O, Heavens ! Is there in Love, no end of ills ? 
 
 167 
 
Thomas Watson. 
 
 ECHO. In Love, no end of ills! AUTHOR. Thou prattling voice, 
 DwelPst thou in th' air ; or but in hollow hills ? 
 
 ECHO. In hollow hills! AUTHOR. Cease off, to vaunt thy choice! 
 
 ECHO. Cease off, to vaunt thy choice! AUTHOR. I would reply; 
 But here, for love I die ! ECHO. For love I die ! 
 
 THE Soldier, worn with wars, delights in peace! 
 The Pilgrim, in his ease, when toils are past ! 
 The Ship, to gain the port, when storms do cease ; 
 And I rejoice, from LOVE discharged at last! 
 Whom while I served, peace, rest, and land I lost ! 
 With grievesome wars, with toils, with storms betost ! 
 
 Sweet Liberty now gives me leave to sing ! 
 
 What world it was, where LOVE the rule did bear! 
 How foolish Chance, by lots, ruled every thing! 
 How Error was mainsail ! each wave a Tear ! 
 The Master, LOVE himself! Deep Sighs, the wind! 
 Cares rowed with Vows the ship Unmerry Mind\ 
 
 False Hope as helm oft turned the boat about. 
 
 Inconstant Faith stood up for middle mast. 
 Despair the cable, twisted all with Doubt, 
 Held Griping Grief, the piked anchor, fast; 
 Beauty was all the rocks. But I, at last, 
 Am now twice free ; and all my love is past! 
 
 168 
 
Captain Alexander Montgotnerie. 
 
 THE NIGHT IS NEIR GONE. 
 
 HAY ! nou the day dauis ! 
 The jolie cok crauis! 
 Nou shroudis the shauis 
 
 Throu Natur anone. 
 The thissell-cok cryis 
 On Lovers wha lyis. 
 Nou skaillis the skyis. 
 
 The night is neir gone ! 
 
 The feildis ouerflouis 
 With gouans that grouis, 
 Quhair lilies lyk lou is, 
 
 Als rid as the rone. 
 The turtill that treu is, 
 
 With nots that reneuis, 
 Hir pairtie perseuis. 
 
 The night is neir gone ! 
 
 169 
 
Captain Alexander Montgomerie. 
 
 Now hairtis and hyndis 
 Conforme to thair kyndis, 
 Hie tursis thair tyndis 
 
 On grand vhair they grone. 
 Nou hurchonis, with hairis, 
 Ay passis in pairis ; 
 Quhilk deuly declaris 
 
 The night is neir gone ! 
 
 The sesone excellis 
 
 Thrugh sueetnes that smellis; 
 
 Now CUPID compellis 
 
 Our hartis echone 
 On VENUS vha vaikis, 
 To muse on our Maikis, 
 Syn sing, for thair saikis, 
 
 The night is neir gone ! 
 
 All curageous Knichtis, 
 Agains the day dichtis 
 The breist plate that bright is, 
 
 To feght with thair fone. 
 The stoned steed stampis, 
 Throu courage and crampis, 
 Syn on the land lampis. 
 
 The night is neir gone ! 
 170 
 
Captain Alexander Montgomerie. 
 
 The freikis on feildis 
 That wight wapins weildis 
 With shyning bright shieldis 
 
 As TITAN in trone. 
 Stiff speiris in reistis, 
 Ouer cursoris cristis, 
 Ar brok on thair breistis. 
 
 The night is neir gone ! 
 
 So hard ar thair hittis, 
 Some sueyis, some sittis, 
 And some, perforce, flittis 
 
 On grund vhill they grone. 
 Syn groomis that gay is, 
 On blonkis that brayis, 
 With suordis assayis. 
 
 The night is neir gone ! 
 
 171 
 
L'df>tain Alexander Motitgomerie. 
 
 A BONY ' No ! ' with smyling looks agane. 
 
 I wald ye leirnd, sen they so comely ar. 
 As touching ' Yes ! ' if ye suld speik so plane, 
 
 I might reprove you to haif said so far ! 
 
 Noght that your grant, in ony wayis, micht gar 
 Me loth the fruit, that curage ocht to chuse ! 
 
 Bot I wald only haif you seme to skar; 
 And let me tak it, fenyeing to refuse. 
 
 And warsill, as it war, against your will ; 
 
 Appeiring angrie, thoght ye haif no yre : 
 For haif, ye heir, is haldin half a fill. 
 
 I speik not this, as trouing for to tyre ; 
 
 Bot, as the forger, vhen he feeds his fyre 
 With sparks of water, maks it burne more bald ; 
 
 So sueet denyall doubillis hot desyr; 
 And quickins curage fra becomming cald. 
 
 Wald ye be made of? ye man mak it nyce! 
 
 For dainties heir ar delicat and deir; 
 Bot plenty things are prysyde to lytill pryce : 
 
 Then thoght ye hearken, let no wit ye heir; 
 
 Bot look away, and len thame ay your eir. 
 For folou Love, they say, and it will flie ! 
 
 Wald ye be lovd, this lessone mon ye leir, 
 Fly vhylome Love; and it will folou thee! 
 
 172 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 A NOSEGAY ALWAYS SWEET, FOR LOVERS TO SEND FOR 
 
 TOKENS OF LOVE AT NEW YEARS TIDE, OR FOR 
 
 FAIRINGS; AS THEY, IN THEIR MINDS, 
 SHALL BE DISPOSED TO WRITE. 
 
 A NOSEGAY lacking flowers fresh, 
 
 To you now I do send; 
 Desiring you to look thereon, 
 
 When that you may intend. 
 For flowers fresh begin to fade ; 
 
 And BOREAS in the field, 
 Even with his hard congealed frost, 
 
 No better flowers doth yield. 
 
 But if that Winter could have sprung 
 
 A sweeter flower than this, 
 I would have sent it presently 
 
 To you, withouten miss. 
 Accept this then ! as time doth serve. 
 
 Be thankful for the same ! 
 Despise it not ! but keep it well, 
 
 And mark each flower his name ! 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Lavender is for Lovers true, 
 
 Which evermore be fain ; 
 Desiring always for to have 
 
 Some pleasure for their pain: 
 And when that they obtained have 
 
 The love that they require ; 
 Then have they all their perfect joy, 
 
 And quenched is the fire. 
 
 Rosemary is for Remembrance 
 
 Between us day and night ; 
 Wishing that I might always have 
 
 You present in my sight. 
 And when I cannot have, 
 
 As I have said before, 
 Then CUPID, with his deadly dart, 
 
 Doth wound my heart full sore. 
 
 Sage is for Sustenance, 
 
 That should Man's life sustain. 
 For I do still lie languishing 
 
 Continually in pain ; 
 And shall do still, until I die, 
 
 Except thou favour show. 
 My pain and all my grievous smart 
 
 Full well you do it know ! 
 
 Fennel is for Flatterers. 
 
 An evil thing, it is sure ! 
 But I have always meant truly, 
 
 With constant heart most pure ! 
 '74 
 
Anonymoiis. 
 
 And will continue in the same 
 
 As long as life doth last; 
 Still hoping for a joyful day, 
 
 When all our pains be past. 
 
 Violet is for Faithfulness, 
 
 Which in me shall abide ! 
 Hoping, likewise, that from your heart 
 
 You will not let it slide; 
 And will continue in the same, 
 
 As you have now begun ; 
 And then for ever to abide, 
 
 Then you might heart have won ! 
 
 Time is to try me, 
 
 As each be tried must, 
 [?] thing you know, while life doth last, 
 
 I will not be unjust ! 
 And if I should, I would to God! 
 
 To Hell my soul should bear ; 
 And eke also, that BEELZEBUB, 
 
 With teeth, he should me tear ! 
 
 Roses are to rule me 
 
 With reason, as you will ; 
 For to be still obedient, 
 
 Your mind for to fulfil : 
 And thereto will not disagree 
 
 In nothing that you say; 
 But will content your mind truly, 
 
 In all things that I may. 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Gillyflowers are for Gentleness, 
 Which in me shall remain ; 
 
 Hoping that no sedition shall 
 Depart our hearts in twain. 
 
 As soon the sun shall lose his course; 
 The moon, against her kind, 
 
 Shall have no light ; if that I do 
 Once put you from my mind ! 
 
 Carnations are for Graciousness. 
 
 Mark that now, by the way ! 
 Have no regard to flatterers ; 
 
 Nor pass not, what they say! 
 For they will come with lying tales 
 
 Your ears for to fulfil. 
 In any case, do you consent 
 
 Nothing unto their will ! 
 
 Marigolds are for Marriage, 
 
 That would our minds suffice ; 
 Lest that suspicion of us twain 
 
 By any means should rise. 
 As for my part, I do not care! 
 
 Myself I will still use, 
 That all the women in the World, 
 
 For you I will refuse ! 
 
 Pennyroyal is to print your love 
 
 So deep within my heart, 
 That when you look this Nosegay on, 
 
 My pain you may impart : 
 176 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 And when that you have read the same, 
 
 Consider well my woe ! 
 Think ye then, how to recompense 
 
 Even him that loves you so ! 
 
 Cowslips are for Counsel, 
 
 For secrets us between ; 
 That none but you and I alone 
 
 Should know the thing we mean. 
 And if you will thus wisely do, 
 
 As I think to be best ; 
 Then have you surely won the field, 
 
 And set my heart at rest. 
 
 I pray you, keep this Nosegay well ; 
 
 And set by it some store ! 
 And thus, Farewell! The Gods thee guide, 
 
 Both now and evermore ! 
 Not, as the common sort do use, 
 
 To set it in your breast; 
 That, when the smell is gone away, 
 
 On ground he takes his rest. 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. N 177 
 
4nonyntous. 
 
 THE LADY GREENSLEEVES. 
 
 ALAS ! my Love ! ye do me wrong 
 
 To cast me off discourteously ; 
 And I have loved you so long, 
 Delighting in your company. 
 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! 
 GREENSLEEVES was my delight! 
 GREENSLEEVES was my heart of gold ; 
 And who but Lady GREENSLEEVES ? 
 
 I have been ready at your hand 
 
 To grant whatever you would crave ! 
 
 I have both waged life and land, 
 
 Your love and good will for to have ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 
 I bought thee Kerchers to thy head, 
 That were wrought fine and gallantly; 
 
 I kept thee both at board and bed, 
 Which cost my purse well favouredly. 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 
 I bought thee Petticoats of the best, 
 The cloth so fine as fine might be ! 
 
 I gave thee Jewels for thy chest; 
 And all this cost I spent on thee! 
 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 
 178 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Thy Smock of silk both fair and white, 
 With gold embroidered gorgeously; 
 
 Thy Petticoat of sendall [bjright ; 
 And thus I bought thee gladly ! 
 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c, 
 
 Thy Girdle of gold so red, 
 
 With pearls bedecked sumptuously: 
 
 The like no other Lasses had; 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 
 Thy Purse, and eke thy gay gilt Knives, 
 Thy Pincase gallant to the eye, 
 
 No better wore the Burgess Wives ; 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 
 Thy crimson Stockings, all of silk, 
 
 With gold all wrought above the knee ; 
 
 Thy Pumps as white as was the milk ; 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 
 Thy Gown was of the grossy green, 
 Thy Sleeves of satin hanging by; 
 Which made thee be our Harvest Queen ; 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 N 2 179 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Thy Garters fringed with the gold, 
 
 And silver aiglets hanging by ; 
 Which made thee blithe for to behold ; 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 
 My gayest gelding I thee gave, 
 
 To ride wherever liked thee. 
 No Lady ever was so brave ; 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 
 My men were clothed all in green, 
 And they did ever wait on thee! 
 
 All this was gallant to be seen ; 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 
 They set thee up. They took thee down. 
 
 They served thee with humility. 
 Thy foot might not once touch the ground ; 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 
 For, every morning, when thou rose, 
 
 I sent thee dainties orderly, 
 To cheer thy stomach from all woes ; 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 180 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Thou couldst desire no earthly thing, 
 
 But still thou hadst it readily ; 
 Thy music still to play and sing ; 
 
 And yet thou wouldst not love me ! 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 
 And who did pay for all this gear, 
 
 That thou didst spend, when pleased thee? 
 
 Even I, that am rejected here : 
 And thou disdain'st to love me ! 
 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy! &c. 
 
 Well! I will pray to GOD on high, 
 That thou my constancy mayst see! 
 
 And that, yet once before I die, 
 Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me ! 
 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 
 GREENSLEEVES ! now, Farewell ! Adieu ! 
 
 GOD 1 pray to prosper thee! 
 For I am still thy Lover true ; 
 
 Come once again, and love me! 
 
 GREENSLEEVES was all my joy ! &c. 
 
 WHAT pleasure have great Princes 
 
 More dainty to their choice 
 Than Herdsmen wild ! who, careless, 
 In quiet life rejoice ; 
 
 And, Fortune's fate not fearing, 
 Sing sweet, in summer morning. 
 
 181 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Their dealings plain and rightful, 
 
 Are void of all deceit: 
 They never know how spiteful 
 It is to kneel, and wait 
 
 On Favourite presumptuous ; 
 Whose pride is vain and sumptuous. 
 
 All day their flocks each tendeth : 
 
 At night, they take their rest 
 More quiet, than who sendeth 
 His ship into the East, 
 
 Where gold and pearlfs] are plenty ; 
 But getting, very dainty! 
 
 For Lawyers and their pleading, 
 
 They 'steem it not a straw! 
 They think that honest meaning 
 Is of itself a law ; 
 Where conscience judgeth plainly, 
 They spend no money vainly. 
 
 O, happy who thus liveth, 
 
 Not caring much for gold ; 
 With clothing which sufficeth 
 To keep him from the cold. 
 
 Though poor and plain his diet; 
 Yet merry it is, and quiet ! 
 182 
 
George Peele. 
 
 SONG 
 
 ON THE OCCASION OF SlR HENRY LEA'S RESIGNATION OF 
 THE QUEEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP, NOVEMBER 17, 1590. 
 
 His golden locks, time hath to silver turned. 
 
 O, time too swift ! O, swiftness never ceasing ! 
 His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned ; 
 
 But spurned in vain ! Youth waneth by increasing. 
 Beauty, Strength, Youth, are flowers but fading seen ; 
 Duty, Faith, Love, are roots, and ever green! 
 
 His helmet now shall make a hive for bees; 
 
 And Lovers' Sonnets turned to holy Psalms \ 
 A Man at Arms must now serve on his knees, 
 
 And feed on prayers ; which are Age's alms. 
 But though from Court to Cottage he depart ; 
 His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart! 
 
 And when he saddest sits in homely cell, 
 
 He'll teach his Swains this Carol for a Song: 
 
 1 Blessed be the hearts that wish my Sovereign well ! 
 Cursed be the souls that think her any wrong!' 
 
 Goddess ! Allow this aged man his right ! 
 
 To be your Beadsman now, that was your Knight! 
 
 183 
 
George Peele. 
 
 (ENONE'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 MELPOMENE ! the Muse of tragic Songs ! 
 With mournful tunes, in stole of dismal hue, 
 Assist a silly Nymph to wail her woe; 
 And leave thy lusty company behind ! 
 
 Thou luckless wreath ! becomes me not to wear 
 The poplar tree, for triumph of my love ! 
 Then as my joy, my pride of love is left, 
 Be thou unclothed of thy lovely green ! 
 
 And in thy leaves, my fortune written be ! 
 And them, some gentle wind let blow abroad ! 
 That all the World may see, how false of love 
 False PARIS hath, to his CNONE been! 
 
 COLIN 'S SONG. 
 
 O, GENTLE LOVE ! ungentle for thy deed ! 
 
 Thou makest my heart 
 
 A bloody mark, 
 With piercing shot to bleed ! 
 
 Shoot soft, sweet LOVE ! for fear thou shoot amiss ! 
 For fear too keen 
 Thy arrows been ; 
 
 And hit the heart, where my beloved is. 
 184 
 
George Peele. 
 
 Too fair that fortune were ! or never I 
 
 Shall be so blest, 
 
 Among the rest, 
 That love shall seize on her by sympathy ! 
 
 Then since with LOVE, my prayers bear no boot; 
 
 This doth remain, 
 
 To ease my pain. 
 I take the wound ; and die at VENUS' foot ! 
 
 THE SONG OF CORIDON AND MEL AM PUS. 
 
 CORIDON. MELAMPUS ! When will Love be void of fears ? 
 MELAMPUS. When Jealousy hath neither eyes, nor ears. 
 CORIDON. MELAMPUS! When will Love be thoroughly shrieved? 
 MELAMPUS. When it is hard to speak, and not believed. 
 CORIDON. MELAMPUS ! When is Love most malcontent ? 
 MELAMPUS. When Lovers range, and bear their bows unbent. 
 CORIDON. MELAMPUS! tell me, When takes Love least harm? 
 MELAMPUS. When Swains' sweet pipes are puffed ; and Trulls 
 
 are warm. 
 
 CORIDON. MELAMPUS ! tell me, When is Love best fed? 
 MELAMPUS. When it hath sucked the sweet that ease hath bred. 
 CORIDON. MELAMPUS ! When is time in Love ill spent? 
 MELAMPUS. When it earns meed ; and yet receives no rent. 
 CORIDON. MELAMPUS ! When is time well spent in Love? 
 MELAMPUS. When deeds win meeds ; and words Love's 
 
 works do prove. 
 
 '85 
 
Nicholas Breton. 
 
 IN time of yore, when Shepherds dwelt 
 
 Upon the mountain rocks, 
 And simple people never felt 
 
 The pain of Lovers' mocks : 
 But little birds would carry tales 
 
 Twixt SUSAN and her Sweeting, 
 And all the dainty nightingales 
 
 Did sing at Lovers' meeting : 
 Then might you see, what looks did pass 
 
 Where Shepherds did assemble ; 
 And where the life of True Love was, 
 
 When hearts could not dissemble. 
 
 Then ' Yea ! ' and ' Nay ! ' was thought an oath 
 
 That was not to be doubted ! 
 And when it came to ' Faith ! ' and ' Troth ! ' 
 
 We were not to be flouted ! 
 Then did they talk of curds and cream, 
 
 Of butter, cheese, and milk : 
 There was no speech of ' sunny beam/ 
 
 Nor of the 'golden silk.' 
 Then, for a gift, a row of pins, 
 
 A purse, a pair of knives, 
 Was all the way that love begins; 
 
 And so the Shepherd wives! 
 
 But now we have so much ado, 
 
 And are so sore aggrieved ; 
 That when we go about to woo, 
 
 We cannot be believed! 
 186 
 
Nicholas Breton. 
 
 Such choice of jewels, rings, and chains, 
 
 That may but favour move ; 
 And such intolerable pains 
 
 Ere one can hit on love : 
 That, if I still shall bide this life, 
 
 'Twixt love and deadly hate, 
 I will go learn the Country Life; 
 
 Or leave the Lover's state! 
 
 TOM THE PAGE'S SONG. 
 
 Another time, not long after, he chanced to be in his 
 friend's and better's house. Being in his bed, about mid- 
 night, by chance awake, he heard, in the next chamber, 
 a Page of the Lady of the house, lamenting, as he lay 
 in his bed, very sore his unhappy estate : which, as he 
 could well bear away in the morning, he put in verse, 
 only for his own reading, to laugh at ; but, being by 
 his friend intreated, put it, as you see, among his Toys, 
 as one not the least which was as followeth. 
 
 ' THAT, I would not persuaded be, 
 
 In my young rechless youth, 
 By plain experience, I see 
 That now it proveth truth,' 
 
 It is TOM'S Song, my Lady's Page, 
 ' That service is no heritage ! ' 
 
 187 
 
Nicholas Breton. 
 
 I heard him sing, this other night, 
 
 As he lay all alone. 
 Was never boy in such a plight, 
 Where he should make his moan ! 
 ' O, LORD ! ' quoth he, 'to be a Page, 
 This service is none heritage ! 
 
 'Mine uncle told me, t' other day, 
 
 That I must take great pain, 
 And I must cast all sloth away, 
 If I seek aught to gain ! 
 
 'For, sure," quoth he, "a painful Page 
 Will make service an heritage ! " 
 
 ' Yea, sure, a great commodity ! 
 
 If once Madam he do displease, 
 A cuff on the ear, two or three, 
 He shall have, smally for his ease! 
 I would, for me, he were a Page, 
 For to possess his heritage ! 
 
 ' I rub, and brush, almost all day ! 
 
 I make clean many a coat ! 
 I seek all honest means I may, 
 How to come by a groat ! 
 I think I am a painful Page; 
 Yet I can make no heritage ! 
 188 
 
Nicholas Breton. 
 
 ' Why ! I to get, have much ado, 
 
 A kirtle now and then ; 
 For making clean of many a shoe 
 For ALICE, or Mistress ANNE, 
 
 My Lady's Maids will wipe the Page 
 Always of such an heritage. 
 
 * The wenches, they get coifs and cauls, 
 
 French hoods, and partlets eke ; 
 And I get nought but checks and brawls, 
 A thousand in a week ! 
 
 These are rewards meet for a Page ! 
 Surely, a goodly heritage ! 
 
 'My Lady's Maids too, must I please; 
 But chiefly Mistress ANNE! 
 
 For else, by the Mass ! she will dis-ease 
 
 . Me vilely now and then ! 
 
 " Faith ! " she will say, " you wicked Page 
 I'll purchase you an heritage ! " 
 
 ' And if she say so, by the Rood ! 
 
 'Tis cock, I warrant it ! 
 But GOD, He knows, I were as good 
 To be withouten it! 
 
 For all the gains I get, poor Page! 
 Is but a slender heritage ! 
 
 189 
 
Nicholas Breton. 
 
 1 I have so many folks to please, 
 
 And creep, and kneel unto ; 
 That I shall never live at ease, 
 Whatever so I do ! 
 
 I'll therefore be no more a Page; 
 But seek some other heritage.' / 
 
 4 But was there ever such a Patch, 
 
 To speak so loud as I ; 
 Knowing what hold the Maids will catch 
 At every fault they spy ! 
 
 And all for spite of me, poor Page ! 
 To purchase me an heritage. 
 
 * And if that they may hear of this, 
 
 I were as good be hanged! 
 ' My Lady shall know it, by Gis ! " 
 And I shall sure be banged ! 
 I shall be used like a Page ! 
 I shall not lose mine heritage! 
 
 'Well! yet I hope the time to see, 
 
 When I may run as fast 
 For wands for them ; as they for me, 
 Ere many days be past! 
 
 For when I am no longer Page, 
 I'll give them up mine heritage! 
 190 
 
Nicholas Breton. 
 
 ' Well ! I a while must stand content, 
 
 Till better hap do fall, 
 With such poor state as GOD hath sent; 
 And give him thanks for all! 
 
 Who will, I hope, send me, poor Page ! 
 Than this, some better heritage ! ' 
 
 With this, with hands and eyes 
 
 Lift up to Heaven on high, 
 He sighed twice, or thrice, 
 And wept too, piteously. 
 
 Which, when I saw, I wished the Page, 
 In faith! some better heritage! 
 
 And, weeping thus, ' Good GOD ! ' quoth he, 
 
 ' Have mercy on my soul ! 
 That ready I may be for thee, 
 When that the bell doth knoll! 
 
 To make me free of this bondage, 
 And partner of mine heritage! 
 
 ' LORD, grant me grace, so thee to serve, 
 
 That, at the Latter Day, 
 Although I can no good deserve, 
 Yet thou, to me mayst say, 
 
 " Be thou now free, that wert a Page ! 
 And here in Heaven have heritage!" 
 191 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 ' MAID ! will ye love me ? Yea, or No ? 
 Tell me the truth, and let me go ! 
 It can be no less than a sinful deed, 
 
 Trust me truly ! 
 To linger a Lover, that looks to speed 
 
 In due time duly. 
 
 ' You Maids, that think yourselves as fine 
 
 As VENUS and all the Muses nine, 
 
 The Father himself, when He first made Man, 
 
 Trust me truly ! 
 Made you for his help, when the world began, 
 
 In due time duly. 
 
 * Then sith GOD's will was even so, 
 Why should you disdain your Lover tho ? 
 But rather, with a willing heart, 
 
 Love him truly ! 
 For in so doing, you do but your part. 
 
 Let reason rule ye ! 
 
 ' Consider, Sweet ! what sighs and sobs 
 Do nip my heart, with cruel throbs; 
 And all, my Dear ! for love of you ! 
 
 Trust me truly ! 
 But I hope that you will some mercy shew 
 
 In due time duly ! 
 193 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 ' If that you do, my case well weigh ; 
 And shew some sign whereby I may 
 Have some good hope of your good grace, 
 
 Trust me truly ! 
 I count myself in a blessed case ! 
 
 Let reason rule ye ! 
 
 ' And for my part, whilst I do live, 
 
 To love you most faithfully, my hand I give ! 
 
 Forsaking all other for your sweet sake, 
 
 Trust me truly ! 
 In token whereof, my troth I betake 
 
 To your self most duly ! 
 
 1 And though for this time we must depart ; 
 Yet keep you this ring ! true token of my heart 
 Till time do serve we meet again, 
 
 Let reason rule ye ! 
 When an answer of comfort, I trust to obtain 
 
 In due time duly. 
 
 ' Now must I depart, with sighing tears, 
 With sobbing heart, and burning ears, 
 Pale in the face, and faint, as I may, 
 
 Trust me truly ! 
 But I hope our next meeting, a joyful day, 
 
 In due time duly! ' 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. O 193 
 
James L 
 
 ANE SCHORT POEME OF TYME. 
 
 As I was pansing in a morning aire, 
 
 And could not sleip, nor nawayis take me rest, 
 Furth for to walk, the morning was sa faire, 
 Athort the feilds, it seemed to me best. 
 The East was cleare, whereby belyve I gest 
 That fyrie TITAN cumming was in sight, 
 Obscuring chaste DIANA by his light. 
 
 Who, by his rysing in the azure skyes, 
 
 Did dewlie helse all thame on earth do dwell. 
 The balmie dew, through birning drouth he dryis; 
 Which made the soile to savour sweit and smell, 
 By dew that, on the night before down fell. 
 Which then was soukit by the Delphien's heit 
 Up in the air; it was so light and weit. 
 
 Whose hie ascending in his purpour Sphere, 
 
 Provoked all from MORPHEUS to flee : 
 As beasts to feid, and birds to sing with beir ; 
 Men to their labour, bissie as the bee. 
 Yet idle men devysing did I see, 
 
 How for to dryve the tyme, that did them irk, 
 By sundrie pastimes, quhill that it grew mirk. 
 194 
 
yames I. 
 
 Then wonndred I, to see them seik a wyle 
 
 So willinglie the precious tyme to tyne ; 
 And how they did them selfis so farr begyle, 
 To fashe of tyme ; which of it selfe is fyne. 
 Fra tyme be past, to call it bakwart syne 
 
 Is bot in vaine ! Therefore men should be warr, 
 To sleuth the tyme that flees fra them so farr! 
 
 For what hath Man but tyme into this life ; 
 
 Which gives him dayis, his GOD aright to knaw : 
 Wherefore then sould we be at sic a stryfe, 
 So spedelie our selfis for to withdraw 
 Euin from the tyme ; which is on naways slaw 
 To flie from us, suppose we fled it nought ! 
 More wise we were, if we the tyme had soght ! 
 
 But sen that time is sic a precious thing; 
 
 I wald we sould bestow it into that 
 Which were most pleasour to our heavenly King! 
 Flee ydilteth ! which is the greatest lat ! 
 But sen that death to all is destinat, 
 
 Let us imploy that time that GOD hath send us 
 In doing weill ; that good men may commend us ! 
 
 o 2 195 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 I SMILE to see how you devise 
 
 New masking nets my eyes to blear 
 
 Yourself you cannot so disguise 
 But as you are, you must appear! 
 
 Your privy winks at board I see, 
 And how you set your roving mind ; 
 
 Yourself you cannot hide from me ! 
 Although I wink, I am not blind ! 
 
 The secret sighs and feigned cheer 
 That oft doth pain thy careful breast, 
 
 To me right plainly doth appear. 
 I see in whom thy heart doth rest! 
 
 And though thou mak'st a feigned vow, 
 That Love no more thy heart should nip! 
 
 Yet think ! I know as well as thou, 
 The fickle helm doth guide the ship. 
 
 The salamander in the fire, 
 
 By course of kind, doth bathe his limbs. 
 The floating fish tak'th his desire 
 
 In running streams where as he swims. 
 196 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 So thou, in change dost take delight ! 
 
 Full well I know thy slippery kind ! 
 In vain thou seem'st to dim my sight; 
 
 Thy rolling eyes bewray' th thy mind! 
 
 I see him smile, that doth possess 
 
 Thy love, which once I honoured most. 
 
 If he be wise ; he may well guess, 
 
 Thy love soon won, will soon be lost ! 
 
 And sith thou canst no man entice, 
 That he should still love thee alone : 
 
 Thy beauty now hath lost her price ! 
 I see thy savoury scent is gone ! 
 
 Therefore leave off thy wonted play ; 
 
 But, as thou art, thou wilt appear ! 
 Unless thou canst devise a way 
 
 To dark the sun, that shines so clear. 
 
 And keep thy friend that thou hast won ! 
 
 In truth to him, thy love supply ! 
 Lest he, at length, as I have done, 
 
 Take off thy bells, and let thee fly! 
 
 197 
 
Lyly. 
 
 A SONG BY APELLES. 
 
 CUPID and my CAMPASPE played 
 At cards for kisses. CUPID paid. 
 He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, 
 His mother's doves and team of sparrows. 
 Loses them too. Then, down he throws 
 The coral of his lip, the rose 
 Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how!) 
 With these, the crystal of his brow ; 
 And then, the dimple of his chin. 
 All these did my CAMPASPE win. 
 At last, he set her, both his eyes. 
 She wan : and CUPID blind did rise ! 
 O, LOVE ! has she done this to thee ! 
 What shall, alas ! become of me ? 
 
 A SONG BY FAIRIES. 
 
 OMNES. PINCH him ! Pinch him black and blue 
 Saucy mortals must not view 
 What the Queen of Stars is doing ; 
 Nor pry into our fairy wooing! 
 
 IST FAIRY. Pinch him blue! 
 
 2ND FAIRY. And pinch him black ! 
 198 
 
yohn Lyly. 
 
 3RD FAIRY. Let him not lack 
 
 Sharp nails to pinch him blue and red, 
 Till sleep has rocked his addled head ! 
 
 ATH FAIRY. For the trespass he hath done, 
 Spots o'er all his flesh shall run ! 
 Kiss ENDYMION ! kiss his eyes ! 
 Then to our midnight heidegyes. 
 
 MEMPHIO. O, CUPID ! Monarch over Kings ! 
 
 Wherefore hast thou feet and wings ? 
 It is to shew how swift thou art, 
 When thou wound'st a tender heart ! 
 Thy wings being clipped, and feet held still; 
 Thy bow so many could not kill ! 
 
 STELLIO. It is all one, in VENUS' \vanton School, 
 Who highest sits, the wise man, or the fool 
 
 Fools in Love's College 
 Have far more knowledge 
 To read a woman over, 
 Than a neat prating Lover! 
 
 Nay ! 'Tis confest, 
 
 That fools please women best ! 
 
 199 
 
John Lyly. 
 
 APOLLO'S SONG. 
 
 MY DAPHNE'S hair is twisted gold ! 
 Bright stars apiece her eyes do hold! 
 My DAPHNE'S brow inthrones the Graces ! 
 My DAPHNE'S beauty stains all faces ! 
 On DAPHNE'S cheek grow rose and cherry ; 
 On DAPHNE'S lip, a sweeter berry ! 
 DAPHNE'S snowy hand but touched, does melt ; 
 And then no heavenlier warmth is felt! 
 My DAPHNE'S voice tunes all the Spheres! 
 My DAPHNE'S music charms all ears! 
 Fond am I, thus to sing her praise; 
 These glories now are turned to Bays ! 
 
 PAN'S SONG. 
 
 PAN'S SYRINX was a Girl indeed ; 
 Though now she 's turned into a reed. 
 From that dear reed, PAN'S Pipe does come ; 
 A Pipe that strikes APOLLO dumb ! 
 Nor flute, nor lute, nor gittern can 
 So chant it as the Pipe of Pan ! 
 Cross-gartered Swains, and Dairy Girls 
 With faces smug and round as pearls, 
 When PAN'S shrill Pipe begins to play, 
 With dancing wear out night and day ! 
 
 200 
 
John Lyly. 
 
 The bagpipe's drone his hum lays by, 
 When PAN sounds up his minstrelsy! 
 His minstrelsy ! O, base ! This quill, 
 Which at my mouth with wind I fill, 
 Puts me in mind, though her I miss, 
 That still my SYRINX' lips I kiss ! 
 
 HYMN TO APOLLO, 
 
 SING to APOLLO ! God of Day, 
 Whose golden beams with Morning play ; 
 And make her eyes so brightly shine, 
 AURORA'S face is called divine ! 
 Sing to PHCEBUS, and that throne 
 Of diamonds, which he sits upon ! 
 
 ' Id Peans' let us sing 
 
 To Physic's, and to Poesy's, King! 
 
 Crown all his altars with bright fire ! 
 Laurels bind about his Lyre ! 
 A Daphnean coronet for his head! 
 The Muses dance about his bed! 
 When on his ravishing Lute he plays, 
 Strew his Temple round with bays! 
 
 'Id Peans' let us sing 
 To the glittering Delian King! 
 
 20 1 
 
John Lyly. 
 
 A SONG OF SAPPHO. 
 
 O, CRUEL LOVE ! on thee I lay 
 My curse, which shall strike blind the day! 
 Never may Sleep with velvet hand 
 Charm thine eyes with sacred wand ! 
 Thy jailors shall be Hopes and Fears ! 
 Thy prison-mates, Groans, Sighs, and Tears! 
 Thy play to wear out weary times, 
 Phantastic Passions, Vows, and Rhymes ! 
 Thy bread be Frowns ! thy drink be gall ! 
 Such as when you PHAO call. 
 The bed thou liest on be Despair! 
 Thy sleep, fond Dreams ! thy dreams, long Care ! 
 Hope, like thy Fool, at thy bed's head, 
 Mock thee, till Madness strike thee dead ! 
 As PHAO, thou dost me, with thy proud eyes! 
 In thee, poor SAPPHO lives; for thee, she dies! 
 
 202 
 
John Lyly. 
 
 TELUSA. O, YES ! O, Yes ! if any Maid 
 
 Whom leering CUPID has betrayed 
 To frowns of spite, to eyes of scorn, 
 And would in madness now see torn 
 
 ALL THREE. The Boy in pieces; let her come 
 Hither, and lay on him her doom ! 
 
 EUROTA. O, Yes ! O, Yes ! has any lost 
 
 A heart, which many a sigh hath cost ? 
 
 Is any cozened of a tear, 
 
 Which, as a pearl, Disdain doth wear ? 
 ALL THREE. Here stands the thief ! Let her but come 
 
 Hither, and lay on him her doom! 
 
 LARISSA. Is any one undone by fire, 
 
 And turned to ashes by desire ? 
 
 Did ever any Lady weep, 
 
 Being cheated of her golden sleep, 
 
 ALL THREE. Stolen by sick thoughts? The pirate 's 
 
 found ; 
 
 And in her tears he shall be drowned ! 
 Read his Indictment! Let him hear 
 What he 's to trust to ! Boy, give ear ! 
 203 
 
John Lyly. 
 
 A SONG OF VULCAN, 
 
 WHILE MAKING THE ARROWS. 
 
 MY shag-hair[ed] CYCLOPS ! come, let 's ply 
 Our Lemnian hammers lustily ! 
 
 By my Wife's sparrows, 
 
 I swear these arrows 
 
 Shall singing fly 
 Through many a Wanton's eye ! 
 These headed are with golden blisses ! 
 The silver ones, feathered with kisses ! 
 
 But this of lead 
 
 Strikes a Clown dead; 
 
 When, in a dance, 
 
 He falls in a trance 
 
 To see his black-brow[ed] Lass not buss him : 
 And then whines out, for Death t' untruss him 
 
 So ! So ! Our work being done, let 's play ! 
 ' Holiday ! ' boys, cry ' Holiday !' 
 
 204 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 I NEVER drank of Aganippe Well, 
 
 Nor ever did in shade of Tempe sit; 
 And Muses scorn with vulgar brains to dwell : 
 
 Poor layman, I ! for sacred rites unfit ! 
 Some do I hear, of Poets' fury tell ; 
 
 But, God wot ! wot not what they mean by it ! 
 And this I swear, by blackest brook of Hell ! 
 
 I am no pick-purse of another's wit! 
 How falls it then ? that with so smooth an ease 
 
 My thoughts I speak ! and what I speak, doth flow 
 In verse ! and that my verse, best wits doth please ! 
 
 Guess we the cause ! What ! is it thus ? Fie, no ! 
 Or so ? Much less ! How then ? Sure, thus it is. 
 My lips are sweet, inspired with STELLA'S kiss. 
 
 COME, Sleep ! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, 
 
 The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, 
 The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, 
 
 Th' indifferent judge between the high and low; 
 With shield of proof, shield me from out the press 
 
 Of those fierce darts, Despair at me doth throw ! 
 O, make in me those Civil Wars to cease ! 
 
 I will good tribute pay! if thou do so. 
 Take thou of me, smooth pillows, sweetest bed, 
 
 A chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light ; 
 A rosy garland, and a weary head : 
 
 And if these things, as being thine in right, 
 Move not thy heavy grace ; thou shalt in me, 
 Livelier than elsewhere, STELLA'S image see ! 
 205 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 MY True Love hath my heart, and I have his ! 
 
 By just exchange, one for the other given. 
 I hold his, dear; and mine he cannot miss! 
 
 There never was a better bargain driven ! 
 His heart, in me, keeps me and him in one! 
 
 My heart, in him, his thoughts and senses guides ! 
 He loves my heart ; for once it was his own ! 
 
 I cherish his, because in me it bides ! 
 His heart his wound received from my sight; 
 
 My heart was wounded with his wounded heart ! 
 For as from me, on him his hurt did light ; 
 
 So still, methought, in me his heart did smart ! 
 Both, equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss : 
 My True Love hath my heart ; and I have his ! 
 
 DAM (ETAS' REPLY. 
 
 O, WORDS, which fall like summer dew on me ! 
 
 O, breath, more sweet than is the growing bean ! 
 O, tongue, in which all honeyed liquors be ! 
 
 O, voice, that doth the thrush in shrillness stain ! 
 Do you say still, this is her promise due, 
 That she is mine, as I to her am true ! 
 
 Gay Hair, more gay than straw when harvest lies ! 
 
 Lips, red and plump as cherry's ruddy side ! 
 Eyes fair and great, like fair great oxes' eyes ! 
 O, Breast, in which two white sheep swell in pride ! 
 Join you with me, to seal this promise true, 
 That she be mine, as I to her am true! 
 206 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 But thou white skin, as white as curds well pressed! 
 
 So smooth as, sleek-stone like, it smooths each part ! 
 And thou dear flesh, as soft as wool new dressed ; 
 And yet as hard as brawn made hard by art! 
 First Four but say, next Four their saying seal ; 
 But you must pay the gage of promised weal ! 
 
 ELEGIAC VERSES SUNG BY DORUS. 
 
 FORTUNE, NATURE, LOVE, long have contended about me, 
 Which should most miseries cast on a worm that I am! 
 
 FORTUNE thus gan say, ' Misery and misfortune is all one ; 
 And of misfortune, FORTUNE hath only the gift ! 
 With strong foes on land, on sea with contrary tempests, 
 Still do I cross this wretch, whatso he taketh in hand ! ' 
 
 ' Tush ! Tush ! ' said NATURE, ' this is all but a trifle ! 
 
 A man's self 
 
 Gives haps, or mishaps, e'en as he ordereth his heart ! 
 But so his humour I frame in a mould of choler adusted, 
 That the delights of life shall be to him dolorous ! ' [happy! 
 
 LOVE smiled, and thus said, 'Want joined to desire is un- 
 But if he nought do desire, what can HERACLITUS ail ? 
 None but I, works by desire ! By desire, have I kindled in his soul 
 Infernal agonies unto a Beauty divine ! 
 Where thou, poor NATURE! left'stall thy due glory to FORTUNE; 
 Her virtue is sovereign ! FORTUNE, a vassal of hers ! ' 
 
 NATURE, abashed, went back. FORTUNE blushed ; yet she 
 
 replied thus, 
 ' And even in that love, shall I reserve him a spite ! ' 
 
 Thus, thus, alas ! woeful by NATURE, unhappy by FORTUNE ; 
 But most wretched I am, now LOVE awakes my desire! 
 
 207 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 WITH how sad steps, O, Moon ! thou climb'st the skies ! 
 
 How silently, and with how wan a face ! 
 
 What! may it be, that even in heavenly place 
 That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ! 
 Sure, if that long with love-acquainted eyes 
 
 Can judge of Love, thou feel'st a Lover's case! 
 
 I read it in thy looks ! Thy languished grace 
 To me, that feel the like, thy state descries ! 
 Then, even of fellowship, O, Moon ! tell me, 
 
 Is constant love deemed there, but want of wit ? 
 Are Beauties there, as proud as here they be ? 
 
 Do they above, love to be loved ; and yet 
 
 Those Lovers scorn, whom that love doth possess ? 
 Do they call virtue there, ungratefulness ? 
 
 Wno doth desire that chaste his Wife should be, 
 
 First, be He true! For truth doth truth deserve. 
 Then such be He, as She his worth may see ; 
 
 And one man still credit with her preserve ! 
 Not toying kind, nor causelessly unkind! 
 
 Not stirring thoughts ; nor yet denying right ! 
 Not spying faults ; nor in plain errors blind ! 
 
 Never hard hand ; nor ever reins too light ! 
 As far from want, as far from vain expense ! 
 
 (The one doth force ; the other doth entice !) 
 Allow good company ; but keep from thence 
 
 All filthy mouths, that glory in their vice ! 
 
 This done, thou hast no more ! but leave the rest 
 To Virtue, Fortune, Time, and Woman's breast! 
 208 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 HAVING, this day, my horse, my hand, my lance, 
 Guided so well, that I obtained the prize ; 
 Both by the judgement of the English eyes, 
 
 And of some sent from that sweet enemy, France : 
 
 Horsemen, my skill in horsemanship advance ! 
 Townsfolk, my strength ! A daintier judge applies 
 His praise to sleight ; which from good use doth rise. 
 
 Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ! 
 
 Others (because, of both sides, I do take 
 My blood from them who do excel in this) 
 
 Think Nature, me a Man at Arms did make. 
 How far they shot awry ! The true cause is, 
 STELLA looked on ! and, from her heavenly face, 
 Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race. 
 
 BECAUSE I breathe not love to every one, 
 Nor do not use set colours for to wear, 
 Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair, 
 
 Nor give each speech a full point of a groan ; 
 
 The Courtly Nymphs (acquainted with the moan 
 Of them who, in their lips, LOVE'S standard bear) 
 ' What, he ! " say they of me ' now I dare swear 
 
 He cannot love! No! no! let him alone!' 
 
 And think so still ! so STELLA know my mind. 
 Profess indeed ! I do not CUPID'S art ; 
 
 But you, fair Maids ! at length, this true shall find, 
 That his right badge is but worn in the heart! 
 Dumb swans, not chattering pies, do Lovers prove. 
 They love indeed, who quake to say they love. 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. P 2<X) 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 WITH what sharp checks I, in myself, am shent, 
 
 When into Reason's Audit I do go ; 
 
 And, by just counts, myself a bankrupt know 
 Of all those goods, which Heaven to me hath lent. 
 Unable quite to pay even Nature's rent : 
 
 Which unto it by birthright I do owe. 
 
 And, which is worse, no good excuse can show ; 
 But that my wealth I have most idly spent. 
 My youth doth waste ! My knowledge brings forth toys ! 
 
 My wit doth strive, those Passions to defend ; 
 Which, for reward, spoil it with vain annoys. 
 
 I see my course, to lose myself doth bend ! 
 I see : and yet no greater sorrow take, 
 Than that I lose no more for STELLA'S sake ! 
 
 SWEET kiss ! thy sweets I fain would sweetly endite ; 
 
 Which e'en of sweetness sweetest sweet'ner art. 
 
 Pleasing'st consort where each sense holds a part ; 
 Which coupling doves guide VENUS' chariot right. 
 Blessed charge, and brav'st retreat, in CUPID'S fight. 
 
 A double key, which opens to the heart ; 
 
 Most rich, when most his riches it impart. 
 Nest of young joys. Schoolmaster of delight, 
 Teaching the mean[s] at once to take and give 
 
 The friendly fray, where blows both wound and heal, 
 The pretty death while each in other live. 
 
 Poor hope's first wealth. Hostage of promised weal. 
 Breakfast of love. But lo ! lo ! where She is, 
 Cease we to praise ! Now pray we for a kiss ! 
 
 210 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 O, HAPPY Thames ! that didst my STELLA bear, 
 
 I saw thyself, with many a smiling line 
 Upon thy cheerful face, Joy's livery wear; 
 
 While those fair planets on thy streams did shine. 
 The boat, for joy, could not to dance forbear : 
 
 While wanton winds, with beauties so divine 
 Ravished, stayed not, till in her golden hair 
 
 They did themselves (O, sweetest prison !) twine. 
 And fain those ^OL'S youths, there would their stay 
 
 Have made : but, forced by Nature still to fly, 
 First did, with puffing kiss, those locks display. 
 
 She, so dishevelled, blushed. From window, I, 
 With sight thereof, cried out, ' O, fair disgrace ! 
 Let Honour's self, to thee grant highest place ! ' 
 
 STELLA ! the fullness of my thoughts of thee 
 
 Cannot be stayed within my panting breast ; 
 But they do swell and struggle forth of me 
 
 Till that, in words, thy figure be exprest. 
 And yet as soon as they so formed be, 
 
 According to my Lord LOVE'S own behest; 
 With sad eyes, I their weak proportion see, 
 
 To portrait that which in this world is best. 
 So that I cannot choose but write my mind ; 
 
 And cannot choose but put out what I write : 
 While these poor babes, their death in birth do find. 
 
 And now my pen, these lines had dashed quite ; 
 But that they stopped his fury from the same, 
 Because their forefront bare sweet STELLA'S name. 
 
 P 2 211 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 IN a grove, most rich of shade, 
 
 Where birds wanton music made ; 
 
 May, then young, her pied weeds showing, 
 
 New perfumed with flowers fresh growing ; 
 
 ASTROPIIEL with STELLA sweet, 
 Did for mutual comfort meet ; 
 Both within themselves oppressed, 
 But each in the other blessed. 
 
 Him great harms had taught much care, 
 Her fair neck a foul yoke bare; 
 But her sight, his cares did banish ! 
 In his sight, her yoke did vanish ! 
 
 Wept they had, alas ! the while ; 
 But now tears themselves did smile ! 
 While their eyes, by love directed, 
 Interchangeably reflected ! 
 
 Sigh they did : but now betwixt 
 Sighs of woe were glad sighs mixt ! 
 With arms crossed ; yet testifying 
 Restless rest, and living dying ! 
 
 Their ears hungry of each word 
 Which the dear tongue would afford! 
 But their tongues restrained from walking, 
 Till their hearts had ended talking! 
 
 212 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 But when their tongues could not speak, 
 Love itself did silence break! 
 Love did set his lips asunder, 
 Thus to speak in love and wonder. 
 
 ' STELLA ! Sovereign of my joy ! 
 Fair triumpher of annoy ! 
 STELLA ! Star of heavenly fire ! 
 STELLA ! Loadstar of desire ! 
 
 ' STELLA ! in whose shining eyes 
 
 Are the lights of CUPID'S skies ; 
 
 Whose beams where they once are darted, 
 
 Love therewith is straight imparted ! 
 
 ' STELLA ! whose voice, when it speaks, 
 Senses all asunder breaks ! 
 STELLA ! whose voice, when it singeth, 
 Angels' to acquaintance bringeth ! 
 
 ' STELLA ! in whose body is 
 Writ each character of bliss ; 
 Whose face all beauty passeth, 
 Save thy mind, which yet surpasseth ! 
 
 ' Grant ! O, grant ! but speech, alas ! 
 Fails me ! fearing on to pass. 
 Grant ! O, me ! What am I saying ? 
 But no fault there is in praying ! 
 
 213 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 ' Grant, O, Dear ! on knees I pray/ 
 Knees on ground he then did stay, 
 * That not I ; but, since I love you, 
 Time and Place for me, may move you ! 
 
 ' Never season was more fit ; 
 
 Never room more apt for it ! 
 
 Smiling air allows my reason ! 
 
 These birds sing, " Now use the season ! " 
 
 ' This small wind, which so sweet is, 
 See, how it the leaves doth kiss ! 
 Each tree, in his best attiring, 
 Sense of love, to love inspiring! 
 
 ' Love makes earth, the water drink ! 
 Love to earth makes water sink ! 
 And if dumb things be so witty, 
 Shall a heavenly grace want pity ? ' 
 
 There, his hands, in their speech, fain 
 Would have made tongue's language plain ! 
 But her hands, his hands repelling, 
 Gave repulse all grace excelling ! 
 
 Then she spake. Her speech was such 
 As not ears, but heart did touch ; 
 While such wise she love denied, 
 As yet love she signified. 
 214 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 ' ASTROPHEL ! ' she said, ' my Love ! 
 
 Cease in these effects to prove! 
 
 Now be still ! Yet still believe me, 
 
 Thy grief, more than death, would grieve me 
 
 ' If that any thought in me 
 Can taste comfort, but of thee ; 
 Let me, fed with hellish anguish, 
 Joyless, hopeless, endless, languish! 
 
 ' If those eyes you praised be 
 Half so dear as you, to me ; 
 Let me home return stark blinded 
 Of those eyes, and blinder minded ! 
 
 ' If to secret of my heart 
 
 I do any wish impart 
 
 Where thou art not foremost placed ; 
 
 Be both wish and I defaced ! 
 
 ' If more may be said ; I say, 
 
 All my bliss in thee I lay ! 
 
 If thou love ; my love content thee ! 
 
 For all love, all faith, is meant thee! 
 
 ' Trust me ! while I thee deny ; 
 In myself the smart I try! 
 Tyrant HONOUR doth thus use thee! 
 STELLA'S self might not refuse thee! 
 
 215 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 ' Therefore, Dear ! this no more move ! 
 Lest (though I leave not thy love, 
 Which too deep in me is framed) 
 I should blush, when thou art named ! ' 
 
 Therewithal away she went ; 
 Leaving him to Passion rent, 
 With what she had done and spoken ; 
 That therewith my Song is broken. 
 
 Go, my flock ! Go, get you hence ! 
 Seek a better place of feeding ! 
 
 Where ye may have some defence 
 
 From the storms in my breast breeding, 
 And showers from mine eyes proceeding. 
 
 Leave a wretch, in whom all woe 
 Can abide to keep no measure ! 
 
 Merry flock ! such one forgo, 
 
 Unto whom mirth is displeasure ! 
 Only rich in mischief's treasure! 
 
 Yet, alas ! before you go, 
 
 Hear your woeful master's story! 
 
 Which to stones I else would show. 
 Sorrow only then hath glory, 
 When 'tis excellently sorry ! 
 
 216 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 STELLA ! fiercest Shepherdess ! 
 
 Fiercest, but yet fairest ever ! 
 STELLA! whom, O, Heavens! do bless! 
 
 Though against me she persever ; 
 
 Though I bliss inherit never ! 
 
 STELLA hath refused me ! 
 
 STELLA ! who more love hath proved 
 
 In this caitiff heart to be, 
 
 Than can in good eyes be moved 
 Towards lambkins best beloved ! 
 
 STELLA hath refused me ! 
 
 ASTROPHEL, that so well served, 
 
 In this pleasant Spring, must see, 
 While in pride flowers be preserved, 
 Himself only Winter-starved! 
 
 Why, alas ! then doth she swear 
 That she loveth me so dearly ? 
 
 Seeing me so long to bear 
 
 Coals of love, that burn so clearly; 
 And yet leave me helpless merely ! 
 
 Is that love ? Forsooth, I trow, 
 If I saw my good dog grieved, 
 
 And a help for him did know ; 
 My love should not be believed, 
 But he were by me relieved ! 
 
 2F7 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 No ! she hates me ! Well away ! 
 
 Feigning love somewhat to please me, 
 
 For she knows, if she display 
 
 All her hate ; death would soon seize me, 
 And of hideous torments ease me ! 
 
 Then, my dear flock ! now aclieu ! 
 But, alas ! if, in your straying, 
 
 Heavenly STELLA meet with you ; 
 Tell her, in your piteous blaying, 
 Her poor slave's unjust decaying! 
 
 1 No more \ my Dear ! No more these counsels try ! ' 
 
 ' O, give my Passions leave to run their race ! 
 
 Let FORTUNE lay on me her worst disgrace ! 
 Let folk o'ercharged with brain, against me cry ! 
 Let clouds bedim my face, break in mine eye! 
 
 Let me no steps but of lost labour trace ! 
 
 Let all the earth, in scorn recount my case ! 
 But do not will me, from my Love to fly ! 
 I do not envy ARISTOTLE'S wit! 
 
 Nor do aspire to CESAR'S bleeding fame ! 
 Nor aught do care, though some above me sit ! 
 
 Nor hope, nor wish, another course to frame 
 But that which once may -win thy cruel heart! 
 Thou art my Wit ; and thou my Virtue art ! ' 
 218 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 WOOING STUFF. 
 
 FAINT Amorist ! What ! dost thou think 
 To taste Love's honey, and not drink 
 One dram of gall ? or to devour 
 A world of sweet, and taste no sour ? 
 Dost thou ever think to enter 
 Th' Elysian Fields, that dar'st not venture 
 In CHARON'S barge ? A Lover's mind 
 Must use to sail with every wind! 
 He that loves, and fears to try ; 
 Learns his Mistress to deny! 
 
 Doth She chide thee ? Tis to show it, 
 That thy coldness makes her do it. 
 
 Is She silent ? Is She mute ? 
 Silence fully grants thy suit! 
 
 Doth She pout, and leave the room ? 
 Then She goes, to bid thee come ! 
 
 Is She sick ? Why then, be sure, 
 She invites thee to the cure ! 
 
 Doth She cross thy suit with 'No!'? 
 Tush ! She loves to hear thee woo ! 
 
 Doth She call the faith of Man 
 In question? Nay, She loves thee then! 
 And if e'er She makes a blot; 
 She 's lost, if that thou hitt'st her not! 
 
 He that, after ten denials, 
 Dares attempt no further trials, 
 Hath no warrant to acquire 
 The dainties of his chaste desire. 
 
 2TQ 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 RING out your bells ! Let mourning shows be spread! 
 
 For LOVE is dead ! 
 All love is dead, infected 
 
 With the plague of deep disdain ! 
 Worth, as nought worth, rejected ; 
 And faith, fair scorn doth gain ! 
 From so ungrateful fancy, 
 From suck a female frenzy, 
 From them that use men thus, 
 Good Lord ! deliver us ! 
 
 Weep, neighbours ! weep ! Do you not hear it said 
 
 That LOVE is dead ! 
 His deathbed, peacock's Folly! 
 His winding-sheet is Shame! 
 His Will, False Seeming wholly ! 
 His sole Executor, Blame ! 
 From so ^mgratef^ll fancy, 
 From such a female frenzy, 
 From them that use men thus, 
 Good Lord ! deliver us! 
 
 Let Dirige be sung, and Trentals rightly read ; 
 
 For LOVE is dead ! 
 Sir WRONG, his tomb ordaineth 
 
 My Mistress' marble heart ! 
 Which Epitaph containeth 
 
 ' Her eyes were once his dart ! ' 
 220 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 From so ungrateful fancy, 
 From such a female frenzy, 
 From them that iise men thus, 
 Good Lord ! deliver us ! 
 
 Alas ! I lie ! Rage hath this error bred, 
 
 LOVE is not dead ! 
 LOVE is not dead ; but sleepeth 
 
 In her unmatched mind ; 
 Where She his counsel keepeth, 
 Till due deserts She find. 
 Therefore from so vile fancy, 
 To call such wit a frenzy ! 
 Who love can temper thus. 
 Good Lord ! deliver us ! 
 
 TRANSLATED OUT OF THE ' DIANA ' OF MONTEMAYOR, 
 IN SPANISH : WHERE SIRENO, A SHEPHERD, PULLING OUT 
 A LITTLE OF HIS MlSTRESS DlANAS HAIR WRAPPED ABOUT 
 WITH GREEN SILK; WHO NOW HAD UTTERLY FORSAKEN 
 HIM, TO THE HAIR HE THUS BEWAILED HIMSELF. 
 
 WHAT changes here, O, hair! 
 
 I see, since I saw you ! 
 How ill fits you this green to wear, 
 
 For Hope the colour due ! 
 Indeed, I well did hope 
 
 (Though hope were mixed with fear) 
 No other Shepherd should have scope 
 
 Once to approach this hair ! 
 
 221 
 
.s riiilip Sidney. 
 
 Ah ! hair ! how many days 
 
 My DIANE made me show, 
 With thousand pretty childish plays, 
 
 If I ware you, or no ! 
 Alas ! how oft, with tears 
 
 (O, tears of guileful breast !), 
 She seemed full of jealous fears ! 
 
 Whereat I did but jest. 
 
 Tell me, O, hair of gold ! 
 
 If I then faulty be, 
 That trust those killing eyes I would, 
 
 Since they did warrant me ! 
 Have you not seen her mood ? 
 
 What streams of tears she spent, 
 Till that I sware my faith so stood, 
 
 As her words had it bent ? 
 
 Who hath such beauty seen 
 
 In one that changeth so ! 
 Or where one's love so constant been, 
 
 Who ever saw such woe ! 
 Ah ! hair ! Are you not grieved 
 
 To come from whence you be ; 
 Seeing how once, you saw I lived, 
 
 To see me, as you see ? 
 
 222 
 
Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 On sandy bank, of late, 
 
 I saw this woman sit ; 
 Where ' Sooner die, than change my state ! ' 
 
 She with her finger writ. 
 Thus my belief was stayed. 
 
 ' Behold LOVE'S mighty hand 
 On things ! ' were by a woman said, 
 
 And written in the sand ! 
 
 LEAVE me, O, Love ! which readiest but to dust ; 
 
 And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things ! 
 Grow rich in that which never taketh rust ! 
 
 Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings ! 
 Draw in thy beams ; and humble all thy might 
 
 To that sweet yoke, where lasting freedoms be ! 
 Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the Light; 
 
 That doth both shine, and give us sight to see ! 
 O, take fast hold ! Let that Light be thy guide 
 
 In this small course, which birth draws out to death ! 
 And think, how evil becometh him to slide, 
 
 Who seeketh heaven ; and comes of heavenly breath ! 
 Then, farewell, World ! Thy uttermost I see ! 
 ETERNAL LOVE ! maintain thy life in me ! 
 
 223 
 
Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke. 
 
 CYNTHIA. 
 
 AWAY with these self-loving lads; 
 Whom CUPID'S arrow never glads ! 
 Away, poor souls that sigh and weep, 
 In love of those that lie asleep! 
 For CUPID is a meadow God, 
 And forceth none to kiss the rod ! 
 
 Sweet CUPID'S shafts, like Destiny, 
 Doth causeless good, or ill, decree. 
 Desert is borne out of his bow; 
 Reward upon his wing doth go. 
 What fools are they, that have not known 
 That LOVE likes no laws but his own ! 
 
 My Songs, they be of CYNTHIA'S praise; 
 I wear her rings on Holy Days ! 
 On every tree I write her name ; 
 And every day I read the same ! 
 Where Honour, CUPID'S rival is ; 
 There miracles are seen of his ! 
 
 If CYNTHIA crave her ring of me ; 
 I blot her name out of the tree ! 
 If doubt do darken things held dear; 
 Then ' Well fare, nothing ! ' once a year ! 
 For many run ; but one must win. 
 Fools only hedge the cuckoo in ! 
 224 
 
FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE. 
 
Fulke Grei'ille, Lord Brooke. 
 
 The worth, that worthiness should move, 
 Is love ; which is the due of love : 
 And love as well the Shepherd can, 
 As can the mighty Nobleman! 
 Sweet Nymph ! 'tis true you worthy be ; 
 Yet, without love, nought worth to me ! 
 
 I, WITH whose colours MYRA dressed her head ; 
 I, that ware posies of her own hand-making; 
 I, that mine own name in the chimneys read, 
 By MYRA finely wrought, ere I was waking: 
 Must I look on ? in hope time coming may, 
 With change, bring back my turn again to play ? 
 
 I, that on Sunday at the Church stile found 
 
 A garland sweet, with True-Love knots in flowers ; 
 Which I to wear about mine arm was bound, 
 That each of us might know that all was ours : 
 Must I now lead an idle life in wishes, 
 And follow CUPID for his loaves and fishes ? 
 
 I, that did wear the ring her mother left; 
 
 I, for whose love she gloried to be blamed; 
 I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft ; 
 I, who did make her blush, when I was named : 
 Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked; 
 Watching, with sighs, till dead love be awaked ? 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. Q 225 
 
Fulke Cremlte, Lord Brooke. 
 
 I, that when drowsy ARGUS fell asleep, 
 
 Like Jealousy o'erwatched with Desire, 
 Was even warned modesty to keep ; 
 
 While her breath, speaking, kindled Nature's fire : 
 Must I look on acold ; while others warm them ? 
 Do VULCAN'S brothers, in such fine nets arm them ? 
 
 Was it for this, that I might MYRA see 
 
 Washing the waters with her beauty's white ? 
 Yet would she never write her love to me ! 
 
 Thinks Wit of change, while Thoughts are in delight ? 
 Mad girls must safely love, as they may leave ! 
 No man can print a kiss ! Lines may deceive ! 
 
 FAREWELL, sweet Boy ! Complain not of my truth ! 
 
 Thy mother loved thee not with more devotion ! 
 For to thy Boy's play, I gave all my youth ! 
 
 Young Master ! I did hope for your promotion ! 
 While some sought honours, Prince's thoughts ob- 
 serving ; 
 
 Many wooed Fame, the child of Pain and Anguish ! 
 Others judged inward good a chief deserving ! 
 
 I, in thy wanton Visions joyed to languish ! 
 I bowed not to thy image for succession ; 
 
 Nor bound thy bow to shoot reformed kindness. 
 Thy plays of hope and fear were my Confession ! 
 
 The spectacles to my life was thy blindness ! 
 But, CUPID ! now, farewell ! I will go play me 
 With thoughts that please me less, and less 
 
 betray me! 
 226 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 I JOY not in no earthly bliss ! 
 
 I force not CRCESUS' wealth a straw! 
 For care, I know not what it is ! 
 I fear not FORTUNE'S fatal law! 
 
 My mind is such, as may not move 
 For Beauty bright, nor force of Love! 
 
 I wish but what I have at will ! 
 
 I wander not to seek for more ! 
 I like the plain ! I climb no hill ! 
 In greatest storms, I sit on shore, 
 And laugh at them that toil in vain 
 To get what must be lost again ! 
 
 I kiss not, where I wish to kill ! 
 
 I feign not love, where most I hate ! 
 I break no sleep, to win my will ! 
 I wait not at the mighty's gate! 
 I scorn no poor ; nor fear no rich ! 
 I feel no want ; nor have too much ! 
 
 The Court and Cart I like, nor loathe! 
 
 Extremes are counted worst of all ! 
 The Golden Mean, between them both, 
 Doth surest sit, and fears no fall ! 
 
 This is my choice ! For why ? I find 
 No wealth is like the quiet mind ! 
 
 Q 2 227 
 
Sir Edward Dyer. 
 
 MY mind to me a Kingdom is ! 
 
 Such present joys therein I find, 
 That it excels all other bliss 
 
 That earth affords, or grows by kind. 
 
 Though much I want, which most would have ; 
 Yet still my mind forbids to crave ! 
 
 No princely pomp, no wealthy store, 
 
 No force to win a victory, 
 No wily wit to salve a sore, 
 
 No shape to feed a loving eye : 
 
 To none of these, I yield as thrall ! 
 For why ? My mind doth serve for all ! 
 
 I see how plenty surfeits oft; 
 
 And hasty climbers soon do fall ! 
 I see that those which are aloft, 
 Mishap doth threaten most of all ! 
 
 They get with toil, they keep with fear; 
 Such cares my mind could never bear! 
 
 Content to live, this is my stay: 
 
 I seek no more than may suffice ! 
 I press to bear no haughty sway ! 
 
 Look ! what I lack, my mind supplies ! 
 Lo ! thus I triumph like a King ; 
 Content with that my mind doth bring! 
 
Sir Edward Dyer. 
 
 Some have too much ; yet still do crave ! 
 
 I little have ; and seek no more ! 
 They are but poor, though much they have ; 
 And I am rich, with little store! 
 
 They poor, I rich ! They beg, I give ! 
 They lack, I leave ! They pine, I live ! 
 
 I laugh not at another's loss ! 
 
 I grudge not at another's pain ! 
 No worldly waves my mind can toss ! 
 My state at one doth still remain ! 
 I fear no foe ! I fawn no friend ! 
 I loathe not life ; nor dread my end ! 
 
 Some weigh their pleasure by their lust; 
 
 Their wisdom by their rage of will ! 
 Their treasure is their only trust ! 
 A cloaked craft, their store of skill I 
 But all the pleasure that I find, 
 Is to maintain a quiet mind! 
 
 My wealth is health and perfect ease! 
 
 My conscience clear, my choice defence ! 
 I neither seek by bribes to please ; 
 Nor by deceit to breed offence ! 
 Thus do I live! Thus will I die! 
 Would all did so, as well as I ! 
 
 229 
 
Sir Edward Dyer. 
 
 CORIDON TO HIS PHILLIS. 
 
 ALAS ! my heart ! mine eye hath wronged thee ! 
 
 Presumptuous eye, to gaze on PHILLIS' face ! 
 Whose heavenly eye, no mortal man may see 
 But he must die ; or purchase PHILLIS' grace ! 
 Poor CORIDON ! The Nymph, whose eye doth 
 
 move thee, 
 Doth love to draw ; but is not drawn to love thee ! 
 
 Her beauty, Nature's pride and Shepherds' praise! 
 
 Her eye, the heavenly planet of my life ! 
 Her matchless wit and grace, her fame displays ; 
 As if that JOVE had made her for his Wife. 
 Only her eyes shoot fiery darts to kill ; 
 Yet is her heart as cold as Caucase hill! 
 230 
 
Sir Edward Dyer. 
 
 My wings too weak to fly against the sun ! 
 
 Mine eyes unable to sustain her light! 
 My heart doth yield, that I am quite undone ! 
 Thus hath fair PHILLIS slain me with her sight ! 
 My bud is blasted! Withered is my leaf; 
 And all my corn is rotted in the sheaf! 
 
 PHILLIS ! the golden fetter of my mind ! 
 My fancy's idol, and my vital power! 
 Goddess of Nymphs ! and honour of thy kind ! 
 This Age's Phoenix! Beauty's richest bower! 
 Poor CORIDON ! for love of thee must die ! 
 Thy beauty's thrall, and conquest of thine eye! 
 
 Leave, CORIDON ! to plough the barren field ! 
 
 Thy buds of hope are blasted with disgrace! 
 For PHILLIS' looks, no hearty love do yield; 
 Nor can she love, for all her lovely face ! 
 Die, CORIDON ! the spoil of PHILLIS' eye. 
 She cannot love ; and therefore thou must die ! 
 
 231 
 
E. D. \? Sir Edward Dycr\. 
 
 THEOCRITUS. 
 THE EIGHTEENTH IDILLION. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Twelve noble Spartan Virgins are brought in singing, in the evening, at the 
 chamber door of MENELAUS and HELENA, on their Wedding Day. And first 
 they prettily jest with the Bridegroom, then they praise HELENA, last they wish 
 them both joy of their marriage. Therefore this Idillion is entitled HELIX'S 
 Epithalamion, that is HELEN'S Wedding Song. 
 
 HELEN'S EPITHALAMION. 
 
 IN Sparta, long ago, where MENELAUS wore the crown, 
 Twelve noble Virgins, daughters to the greatest in the town, 
 All dight, upon their hair, in crow-toe garlands fresh and green, 
 Danced at the chamber door of HELENA the Queen : 
 What time this MENELAUS, the younger son of ATREUS, 
 Did marry with this lovely daughter of Prince TYNDARUS ; 
 And therewithal, at eve, a Wedding Song they jointly sang, 
 With such a shuffling of their feet, that all the Palace rang. 
 
 4 Fair Bridegroom, do you sleep? Hath slumber all your limbs possest? | 
 What ! are you drowsy ? or hath wine your body so opprest 
 That you are gone to bed ? For if you needs would take your rest ; J 
 You should have ta'en a season meet ! Meantime, till it be day, 
 Suffer the Bride with us, and with her mother dear, to play ! 
 For, MENELAUS ! She, at evening and at morning tide, 
 From day to day, and year to year, shall be thy loving Bride ! 
 
 ' O, happy Bridegroom ! Sure, some honest man did sneeze to thee, 
 When thou to Sparta came, to meet with such a one as She ! 
 Among the demi-gods, thou only art accounted meet 
 To be the Son-in-law to JOVE! for underneath one sheet 
 His daughter lies with thee! Of all that tread on ground with feet, ) 
 There is not such a one in Greece ! Now, sure, some goodly thing 
 She will thee bear; if it be like the mother that She bring. 
 
 ' For we, her peers in age, whose course of life is e'en the same ; 
 Who, at Eurotas' streams, like men, are oiled to the game ; 
 232 
 
R. D. \f Sir Edward Dyer]. 
 
 And four times sixty Maids, of all the women youth we are ; 
 Of these, none wants a fault, if her with HELEN we compare. 
 
 'Like as the rising Morn shows a grateful lightening, 
 When sacred Night is past ; and Winter now lets loose the Spring : 
 So glittering HELEN shined among her Maids, lusty and tall! 
 
 ' As is the furrow in a field, that far outstretcheth all ; 
 Or in a garden is a cypress tree ; or in a trace, 
 A steed of Thessaly ; so She to Sparta was a grace. 
 
 ' No damsel with such works as She, her baskets used to fill ; 
 Nor in a divers coloured web, a woof of greater skill 
 Doth cut off from the loom ; nor any hath such Songs and Lays 
 Unto her dainty harp, in DIAN'S and MINERVA'S praise, 
 As HELEN hath; in whose bright eyes all Loves and Graces be. 
 
 ' O, fair, O, lovely Maid ! a Matron is now made of thee ! 
 But we will, every Spring, unto the leaves in meadow go 
 To gather garlands sweet ; and there, not with a little woe, 
 Will often think of thee, O, HELEN ! as the suckling lambs 
 Desire the strouting bags and presence of their tender dams. 
 We, all betimes for thee, a wreath of mellitoe will knit ; 
 And on a shady plane for thee will safely fasten it. 
 And, all betimes for thee, under a shady plane below, 
 Out of a silver box, the sweetest ointment will bestow. 
 And letters shall be written in the bark that men may see, [TREE ! 
 And read, DO HUMBLE REVERENCE, FOR I AM HELEN'S 
 
 'Sweet Bride, good night! and thou, O, happy Bridegroom, now good 
 LATONA send you happy issue ! who is most of might [night ! 
 
 In helping youth ; and blissful VENUS send you equal love 
 Betwixt you both ! and JOVE give lasting riches from above, 
 Which from your noble selves, unto your noble imps may fall ! 
 
 'Sleep on, and breathe into your breasts desires mutual! 
 But in the morning, wake! Forget it not in any wise! 
 And we will then return ; as soon as any one shall rise 
 And in the chamber stir, and first of all lift up the head ! 
 HYMEN ! O, HYMEN ! now be gladsome at this marriage bed ! ' 
 
 EMBLEM. 
 
 Usque adeo latet utilitas. 
 
 233 
 
E. D. \? Sir Edward Dyer]. 
 
 THEOCRITUS. 
 THE ELEVENTH IDILL1ON. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 THEOCRITUS wrote this Million to NICIAS, a learned Physician : wherein he 
 sheweth by the example of POLYPHEMUS, a giant in Sicily, of the race of the 
 CYCLOPS ; who loved the Water Nymph GALATEA that there is no medicine so 
 sovereign against Love, as is Poetry. Of whose Love Song, as this Idillion is 
 termed CYCLOPS ; so he was called CYCLOPS, because he had but one eye, that 
 stood, like a circle, in the midst of his forehead. 
 
 CYCLOPS. 
 
 O, NICIAS! there is no other remedy for Love, 
 With ointing, or with sprinkling on, that ever I could prove, 
 Besides the Muses nine ! This pleasant medicine of the mind 
 Grows among men ; and seems but lite, yet very hard to find : 
 As well I wot you know ! who are in physic such a Leech, 
 And of the Muses so beloved. The cause of this my speech 
 A CYCLOPS is, who lived here with us right wealthily ; 
 That ancient POLYPHEM., when first he loved GALATE 
 (When with a bristled beard his chin and cheeks first clothed were) : 
 He loved her not with roses, apples, or with curled hair ; 
 Hut with the Furies' rage! All other things he little plied. 
 
 Full often to their fold, from pastures green, without a guide 
 His sheep returned home : when, all the while, he singing lay 
 In honour of his Love, and on the shore consumed away 
 From morning until night ; sick of the wound, fast by the heart, 
 Which mighty VENUS gave, and in his liver stuck the dart. 
 For which, this remedy he found; that sitting oftentimes 
 Upon a rock, and looking on the sea, he sang these rhymes. 
 
 'O GALATEA fair! why dost thou shun thy Lover true? 
 More tender than a lamb, more white than cheese when it is new, 
 234 
 
R. D. [f Sir Edward Dyer]. 
 
 More wanton than a calf, more sharp than grapes unripe, I find. 
 You use to come, when pleasant sleep my senses all doth bind : 
 But you are gone again, when pleasant sleep doth leave mine eye; 
 And as a sheep you run, that on the plain a wolf doth spy. 
 
 ' I then began to love thee, GALATE ! when first of all 
 You, with my mother, came to gather leaves of crow-toe small 
 Upon our hill ; when I, as Usher, squired you all the way. 
 Nor when I saw thee first, nor afterwards, nor at this day, 
 Since then could I refrain ! But you, by Jove ! nought set thereby ! 
 
 ' But well I know, fair Nymph ! the very cause why thus you fly. 
 Because upon my front, one only brow, with bristles strong, 
 From one ear to the other ear is stretched all along ; 
 'Neath which, one eye ; and on my lips, a hugy nose there stands. 
 
 'Yet I, this such a one, a thousand sheep feed on these lands; 
 And pleasant milk I drink, which from the strouting bags is prest. 
 Nor want I cheese in summer, nor in autumn, of the best ; 
 Nor yet in winter time. My cheese racks ever laden are ; 
 And better can I pipe than any CYCLOPS may compare! 
 
 ' O, apple sweet ! of thee and of myself I use to sing ; 
 And that, at midnight oft. For thee, eleven fawns up I bring, 
 All great with young ; and four bears' whelps, I nourish up for thee ! 
 But come thou hither first ! and thou shalt have them all of me. 
 
 'And let the bluish coloured sea beat on the shore so nigh, 
 The night with me in cave, thou shalt consume more pleasantly! 
 There are the shady bays, and there tall cypress trees do sprout; 
 And there is ivy black, and fertile vines are all about. 
 Cool water there I have, distilled of the whitest snow, 
 A drink divine ! which out of woody ;Etna mount doth flow. 
 In these respects, who in the sea and waves would rather be! 
 
 'But if I seem as yet too rough and savage unto thee, 
 Great store of oaken wood I have, and never-quenched fire ; 
 And I can well endure my soul to burn with thy desire, 
 With this my only eye, than which I nothing think more trim. 
 
 235 
 
E. D. [f Sir Edward Dyer], 
 
 ' Now, woe is me ! my mother bore me not with fins to swim ! 
 Then I might dive to thee ! that I thy dainty hand might kiss ; 
 If lips thou wouldst not let. Then, would I lilies bring iwis, 
 And tender poppy-toe that bears a top like rattles red, 
 And these in summer time : but others are in winter bred, 
 So that I cannot bring them all at once. Now, certainly, 
 I'll learn to swim of some or other stranger passing by, 
 That I may know what pleasure 'tis, in waters deep to dwell. 
 
 'Come forth, fair GALATE! and once got out, forget thee well 
 (As I do, sitting on this rock !) home to return again ! 
 Hut feed my sheep with me, and for to milk them take the pain ! \ 
 And cheese to press ! and in the milk the rennet sharp to strain ! J 
 
 ' My mother only wrongeth me ! and her I blame, for she 
 Spake never yet to thee one good, or lovely, word of me ! 
 And that, although she daily sees how I away do pine. 
 But I will say, " My head and feet do ache ! " that she may whine, 
 And sorrow at the heart ! because my heart with grief is swollen. 
 
 'O, CYCLOPS! CYCLOPS! whither is thy wit and reason flown? 
 If thou wouldst baskets make, and cut down browsing from the tree, 
 And bring it to thy lambs, a great deal wiser thou shouldst be ! 
 
 ' Go, coy some present Nymph ! Why dost thou follow flying wind ? 
 Perhaps another GALATE, and fairer, thou shalt find ! 
 For many Maidens, in the evening tide, with me will play! } 
 
 And all do sweetly laugh, when I stand hark'ning what they say ; L 
 And I somebody seem, and in the earth do bear a sway ! ' ) 
 
 Thus POLYPHEMUS singing, fed his raging love of old: 
 Wherein he sweeter did, than had he sent her sums of gold. 
 
 POLYPHEM.'S EMBLEM. 
 
 Ubi Dictamum inveniam? 
 
 236 
 
Giles Fletcher the Elder, LL.D. 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWIXT TWO SEA NYMPHS, 
 DORIS AND GALATEA, 
 
 CONCERNING POLYPHEMUS. 
 
 BRIEFLY TRANSLATED OUT OF LUCIAN. 
 
 THE Sea Nymphs late did play them on the shore, 
 
 And smiled to see such sport was new begun : 
 A strife in Love, the like not heard before. 
 
 Two Nymphs contend, Which had the conquest won? 
 DORIS the fair, with GALATE did chide. 
 She liked her choice ; and to her taunts replied. 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 Thy Love, fair Nymph ! that courts thee on this plain, 
 As Shepherds say, and all the World can tell, 
 
 Is that foul rude Sicilian CYCLOP Swain. 
 
 A shame, sweet Nymph! that he with thee should mell! 
 
 GALATEA. 
 
 Smile not, fair DORIS ! though he foul do seem. 
 Let pass thy words, that savour of disgrace ! 
 He 's worth my love ; and so I him esteem ! 
 
 Renowned by birth ; and comes of NEPTUNE'S race ! 
 NEPTUNE, that doth the glassy ocean tame! 
 NEPTUNE, by birth from mighty JOVE which came! 
 
 23? 
 
Giles Fletcher the Elder, LL.D. 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 I grant an honour to be NEPTUNE'S child ; 
 
 A grace to be so near with JOVE allied ! 
 But yet, sweet Nymph ! with this be not beguiled ; 
 
 Where Nature's graces are by looks descried. 
 So foul, so rough, so ugly-like, a Clown ! 
 
 And worse than this, a monster with one eye! 
 Foul is not graced, though it wear a crown ! 
 
 But fair is Beauty ! None can that deny ! 
 
 GALA TEA. 
 
 Nor is he foul, or shapeless, as you say, 
 
 Or worse ; for that he clownish seems to be. 
 Rough, Satyr-like, the better he will play ; 
 
 And manly looks the fitter are for me ! 
 His frowning smiles are graced by his beard ; 
 
 His eye-light, sun-like, shrouded is in one. 
 This me contents, and others makes afeared. 
 
 He sees enough ; and therefore wanting none ! 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 Nay, then I see, sweet Nymph ! thou art in love ! 
 
 And loving, dot'st ! and doting, dost commend 
 Foul to be fair ! This oft do Lovers prove ! 
 
 I wish him fairer ; or thy love an end ! 
 
 GALA TEA. 
 
 DORIS ! I love not ! yet I hardly bear 
 
 Disgraceful terms ; which you have spoke in scorn ! 
 You are not loved ! and that 's the cause, I fear, 
 
 For why my Love (of JOVE himself was born) 
 238 
 
Giles Fletcher the Elder, LL.D. 
 
 Feeding his sheep, of late, amidst this plain, 
 
 When as we Nymphs did sport us on the shore, 
 He scorned you all, my love for to obtain ! 
 
 That grieved your hearts ! I knew as much before ! 
 Nay ! smile not. Nymphs ! The truth I only tell ! 
 For few can brook that others should excel. 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 Should I envy, that Blind did you that spite? 
 
 Or that your shape doth please so foul a Groom? 
 The Shepherd thought of milk. You looked so white 
 The Clown did err, and foolish was his doom ! 
 Your look was pale, and so his stomach fed ; 
 But far from fair, where white doth want his red ! 
 
 GALATEA. 
 
 Though pale my look ; yet he my love did crave ! 
 
 And lovely You ! unliked ! unloved ! I view. 
 It 's better far, one base, than none, to have! 
 Your fair is foul, to whom there 's none will sue ! 
 My Love doth tune his love unto his harp ! 
 His shape is rude ; but yet his wit is sharp ! 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 Leave off, sweet Nymph ! to grace a worthless Clown ! 
 
 He itched with love ; and then did sing, or say ! 
 The noise was such, as all the Nymphs did frown, 
 
 And well suspected that some ass did bray! 
 
 239 
 
Giles Fletcher the Elder, LL.D. 
 
 The woods did chide, to hear his ugly sound ; 
 
 The prating ECHO scorned for to repeat. 
 This grisly voice did fear the hollow ground, 
 
 While Art-less fingers did his harp-strings beat. 
 Two bear whelps in his arms this Monster bore : 
 
 With these new puppies did this Wanton play ! 
 Their skins were rough; but yet your loves were more! 
 
 He fouler was, and far more fierce, than they ! 
 
 I cannot choose, sweet Nymph ! to think, but smile 
 That some of us, thou fearest, will thee beguile ! 
 
 GALATEA. 
 
 Scorn not my Love, until it can be known 
 That you have one that 's better, of your own ! 
 
 DORIS. 
 
 I have no Love ! nor, if I had, would boast ; 
 
 Yet wooed have been by such as well might speed ! 
 But him to love, the Shame of all the coast ! 
 So ugly foul ! as yet, I have no need ! 
 
 Now thus we learn what foolish love can do ! 
 To think him fair, that 's foul and ugly too ! 
 
 To hear this talk, I sat behind an oak ; 
 And marked their words, and penned them as they spoke. 
 
 240 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 PRINCE PSAMMETICHUS' SONG. 
 
 IN Cyprus sat fair VENUS, by a fount, 
 Wanton ADONIS toying on her knee ; 
 She kissed the Wag, her darling of account. 
 
 The boy gan blush : which, when his Lover see, 
 
 She smiled, and told him, ' Love might challenge debt ; 
 And he was young, and might be wanton yet ! ' 
 
 The boy waxed bold, fired by fond desire, 
 
 That woo he could, and court her with conceit. 
 REASON spied this, and sought to quench the fire 
 With cold disdain ; but wily ADON. straight 
 
 Cheered up the flame, and said, 'Good Sir! what let? 
 I am but young, and may be wanton yet ! ' 
 
 REASON replied, 'That Beauty was a bane 
 
 To such as feed their fancy with fond love ! 
 That when sweet Youth, with lust is overta'en ; 
 It rues in age ! ' This could not ADON. move ! 
 For VENUS taught him still this rest to set, 
 That he was young, and might be wanton yet! 
 
 Where VENUS strikes with beauty to the quick ; 
 
 It little Vails sage REASON to reply! 
 Few are the cures for such as are lovesick 
 But love! Then, though I wanton it awry, 
 And play the wag ; from ADON. this I get, 
 I am but young, and may be wanton yet! 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 DOWN the valley gan he track, 
 Bag and bottle at his back. 
 In a surcoat all of gray ; 
 Such wear Palmers on the way, 
 When, with scrip and staff, they see 
 JESUS' grave on Calvary. 
 A hat of straw, like a Swain, 
 Shelter for the sun and rain ; 
 With a scallop shell before. 
 Sandals on his feet he wore, 
 Legs were bare, arms unclad, 
 Such attire this Palmer had. 
 
 His "face fair like TITAN'S shine, 
 Gray and buxom were his eyne ; 
 Whereout dropped pearls of sorrow, 
 Such sweet tears as Love doth borrow, 
 When in outward dews she plains 
 Heart's distress that Lovers pains. 
 Ruby lips, cherry cheeks, 
 Such rare mixture VENUS seeks ; 
 When, to keep her damsels quiet, 
 BEAUTY sets them down their diet 
 ADON. was not thought more fair ! 
 Curled locks of amber hair : 
 Locks where LOVE did sit and twine 
 Nets to snare the gazers' eyne. 
 Such a Palmer ne'er was seen 
 'Less LOVE himself had Palmer been ! 
 242 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 Yet for all he was so quaint, 
 Sorrow did his visage taint. 
 'Midst the riches of his face, 
 Grief deciphered high disgrace. 
 Every step strained a tear. 
 Sudden sighs showed his fear. 
 And yet his fear, by his sight, 
 Ended in a strange delight; 
 That his Passions did approve 
 Weeds and Sorrow were for Love ! 
 
 SWEET are the thoughts that savour of Content! 
 
 The quiet mind is richer than a crown ! 
 Sweet are the nights, in careless slumber spent ! 
 The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown ! 
 Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such 
 
 bliss, 
 Beggars enjoy ; when Princes oft do miss ! 
 
 The homely house, that harbours quiet rest ; 
 
 The cottage, that affords nor pride, nor care ; 
 The mean, that 'grees with country music best; 
 The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare ; 
 Obscured life sets down a type of bliss ! 
 A mind content, both crown and kingdom is ! 
 
 R 2 243 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 THE MERRY ECLOGUE 
 BETWIXT DORON AND C ARM EL A. 
 
 DORON. SIT down, CARMELA ! here are cobs for Kings ! 
 
 Sloes black as jet, or like my Christmas shoes ! 
 Sweet cider which my leathern bottle brings ! 
 Sit down, CARMELA ! let me kiss thy toes ! 
 
 CARMELA. Ah! DORON! Ah! my Heart! Thou art as ivhite 
 
 As is my mother s calf, or brinded cow ! 
 Thine eyes are like the slow-worms' in the night! 
 Thine hairs resemble thickest of the snow ! 
 
 The lines within thy face are deep and clear ; 
 
 Like to the furrows of my father s wain ! 
 Thy sweat upon thy face doth oft appear 
 
 Like to my mother s fat and kite hen gain ! 
 
 Ah! leave my toes ; and kiss my lips y my Love ! 
 My lips are thine ; for I have given them thee ! 
 Within thy cap 'tis thou sJialt wear my glove ! 
 At Foot-ball sport, thou shalt my Champion be! 
 
 DORON. CARMELA dear! even as the Golden Ball 
 
 That VENUS got, such are thy goodly eyes ! 
 When cherries' juice is jumbled therewithal, 
 
 Thy breath is like the steam of apple-pies ! 
 244 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 Thy lips resemble two cucumbers fair ! 
 
 Thy teeth like to the tusks of fattest swine ! 
 Thy speech is like the thunder in the air ! 
 
 Would God ! thy toes, thy lips, and all, were mine ! 
 
 CARMELA. DORON! what thing doth move this wishing grief ? 
 
 DORON. Tis LOVE! CARMELA! Ah! 'tis cruel LOVE! 
 That, like a slave and caitiff villain thief, 
 
 Hath cut my throat of joy, for thy behoove ! 
 
 CARMELA. Where was he born? 
 
 DORON. In faith ! I know not where ! 
 
 But I have heard much talking of his dart ! 
 Ay me ! poor man ! with many a trampling tear, 
 I feel him wound the forehearse of my heart ! 
 
 What ! do I love ? O, no ! I do but talk ! 
 
 What ! shall I die for love ? O, no ! not so ! 
 What ! am I dead ? O, no ! my tongue doth walk ! 
 
 Come, kiss, CARMELA ! and confound my woe ! 
 
 CARMELA. Even with this kiss, as once my father did, 
 
 I seal the sweet Indentures of Delight! 
 Before I break my vow, the Gods forbid ! 
 
 No ! not by day ; nor yet by darksome night ! 
 
 DORON. Even with this garland, made of hollyhocks, 
 
 I cross thy brows from every Shepherd's kiss. 
 Heigh-ho ! How glad am I to touch thy locks ! 
 My frolic heart even now a free man is ! 
 
 245 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 CARMKI.A. I thank yon, DORON ! and will think on you ! 
 I love you, DORON ! and will wink on you ! 
 I seal your Charier Patent with my thumbs ; 
 Come, kiss, and fart ! for fear my mother comes. 
 
 THE PALMER'S ODE. 
 
 OLD MENALCAS, on a day, 
 As in field this Shepherd lay, 
 Tuning of his oaten pipe, 
 Which he hit with many a stripe, 
 Said to CORIDON, That he 
 Once was young, and full of glee. 
 
 ' Blithe and wanton was I then. 
 Such desires follow men ! 
 
 ' As I lay, and kept my sheep, 
 Came the God that hateth sleep, 
 Clad in armour all of fire, 
 Hand in hand with Queen DESIRE; 
 And with a dart, that wounded nigh, 
 Pierced my heart as I did lie. 
 That, when I woke, I gan swear 
 PHILLIS' beauty, palm did bear! 
 
 ' Up I start, forth went I, 
 With her face to feed mine eye. 
 246 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 There I saw DESIRE sit, 
 That my heart with love had hit ; 
 Laying forth bright Beauty's hooks 
 To intrap my gazing looks. 
 
 ' Love I did ; and gan to woo, 
 Pray, and sigh ! All would not do ! 
 Women, when they take the toy, 
 Covet to be counted coy. 
 Coy she was ; and I gan court ! 
 She thought Love was but a sport! 
 
 ' Profound Hell was in my thought ; 
 Such a pain DESIRE had wrought, 
 That I sued with sighs and tears ! 
 Still, ingrate, she stopped her ears, 
 Till my youth I had spent. 
 
 ' Last, a Passion of Repent 
 Told me flat, That desire 
 Was a brand of Love's fire ; 
 Which consumeth men in thrall, 
 Virtue, Youth, Wit, and all ! 
 
 At this saw, back I start, 
 Beat desire from my heart, 
 Shook off Love ; and made an oath 
 To be enemy to both. 
 
 Old I was, when thus I fled 
 Such fond toys as cloyed my head : 
 But this, I learned at Virtue's gate, 
 The way to good is never late ! ' 
 
 247 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 MARS, in a fury 'gainst Love's brightest Queen, 
 Put on his helm, and took him to his lance. 
 On Erycinus' Mount were Mavors seen ; 
 
 And there his ensigns did the God advance : 
 And, by Heaven's greatest gates ! he stoutly swore 
 ' VENUS should die! for she had wronged him sore!' 
 
 CUPID heard this ; and he began to cry, 
 
 And wished his mother's absence for a while ! 
 ' Peace, fool ! ' quoth VENUS. ' Is it I must die ? 
 Must it be MARS ? ' With that, she coined a smile ; 
 She trimmed her tresses, and did curl her hair; 
 And made her face with beauty passing fair ! 
 
 A fan of silver feathers in her hand, 
 And in a coach of ebony she went. 
 She passed the place where furious MARS did stand; 
 And out her looks a lovely smile she sent. 
 
 Then from her brow leapt out so sharp a frown 
 That MARS, for fear, threw all his armour down ! 
 
 He vowed repentance for his rash misdeed ; 
 
 Blaming his choler that had caused his woe ! 
 VENUS grew gracious, and with him agreed; 
 But charged him, not to threaten Beauty so! 
 For women's looks are such enchanting charms 
 As can subdue the greatest God in arms ! 
 248 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 SOME say, Love, 
 
 Foolish Love, 
 Doth rule and govern all the Gods! 
 
 I say, Love, 
 
 Inconstant Love, 
 Sets men's senses far at odds! 
 
 Some swear, Love, 
 
 Smoothed-face Love, 
 Is sweetest sweet that men can have! 
 
 I say, Love, 
 
 Sour Love, 
 
 Makes Virtue yield as Beauty's slave! 
 A bitter sweet ! A folly worst of all, 
 That forceth Wisdom to be Folly's thrall ! 
 
 Love is sweet. 
 
 Wherein sweet ? 
 In fading pleasures that do pain! 
 
 Beauty, sweet. 
 
 Is that sweet 
 That yieldeth sorrow for a gain ? 
 
 If Love 's sweet, 
 
 Herein sweet 
 That minutes' joys are monthly woes ! 
 
 'Tis not sweet 
 
 That is sweet 
 
 Nowhere but where repentance grows! 
 Then love who list, if Beauty be so sour ! 
 Labour for me ! Love rest in Prince's bower 
 
 249 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 WHEN lordly SATURN, in a sable robe, 
 
 Sat, full of frowns and mourning, in the West, 
 The Evening Star scarce peeped from out her 
 
 lodge, 
 
 And PHCEBUS newly galloped to his rest ; 
 Even then 
 Did I, 
 
 Within my boat, sit in the silent streams ; 
 All void of cares, as he that lies and dreams. 
 
 As PHAO, so a Ferryman was I ! 
 
 The Country Lasses said, ' I was too fair ! ' 
 With easy toil, I laboured at mine oar, 
 To pass from side to side who did repair. 
 And then 
 Did I 
 
 For pains take pence ; and, CnARON-like, transport 
 As soon the Swain as men of high import. 
 
 When want of work did give me leave to rest, 
 
 My sport was catching of the wanton fish. 
 So did I wear the tedious time away; 
 
 And with my labour mended oft my dish. 
 For why 
 I thought 
 
 That idle hours were Calendars of Ruth ; 
 And time ill-spent was prejudice to Youth. 
 250 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 I scorned to love ! For were the Nymph as fair 
 
 As she that loved the beauteous Latmian Swain ; 
 Her face, her eyes, her tresses, nor her brows 
 Like ivory, could my affection gain ! 
 For why 
 I said 
 
 With high disdain, ' Love is a base desire ; 
 And CUPID'S flames, why, they're but wat'ry fire ! ' 
 
 As thus I sat, disdaining of proud love, 
 
 ' Have over, Ferryman ! ' there cried a Boy ; 
 And with him was a paragon for hue, 
 A lovely Damsel, beauteous and coy; 
 And there 
 With her, 
 
 A Maiden covered with a tawny veil ; 
 Her face unseen for breeding Lovers' bale. 
 
 I steered my boat, and when I came to shore, 
 
 The Boy was winged ! Methought, it was a wonder ! 
 The Dame had eyes like lightning, or the flash 
 That runs before the hot report of thunder. 
 Her smiles 
 Were sweet ! 
 
 Lovely, her face ! Was ne'er so fair a creature ! 
 For earthly carcase had a heavenly feature. 
 
 251 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 My friend ! ' quoth she, ' sweet Ferryman ! behold ! 
 
 We three must pass ; but not a farthing fare ! 
 But I will give, for I am Queen of Love ! 
 
 The brightest Lass thou lik'st unto thy share ! 
 Choose where 
 Thou lov'st! 
 
 Be she as fair as LOVE'S sweet Lady is, 
 She shall be thine ! if that will be thy bliss/ 
 
 With that, she smiled with such a pleasing face 
 As might have made the marble rock relent : 
 But I, that triumphed in disdain of Love, 
 
 Bade, ' Fie on him, that to fond Love was bent ! ' 
 And then 
 Said thus, 
 
 ' So light the Ferryman for Love doth care, 
 As VENUS pass not, if she pay no fare ! ' 
 
 At this, a frown sat on her angry brow. 
 
 She winks upon her wanton son hard by. 
 He, from his quiver, drew a bolt of fire ; 
 
 And aimed so right, as that he pierced mine eye: 
 And then 
 Did she 
 
 Draw down the veil, that hid the Virgin's face ; 
 Whose heavenly beauty lightened all the place. 
 252 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 Straight then, I leaned my ear upon mine arm ; 
 And looked upon the Nymph, if so was fair ? 
 Her eyes were stars; and like APOLLO'S locks, 
 Methought, appeared the trammels of her hair 
 Thus did 
 I gaze, 
 
 And sucked in beauty, till that sweet desire 
 Cast fuel on, and set my thought on fire ! 
 
 When I was lodged within the Net of Love, 
 
 And that they saw my heart was all on flame ; 
 The Nymph away ! and with her, trips along 
 
 The winged Boy ; and with her, goes his Dame ! 
 O, then 
 I cried, 
 
 ' Stay, Ladies ! stay ! and take not any care ! 
 You all shall pass ; and pay no penny fare ! ' 
 
 Away they fling! and, looking coyly back, 
 
 They laugh at me, O, with a loud disdain ! 
 I send out sighs to overtake the Nymphs; 
 And tears, as lures, to call them back again : 
 But they 
 Fly thence ! 
 
 But I sit in my boat, with hand on oar, 
 And feel a pain ; but know not what 's the sore ! 
 
 2 53 
 
Robert Gycciic. 
 
 At last, I feel it is the flame of Love ! 
 
 I strive, but bootless, to express the pain ! 
 It cools, it fires! It hopes, it fears! It frets 
 And stirreth Passions throughout every vein ! 
 That down 
 I sat, 
 
 And, sighing, did fair VENUS' Laws approve ; 
 And swore, ' No thing so sweet, and sour, as Love !' 
 
 THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG. 
 
 AH ! what is Love ? It is a pretty thing, 
 As sweet unto a Shepherd as a King ! 
 
 And sweeter too ! 
 
 For Kings have cares that wait upon a Crown ; 
 And cares can make the sweetest love to frown ! 
 
 Ah ! then, Ah ! then, 
 
 If Country Loves such sweet desires do gain, 
 What Lady would not love a Shepherd Swain ! 
 
 His flocks are folded. He comes home, at night, 
 As merry as a King in his delight ! 
 
 And merrier too ! 
 
 For Kings bethink them, what the State require ; 
 Where Shepherds careless carol by the fire ! 
 
 Ah! then, Ah! then, 
 
 If Country Loves such sweet desires do gain, 
 What Lady would not love a Shepherd Swain ! 
 254 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 He kisseth first. Then sits as blithe to eat 
 His cream and curds, as doth the King his meat 
 
 And blither too ! 
 
 For Kings have often fears, when they do sup ; 
 Where Shepherds dread no poison in their cup! 
 
 Ah ! then, Ah ! then, 
 
 If Country Loves such sweet desires do gain, 
 What Lady would not love a Shepherd Swain ! . . 
 
 Upon his couch of straw, he sleeps as sound 
 As doth the King upon his bed of down! 
 
 More sounder too ! 
 
 For cares cause Kings full oft their sleep to spill, 
 Where weary Shepherds lie and snort their fill. 
 
 Ah! then, Ah! then, 
 
 If Country Loves such sweet desires do gain, 
 What Lady would not love a Shepherd Swain ! 
 
 Thus, with his Wife, he spends the year as blithe 
 As doth the King at every tide or sithe ! 
 
 And blither too! 
 
 For Kings have wars and broils to take in hand, 
 When Shepherds laugh and love upon the land! 
 
 Ah ! then, Ah ! then, 
 
 If Country Loves such sweet desires do gain, 
 What Lady would not love a Shepherd Swain! 
 
 255 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 WHAT thing is Love ? It is a Power divine 
 That reigns in us ; or else a wreakful Law 
 That dooms our minds, to Beauty to incline ! 
 It is a Star; whose influence doth draw 
 
 Our hearts to LOVE, dissembling of his might, 
 Till he be master of our hearts and sight ! 
 
 Love is a Discord, and a strange divorce 
 
 Betwixt our Sense and Reason ; by whose power, 
 As mad with Reason, we admit that force 
 Which Wit or Labour never may devour! 
 It is a Will, that brooketh no consent ! 
 It would refuse ; yet never may repent ! 
 
 Love 's a Desire which, for to wait a time, 
 
 Doth lose an Age of years ; and so doth pass 
 As doth the shadow severed from his prime, 
 Seeming as though it were ; yet never was ! 
 Leaving behind nought but repentant thought 
 Of days ill spent, for that which profits nought. 
 
 It 's now a Peace ; and then a sudden War ! 
 A Hope consumed before it is conceived ! 
 At hand, it fears ; and menaceth afar ! 
 
 And he that gains, is most of all deceived ! 
 It is a Secret hidden, and not known ; 
 Which one may better feel than write upon ! 
 256 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 ARBASTO'S SONG, 
 
 CASTING FROM HIM THE PICTURE OF FORTUNE. 
 
 WHEREAT erewhile I wept, I laugh ! 
 
 That which I feared, I now despise! 
 My victor once, my vassal is ! 
 
 My foe constrained, my weal supplies! 
 Thus do I triumph on my foe ; 
 I weep at weal ! I laugh at woe ! 
 
 My care is cured ; yet hath none end ! 
 Not that I want ; but that I have ! 
 My chance was change ; yet still I stay ! 
 I would have less ; and yet I crave ! 
 
 Ay me ! poor wretch ! that thus do live 
 Constrained to take ; yet forced to give ! 
 
 She, whose delights are signs of death, 
 
 Who when she smiles, begins to lower, 
 Constant in this, that still she change; 
 Her sweetest gifts Time proves but sour! 
 I live in care, crossed with her guile ! 
 Through her, I weep! at her, I smile! 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. S 257 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 INFIDA'S SONG. 
 
 SWEET ADON. ! dar'st not glance thine eye 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon del ami / 
 Upon thy VENUS, that must die! 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ! mon bel ! 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 See, how sad thy VENUS lies, 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 Love in heart, and tears in eyes ! 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ! mon bel! 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 Thy face as fair as Paphos' brooks ; 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 Wherein Fancy baits her hooks. 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ! mon bel ! 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 Thy cheeks like cherries that do* grow 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 Amongst the western mounts of snow. 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ! mon bel ! 
 N'oserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 258 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 Thy lips vermilion, full of love, 
 
 Noser ez vous, man bel ami ! 
 Thy neck as silver, white as dove. 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel / mon bel ! 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 Thine eyes, like flames of holy fires, 
 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 Burn all my thoughts, with sweet desires ! 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ! mon bel ! 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 All thy beauties sting my heart! 
 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 I must die, through CUPID'S dart ! 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ! mon bel ! 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 Wilt thou let thy VENUS die? 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 A DON. were unkind ! say I ! 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 Noser ez voiis, mon bel ! mon bel ! 
 Noser ez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 S 2 259 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 To let fair VENUS die for woe! 
 
 RToserez vous, mon del ami ! 
 That doth love sweet ADON. so ! 
 Je vous en prie, pity me ! 
 
 N'oserez vous, mon del / mon bel ! 
 Noserez vous, mon bel ami ! 
 
 PHILLIS kept sheep along the western plains ; 
 And CORIDON did feed his flocks hard by. 
 This Shepherd was the flower of all the Swains 
 That traced the downs of fruitful Thessaly : 
 And PHILLIS, that did far her flocks surpass, 
 In silver hue, was thought a bonny Lass. 
 
 A bonny Lass, quaint in her country 'tire, 
 
 Was lovely PHILLIS ! COLIN swore so ! 
 Her locks, her looks, did set the Swain on fire ! 
 He left his lambs, and he began to woo! 
 
 He looked. He sighed. He courted with a kiss. 
 No better could the silly Swad than this ! 
 
 He little knew to paint a Tale of Love ! 
 
 Shepherds can fancy ; but they cannot say ! 
 PHILLIS gan smile ; and, wily, thought to prove 
 
 What uncouth grief poor CORIDON did pay. 
 260 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 She asked him, How his flocks, or he, did fare? 
 Yet, pensive, thus his sighs did tell his care. 
 
 The Shepherd blushed, when PHILLIS questioned so; 
 
 And swore, by PAN ! it was not for his flock ! 
 "Tis love, fair PHILLIS! breedeth all this woe! 
 My thoughts are trapped within thy lovely locks ! 
 Thine eye hath pierced ! thy face hath set on fire ! 
 Fair PHILLIS kindleth CORIDON'S desire!' 
 
 ' Can Shepherds love ? ' said PHILLIS to the Swain. 
 
 ' Such Saints as PHILLIS ! ' CORIDON replied. 
 ' Men, when they lust, can many fancies feign ! ' 
 Said PHILLIS. This not CORIDON denied. 
 
 'That lust had lies ; but love/ quoth he, 'says truth ! 
 Thy Shepherd loves ; then, PHILLIS! whatensu'th?' 
 
 PHILLIS was wan. She blushed, and hung her head ; 
 The Swain stepped to, and cheered her with a kiss. 
 With ' faith ! ' and ' troth ! ' they stroke the matter dead. 
 So used they, when men thought not amiss. 
 This Love began and ended both in one. 
 PHILLIS was loved ; and she liked CORIDON. 
 
 261 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 THROUGH the shrubs as I can crack, 
 For my lambs' little ones ; 
 'Mongst many pretty ones 
 (Nymphs, I mean !), whose hair was black 
 As the crow, 
 Like the snow 
 
 Her face and brows shined, I ween! 
 I saw a little one, 
 A bonny pretty one, 
 As bright, buxom, and as sheen 
 As was she, 
 On her knee 
 
 That lulled the God, whose arrow warms 
 Such merry little ones, 
 Such fair-faced pretty ones, 
 As dally in Love's chiefest harms. 
 Such was mine, 
 Whose gay eyne 
 Made me love. I gan to woo 
 This sweet little one, 
 This bonny pretty one. 
 I wooed hard, a day or two, 
 Till She bad 
 ' Be not sad ! 
 
 Woo no more ! I am thine own ! 
 Thy dearest little one ! 
 Thy truest pretty one ! ' 
 Thus was faith and firm love shown, 
 As behoves 
 
 Shepherds' loves. 
 262 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 TERENTIA'S SONG. 
 
 FOND feigning Poets make of Love a God ; 
 
 And leave the laurel, for the myrtle boughs ! 
 When CUPID is a Child not past the rod ; 
 And fair DIANA DAPHNIS most allows! 
 
 I'll wear the bays ; and call the Wag, a Boy ! 
 And think of Love but as a foolish toy! 
 
 Some give him bow and quiver at his back ; 
 
 Some make him blind, to aim without advise : 
 When, naked wretch ! such feathered bolts he lack ; 
 And sight he hath, but cannot wrong the wise ! 
 For use but labours weapon for defence ; 
 And CUPID, like a coward, flieth hence! 
 
 He is a God in Court ; but Cottage calls him Child! 
 
 And VESTA'S Virgins, with their holy fires, 
 Do cleanse the thoughts that Fancy hath defiled ; 
 And burn the Palace of his fond desires ! 
 
 With chaste disdain, they scorn the foolish God ; 
 And prove him but a Boy not past the rod ! 
 
 263 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 IT was a valley gaudy green, 
 Where DIAN. at the Fount was seen. 
 
 Green it was, 
 
 And did pass 
 
 All other of DIANA'S bowers, 
 In the pride of FLORA'S flowers. 
 
 A Fount it was that no sun sees, 
 Circled in with cypress trees, 
 
 Set so nigh 
 
 As PHOEBUS' eye 
 Could not do the Virgins scath, 
 To see them naked when they bathe. 
 
 She sat there all in white, 
 Colour fitting her delight. 
 
 Virgins so 
 
 Ought to go ; 
 
 For white, in Armory, is placed 
 To be the colour that is chaste. 
 
 Hard by her, upon the ground, 
 Sat her Virgins in a round, 
 
 Bathing their 
 
 Golden hair, 
 
 And singing all in notes high 
 ' Fie ! on VENUS' flatt'ring eye ! 
 264 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 ' Fie ! on Love ! It is a toy ! 
 CUPID witless, and a Boy ! 
 
 All his fires 
 
 And desires 
 
 Are plagues, that God sent down from high 
 To pester men with misery ! ' 
 
 As thus the Virgins did disdain 
 Lovers' joy and Lovers' pain, 
 
 CUPID nigh 
 
 Did espy ; 
 
 Grieving at DIANA'S Song, 
 Slyly stole these Maids among. 
 
 His bow of steel, darts of fire, 
 
 He shot amongst them sweet desire; 
 
 Which straight flies 
 
 In their eyes, 
 
 And, at the entrance, made them start; 
 For it ran from eye to heart! 
 
 CALLISTO straight supposed JOVE 
 Was fair, and frolic for to love. 
 
 DIAN., she 
 
 'Scaped not free ; 
 For, well I wot, hereupon 
 She loved the Swain ENDYMION. 
 
 265 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 CLITIA, PHCEBUS ; and CLORIS' eye 
 Thought none so fair as MERCURY. 
 
 VENUS thus 
 
 Did discuss, 
 
 By her son, in darts of fire, 
 None so chaste to check desire ! 
 
 DIAN. rose, with all her Maids, 
 Blushing thus at LOVE'S braids. 
 
 With sighs, all 
 
 Shew their thrall ; 
 
 And flinging hence, pronounce this saw, 
 4 What so strong as Love's sweet law ? ' 
 
 SEPHESTIAS SONG TO HER CHILD. 
 
 WEEP not, my Wanton ! smile, upon my knee ! 
 When thou art old, there 's grief enough for thee ! 
 
 Mother's wag, pretty boy ! 
 Father's sorrow, father's joy ! 
 When thy father first did see 
 Such a boy by him and me ; 
 He was glad ; I was woe ! 
 Fortune changed made him so, 
 When he left his pretty boy, 
 Last his sorrow ; first his joy ! 
 266 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 Weep not, my Wanton ! smile, upon my knee ! 
 When thou art old, there 's grief enough for thee ! 
 
 Streaming tears that never stint, 
 Like pearl drops from a flint, 
 Fell, by course, from his eyes, 
 That one, another's place supplies. 
 Thus he grieved in every part, 
 Tears of blood fell from his heart, 
 When he left his pretty boy, 
 Father's sorrow, father's joy ! 
 
 Weep not, my Wanton! smile, upon my knee! 
 When thou art old, there 's grief enough for thee 
 
 The Wanton smiled ; father wept ! 
 Mother cried ; baby leapt ! 
 More he crowed, more we cried ; 
 Nature could not sorrow hide ! 
 He must go ! He must kiss 
 Child and mother ; baby bliss ! 
 For he left his pretty boy, 
 Father's sorrow, father's joy! 
 
 Weep not, my Wanton ! smile, upon my knee ! 
 When thou art old, there 's grief enough for thee 
 
 267 
 
Robert Greene. 
 
 LIKE to DIANA in her summer weed, 
 
 Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, 
 
 Goes fair SAMELA! 
 
 Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed, 
 When, washed by Arethusa, faint they lie, 
 Is fair SAMELA! 
 
 As fair AURORA, in her morning gray, 
 
 Decked with the ruddy glister of her Love, 
 
 Is fair SAMELA! 
 
 Like lovely THETIS on a calmed day 
 When as her brightness NEPTUNE'S fancy movefs], 
 Shines fair SAMELA ! 
 
 Her tresses gold ; her eyes like glassy streams ; 
 Her teeth are pearl ! The breasts are ivory 
 
 Of fair SAMELA ! 
 
 Her cheeks, like rose and lily yield forth gleams ; 
 Her brows' bright arches framed of ebony! 
 Thus fair SAMELA 
 
 Passeth fair VENUS in her bravest hue, 
 And JUNO in the show of majesty: 
 
 For she 's SAMELA ! 
 
 PALLAS in wit. All three, if you well view, 
 For Beauty, Wit, and matchless Dignity, 
 
 Yield to SAMELA! 
 268 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 FAREWELL, false LOVE! the Oracle of lies! 
 
 A mortal foe and enemy to rest! 
 An envious Boy, from whom all cares arise ! 
 A bastard vile ! A beast with rage possest ! 
 A way of error! A Temple full of treason! 
 In all effects, contrary unto reason ! 
 
 A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers ! 
 Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose ! 
 A sea of sorrows, from whence are drawn such showers 
 As moisture lend to every grief that grows! 
 A school of guile! A net of deep deceit! 
 A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait! 
 
 A fortress foiled, which Reason did defend! 
 
 A Siren Song ! A fever of the mind ! 
 A maze, wherein affection finds no end ! 
 A raging cloud, that runs before the wind! 
 A substance like the shadow of the sun ! 
 A goal of grief, for which the wisest run! 
 
 A quenchless fire ! A nurse of trembling fear ! 
 
 A path that leads to peril and mishap ! 
 A true retreat of sorrow and despair ! 
 
 An idle Boy that sleeps in Pleasure s lap ! 
 A deep mistrust of that which certain seems! 
 A hope of that which Reason doubtful deems! 
 269 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 LOVE, in my bosom, like a bee, 
 
 Doth suck his sweet. 
 Now with his wings, he plays with me ; 
 
 Now with his feet. 
 
 Within mine eyes, he makes his nest ; 
 His bed, amidst my tender breast. 
 My kisses are his daily feast ; 
 And yet he robs me of my rest! 
 
 Ah ! Wanton ! will ye ? 
 
 And if I sleep, then percheth he, 
 
 With pretty flight, 
 And makes his pillow of my knee, 
 
 The lifelong night. 
 
 Strike I my lute, he tunes the string. 
 He music plays, if so I sing. 
 He lends me every lovely thing; 
 Yet, cruel ! he my heart doth sting ! 
 
 Whist! Wanton! still ye! 
 
 Else I, with roses, every day, 
 
 Will whip you hence ! 
 And bind you, when you long to play, 
 
 For your offence! 
 
 I'll shut mine eyes, to keep you in ! 
 I'll make you fast it, for your sin ! 
 I'll count your power not worth a pin ! 
 Alas ! what hereby shall I win, 
 
 If he gainsay me ? 
 270 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 What if I beat the wanton Boy 
 
 With many a rod ! 
 He will repay me with annoy, 
 
 Because a God ! 
 
 Then, sit thou safely on my knee ; 
 And let thy bower my bosom be! 
 Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee! 
 O, CUPID ! so thou pity me, 
 
 Spare not, but play thee ! 
 
 CORIDOWS SONG. 
 
 A BLITHE and bonny Country Lass 
 
 Heigh-ho! the bonny Lass! 
 Sat sighing on the tender grass, 
 
 And, weeping, said, ' Will none come woo me ? 
 A smicker boy, a lither Swain, 
 
 Heigh-ho ! a smicker Swain ! 
 That in his love was wanton fain, 
 
 With smiling looks, straight came unto her. 
 
 When as the wanton Wench espied 
 
 Heigh-ho ! when she espied ! 
 The means to make herself a Bride, 
 
 She simpered smooth like bonny bell. 
 The Swain, that saw her squint-eyed kind, 
 
 Heigh-ho! squint-eyed kind! 
 His arms about her body twined, 
 
 And ' Fair Lass, how fare ye ? Well ! ' 
 
 271 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 The Country Kit said, 'Well! forsooth! 
 
 Heigh-ho ! ' Well, forsooth ! ' 
 4 But that I have a longing tooth, 
 
 A longing tooth that makes me cry ! ' 
 ' Alas ! ' said he, ' what gars thy grief ? ' 
 
 Heigh-ho! 'what gars thy grief?' 
 'A wound,' quoth she, 'without relief! 
 
 I fear a Maid that I shall die ! ' 
 
 ' If that be all,' the Shepherd said, 
 
 Heigh-ho ! the Shepherd said ! 
 ' I'll make thee wive it, gentle Maid ; 
 
 And so recure thy malady ! ' 
 Hereon they kissed, with many an oath ! 
 
 Heigh-ho ! with many an oath ! 
 And 'fore God PAN did plight their troth ; 
 
 And to the Church, they hied them fast 
 
 And God send every pretty peat, 
 Heigh-ho ! the pretty peat ! 
 
 That fears to die of this conceit, 
 So kind a friend, to help at last! 
 
 273 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 THE earth, late choked with showers, 
 
 Is now arrayed in green ; 
 Her bosom springs with flowers, 
 The air dissolves her teen ; 
 
 The heavens laugh, at her glory : 
 Yet bide I sad and sorry ! 
 
 The woods are decked with leaves, 
 
 And trees are clothed gay, 
 And FLORA, crowned with sheaves, 
 With oaken boughs doth play ; 
 Where I am clad in black, 
 The token of my wrack! 
 
 The birds upon the trees 
 
 Do sing with pleasant voices ; 
 And chant, in their degrees, 
 Their loves and lucky choices: 
 When I, whilst they are singing, 
 With sighs, my arms am wringing 
 
 The thrushes seek the shade ; 
 
 And I, my fatal grave ! 
 Their flight to heaven is made, 
 My walk on earth I have! 
 
 They free, I thrall ! They jolly, 
 I sad and pensive wholly ! 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. HI. 
 
 2 73 
 
77wmas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 THE HAMADRYAD'S SONG. 
 
 PLUCK the fruit, and taste the pleasure, 
 
 Youthful Lordings, of delight ! 
 Whilst occasion gives you seizure, 
 Feed your fancies and your sight! 
 After death, when you are gone, 
 Joy and Pleasure is there none! 
 
 Here on earth nothing is stable ! 
 
 Fortune's changes well are known! 
 Whilst as Youth doth then enable, 
 Let your seeds of Joy be sown ! 
 After death, when you are gone, 
 Joy and Pleasure is there none ! 
 
 Feast it freely with your Lovers ! 
 
 Blithe and wanton sweets do fade ! 
 Whilst that lovely CUPID hovers 
 Round about this lovely shade, 
 Sport it freely one to one ! 
 After death is Pleasure none ! 
 
 Now, the pleasant Spring allureth ; 
 And both place and time invite. 
 Out! alas! What heart endureth 
 To disclaim his sweet delight ! 
 After death, when we are gone, 
 Joy and Pleasure is there none ! 
 274 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 ROSADER'S SONG. 
 
 TURN I my looks unto the skies ; 
 LOVE, with his arrows, wounds mine eyes 
 If so I gaze upon the ground; 
 LOVE then in every flower is found ! 
 Search I the shade, to fly my pain ; 
 He meets me in the shade again ! 
 Wend I to walk in secret grove ; 
 Even there, I meet with sacred LOVE ! 
 If so I bain me in the spring; 
 Even on the brink, I hear him sing! 
 If so I meditate alone, 
 He will be partner of my moan ! 
 If so I mourn, he weeps with me ; 
 And where I am, there will he be! 
 When as I talk of ROSALYNDE 
 The God, from coyness waxeth kind ; 
 And seems in selfsame flames to fry, 
 Because he loves as well as I ! 
 Sweet ROSALYNDE ! for pity rue ! 
 For why, than LOVE I am more true ! 
 He, if he speed, will quickly fly ; 
 But in thy love I live and die! 
 
 T 2 275 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 THE WOOING ECLOGUE 
 BETWIXT ROSALYNDE AND ROSADER. 
 
 ROSADER. 
 
 I PRAY thee, Nymph! by all the working words, 
 
 By all the tears and sighs, that Lovers know, 
 Or what or thoughts, or falt'ring tongue, affords ; 
 
 I crave for mine, in ripping up my woe ! 
 Sweet ROSALYNDE, my. Love! (Would God my Love! 
 
 My Life ! (Would God my Life !) ay, pity me ! 
 Thy lips are kind, and humble like the dove ; 
 
 And but with Beauty, Pity will not be ! 
 Look on mine eyes, made red with rueful tears ; 
 
 From whence the rain of true remorse descendeth ! 
 All pale in looks, and I, though young in years, 
 
 And nought but Love, or Death, my days befriendeth 
 O, let no stormy rigour knit thy brows ! 
 
 Which LOVE appointed for his Mercy Seat. 
 The tallest tree, by BOREAS' breath it bows ! 
 
 The iron yields, with hammer, and to heat ! 
 O, ROSALYNDE! then, be thou pitiful! 
 For ROSALYNDE is only beautiful ! 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 Love's Wantons arm their trait' rous suits with tear 
 With vows ! with oaths ! with looks ! with showe 
 
 of gold ! 
 
 But when the fruit of their affects appears, 
 The simple heart, by subtle sleights, is sold ! 
 276 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 Thus, sucks the yielding ear the poisoned bait ! 
 
 Thus, feeds the heart upon his endless harms ! 
 Thus, glut the thoughts themselves on self-deceit ! 
 
 Thus, blind the eyes their sight by subtle charms ! 
 The lovely looks, the sighs that storm so sore, 
 
 The dew of deep dissembled doubleness, 
 These may attempt ; but are of power no more, 
 
 Where Beauty leans to Wit and Soothfastness ! 
 O, ROSADER ! then, be thou wittiful ! 
 For ROSALYNDE scorns foolish pitiful! 
 
 ROSADER. 
 
 I pray thee, ROSALYNDE ! by those sweet eyes 
 
 That stain the Sun in shine, the Morn in clear! 
 By those sweet cheeks, where LOVE encamped lies, 
 
 To kiss the roses of the springing year! 
 I tempt thee, ROSALYNDE ! by ruthful plaints, 
 
 Not seasoned with deceit or fraudful guile ; 
 But firm in pain, far more than tongue depaints; 
 
 Sweet Nymph ! be kind, and grace me with a smile ! 
 So may the heavens preserve from hurtful food 
 
 Thy harmless flocks ! So may the Summer yield 
 The pride of all her riches and her good, 
 
 To fat thy sheep, the citizens of field ! 
 O, leave to arm thy lovely brows with scorn ! 
 
 The birds, their beak ; the lion hath his tail : 
 And Lovers, nought but sighs and bitter mourn, 
 
 The spotless Fort of Fancy to assail ! 
 
 O, ROSALYNDE ! then, be thou pitiful ! 
 For ROSALYNDE is only beautiful ! 
 
 277 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 The hardened steel, by fire is brought in frame! 
 
 ROSADER. 
 
 And ROSALYNDE, my Love! than any wool more softer! 
 And shall not sighs her tender heart inflame ? 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 Were Lovers true ; Maids would believe them ofter ! 
 
 ROSA DER. 
 Truth, and regard, and honour guide my love! 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 Fain would I trust; but yet I dare not try! 
 
 ROSADER. 
 O, pity me, sweet Nymph ! and do but prove ! 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 I would resist ; but yet I know not Why ? 
 
 ROSADER. 
 
 O, ROSALYNDE ! be kind ! For times will change ! 
 
 Thy looks aye nill be fair, as now they be ! 
 Thine age, from beauty may thy looks estrange ' 
 
 Ah ! yield in time, sweet Nymph ! and pity me ! 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 O, ROSALYNDE ! thou must be pitiful ! 
 For ROSADER is young and beautiful! 
 278 
 
Thomas Lodge, M.D. 
 
 ROSADER. 
 O, gain more great than kingdoms, or a crown ! 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 O, trust betrayed! if ROSADER abuse me! 
 
 ROSADER. 
 
 First, let the heavens conspire to pull me down ; 
 
 And heaven and earth, as abject, quite refuse me 
 Let sorrows stream about my hateful bower, 
 
 And restless horror hatch within my breast; 
 Let Beauty's eye afflict me with a lower ; 
 
 Let deep despair pursue me without rest; 
 Ere ROSALYNDE, my loyalty disprove! 
 
 Ere ROSALYNDE accuse me for unkind! 
 
 ROSALYNDE. 
 
 Then, ROSALYNDE will grace thee, with her love! 
 Then, ROSALYNDE will have thee still in mind! 
 
 ROSADER. 
 
 Then, let me triumph more than TITHON'S Dear, 
 
 Since ROSALYNDE will ROSADER respect! 
 Then let my face exile his sorry cheer, 
 And frolic in the comfort of affect ! 
 
 And say that ROSALYNDE is only pitiful, 
 Since ROSALYNDE is only beautiful! 
 
 279 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 UPON a summer's day, LOVE went to swim ; 
 
 And cast himself into a sea of tears. 
 The clouds called in their light, and heaven waxed dim; 
 
 And sighs did raise a tempest, causing fears. 
 The naked Boy could not so wield his arms, 
 
 But that the waves were masters of his might; 
 And threatened him to work far greater harms, 
 
 If he devised not to 'scape by flight. 
 Then for a boat, his quiver stood instead. 
 
 His bow unbent did serve him for a mast. 
 Whereby to sail, his cloth of veil he spread. 
 
 His shafts, for oars, on either board he cast. 
 From shipwreck safe this Wag got thus to shore ; 
 And sware to bathe in Lovers' tears no more ! 
 
 WHEN younglings first on CUPID fix their sight, 
 
 And see him naked, blindfold, and a Boy: 
 Though bow, and shafts, and firebrand be his might ; 
 
 Yet ween they, he can work them none annoy! 
 And therefore with his purple wings they play, 
 
 For glorious seemeth LOVE, though light as feather ! 
 
 And when they have done, they ween to 'scape away, 
 
 For, ' Blind men,' they say, ' shoot, they know not 
 
 whither ! ' 
 But when, by proof, they find that he did see, 
 
 And that his wound did rather dim their sight ; 
 They wonder more, How such a lad as he 
 
 Should be of such surpassing power and might ! 
 But ants have galls, so hath the bee his sting ; 
 Then shield me, Heavens ! from such a subtle thing! 
 280 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 Is LOVE a Boy? What means he then to strike? 
 
 Or is he blind ? Why will he be a guide ? 
 Is he a Man ? Why doth he hurt his like ? 
 
 Is he a God ? Why doth he men deride ? 
 No one of these ; but one compact of all ! 
 
 A wilful Boy, a Man still dealing blows, 
 Of purpose blind to lead men to their thrall, 
 
 A God that rules unruly, God he knows. 
 Boy ! pity me, that am a child again ! 
 
 Blind be no more, my guide to make me stray! 
 Man ! use thy might, to force away my pain ! 
 
 God ! do me good ; and lead me to my way ! 
 And if thou beest a Power to me unknown ; 
 Power of my life! let here thy grace be shown 
 
 AND think ye, Nymphs ! to scorn at LOVE, 
 
 As if his fire were but of straws ! 
 He made the mighty Gods above 
 
 To stoop and bow unto his laws ! 
 And, with his shaft of Beauty bright, 
 He slays the hearts that scorn his might! 
 
 LOVE is a fit of pleasure 
 
 Bred out of idle brains ; 
 His fancies have no measure, 
 
 No more than have his pains! 
 His vain affections, like the weather, 
 Precise, or fond, we wot not Whether ? 
 
Gabriel Harvey. 
 
 TO THE LEARNED SHEPHERD. 
 
 COLIN ! I see, by thy new-taken task, 
 
 Some sacred fury hath enriched thy brains ! 
 That leads thy Muse in haughty verse to mask, 
 And loathe the Lays that 'long to lowly Swains ; 
 That lifts thy notes from Shepherds unto Kings ; 
 So like the lively lark that, mounting, sings. 
 
 Thy lovely ROSALIND seems now forlorn ; 
 
 And all thy gentle flocks forgotten quite ! 
 Thy changed heart now holds thy pipes in scorn, 
 Those pretty pipes that did thy mates delight ! 
 Those trusty mates, that loved thee so well ; 
 Whom thou gav'st mirth, as they gave thee 
 the bell ! 
 
 Yet as thou earst, with thy sweet Roundelays, 
 
 Didst stir to glee our Lads, in homely bowers ; 
 So mought'st thou now, in these refined Lays, 
 Delight the dainty ears of higher Powers ! 
 
 And so mought they, in their deep scanning skill, 
 Allow and grace our COLIN'S flowing quill ! 
 282 
 
Gabriel Harvey. 
 
 And fair befall that Faery Queen of thine ! 
 
 In whose fair eyes Love linked with Virtue sits ; 
 Infusing, by those beauties, fires divine, 
 Such high conceits, into thy humble wits, 
 As raised hath poor Pastor's oaten reed 
 From rustic tunes, to chant heroic deeds. 
 
 So mought thy Red Cross Knight, with happy hand, 
 
 Victorious be in that fair Island's right ; 
 
 Which thou dost veil in type of Fairy Land, 
 
 ELISA'S blessed field, that Albion hight ; 
 
 That shields her friends, and wars her mighty foes ; 
 Yet still with people, peace, and plenty flows. 
 
 But, jolly Shepherd! though, with pleasing style, 
 Thou feast the humour of the Courtly Train ; 
 Let not conceit, thy settled sense beguile; 
 Ne daunted be, through envy, or disdain ! 
 Subject thy doom to her empiring spright! 
 From whence thy Muse, and all the World, 
 take light. 
 
 HOBBINOL. 
 
 283 
 
Sir Walter Ralegh. 
 
 A VISION, 
 
 UPON THIS CONCEIT OF THE 'FAERY QUEEN.' 
 
 METHOUGHT, I saw the grave where LAURA lay 
 
 Within that Temple, where the Vestal flame 
 Was wont to burn : and, passing by that way, 
 
 To see that buried dust of living fame, 
 Whose tomb fair LOVE and fairer VIRTUE kept; 
 
 All suddenly I saw the Faery Queen! 
 At whose approach, the soul of PETRARCH wept ; 
 
 And from thenceforth, those Graces were not seen ! 
 For they, this Queen attended. In whose stead, 
 
 OBLIVION laid him down on LAURA'S hearse ! 
 Hereat, the hardest stones were seen to bleed ; 
 
 And groans of buried ghosts, the heavens did pierce. 
 Where HOMER'S spright did tremble, all for grief; 
 And cursed th' access of that celestial thief! 
 
 THE praise of meaner Wits, this Work like profit brings, 
 As doth the cuckoo's song delight, when PHILUMENA sings. 
 If thou hast formed right, true Virtue's face herein ; 
 Virtue herself can best discern, to whom they written bin ! 
 If thou hast Beauty praised ; let her sole looks divine 
 Judge if aught therein be amiss, and mend it by her eyne ! 
 If Chastity want aught ; or Temperance, her due ; 
 Behold her princely mind aright, and write thy Queen anew ! 
 Meanwhile, she shall perceive, how far her virtues soar 
 Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote of yore : 
 And thereby will excuse and favour thy good will ; 
 Whose virtue cannot be expressed, but by an Angel's quill ! 
 Of me, no lines are loved, nor letters are of price, 
 Of all which speak our English tongue, but those of thy 
 device ! 
 284 
 
Sir Walter Ralegh. 
 
 AN EPITAPH UPON SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 
 
 LORD GOVERNOR OF FLUSHING. 
 
 To praise thy life, or wail thy worthy death, 
 And want thy wit (thy wit high, pure, divine ! ) 
 Is far beyond the power of mortal line; 
 
 Nor any one hath worth that draweth breath. 
 
 Yet rich in zeal, though poor in Learning's lore, 
 And friendly care obscured in secret breast, 
 And love that envy in thy life supprest, 
 
 Thy dear life done, and death hath doubled more. 
 
 And I (that, in thy time and living state, 
 Did only praise thy virtues in my thought; 
 As one that seld the rising sun hath sought), 
 
 With words and tears, now wail thy timeless fate. 
 
 Drawn was thy race aright from Princely line; 
 Nor less than such, by gifts that Nature gave 
 (The common mother that all creatures have), 
 
 Doth virtue show and Princely lineage shine. 
 
 A King gave thee thy name. A kingly mind, 
 That GOD thee gave ! who found it now too dear 
 For this base world ; and hath resumed it near, 
 
 To sit in skies, and sort with Powers divine. 
 
 285 
 
Sir Walter Ralegh. 
 
 Kent, thy birthdays ; and Oxford held thy youth. 
 The heavens made haste ; and stayed nor years, nor 
 The fruits of age grew ripe in thy first prime, [time ! 
 
 Thy will, thy words ; thy words, the seals of truth. 
 
 Great gifts, and wisdom rare, employed thee thence, 
 To treat, from Kings, with those more great than 
 
 Kings : 
 Such hope men had to lay the highest things 
 
 On thy wise youth, to be transported thence. 
 
 Whence to sharp wars, sweet Honour did thee call ! 
 
 Thy country's love, religion, and thy friends ! 
 
 Of worthy men, the marks, the lives, and ends ; 
 And her defence, for whom we labour all. 
 
 There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age, 
 Grief, sorrow, sickness, and base Fortune's might ! 
 Thy rising day saw never woeful night ; 
 
 But passed, with praise, from off this worldly Stage. 
 
 Back to the Camp, by thee, that day, were brought, 
 First, thine own death ; and after, thy long fame ; 
 Tears to the soldiers ; the proud Castilians' shame ; 
 
 Virtue expressed ; and Honour truly taught. 
 286 
 
Sir Walter Ralegh. 
 
 What hath he lost ? that such great grace hath won ! 
 Young years, for endless years ! and hope unsure 
 Of Fortune's gifts, for wealth that still shall dure! 
 
 O, happy race ! with so great praises run ! 
 
 England doth hold thy limbs, that bred the same; 
 
 Flanders, thy valour, where it last was tried ; 
 
 The Camp, thy sorrow, where thy body died ; 
 Thy friends, thy want ; the World, thy virtue's fame ; 
 
 Nations, thy wit ; our minds lay up thy love ; 
 
 Letters, thy Learning ; thy loss, years long to come. 
 
 In worthy hearts, sorrow hath made thy tomb ; 
 Thy soul and sp'rit enrich the Heavens above. 
 
 Thy liberal heart embalmed in grateful tears ! 
 
 Young sighs, sweet sighs, sage sighs bewail thy fall! 
 
 Envy, her sting; and Spite hath left her gall! 
 Malice herself a mourning garment wears ! 
 
 That day their HANNIBAL died, our SCIPIO fell! 
 
 SCIPIO, CICERO, and PETRARCH of our Time ! 
 
 Whose virtues, wounded by my worthless rhyme, 
 Let Angels speak! and Heaven, thy praises tell! 
 
 287 
 
Thomas Campion, M.D. 
 
 WHAT fair pomp have I spied of glittering Ladies ! 
 
 With locks sparkled abroad, and rosy coronet 
 On their ivory brows ; tracked to the dainty thighs 
 With robes like Amazons, blue as violet ; 
 
 With gold aiglets adorned, some in a changeable 
 Pale ; with spangs wavering taught to be movable. 
 
 Then those Knights, that afar off, with dolorous viewing, 
 
 Cast their eyes hitherward : lo ! in an agony, 
 All unbraced, cry aloud ! their heavy state ruing ; 
 Moist cheeks with blubbering painted as ebony 
 Black ; their feltered hair torn with a wrathful hand: 
 And, whiles astonied, stark in a maze they stand. 
 
 But, hark! what merry sound ! what sudden harmony ! 
 Look! look near the grove ! where the Ladies do tread 
 With their Knights the measures weighed by the melody. 
 Wantons ! whose traversing make men enamoured. 
 Now they fain an honour! Now, by the slenderwaist, 
 He must her aloft ! and seal a kiss in haste ! 
 
 Straight down under a shadow for weariness they lie ; 
 With pleasant dalliance, hand knit, with arm in arm. 
 Now close, now set aloof; they gaze with equal eye, 
 Changing kisses alike. Straight, with a false alarm. 
 Mocking kisses alike, pout with a lovely lip. [slip ! 
 Thus, drowned with jollities, their merry days do 
 288 
 
Thomas Campion, M.D. 
 
 But, stay! now I discern they go on a pilgrimage 
 
 Towards Love's Holy Land, fair Paphos or Cyprus. 
 Such devotion is meet for a blithesome age ! 
 
 With sweet Youth, it agrees well to be amorous ! 
 Let old angry Fathers lurk in a hermitage ! 
 Come, we'll associate this jolly pilgrimage! 
 
 A DAY, a night, an hour, of sweet content 
 
 Is worth a world consumed in fretful care ! 
 Unequal Gods ! in your arbitrement, 
 
 To sort us days whose sorrows endless are! 
 And yet what were it? as a fading flower, 
 To swim in bliss a day, a night, an hour! 
 
 What plague is greater than the grief of mind? 
 
 The grief of mind that eats in every vein, 
 In every vein that leaves such clods behind, 
 Such clods behind as breed such bitter pain. 
 So bitter pain, that none shall ever find 
 What plague is greater than the grief of mind. 
 
 Doth Sorrow fret thy soul? O, direful spirit! 
 
 Doth Pleasure feed thy heart ? O, blessed man ! 
 Hast thou been happy once ? O, heavy plight ! 
 Are thy mishaps forepast? O, happy then! 
 Or hast thou bliss in eld? O, bliss too late! 
 But hast thou bliss in youth ? O, sweet estate ! 
 
 BRIT. ANTH. III. 
 
 289 
 
Samuel Daniel. 
 
 Go, wailing Verse ! the infant of my love, 
 
 MiNERVA-like, brought forth without a mother, 
 That bears the image of the cares I prove, 
 
 Witness your father's grief exceeds all other ! 
 Sigh out a Story of her cruel deeds, 
 
 With interrupted accents of despair! 
 A monument, that whosoever reads 
 
 May justly praise and blame my lovely Fair ! 
 Say, Her disdain hath dried up my blood; 
 
 And starved you, in succours still denying! 
 Press to her eyes ! Importune me some good ! 
 
 Waken her sleeping cruelty, with crying! 
 
 Knock at her hard heart! Say, I perish for her; 
 And fear this deed will make the World abhor her! 
 
 RESTORE thy tresses to the golden ore! 
 
 Yield CYTHEREA'S son those arks of love ! 
 Bequeath the heavens the stars, that I adore! 
 
 And to the Orient do thy pearls remove ! 
 Yield thy hands' pride unto the ivory white ! 
 
 To Arabian odour give thy breathing sweet ! 
 Restore thy blush unto AURORA bright ! 
 
 To THETIS give the honour of thy feet ! 
 Let VENUS have the graces she resigned! 
 
 And thy sweet voice yield to harmonious Spheres ! 
 But yet restore thy fierce and cruel mind 
 
 To Hyrcan tigers, and to ruthless bears ! 
 Yield to the marble thy hard heart again ! 
 So shalt thou cease to plague; and I, to pain! 
 290 
 
SAMUEL DANIEL. 
 
Samuel Daniel. 
 
 REIGN in my thoughts, fair Hand! sweet Eye! rare Voice! 
 
 Possess me whole, my heart's Triumvirate ! 
 Yet heavy heart, to make so hard a choice 
 
 Of such as spoil thy whole afflicted state ! 
 For, whilst they strive which shall be Lord of all, 
 
 All my poor life by them is trodden down! 
 They all erect their Triumphs on my fall; 
 
 And yield me nought, who gains them their renown. 
 When back I look, and sigh my freedom past, 
 
 And wail the state wherein I present stand, 
 And see my fortune ever like to last; 
 
 Finding me reined with such a cruel hand, 
 What can I do but yield ? and yield I do, 
 And serve them all ; and yet they spoil me too ! 
 
 ONCE may I see, when years may wreak my wrong, 
 
 And golden hairs may change to silver wire, 
 And those bright rays (that kindle all this fire !) 
 
 Shall fail in force ; their power not so strong. 
 Her beauty, now the burden of my Song, 
 
 Whose glorious blaze the World's eye doth admire, 
 Must yield her praise to tyrant Time's desire! 
 
 Then fades the flower, which fed her pride so long ! 
 When, if She grieve to gaze her in her Glass, 
 
 Which then presents her winter-withered hue, 
 Go you, my Verse ! Go, tell her what She was ! 
 
 For what She was, She best may find in you ! 
 Your fiery heat lets not her glory pass, 
 But, Phoenix-like, to make her live anew ! 
 
 u 2 291 
 
Mary Herbert, Countess of Pembroke. 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO SHEPHERDS, 
 THENOT AND PIERS, 
 
 IN PRAISE OF ASTREA \jQuEEN El,IZAEETli\. 
 
 THENOT. I SING divine ASTREA'S praise ! 
 
 O, Muses ! help my wits to raise ; 
 
 And heave my verses higher! 
 PIERS. Thou need'st the truth but plainly tell ! 
 
 Which, much I doubt, thou canst not well ; 
 Thou art so oft a liar ! 
 
 THENOT. If, in my Song, no more I show 
 
 Than heaven, and earth, and sea, do know 
 
 Then truly I have spoken! 
 PIERS. Sufficeth not no more to name, 
 
 But being no less, the like, the same ; 
 Else laws of truth be broken! 
 
 THENOT. Then say, She is so good, so fair, 
 
 With all the earth She may compare! 
 
 Not MOMUS' self denying. 
 
 PIERS. Compare may think, where likeness holds; 
 Nought like to her the earth enfolds ! 
 
 I looked to find you lying! 
 292 
 
MARY HERBERT, COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE. 
 
Mary Herbert, Countess of Pembroke. 
 THENOT. ASTREA sees with Wisdom's si^ht, 
 
 o ' 
 
 ASTREA works by Virtue's might ; 
 
 And jointly both do stay in her ! 
 PIERS. Nay ! take from them her hand, her mind, 
 The one is lame ! the other, blind ! 
 Shall still your lying stain her ? 
 
 THENOT. Soon as ASTREA shows her face, 
 
 Straight every ill avoids the place, 
 
 And every good aboundeth! 
 PIERS. Nay, long before her face doth show, 
 
 The last doth come ; the first doth go ! 
 How loud this lie resoundeth ! 
 
 THENOT. ASTREA is our chiefest joy! 
 
 Our chiefest guard against annoy ! 
 
 Our chiefest wealth, our treasure! 
 PIERS. Where chiefest are, there others be! 
 To us, none else, but only She ! 
 When wilt thou speak in measure ? 
 
 THENOT. ASTREA may be justly said, 
 
 'A field in flowery robe arrayed, 
 
 In season freshly springing.' 
 
 PIERS. That Spring endures but shortest time! 
 This, never leaves ASTREA'S clime! 
 Thou liest, instead of singing! 
 
 293 
 
Mary Herbert, Countess of Pembroke. 
 
 THENOT. As heavenly light, that guides the day, 
 Right so doth shine each lovely ray 
 
 That from ASTREA flieth ! 
 
 PIERS. Nay, darkness oft that light enclouds ; 
 ASTREA'S beams no darkness shrouds! 
 How loudly THENOT lieth ! 
 
 THENOT. ASTREA rightly term I may 
 
 A manly palm ! a maiden bay ! 
 
 Her verdure never dying! 
 PIERS. Palm oft is crooked, bay is low ; 
 
 She still upright, still high, doth grow ! 
 Good THENOT, leave thy lying! 
 
 THENOT. Then, PIERS! of friendship, tell me, Why, 
 My meaning true, my words should lie, 
 
 And strive in vain to raise her ? 
 PIERS. Words from conceit do only rise ; 
 Above conceit, her honour flies ! 
 But silence, nought can praise her ! 
 
 294 
 
Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. 
 
 FACTION, that ever dwells in Court where wit excels, 
 Hath set defiance ! [born 
 
 FORTUNE and LOVE have sworn, That they were never 
 Of one alliance ! 
 
 CUPID, which doth aspire to be God of desire, 
 Swears, ' He gives laws ! 
 
 That where his arrows hit, some joy, some sorrow, it ; 
 FORTUNE, no cause!' 
 
 FORTUNE swears, ' Weakest hearts, the books of CUPID'S 
 Turned with her Wheel, [arts, 
 
 Senseless themselves shall prove ! Venture hath place 
 Ask them that feel ! ' [in love ! 
 
 This discord it begot atheists that honour not. 
 
 Nature thought good 
 FORTUNE should ever dwell in Court, where wits excel : 
 
 LOVE keep the wood! 
 
 So to the wood went I, with LOVE to live and die. 
 
 FORTUNE 's forlorn ! 
 Experience of my youth made me think humble TRUTH 
 
 In deserts born. 
 
 My Saint I keep to me, and JOAN herself is she. 
 
 JOAN fair and true ! 
 She that doth only move Passions of love with LOVE. 
 
 FORTUNE, Adieu ! 
 
 295 
 
Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. 
 
 THE lively lark stretched forth her wing, 
 
 The messenger of Morning bright, 
 And with her cheerful voice did sing 
 
 The Day's approach; discharging Night; 
 When that AURORA, blushing red, 
 Descried the guilt of THETIS' bed. 
 
 I went abroad to take the air ; 
 
 And, in the meads, I met a Knight 
 Clad in carnation colour fair. 
 I did salute this gentle wight. 
 Of him, I did his name inquire ; 
 He sighed, and said, ' It was DESIRE.' 
 
 DESIRE I did desire to stay; 
 
 And while with him I craved talk, 
 The courteous Knight said me no ' Nay ' : 
 But hand in hand with me did walk. 
 Then of DESIRE, I asked again, 
 ' What thing did please ? and what did pain ? ' 
 
 He smiled, and thus he answered then, 
 
 ' Desire can have no greater pain 
 Than for to see another man, 
 The thing desired to obtain : 
 
 Nor greater joy can be than this, 
 Than to enjoy that others miss.' 
 
 296 
 
EDWARD DE VERE, EARL OF OXFORD. 
 
Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. 
 
 COME hither, Shepherd Swain ! 
 
 Sir ! what do you require ? 
 / pray thee, shew to me thy name ? 
 
 My name is fond DESIRE. 
 
 When wert thou born, DESIRE ? 
 
 In pomp and pride of May. 
 By whom, sweet boy ! wert thou, begot ? 
 
 By fond CONCEIT, men say. 
 
 Tell me, who was thy Nurse ? 
 
 Fresh Youth in sugared joy. 
 What was thy m'eat and daily food ? 
 
 Sad sighs, with great annoy. 
 
 What hadst thou then to drink ? 
 
 Unsavoury Lovers' tears. 
 What cradle wert thou rocked in ? 
 
 In hope devoid of fears. 
 
 What lulled thee then asleep ? 
 
 Sweet speech ! which likes me best. 
 Tell me, Where is thy dwelling-place ? 
 
 In gentle hearts I rest. 
 
 What thing doth please thee most ? 
 
 To gaze on Beauty still. 
 Whom dost thou think to be thy foe ? 
 
 Disdain of my good will. 
 
 297 
 
Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. 
 
 Dot/i company displease ? 
 
 Yes, surely, many one. 
 Where doth DESIRE delight to live ? 
 
 He loves to live alone. 
 
 Doth cither time, or age, 
 
 Bring him iinto decay ? 
 No ! No ! DESIRE both lives, and dies 
 
 A thousand times a day ! 
 
 Then, fond DESIRE ! farewell! 
 
 Thou art not mate for me / 
 I should be loth, methinks, to dwell 
 
 With such a one as thce ! 
 
 IF Women could be fair and never fond, 
 
 Or that their beauty might continue still ; 
 I would not marvel though they made Men bond, 
 By service long, to purchase their good will : 
 But when I see how frail these creatures are ; 
 I laugh, that men forget themselves so far! 
 
 To mark what choice they make, and how they change ! 
 How leaving best, the worst they choose out still! 
 And how, like haggards wild, about they range, 
 Scorning after Reason to follow Will ; 
 
 Who would not shake such buzzards from the fist; 
 And let them fly, fair fools ! which way they list! 
 298 
 
Earl of Oxford and Sidney. 
 
 Yet, for our sport, we fawn and natter both, 
 
 To pass the time, when nothing else can please; 
 And train them on to yield, by subtle oath, 
 
 The sweet content that gives such humour ease. 
 And then we say, when we their follies try, 
 ' To play with fools ; O, what a fool was I ! ' 
 
 WERE I a King, I might command content ! 
 
 Were I obscure, unknown should be my cares ! 
 
 And were I dead ; no thoughts should me torment, 
 
 Nor words, nor wrongs, nor love, nor hate, nor fears! 
 
 A doubtful choice for me, of three things, one to 
 
 A Kingdom ! or a Cottage ! or a Grave ! [crave! 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 
 
 AN ANSWER. 
 
 WERT thou a King, yet not command content; 
 
 Since empire none, thy mind could yet suffice! 
 Wert thou obscure ! still cares would thee torment ! 
 But wert thou dead ; all care and sorrow dies ! 
 An easy choice, of three things, one to crave ! 
 No Kingdom, nor a Cottage ; but a Grave ! 
 
 299 
 
Anonymous. 
 
 FROM Cytheron, the warlike Boy has fled, 
 And smiling sits upon a Virgin's lap ; 
 Thereby to train poor misers to the trap, 
 Whom BEAUTY draws with fancy to be fed : 
 And when desire with eager looks is led, 
 Then, from her eyes 
 The arrow flies, 
 Feathered with flame, armed with a golden head ! 
 
 There, careless thoughts are freed of that flame, 
 Wherewith her thralls are scorched to the heart ! 
 If LOVE would so, would God ! th' enchanting dart 
 
 Mi<jht once return and burn from whence it came ! 
 
 o 
 
 Not to deface, of BEAUTY'S work the frame ; 
 
 But, by rebound, 
 
 It might be found 
 What secret smart I suffer by the same ! 
 
 If LOVE be just ; lo ! just is my desire ! 
 And if unjust, why is he called a God ? 
 O, God ! O, just ! reserve thy rod 
 To chasten those that from thy laws retire ! 
 But choose aright, good LOVE ! I thee desire 
 The golden head ; 
 Not that of lead ! 
 Her heart is frost ; and must dissolve by fire ! 
 
 THE END OF THE SPENSER ANTHOLOGY. 
 300 
 
FIRST LINES AND NOTES. 
 
 Many of these Poems became immediately popular ; and appeared in other contemporary 
 editions than those here quoted, often with great variations in the texts. 
 
 All the Works herein quoted, were published in London ; unless .otherwise stated. 
 Where a text is found associated with music, iM.) is put after its date. 
 
 A blithe and bonny Country Lass 271 
 
 T. LODGE, M.D. Rosalynde, 1590. 
 A bony 'No! ' with smylinglooks . 172 
 
 Capt. A. MONTGOMERIE. Poems, ed. 
 
 by J. CRANSTOUN, LL.D. (Scottish 
 
 Text Society), 1887. 
 A day, a night, an hour, of sweet 289 
 
 T. CAMPION, M.D. In Sir P. SIDNEY'S 
 
 Astropliel and Stella, 1591. 
 Ah ! what is Love ? It is a pretty 254 
 
 R. GREENE. Mourning Garment, 
 
 1500. 
 Alas! my heart! mine eye hath .. 230 
 
 Sir E. DYEK. In J. B. [J. BODEN- 
 
 HAM]'S England's Helicon, 1600. 
 Alas ! my Love ! ye do me wrong . 178 
 
 ANON. In C. ROBINSON'S Handful of 
 
 Pleasant Deliglits, 1584. 
 And think ye, Nymphs ! to scorn at 281 
 
 ANON. In W. BYRD'S Songs, 1589. 
 
 (M.) 
 A Nosegay lacking flowers fresh . . 173 
 
 ANON. In C. ROBINSON'S Handful of 
 
 Pleasant Delights, 1584. The fourth 
 
 stanza is quoted by OPHELIA in Ham- 
 let, 1604. 
 As I was pansing in a morning . . 104 
 
 JAMES I. Essays of a Prentice, %c., 
 
 Edin , 1584. 
 As long liveth the merry man ' .. 48 
 
 N. UDALL. Roister Doister\) printed 
 
 in 1566]. From the unique copy at 
 
 Eton College. 
 As pilot well expert in perilous .... 2 
 
 E.SPENSER The Faery Queen, Book 
 
 II, Canto vii, 1590. The present text 
 
 is chiefly from the 2nd Ed. o_f 1596. 
 As years do grow, so cares increase 115 
 
 W. CECIL, Lord BURLEGH. MS. 
 
 Lansdowne, 104, in the British 
 
 Museum. 
 At Beauty's Bar as I did stand .... 130 
 
 Capt G. GASCOIGNE Posies, 1575. 
 At liberty I sit, and see 123 
 
 ANO.V. 
 Aurora now began to rise again . . 158 
 
 T. WATSON. In R. S.'s Phoenix 1 Nest, 
 
 1593- 
 
 Away. Despair ! the death of 167 
 
 T.WATSON. In R. S.'s PA&nix' A r est, 
 
 '593- 
 Away with these self-loving lads . 224 
 
 F. GREVILLE, Lord BROOKE. Ccelica, 
 in Works, 1633. This poem first ap- 
 peared in J. B. [J. BODENHAM]'S Eng- 
 land' 's Helicon, 1600. 
 
 Back and side go bare ! go bare ! . 135 
 J. STILL, Bishop of BATH and WELLS. 
 Gammer Gurtoris Needle \ 1575]. 
 
 Because I breathe not love to every 209 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astropliel and Stella, 
 1591 ; and Arcadia, tyc.. 3rd Ed., 1598. 
 
 B. told me, 'That the Bay would . . 108 
 G. TURBERVILE. Epitaphs, tyc., 2nd 
 Ed., 1570. 
 
 Colin! I see, by thy new-taken task 282 
 G. HARVEY. In E. SPENSER'S Faery 
 Queen, 1500. 
 
 Come, gentle Death ! Who calls?. 164 
 
 T. WATSON. ' EicaTOftiraSia or Passion- 
 ate Century of Love [15821 
 
 Come hither, Shepherd Swain ! . . . . 297 
 E. DE VERB, Earl of OXFORD. MS. 
 Rawl. Poet. 85, in the Bodleian Library. 
 
 Come over the born, Bessy ! Come 66 
 W. BIRCH. From the original Broad- 
 side in the possession of the Society of 
 Antiquaries of London. 
 
 Come, Sleep ! O, Sleep, the certain 205 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astrophd and Stella, 
 1591 ; and Arcadia, f,-c., 3rd Ed., 1598. 
 
 Cupid and my Campaspe played . 108 
 J. LYLY. Campaspe (1584), in Six 
 Court Comedies, 1632. 
 
 Down the valley gan he track . . 
 R. GREENE. Never too late, 1590. 
 
 301 
 
 242 
 
IJHCS and Notes. 
 
 Faction, that ever dwells in Court . 295 
 
 E. DB VERB, l..nl .>i o\i OKD. In Sir 
 
 1'. SYDNEY'S Astrophel and Stella, 
 
 1591. 
 Faint Amorist ! What ! dost thou .-19 
 
 Sir I'. SIDNEY. In Cottoni [Sir R. 
 
 i M ION] pnsllnttna, ed. J. H., 1651. 
 Farewell, false Love ! the Oracle . 269 
 
 ASON. In W. liYKD's Psalms, Sounds, 
 
 KSC., 1588. (M.I 
 Farewell, sweet Boy ! Complain.. 226 
 
 r. (iRKvn.i.E, Lord BROOKE. Ccelica, 
 
 in Works, '633. 
 Fond feigning Poets make of Love 263 
 
 R. GREENE. Ciceronis A ni,\ i;S,). 
 Fortune, Nature, Love, long have .'07 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, ^-c., 3rd Ed., 
 
 t9& 
 Friend Googe ! Give me the 114 
 
 G. TURUERVILE. Epitaphs, tfC., jnd 
 
 Ed., i"o. 
 From Cytheron, the warlike Boy . }oo 
 
 ANON. In W. BYKD'S Songs, 1589. 
 
 Give Money me ! take Friendship . 101 
 
 B. GOOGE. Eglogues, $c., 1563. 
 Give place, you Ladies! and be .. 53 
 
 I. HKYWOOD. In Songs and Sonnets, 
 
 KfC. [R. TOTTELI.'S Miscellany}, 1557. 
 Go, my flock! Go, get you hence ! 216 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia. <K., 3rd Ed., 
 
 1598. 
 Good aged Bale ! that, with thy ... 97 
 
 B. GOOGE. Eglogues, ,\c., 1563. 
 Good Housewives, whom GOD .... 128 
 
 T. TUSSER. Five hundred Points, tyc., 
 
 1573. 
 Go, wailing Verse ! the infant of. . 290 
 
 S. DANIEL. In Sir P. SIDNEY'S Astro- 
 
 phcl and Stella. 1591. 
 
 Haying, this day, my horse, my . . . 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astrophel and Stella, 
 
 1591 ; and Arcadia, $c., 3rd Ed., 
 
 1598. 
 Hay! now the day dauis ! ........ 
 
 Capt. A. MONTGOMERIE. Poems, ed. 
 
 by J. CRANSTOUN, LL.D. (Scottish 
 
 Text Society), 1887. 
 
 His golden locks, time hath to .... 
 
 G PEEI.E. Mykymmia, 1590. 
 Hopeless, and helpless too, poor . . 
 
 T. WATSON. Tears of Fancy, 1^93. 
 How long, with vain complaining. . 
 
 T. WATSON. In liis Italian Madri- 
 
 gals, f(C., 1500. (M.) 
 
 302 
 
 209 
 
 169 
 
 160 
 
 I cannot eat but little meat ; my.. 
 
 I. Si ii. i., Bishop of BATH and WKI.I.S. 
 
 Gammer Gnrton's Needle [1575]. 
 If ever I marry, I'll marry a Maid ! 
 
 ANON-. As printed in \V. ("IIAITKI.I.'S 
 
 1'iipular Music of the Olden 'lintc. 
 If thou in surety safe wilt sit 1^6 
 
 Rev. J. HKYWOOD, O.D., S.J. In K. 
 
 Kim Amis' Paradise of Dainty De- 
 vices, 1576. 
 If Women could be fair and never 298 
 
 E. DE VKRE, Earl of OXFORD. In 
 
 W. BYRD'S Psalms, Sonnets, $c.. 1588. 
 
 (M.) 
 I grieve; and dare not show my . . 157 
 
 Queen ELIZABETH. AfS. Ashm. 781, 
 
 in the. Bodleian Library. 
 I heard when Fame.withthund'ring 56 
 
 ANON. In Songs and Sonnets, ffC. 
 
 ( R. TOTTELI.'S Miscellany], 1557. 
 I joy not in no earthly bliss' T.. .. 227 
 
 ANON. In W. BYRD'S Psalms, Sounds, 
 
 tfC., 1588. (M.) 
 I mun be married a Sunday! 51 
 
 N. UDALL. Roister Doisler [? printed 
 
 in 1566]. 
 In a grove, most rich of shade .... 212 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astrophel and Stella, 
 
 1591. The last nine stanzas first occur 
 
 in Arcadia, fyc., }rd Ed., 1598. 
 In all this world,! think none loves 167 
 
 T. WATSON. ' EKUTOUTT a6 ia or Passion- 
 ate Century of Love [1582]. 
 In Cyprus sat fair Venus, by a .... ^41 
 
 R. GREENE. Perimedes, 1588. 
 I never drank of Aganippe Well . 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astroplul and Stella, 
 
 1501 ; and Arcadia, tyc., 3rd Ed., i ^98. 
 In going to my naked bed, as one 102 
 
 R. EDWARDS. Paradise of Dainty 
 
 Devices, 1576. 
 In long time past, when, in Diana's u>4 
 
 T. WATSON. EaTOi7ra0ia or Passion- 
 ate Century of Love [1582]. 
 In prime of youthly years, as then 161 
 
 T.WATSON, /'ears of Fancy, 1593. 
 In Sparta, long ago, where .'. . 213 
 
 E. D. [? Sir E. DYER J. In his transla- 
 tion of Six Idillia of THEOCRITUS, 
 
 Oxf., 1588. 
 In time of yore, when Shepherds . . 186 
 
 N. BRETON. Works, ed. by Rev. 
 
 A. B. GROSART (Chertsey Worthies 
 
 Library), 1879. 
 I pray thee, Nvmph ! by all the 276 
 
 T. LODGE, M.D. Rosalynde, 1^90. 
 I sing divine Astrea's praise ! .... 292 
 
 M. HERBERT, Countess of PEMBROKE. 
 
 In F. DAVISON'S Poetical Rhapsody, 
 
 1602. 
 Is Love a Boy ? What means he . . 281 
 
 ANON. In W. BYRD'S Songs, 1580. 
 
 I smile to see how you devise.. .. 196 
 ANON. In C. ROBINSON'S Handful of 
 Pleasant Delights, 1584. 
 
First Lines and Notes. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 It hath been, through all Ages i 
 
 E. SPENSER. The Faery Queen, Book 
 IV, Canto v, 1596. 
 
 It was a valley gaudy green 264 
 
 R. GREENE. Francesco's Fortunes, 
 or Part II of Never too late, 1590. 
 
 I will be plane * 71 
 
 A. SCOTT. Poems, ed. by J. CRANS- 
 TOUN, LL.D. (Scottish Text Society), 
 1896. 
 
 I,withwhosecoloursMyradressed 225 
 
 F. GREVILLE, Lord BROOKE. Calica, 
 in Works, 1633. 
 
 Laid in my quiet bed to rest 145 
 
 H. GIFFORD. Posie of Gilloflowers, 
 
 1580. 
 Leaveme.O.Love! which readiest 223 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, $c., 3rd Ed., 
 
 1598. 
 Like to Diana in her summer weed 268 
 
 R. GREENE. Menaphon, 1589. 
 Long time I fought, and fiercely ... 161 
 
 T. WATSON. Tears of Fancy, 1593. 
 Love, in my bosom, like a bee 270 
 
 T. LODGE, M.D. Rosalynde, 1590. 
 Love me little ; love me long! 116 
 
 ANON. In J. P. COLLIER'S Extracts 
 from the Registers of the Stationers' 
 
 Co. ^hakespeare Society,!, 1848. 
 
 'Maid! will ye love me ? Yea, or . 192 
 
 AVON. In C. ROBINSON'S Handful of 
 
 Pleasant Delights, 1584. 
 Mars, in a fury 'gainst Love's 248 
 
 R. GREENE. Ciceroni's Amor, 1589. 
 Marvellous be thy matchless gifts 75 
 
 J.HARINGTON. In Rev. H. HARING- 
 
 TON'S Nugce Antiques, 1804. 
 Master Roister Doister will straight 52 
 
 N. UDALL. Roister Doister [? printed 
 
 in i=;66]. 
 Melampus! When will Love be ... 185 
 
 G. PEELE. Arraignment of Paris, 
 
 1=584. 
 Melpomene, the Muse of tragic .... 184 
 
 G. PEELE. Arraignment of Paris, 
 
 :<;84. 
 Methought, I saw the grave where 284 
 
 Sir W. RALEGH. In E. SPENSER'S 
 
 Faerv Queen, 1590. 
 My Daphne's hair is twisted gold ! 200 
 
 J. LYLY. Midas (1592), in Six Court 
 
 Comedies, 1632. 
 My Eye ! why didst thou light on . 137 
 
 W. HUNNIS. In R. EDWARDS' Para- 
 dise of Dainty De-vices, 1580. 
 My mind to me a Kingdom is ! 228 
 
 Sir E. DYER. MS. Rawl. Poet. 85, in 
 
 the Bodleian Library. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 '4 
 
 My shag-hair[ed] Cylcops ! conie . 211. 
 
 J. LYLY. Sappho and P/iao (1584), in 
 
 Six Court Comedies, 1632. 
 My True Love hath my heart, and 206 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, qc., 3rd Ed., 
 
 1598 
 
 ' No more! my Dear! No more these 218 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, $-c., 3rd Ed., 
 1508. 
 
 O, cruel Love ! on thee I lay 202 
 
 J. LYLY. Sappho and Phao (1584), 
 
 in Six Court Comedies, 1632. 
 O, Cupid ! Monarch over Kings ! . . 109 
 
 J. LYLY. Mother Bombie (15921, in 
 
 Six Court Comedies, 1632. 
 O, gentle Love ! ungentle for thy . . 184 
 
 G. PEELE. Arraignment of Paris, 
 
 1584. 
 O, happy Thames! that didst my.. 211 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astrophel and Stella, 
 
 1 1591 ; and Arcadia, ffC., 3rd Ed., 1598. 
 Old friendship binds (though fain . 138 
 
 G. WHETSTONE. In R. EDWARDS' 
 
 Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1576. 
 Old Menalcas, on a day 246 
 
 R. GREENE. Never too late, 1590. 
 Once may I see, when years may . 291 
 
 S. DANIEL. In Sir P. SIDNEY'S As- 
 
 trophel and Stella, 1591. 
 O, Nicias ! there is no other remedy 234 
 
 E. D. [?Sir E. DYER]. In his transla- 
 tion of Six Idillia of THEOCRITUS, 
 
 Oxf., 1588. 
 O, words, which fall like summer. . 206 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, tyc., 3rd Ed., 
 
 1^98. 
 O, Yes ! O, Yes ! if any Maid 203 
 
 J. LYLY. Galatea (1592), in Six Court 
 
 Comedies, 1632. 
 
 Pan's Syrinx was a Girl indeed . . 200 
 
 J. LYLY. Midas (1592), in Six Court 
 
 Comedies, 1632. 
 Phillis kept sheep along the 200 
 
 R. GREENE. Perimedes, 1588. 
 Pinch him ! Pinch him black and . . 198 
 
 J. LYLY. Endymion (1591), in Six 
 
 Court Comedies, 1632. 
 Pluck the fruit, and taste the 274 
 
 T. L. G. [T. LODGE, M.D.]. Robert, 
 
 Duke of Normandy, 1591. 
 
 33 
 
Lines and Notes. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Reign in my thoughts, fair Hand ! 291 
 
 S. DANIEL. In Sir P. SIDNEY'S As- 
 
 trophel and Stella, 1591. 
 Restore thy tresses to the golden . 290 
 
 S. DANIEL. In Sir P. SIDNEY'S As- 
 
 trophel and Stella, 1 591 . 
 Ring out your bells t Let mourning 220 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, f;c., 3rd EdT, 
 
 '59- 
 
 Roister Doister is my name 51 
 
 N. I'nALL. Roister Doister [? printed 
 in 1566]. 
 
 Shall I no way win you to grant . . 106 
 
 M. BEW. In R. EDWARDS' Paradise 
 
 of Dainty Devices, 1576. 
 She smiled to see her son in such . 162 
 
 T. WATSON. Tears of Fancy, 1593. 
 Sing, Lullaby! as women do 133 
 
 Capt. G. GASCOIGNE. Posies, 1575. 
 Sing to Apollo ! God of Day! 201 
 
 J.L.TLT. Midas (1592), in Six Court 
 
 Comedies, 1632. 
 Sit down, Carmela ! here are cobs 244 
 
 R. GKEENE. Mtnaphon, 1589. 
 Some say, Love .' 249 
 
 R. GREENE. Menaphon, 1589. 
 Stella ! the fullness of my thoughts 21 1 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astroplicl and Stella, 
 
 1591 ; and Arcadia, ffC., 3rd Ed., 1598. 
 Sweet Adon. ! dar'st not glance . . 258 
 
 R.GREENE. Never too late, 1500. 
 Sweet are the thoughts that savour 243 
 
 R. GREENE. Farewell to Folly, 1591. 
 Sweet kiss! thy sweets I fain .... 210 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Aslrophel and Stella, 
 
 1591 ; and Arcadia, ffC., 3rd Ed., 1598. 
 Sweet Muse I tell me, where is my 100 
 
 B. GOOGE. Eglogius, ffC., 1563. 
 
 Tell me, good Hobbinol ! what 41 
 E. SPENSER. The Shepherd's Calen- 
 dar, 1579. 
 
 4 That, I would not persuaded be . . 187 
 N. BRETON. Toys of an Idle Head, in 
 A Flourish upon Fancy, 1582. 
 
 The earth, late choked with 273 
 
 T. LODGE, M.D. Scilhfs Metamor- 
 phosis, 1 589. From P. DBS FORTES. 
 
 'The Golden World is past,' saith 154 
 T. HOW-ELL. Devises. 1581. 
 
 The green that you did wish me.. 112 
 G. TURHERVILE. Epitaphs, $c., 2nd 
 Ed., 1 570. 
 
 The lively lark stretched forth her 296 
 K. DE VERB, Earl of OXFORD. MS. 
 Kawl. Poet. 85, in the Bodleian 
 Library. 
 
 304 
 
 The man is blest 
 
 ANON. MS. Colt. Vespasian, A. xxv, 
 in the British Museum. 
 
 Then, on the sudden, fast away he 
 T. WATSON. Tears of Fancy, 1593. 
 
 The praise of meaner Wits, this . . 1X4. 
 Sir W. RALEGH. In E. SPENSER'S 
 Faery Queen, 1590. 
 
 The rushing rivers that do run 98 
 
 H. GOOGE. Eglogius, $c., 1563. 
 
 The Sea Nymphs late did play 237 
 G. FLETCHER the Elder, LL.D. Licia 
 (15931. From LUCIAN. 
 
 The s'moky sighs, the bitter tears . 58 
 ANON. In Songs and Sonnets, ffC. 
 | R. TOTTELL'S Miscellany}, 1557. 
 
 The Soldier, worn with war's" 168 
 
 T. WATSON. 'BxaTOfuroMa or Passion- 
 ate Century of Love [1582]. 
 
 The wrathful Winter,''proaching . 77 
 T. SACKVILLE, Earl of DORSET. In 
 W. BALDWIN'S A Mirror for Magis- 
 trates, 1563. 
 
 This latter night, amidst my 
 
 T. WATSON. 'K.xa.TOiJ.va.biaorf'assion- 
 ate Century of Love [1582]. 
 
 Tho, taking in her lap the God of . i < - 
 T.WATSON. Tears of Fancy, 151)3. 
 
 Through the shrubs as lean crack 
 R. GREENE. Menaphon, 1589. 
 
 To climb the high and haughty hill 150 
 T. HOWEI.L. Devises, 1581. 
 
 To praise thy life, or wail thy .... 285 
 Sir W. RALEGH. In E. SPENSER'S 
 Colin Clout 's come home, 1595. Au- 
 thorship fixed in Sir J. HARINGTON's 
 translation of ARIOSTO'S Orlando 
 furioso, \<f)\. Book XVI. 
 
 To take thy Calling thankfully 124 
 
 T. TUSSER. Five hundred Points, ^c., 
 
 "573- 
 ' True he it said, whatever man it . 23 
 
 K. SPEXSER. The Faery Queen, Book 
 
 IV, Canto x, 1 596. 
 Turn I my looks unto the skies .. 275 
 
 T. LODGE, M.D. Rosalynde, 1590. 
 
 ANON. In W. BYRD'S Songs, 1589. 
 (M.) 
 
 Weep not, my Wanton! smile, upon 266 
 R. GREENE. Menaphon, 1581). 
 
 Were I a King, I might command . 299 
 E. DE VERB, Earl of OXFORD. Che- 
 tliam MS. 8,012, at Manchester. 
 
First Lines and Notes. 
 
 Wertthou a King, yet not command 299 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Chetham MS. 8,012. 
 
 What changes here, O, hair! 221 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, $c., 3rd Ed., 
 
 1508- 
 What fair pomp have I spied of . . 288 
 
 T. CAMPION, M.D. In Sir P. SIDNEY'S 
 
 Astrophel and Stella, i ^91 . 
 What pleasure have great Princes 181 
 
 ANON. In W. BYRD'S Psalms, Son- 
 nets, %c., 1588. (M.) 
 What thing is Love ? It is a Power 256 
 
 R. GREENE. Menaphon, 1589. 
 What time the Lady Venus sought 1 10 
 
 G. TURBERVILE. Epitaphs, f,-c., 2nd 
 
 Ed., 1^70. 
 When Beauty, Venus' daughter ... 142 
 
 Capt.T. CHURCHYARD. Charge, 1580. 
 When Captains courageous, whom 
 
 ANON. From the original broadside, 
 
 printed in the Restoration Age, in the 
 
 British Museum. 
 Whence comes my love? O, heart 
 
 J. HARINGTON. In Rev. H. HARING- 
 
 TON'S Ntigce Antique, 1804. 
 When I do hear thy Name 100 
 
 B. GOOGE. Eglogues, $c., 1563. 
 When I was fair and young, and . . 156 
 
 Queen ELIZA BETH. AfS. Rawl. Poet. 
 
 8";, in the Bodleian Library. 
 When lordly Saturn, in a sable . . . 250 
 
 R. GREENE. Franceses Fortunes, 
 
 or Part II of Never too late, 1590. 
 When Women first Dame Nature . . 104 
 
 R. EDWARDS. MS. Cott. Titus, A. 
 
 xxiv, in the British Museum. 
 When younglings first on Cupid . . . 
 
 ANON. In W. BYRD'S Songs, 1589. 
 
 (M.) 
 Whereat erewhile I wept, I laugh ! 
 
 R. GREENE. Arbasto, 1584. 
 
 117 
 
 74 
 
 280 
 
 257 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Where griping grief the heart .... 106 
 
 R. EDWARDS. Paradise of Dainty 
 
 Devices, 1576. This Song is quoted by 
 
 PETER in Romeo and Juliet. 
 Whilst Fisher cast his line, the ... 108 
 
 G. TURBERVILE. Epitaphs, $c., 2nd 
 
 Ed., 1570. 
 Who doth desire that chaste his . . 208 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Arcadia, $c. } 3rd Ed., 
 
 1598. 
 Wholivethsomerry.inallthisland 64 
 
 ANON. In T. R. [T. RAVENSCROFT]'S 
 
 Deziteromelia, 1609. (M.) 
 Whoso to marry a minion Wife ... 50 
 
 N. UDALL. Roister Doister [? printed 
 
 in 1566]. 
 With fragrant flowers, we strew . . 166 
 
 T. WATSON. In J. B. [J. BODENHAMJ'S 
 
 England^ Helicon, 1600 
 With her in arms, that had my .... 132 
 
 Capt. G. GASCOIGNE. Ferdinando 
 
 feronomi, in Posies, 1575- 
 
 ith how sad steps, C% Moon ! 208 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astrophel and Stella, 
 
 1591 ; and Arcadia, %c., 3rd Ed., 1598. 
 Wi'th what sharp checks I, in 210 
 
 Sir P. SIDNEY. Astrophel and Stella, 
 
 1591 ; and Arcadia, $c., 3rd Ed., 1598. 
 
 Yea, and a good cause, why thus . 60 
 N. GRIMALD. Songs and Sonnets, 
 $c. [R. TOTTELL'S Miscellany}, 1557. 
 
 Ye buds of Brutus' land 149 
 
 H. GlFFORD. Posie of Gilloflowers, 
 is8o. 
 
 ' Ye dainty Nymphs, that in this . . 43 
 E. SPENSER. The Shepherd's Calen- 
 dar, 1579. 
 
 Wil 
 
 HRIT. ANTH. III. 
 
 305 
 
GLOSSARY AND INDEX. 
 
 Accloys, 6, clogs, obstructs. 
 
 Acheron, in. 
 
 Achilles, 63. 
 
 Acidalion, 163. 
 
 Acontius, 18. 
 
 Actaeon, 150. 
 
 Adon. see Adonis. 
 
 Adonis, 241, 242, 258-260. 
 
 Adrian Gulf, 6, the Adriatic. 
 
 Adrianus, 59. 
 
 Adusted, 207, atrabilious or 
 melancholic. 
 
 ^Esculapius, 164. 
 
 jEsop, 100, 139. 
 
 Affright, i6r>, frightened. 
 
 AfTane, 71, sincerely. 
 
 Affy, ioy, trust, confide in, 
 rely on. 
 
 Agane, 172. again. 
 
 Aganippe Well, 205. 
 
 Albe, Q, 45, albeit. 
 
 All-to-dashed herself, 81, 
 dashed herself to pieces. 
 
 Als, 169, as. 
 
 Amated, 163, dismayed, 
 daunted. 
 
 Ambree, M. (Anon.), 117-121. 
 
 The Lady Amoret (E. Spen- 
 ser), 23-25, 38-40. 
 
 Amorist, 210, Lover. 
 
 Amyntas (T. Watson), 158- 
 160. 
 
 Apelles (J- Ly'y), 198. 
 
 And [ = anl, 88, if. 
 
 Antics, 3, fantastic and gro- 
 tesque designs. 
 
 Antique Age, 7, World, 6, 
 the Golden Age of the 
 world's youth. 
 
 Antique shapes, 3, ancient. 
 
 Ar, 171, are. 
 
 Arbasto (R. Greene\ 257. 
 
 Arge, 60, Argos. 
 
 Arthur, King, 150. 
 
 Asia [ Asia Minor], 32. 
 
 Assayis, 171, encounter. 
 
 Astoined, 84, astonished. 
 
 Astrea [ = Queen Elizabeth] 
 (M. Herbert, Countess of 
 Pembroke), 292-294. 
 
 Astrophel [=tke Lover of a 
 Star, the poetical name of 
 Sir P. Sidney, who loved 
 Penelope Devereux. See 
 Stella], 205, 208-218. 
 
 Atalanta, 18. 
 
 Athenians, 17. 
 
 Athort, 194, across. 
 
 Atreus, 232. 
 
 Aught, 27, anything. 
 
 To a vale, 29, 81, lower, 
 diminish. 
 
 Lake . . . Averne [= Aver- 
 nus], 84. 
 
 Avise, 13, 24, consider 
 
 Awry, IOQ, aside. 
 
 Ay (Scotch), 72, ever. 
 
 Baldwin, W., 76. 
 
 Bale, Bishop of Ossory; 
 
 J.,97- 
 
 Ban, 123, curse. 
 Banged, 190, beaten. 
 Banker, 49, a lender of 
 
 money. 
 Beadsman, 183, one paid to 
 
 pray for others. 
 Bear in hand, 121, assert, 
 
 argue, persuade others. 
 Beauty (Capt. G. Gascoigne), 
 
 130-132. 
 
 Bedight, 3, covered. 
 Bedreynt, 82, drenched, 
 
 soaked. 
 For thy behoove [= behoof], 
 
 245, on thy account. 
 Beir, 104, force, impetuosity. 
 Beis, 73, be. 
 Belamy, 17, fair friend. 
 Bellibone | - belle et bonne], 
 
 45, a fair maid. 
 Take off thy bells, 197, as off 
 
 a hawk. 
 Belyve, 194, quickly. 
 
 Bene, 46, be, are. 
 Beshrewme! 106, 107, Evil 
 
 befall me! Mischief take 
 
 me ! 
 Bessy [= Queen Elizabeth] 
 
 (W. Birch), 66-69. 
 Betime, 80, in time. 
 Bew, M., 1 06, 107. 
 Birch, W., 66-69. 
 Birning, 194, burning. 
 Bissie, 194, busy. 
 Blear, 196, to hoodwink, to 
 
 deceive. 
 
 Bleared, 3, inflamed. 
 Bless, 30, bliss. 
 Blinkinsop.B. (N. Udall),4o. 
 Blonkis, 171, white horses. 
 At board, 106, at table. 
 Bocchas = Boccaccio, G., 
 
 76. 
 
 Bode, 61, abode. 
 Boldness, or Courage (Capt. 
 
 T. Churchyard), 142-144. 
 Bootless arrow, 162, helpless. 
 Born, 66, burn, brook. 
 Brave, 70. 180, fine, gay. 
 Brayis, 171, neigh. 
 Breistis, 171, breasts. 
 Breton, N., 186-191. 
 Brickie, 35, brittle. 
 Brok, i-iVbroke. 
 Brutus' land, 149, England; 
 
 whose mythical founder was 
 
 Brute. 
 
 Bubs, 04, bubbles. 
 Buckingham, theDuke of 
 
 s<-c Stafford, H. 
 A buss, no, a passionate kiss. 
 
 Caesar, C. J., 91, 92. 
 
 Caiet', 6(i, Caieta. 
 Calling, 124, vocation in life. 
 Calvary, ^42. 
 Campaspe (J. Lyly), n>S. 
 
Glossary and Index. 
 
 Campion, M.D. ; T., 288, 
 289. 
 
 Canna, 91, Cannae. 
 
 Card, 2, chart. 
 
 Caren, 47, care they. 
 
 Cark, 106, care, anxiety. 
 
 Carl, 15, a sturdy fellow. 
 
 Carmela (R. Greene), 244- 
 246. 
 
 Carpet Knights, 149, stay- 
 at-home soldiers. 
 
 Carthago, 91, Carthage. 
 
 The case, 89, the skin. 
 
 Caspian Sea, 6. 
 
 Cassandra, 93. 
 
 Thou art cast, 131, con- 
 demned. 
 
 To catchen, 16, catch. 
 
 Caucase hill, 230, the Cau- 
 casus. 
 
 Caul, s6, a net, or netted cap. 
 
 Cecil, 'A., 11=;. 
 
 Cecil, Lord Burghley; W., 
 
 Cephalus, 158. 
 Cheerfulness (E. Spenser), 
 
 Cheiss, 73. choose. 
 
 Chevisaunce, 46, the wall- 
 flower. 
 
 Chloris (E. Spensen, 46. 
 
 Churchyard, Capt. T., 142- 
 144. 
 
 Cicero, M. T., 287. 
 
 Clier of hew, 73, clear of hue. 
 
 Clift, 9, 10, &c., cliff. 
 
 Cobs, 244. cob-nuts. 
 
 The river of Cocytus, 19. 
 
 Cok, 169, cock. 
 
 Colin (G. Peele), 184, 185. 
 
 Colin Clout [= the poetical 
 name of E. Spenser], 41-47, 
 282, 283. 
 
 Concord (E. Spenser), 32, 33, 
 39- 
 
 Confort, 71, comfort. 
 
 In one consort, 8, company. 
 
 Corbs, 2=,, corbels. 
 
 Coridon' (Sir E. Dyer), 230, 
 231. 
 
 Coridon (R. Greene), 246, 
 247, 260, 261. 
 
 Coridon (T. Lodge, M.D.), 
 271, 272. 
 
 Coridon (G. Peele), 185. 
 
 Coronations, 46, carnations. 
 
 Courtesy (E. Spenser), 37. 
 
 A crab, 135, a wild apple. 
 
 Craft, the Crier (Capt. G. 
 Gascoigne), 130. 
 
 Craking, 49, cracking, boast- 
 ing. 
 
 Crare [= crayer], 159, vessel, 
 boat. 
 
 Crauis, 169, crows. 
 
 A cremosin coronet, 43, 
 crimson. 
 
 Cristis, 171, crests. 
 Critias, 17. 
 
 Croesus, King, 87, 155, 227. 
 Crow-toe, 232, 235, hyacinth. 
 Cryen, 45, cry. 
 Cryis, 169, cries. 
 Cudden, R., 138. 
 Curoris, 171, coursers. 
 Custance, C. (N. Udall), 51, 
 
 Cynthia (F. Greville, Lord 
 
 Brooke), 224, 225. 
 Cyprus, 24, 289. 
 Cyrus, 92. 
 
 D.,E. [? Sir E. Dyer], 232-236. 
 
 The dasdale earth, 36, varie- 
 gated. 
 
 Daffadillies, 43, daffodils. 
 
 Daffadowndillies, 46, daffo- 
 dils. 
 
 Damcetas (Sir P. Sidney), 
 206, 207. 
 
 Damon, 31. 
 
 Dancen, 45, dance. 
 
 Danger (E. Spenser), 28, 40. 
 
 Daniel, S., 290, 291. 
 
 Daphne, 200. 
 
 A Daphnean coronet, 201, 
 a laurel wreath. 
 
 Daphnis, 109, 263, the laurel. 
 
 Darius, King, 91. 
 
 Dauis, 169, dawns. 
 
 David, King, 31. 
 
 Sweet Daw! 100, simpleton, 
 noodle. 
 
 De, 72, die. 
 
 Delay (E. Spenser), 27. 
 
 Delices,24,delights, pleasures, 
 joys. 
 
 Depart, 66, 176, separate. 
 
 Depeincten, 44, depicted. 
 
 In der-doing Arms, 5, in 
 doing brave and daring acts. 
 
 Descrive, 79. describe. 
 
 Desire, 219, 247, love-longings. 
 
 Desire personified as a Boy, 
 297, 298. 
 
 Desire personified as a Knight, 
 296. 
 
 Desire personified as a Queen, 
 246, 247. 
 
 Dewle, 80, dole. 
 
 Diana (Sir P. Sidney, from 
 Montemayor), 221-223. 
 
 Diceplayer,D.(N. Udall), 48. 
 
 Dichtis [= dight], 170, pre- 
 pare, make ready. 
 
 Dight, 14, prepare, make 
 ready. 
 
 Dight, 30, framed, arranged. 
 
 X 2 
 
 Dight, 34, clothed. 
 Disdain (E. Spensen, 14, 15. 
 Distrained, 80, distressed, 
 
 oppressed. 
 Dives, 139, the rich man in 
 
 Luke xvi. 
 To do him, 10, 21, to make 
 
 him. 
 
 Dois, 72, does. 
 Doris (G. Fletcher the Elder, 
 
 LL.D. ; from Lucian), 237- 
 
 240. 
 
 Doron (R. Greene), 244-246. 
 Doubt (E. Spenser), 26, 27. 
 In doubt, 64, fear. 
 Dryve the tyme, 194, pass 
 
 the time. 
 
 Duke, 91, leader, commander. 
 Dumps, 106, melancholy, 
 
 depression, dejection. 
 Dyen couth, 19, could die. 
 Dyer, Sir .,228-231. 
 
 Earst, 77, 154, &c., formerly. 
 
 Echone, 170, each one. 
 
 Edward IV, King, 76. 
 
 Edwards, R., 102-106. 
 
 E'er, 157, ever. 
 
 Efforce, n, to force open. 
 
 Enforced, 22, uttered with 
 effort. 
 
 Eft, 133, again. 
 
 Eftsoons, 26, 28, &c., again, 
 afterwards. 
 
 Eld, 88, old age. 
 
 Elisa, the daughter of Pan 
 and Syrinx [ = Queen Eliza- 
 beth] (E. Spenser), 42-47, 
 283. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen, 42-47. 
 156, 157, 292-294. 
 
 Elysian Fields, 30. 
 
 Emmoved, 17, moved, stirred. 
 
 Emprise, 13, 24, enterprise, 
 undertaking. 
 
 Endymion, 190, 265. 
 
 Ene [= ./Eneas], 63. 
 
 Merry England (W. Birch), 
 66-69. 
 
 Rich entail, 3, carvings. 
 
 Enthralling, 90, piercing. 
 
 Ephesus, 32. 
 
 Epithalamion, 232, a Wed- 
 ding Song. 
 
 Erewhile, 95, formerly. 
 
 Erst, 79, 123, &c., formerly. 
 
 Etna, 60. 
 
 Euboean young man, 18, 
 Hippomenes. 
 
 Eurotas, 232. 
 
 37 
 
Glossary and Index. 
 
 Eurythmia, 75. 
 
 Forswonk, 45, exhausted by Gramercy! 17, many thanks! 
 
 Evened, yj, levelled. 
 
 labour. Granta. 61. Cambridee. 
 
 Ewin, 73, even. 
 
 Forthright, 12, 31, immedi- 
 ately, straight forward. 
 
 Gray's Inn of Court, London, 
 
 138. 
 
 
 Forthy, 21, therefore. 
 
 Greeks, 18. 
 
 
 Forwaste, 79, 87, exhausted, 
 
 Green, the colour of Hope, 
 
 
 emaciated, wasted. 
 
 221. 
 
 
 Forwithered, 79, dried up. 
 
 Greene, R., 241-268. 
 
 
 Forworn, 96, grown old, the 
 
 Greensleeves, The Lady, 
 
 
 worse for wear. 
 
 178-181. 
 
 Facing and craking, 49, 
 swaggering and bragging. 
 
 Crept on four [feetl, 88 
 crawled on his hands ana 
 
 Greet, 41, weep. 
 Greville, Lord Brooke; F., 
 
 Fairings, 173, gifts bought 
 
 knees. 
 
 224-226. 
 
 at a ! air. 
 Faith (Capt. G. Gascoigne), 
 
 Foxly, 1 10, fox-like, crafty, 
 cunning. 
 
 Grievesome, 168, grievous. 
 Grimald, A., 60-63. 
 
 Falsehood (Capt. G. Gas- 
 
 Fra. 195, from. 
 Freikis, 1 70, men. 
 
 Grimald, N., 60-63. 
 The Grisly Lake, 83. 
 
 coigne), 130. 
 
 Frenne, 42, stranger. 
 
 Grone, 170, groan. 
 
 False Suspect (Capt. G. Gas- 
 coigne i, 130. 
 
 Fried, 108, burned. 
 Fro, 4, 85, from. 
 
 Groomis, 171, men. 
 Grossy, 179, gross, dark. 
 
 To fashe, '195, trouble, re- 
 ward. 
 
 Furmenty[ = Frumenty], 129, 
 hulled wheat boiled in milk, 
 
 Grouis, 169, STOWS. 
 Gud, 71, good! 
 
 Fee, 24, reward. 
 Feildis, 169, 171, fields. 
 
 and seasoned. 
 
 Trusty guide, 2, the Palmer. 
 Sir Guyon (E. Spenser), 2-33. 
 
 Feltered hair, 288, matted. 
 
 
 
 Fere, 31, companion, com- 
 
 
 
 rade. 
 
 
 
 Fere, 112, Lover. 
 
 
 
 Fet, 94, fetch. 
 Field, 91, 93, the battle-field. 
 
 
 
 Flawns, 1 29, custards, cheese- 
 
 
 
 cakes, pancakes. 
 
 
 
 Fletcher the Elder, LL.D. ; 
 
 'Gainst, 23, 24, &c., against. 
 
 Haggards, 298, wild hawks. 
 
 G., 237-240. 
 
 Galatea, 234-240. 
 
 Haif773, 172, have. 
 
 Flittis on grund, 171, fall on 
 
 Gan, 7, 14, 22, 29, &c., began. 
 
 Hairisj 170, hares. 
 
 the ground. 
 
 Ganymede, 165. 
 
 Hairtis, 170, harts. 
 
 Flower delice [ = JUur de 
 
 Garden of Proserpina, 17- 
 
 Hannibal, 287. 
 
 lys\ 46, the lily, Iris. 
 
 21. 
 
 Harington, J., 74, 75. 
 
 Flushing, 285. 
 Fon, 47. fool. 
 
 Gars, 272, &c., makes. 
 Gars thee greet, 41, makes 
 
 King Harry, 67, Henry VIII. 
 Harvey, G., 282, 283. 
 
 Fone, 170, foes. 
 
 thee weep. 
 
 Hate (E. Spenser), 32-34. 
 
 Forbathed, 92, bathed deep- 
 Iv, imbrued. 
 
 Gascoigne, Capt. G., 130- 
 134- 
 
 'Haviour, 44, behaviour. 
 Heavy Hill, 131, a poetical 
 
 That fair Ford, 61, Oxford. 
 
 The Gate of Good Desert, 
 
 description of the place 
 
 Fordinning, 94, resounding 
 through. 
 
 27, 28. 
 Gaunt, 117, Ghent. 
 
 where the gallows stood. 
 Hector, 63, 93. 
 
 Fordone, 8 1, exhausted, over- 
 
 This gear, 149, 181, business, 
 
 Helen, 18,151,031, 233. 
 
 come. 
 
 affair. 
 
 Helicon, 41. 
 
 Foregone, 88, gone before, 
 
 Gent'maii, 52, Gentleman. 
 
 Henry VIII, King. 67, 69. 
 
 passed away. 
 
 Gesippus, 31. 
 
 Herbert, Countess of Pem- 
 
 Forestall, 28, bar, obstruct. 
 
 Gest [ = gestd\, 24, action, ad- 
 
 broke; M., 292-294. 
 
 Forfaint, 80, very faint. 
 
 venture. 
 
 Hercules, 18, 31, 03. 
 
 Forgone, 89, departed. 
 Forhewed, 91, hewed or cut 
 
 Gest, 194, guessed. 
 Gif, 7 i-73,ff. 
 
 Herefrom, 04. from here. 
 Hey wood, D.D., S.J.; Rev. 
 
 to pieces, gashed. 
 
 Gifford, H., HS-I49 
 
 J-, 136. 
 
 Forlorn, 41, abandoned, dis- 
 
 Gill (Anon.), 121. 
 
 Heywood, J., 53-55 
 
 carded. 
 Forsaik, 71-73, forsake me. 
 Forslow, 37, delay, slacken. 
 Forspent, 79, exhausted, 
 
 Gill (T. Tusser), 129. 
 Girlonds, 34, 38, garlands. 
 By Gis ! 190, an exclamation. 
 Glass, 133, a looking-glass. 
 
 Hie you, 46, hasten. 
 Hight, 34, committed, ap- 
 pointed". 
 Hight, no, was called. 
 
 worn out. 
 
 Gleeds, 93, flames, sparks. 
 
 Hittis, 171, hits. 
 
 Forsunk, 81, submerged, 
 drowned. 
 
 Glitteran'd Arms, 14, glitter- 
 ing. 
 
 Hob (T. Tusser), 125. 
 Hobbinol 1 = the poetical 
 
 Forswat, 45, covered with 
 
 Glozing, no, deceiving. 
 
 name of G. Harvey] (E. 
 
 sweat 
 Forswear, 41, abandon ab- 
 
 So goodly, 21, excellently. 
 Googe, B., 97-101, 114. 
 
 Spenser), 41-47, 282, 28*. 
 Hoddydoddy, H. (N. Udall), 
 
 jure. 
 
 Gouans, 165, wild daisies, &c. 
 
 49- 
 
 308 
 
Glossary and Index. 
 
 Hoise, 94, hoist. 
 
 Lampis, 170, gallops. 
 
 Melampus (G. Peele), 185. 
 
 Howell, T., 150-155. 
 
 Lash out, 124, spend reck- 
 
 Memphio (J. Lyly), 199. 
 
 Hugie, hugy, 93, 235, &c. ( 
 
 lessly. 
 
 Menalcas (R. G'reene), 246, 
 
 huge. 
 
 Lat, 195, hindrance. 
 
 247. 
 
 Hunnis, W., 137. 
 
 Laura (Sir W. Ralegh, from 
 
 Mene, 71, mean. 
 
 Hurchonis, 170, hedgehogs. 
 
 Petrarch) 284. 
 
 Menelaus, 232, 233. 
 
 Hylas, 31. 
 Hyndis, 170, hinds. 
 
 Lea, Sir H., 183. 
 Learns, 79, gleams. 
 
 Merry greeke [= merry grig 
 (cricket)], M. (N. Udall), 
 
 
 Leech, 234, physician. 
 
 48-50. 
 
 
 Leir, 172, learn. 
 
 Mesprise [ = misprize], 14, 
 
 
 Len, 172, lend. 
 
 slight, disparagement. 
 
 
 Lightly, 4, quickly, nimbly. 
 
 In secret mew, 8, hiding-place. 
 
 
 Lin, 92, cease. 
 
 A minion Wife, 50, dainty, 
 
 The Idle Lake, 2. 
 Idone, 150, done. 
 Impeach, 6, 34, hinder, im- 
 pede. 
 
 Lodge, M.D.; T., 270-279. 
 Loiterer, L. (N. Udall), 48. 
 Lou, 169, flame. 
 To lout, 28, stoop, crouch, 
 bow. 
 
 fine. 
 Mirk, 194, dark. 
 Miscreated mould, 14, mon- 
 strous shape. 
 Mistress, always, in this 
 
 Impierce, 14, pierce. 
 Induction, 76, 77, Introduc- 
 tion, Preface. 
 Ingate, 26, entrance. 
 Ingoes, 3, ingots. 
 Instrument, 76, one used as 
 a tool, or a dupe. 
 
 LOVE = CUPID. 
 Love (E. Spenser), 32, 33. 
 Love, the affection between 
 individuals of the opposite 
 sexes that are capable of 
 intermarriage. 
 In love. 
 
 Series, in a good sense ; with 
 its many equivalents, such 
 as, sweet Heart! dearloy! 
 Saint! dearest Shepherding! 
 sweet Shepherding ! Sove- 
 reign ! fair Sweet ! pretty 
 Sweeting ! sweet Virgin ! &c., 
 
 Irus, 87, 155* 
 Iwis, 236, certainly, surely. 
 
 My Love, the Lady, or 
 Gentleman, I love. 
 
 &c. 
 Mo, moe, 28, 29, 73, &c., more. 
 
 
 My love, the love I have for 
 that person. 
 
 Modesty (E. Spenser), 37. 
 He moileth, 65, drudges, 
 
 
 Lover, a man who loves a 
 
 labours. 
 
 
 woman. Also called. Ser- 
 
 Molt, 96, melted. 
 
 
 vant True Love. 
 
 Withouten moniment, 3, 
 
 James I, King, 194, 195. 
 Jankin (T. Tusser), 129. 
 
 Lucianus, , 237. 
 Lucrece, 57. 
 
 stamped design. 
 Montemayor, J. de, 221- 
 
 Jason, 167. 
 Jealous, the Jailor (Capt. G. 
 Gascoigne), 131. 
 Jenny (T. Tusser), 129. 
 Joan (E. de Vere, Earl of 
 
 Lufe, 71, love. 
 Lydgate, J., 76. 
 Lyk, 169, like. 
 
 Lytyi J., 199-204. 
 
 223. 
 Montgomerie, Capt. A., 
 169-172. 
 Mote, 17, 25, 29, &c., might. 
 I mun, si, I must. 
 
 Oxford), 295. 
 
 Myra (F. Greville, Lord 
 
 Jonathan, 31. 
 
 Brooke), 225, 226. 
 
 
 Macedo[n], 91, Alexander 
 
 
 
 the Great. 
 
 
 Keel, 94, boat. 
 He kenned it, 27, knew it. 
 Thou ken'st, 42, knowest. 
 
 Maikis, 170, Makes, Lovers. 
 A Malt Worm, 135, a drinker 
 of ale, &c. 
 
 Nathless, 15, &c., neverthe- 
 
 Kent, 286. 
 Kerchers [= kerchiefs], 178, 
 headdresses. 
 
 Mammon (E. Spenser), 3-22. 
 Ye man, 172, must. 
 Manhood (Capt. T. Church- 
 
 less. 
 Naught. 26, in no wise. 
 Nawayis, 194, 195, noways. 
 
 Kesar [= Kaiser], 3, 95, Em- 
 peror. 
 Knap ! 52, a nonce word. 
 Knichtis, 170, knights. 
 Knuckles knobbed, 
 bunched. 
 
 yard), 142-144. 
 Manner wights, 25, kinds ol 
 people. 
 Margery (T. Tusser), 125. 
 A Marigold, 144- Can this 
 be Mary, Queen of Scots ? 
 Marius, C., 92. 
 
 Nauplius, 59. 
 Ne, 6, 7, 9, u,&c., nor. 
 Neir, 169-171, near = nearly. 
 Neverthrive, N. (N. Udall), 
 49. 
 Ne wot I, 7, nor know I. 
 Niceness, 39, fastidiousness. 
 
 
 Markham, L, 74, 75- 
 
 Nicias, 234. 
 
 
 Martius, 60, Caius Marcius 
 
 I nill, 12, I will not. 
 
 
 f'nriolanus 
 
 Niobe, 44. 
 
 Ladies of the Lake, 46, 150, 
 264-266, Diana and her 
 Nymphs. 
 Laist, 73, last. 
 
 Mary Tudor, Queen, 53-55, 
 67. 
 Maship, 52, a jesting vulgar- 
 ism of Mastership. 
 Meddled, 44, mixed. 
 
 Nocked, in, notched. 
 None! 52, printed lohn in 
 the unique text at Eton 
 College. 
 Noonstead, 78, zenith. 
 
 39 
 
Glossary and Index. 
 
 No'te [ - ne mote], 14, might 
 not. 
 
 Pastor, 283, Shepherd. 
 I ><-ar Patroness,3 1, the Lady 
 
 Nou, 169, now. 
 
 Amoret. 
 
 Nought, 23, 84, 87, &c., 
 
 Paulus, L. S.., 91. 
 
 nothing at all. 
 Nought, 191;. not. 
 
 Paunce, 46, pansy. 
 'Peased, 94, appeased. 
 
 Nowne white son, 49, a 
 
 Peat [=pet], 272, darling, 
 
 vulgarism meaning ' mine 
 
 favourite. 
 
 own favourite son.' 
 
 Peele, G., 183-185. 
 
 Nyce f = nice], 172, reserved, 
 distant, coy. 
 
 Penelope, 54. 
 Perdy [= par Dt'eu/], 7, 92, 
 by God ! 
 
 
 Perforce, 4, 90, 92, 171, &c., 
 
 
 of necessity. 
 
 
 Perseuis, 169, pursues. 
 
 
 Petrarch, 284, 287. 
 
 
 Phao, 202, 250. 
 
 
 Phidias, 35! a mistake for 
 
 
 Pygmalion. 
 
 Obedience (E. Spenser), 37. 
 
 Phillis (Sir E. Dyer), 230, 
 
 (Edipus, 159. 
 
 231. 
 
 (Enone, 184. 
 
 Phillis (R. Greene), 260. JM 
 
 Orestes, 31. 
 
 Phillis (T. Watson), is8-i6o. 
 
 Orpheus, 160. 
 
 Philotime (.E. Spenser), 15 
 
 Ossory, Ireland, 97. 
 
 17. 
 
 Ouerflouis, 160, overflow. 
 Our cast, 73, throw me over. 
 
 Philumena, 284, ? the nightin- 
 gale. 
 
 Outbrast, 79, burst out. 
 
 A pack of pickthanks, 130, 
 
 Oxford, 286. 
 
 parasites, toadies, subser- 
 
 
 vient people. 
 
 
 Pied weeds, 212, variegated, 
 
 
 particoloured. 
 
 
 Piers (M. Herbert, Countess 
 
 
 of Pembroke), 292-294. 
 
 
 Pight. 12, 30, 150, itc., pitched. 
 
 
 Piked anchor, 168, peaked, 
 
 
 pointed. 
 
 Pairis, 170, pairs, couples. 
 
 Pontius Pilate, 20, 21. 
 
 Fairtie, 169, mate. 
 
 Pilled, 88, bald. 
 
 The Palmer, 2, 22. 
 
 Pilled, 96, threadbare. 
 
 Pane, -i, pain. 
 
 Pirithous, 31. 
 
 Pansing, 194, meditating. 
 
 Plane, 71, 172, plain, straight- 
 
 Paphos, 24, 289. 
 
 forward. 
 
 Paphos isle, 35, Cyprus. 
 Paramours, 36, 46, Lovers. 
 Pardy [ = par Dieul\. 103, 
 by God ! 
 
 Plato, 97. 
 Plough Monday, 128, the 
 first Monday after Epiphany, 
 January 6. 
 
 Paris, 1 8, 165, 184. 
 
 
 Prince of great Parma, 120. 
 A. Farnese, Duke of Parma 
 (1546-1592), is intended. 
 Parnasse [ * Parnassus], 43. 
 I will part them, 47, share 
 them. 
 
 I'OKMS 
 
 The Faery Queen, by E. 
 Spenser, 1-40, 282-284. 
 A Mirror for Magis- 
 trates, ed. by W. Bald- 
 win, 76-96. 
 
 Passion, predilection, habi- 
 tude. 'The ruling Passion 
 
 Polyphemus, 234- .'41 >. 
 Pompey, .,91, 92. 
 
 strong in death.' 
 Passion, emotion, not neces- 
 
 Poppy-toe, 236, hyacinth. 
 Port, 71, deportment, conduct. 
 
 sarily of love. It might also 
 be of anger, grief, zeal, &c. 
 Passion, Passions, anxie- 
 ties of mind and agonies of 
 soul through love for one 
 of the opposite sex. 
 Passis, 1 70, pass. 
 
 Portrait, 211, portray. 
 Pressed, 140, impressed, com- 
 pelled to serve by force. 
 Priam, King, 92, 93. 
 Proper, 1 10, here used not in 
 its sense of tall, as of hand- 
 some. 
 
 Pass not, 129, 176, take no 
 
 Prince Psammetichus (R. 
 
 thought for, care not. 
 
 Greene), 241. 
 
 Pye, sir {Rev.} H.(N. IMall), 
 
 49- 
 
 Pylades, 31. 
 Pyrrhus, <)\ 
 Pythias, 51, 
 
 The Queen, 92, of the Ama- 
 zons. 
 
 Quest [= inquest], 130, trial. 
 
 Quhair, 169, where. 
 
 Quhair evir, 72, wherever. 
 
 Ouhilk, 170, which. 
 
 Ouhill, 194, until. 
 
 Ay quhill I de, 71, ever until 
 I die. 
 
 Quod, 82, 130, 131, said. 
 
 Quoth, 146, 148, said. 
 
 Ralegh, Sir W., 284-287. 
 Raught, 32, reached. 
 I riches read, 5, estimate. 
 I read thee, 4, I esteem thee. 
 'Reave, 80, 90, bereave. 
 'Reaver, 87, bereaver. 
 Rechless, 187, heedless. 
 Reduced, 79. recalled. 
 Reede, 33, speech. 
 Reedes, 2, esteems, reckons. 
 Refrane, 71, refrain. 
 Reistis, 171, rests. 
 Resounden, 19, resound. 
 Retchless, 88, heedl. 
 
 less. 
 
 Rew, 73, rue. 
 
 Rice,Mistress(Anon.),56,57. 
 Richard III, King, 76. 
 Richesse,9, n, wealth, riches. 
 Rid, 169, red. 
 Rived, 96, rent asunder. 
 Robin (Capt. G. Gascoigne), 
 
 "34- 
 Roister Doister, R. i.N. 
 
 UdallX 48-52. 
 Rome, (x>. 
 
 I Rone, 169, the mountain ash. 
 Rosader (T. Lodge, M.U.I, 
 
 275-279. 
 Rosalind, the Widow's 
 
 daughter of the Glen [E. 
 
 Spenser's first Lady Love ; 
 
 who rejected him], 42, 47, 
 
 282. 
 
 310 
 
Glossary and Index. 
 
 Rosalynde (T. Lodge, M.D.\ 
 
 Soot, 3, the more solid par- 
 
 Tell, 8, count. 
 
 275-279- 
 Rosemary, 112, 113, 174. 
 
 ticles of smoke. 
 Soot, 45, sweet. 
 
 Temple of Diana, at Ephe- 
 
 sus, 32. 
 
 A rout, 15, a company. 
 
 Sorrow (T. Sackville, Earl 
 
 Temple of Solomon, at 
 
 
 of Dorset), 70-95. 
 
 Jerusalem, 32. 
 
 
 Soukit, 104, sucked. 
 
 Temple of Venus, 2^, 31-40. 
 
 
 Locks sparkled, 288, dis- 
 
 Terentia (R. Greene), 263. 
 
 
 hevelled. 
 
 Th', 15, 166, etc., the. 
 
 
 Sparta, 60, 232, 233. 
 
 Tharrie, 172, them. 
 
 'S, 74, is. 
 
 Speiris, 171, spears. 
 Spenser, E., 1-47. 
 
 Swan-feeder Thames, 67, an. 
 Thebes, 92. 
 
 Sackville, Earl of Dorset ; 
 
 Spercled [ = sparkled] tress, 
 
 Thenot (M. Herbert, Coun- 
 
 T., 77-06. 
 Samela (R. Greene), 268. 
 Sappho (J. Lyly), 202. 
 
 93, dishevelled. 
 To spill, 80, to destroy. 
 Squired you, 23?, escorted. 
 
 tess of Pembroke), 292-294. 
 Thenot (E. Spenser), 41-42, 
 47- 
 
 Schaw, 71, show. 
 Scipio African-us; P. C., 91, 
 
 Stafford, Duke of Bucking, 
 ham ; H., 76, 96. 
 
 Theocritus, 232-236. 
 Theseus, 31. 
 
 287. 
 
 "Steem, 182, esteem. 
 
 Thessaly, 233, 260. 
 
 Sconce, in, top of the head. 
 
 Stella [= the poetical name 
 
 Thews, 75, manners, quali- 
 
 Scott, A., 71-73. 
 
 of Penelope Devereux, after- 
 
 ties. 
 
 Sir Scudamour f= Escu 
 
 wards Lady Rich, and later 
 
 Thissell-cok, 169, male 
 
 d 'Amour, the Shield of 
 
 the Countess of Devonshire. 
 
 thrush. 
 
 Love] (E. Spenser), 23-40. 
 Sen, 195, since. 
 
 She loved Sir P. Sidney, 215; 
 and it was the error of his 
 
 Tho, 38, 162, 163, &c., then. 
 Went on three feet, 88, used 
 
 Sendall bright, 179, a silken 
 
 life, that he did not ask her 
 
 a walking-stick. 
 
 material like sarcenet. 
 
 to become his Wife : for his 
 
 Throughly, 19, 34, &c., com- 
 
 Sertorius, Q., 60. 
 Shamefastness ( E.Spenser), 
 
 Astrophel and Stella shows 
 that he loved her to distrac- 
 
 pletely, thoroughly. 
 'Ticeably, 67, enticingly. 
 
 37- 
 
 tion. Stella, a Star ; Aslro- 
 
 'Tide [= betide], 87, happen. 
 
 Wearj' shanks, 30, legs. 
 
 phel, the Lover of a Star], 
 
 'Tire, 32, attire. 
 
 Shauis, 169, woods. 
 
 205, 208-218. 
 
 'Tis, 74, no, &c., it is. 
 
 She, the emphatic feminine 
 
 Steflio (J. Lvly). 199. 
 
 Titiville, T. (N. Udall\ 49. 
 
 Personal Pronoun, used 
 
 Still, Bishop 'of Bath and 
 
 Titus, 31. 
 
 when the poetical name of 
 
 Wells; J., 135. 
 
 A nut-brown toast, 135, bread, 
 
 the Lady does not occur. 
 
 Stint, 80, cease. 
 
 bacon, &c., browned by the 
 
 Shent, 210, blamed, re- 
 
 Stoined, 85, astonished. 
 
 heat of the fire. 
 
 proached. 
 
 Strait [= straight], 81,94, 95, 
 
 He told, 3, counted. 
 
 Shoetanker, 49, a nonce 
 
 at once. 
 
 Tom the Page (N. Breton), 
 
 word, to rhyme with banker, 
 
 Striped she, 118, thrust. 
 
 187-191. 
 
 meaning one who gave 
 
 Sueyis, 171, sway aside. 
 
 Tomkin (T. Tusser), 129. 
 
 ho o 
 oes. 
 
 Suordis, 171, swords. 
 
 Tomlin (T. Tusser), 120. 
 
 Makes such a shot, 65, 
 
 Supping the tears, 96, drink- 
 
 Tower of London, 67, 76. 
 
 reckoning. 
 
 ing up. 
 
 Trasimene, 91. 
 
 Close, shouldering, 16, hard 
 
 Susan (N. Breton), 186. 
 
 Trebery, 91, Trebia. 
 
 pushing, forcing one's way. 
 
 Susanna's foes, 140, the two 
 
 Tried, 12, tefined. 
 
 Shright, 81, oo, shrieked. 
 Shrights, 19, shrieks. 
 
 Elders. See the story in the 
 Apocrypha. 
 
 Trojans, 18. 
 Doth she troll, 135. circulate, 
 
 Shroudis, 169, clothes, covers 
 
 Swage, 82, assuage. 
 
 pass round the table. 
 
 (i. e. by putting forth leaves). 
 
 Swelth, 84, boiling, bubbling 
 
 Trouing, 172, trusting. 
 
 Shrovetide, 128, the three 
 
 matter. 
 
 Troy, 59, 92, 93, 165. 
 
 days before Ash Wednes- 
 
 Bare swing, 83, were pre-emi- 
 
 Second Troy, 166, London. 
 
 day ; especially Shrove 
 
 nent, in full swing. 
 
 I should be trussed, 131, 
 
 Tuesdav. 
 
 Swink, 4, 13, &c., labour. 
 
 hanged. 
 
 Sicker, 4"7, certainly, truly. 
 Sidney, Sir P., 160, 205-223, 
 
 285-287, 299. 
 
 Sylla, L. C., 92. 
 Syn, 170, afterwards. 
 Svrinx, 43. 45, 200, 201. 
 
 Trussed up, 56,tied, or bound 
 up. 
 Truth (Capt. G. Gascoigne), 
 
 Silence (E. Spenser), 37. 
 Singen, 45, sing. 
 
 
 132. 
 Turbervile, G., 101. 108-114. 
 
 Sireno (S'ir P. Sidney, from 
 
 
 Hie tursis, 170, they toss. 
 
 Montemayor), 221-223. 
 
 T', 21, to. 
 
 Tusser, T., 124-129. 
 
 Sith, 92, since. 
 
 Tak, 71-73, take. 
 
 'Twas, 74, it was. 
 
 Skaillis, 169, clears. 
 
 Tantalus, 19, 20. 
 
 Twelfth- tide, 128, the last 
 
 Skyis, 169, skies. 
 To sleuth, 195, waste, idle. 
 
 Tapets [= tapestry], 77, the 
 carpet of the earth. 
 
 of the twelve days of the 
 Feast of Christmas, Janu- 
 
 Slow-worms, 244, glow- 
 worms. 
 
 Targe, 91-93, the Shield of 
 War described. 
 
 ary 6, Epiphany. 
 Tyb (}. Still, Bishop of Bath 
 
 Socrates, 17. 
 
 Target, 1 18, shield. 
 
 and Wells), 135. 
 
 3 11 
 
and Index. 
 
 Tyburn, MS, where traito s Waist, 7.1, wast.-, us. less, 
 were hanjrad, ne.-ir tin- Wald, 17.', 195, would. 
 
 Wot, 7, 17, knew. 
 Wun, 82, dwelling. 
 
 present UaAla Arch, Lon- 
 
 Wapins, 171, weapons. 
 
 
 don. 
 
 War, 17-', wen-. 
 
 
 Tyndams, 60, 232. 
 Tyndis, 170, horns, antlers. 
 
 Ware, 222, won-. 
 Warrantise, 132, security. 
 
 
 Tyne, 195, lose. 
 Tyrus, 91. Tyre. 
 
 Warsill, 172, wrestle. 
 Waster, W.(N. Udall), 48. 
 Watson, T., 158-168. 
 
 
 
 Pleasant weeds, 166, dress. 
 
 
 
 Ween, n, imagine. 
 
 
 
 Weet i wit), 5, know. 
 That was to weet [ to wit], 
 
 Xerxes, 92. 
 
 
 26, that was to know = say. 
 
 
 
 Weildis, 171, wield. 
 
 
 
 Her welked face, 70, 
 
 
 
 withered, shrivelled. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Udall, N., 4-5- 
 Uneath, 34, with difficulty. 
 Upsidown, 3, upside down. 
 Usance, 4, use, employment. 
 Utter Gate, 26, outer. 
 
 Whetstone, G., 138-141. 
 Whilere, 82, a short time 
 ago, erewhile. 
 Wight, 171, strong. 
 'Wild oats,' 127, a madcap 
 
 Ybared, 77, bared. 
 
 
 lavish life. 
 
 Yblent, 2, 47. 
 
 
 Will, our Justice (Capt. G. 
 
 Ybound, 86, 91, bound. 
 
 
 Gascoigne), 130. 
 
 Ybuilt, 25, built. 
 
 
 William I, King, 76. 
 
 Yclad, 43, <)o, clad. 
 
 
 Wirdis, 73, words. 
 
 Ydilteth, iitf, idleness. 
 
 
 He wist, 12, knew. 
 
 Ydrawn, 162, drawn. 
 
 
 Let no wit, 172, do not make. 
 
 Yeding, 4, going. 
 
 
 Withouten, 3, 28, without. 
 
 Yfere, 44, 95, together. 
 
 
 Womanhood (E. Spenser), 
 
 Ylinked, 15, linked. 
 
 Vaikis, 170, watches. 
 Vere, Earl of Oxford; E. 
 de, 295-290. 
 Vha, i-o, who. 
 Vhair, 170, where. 
 
 37-39- 
 Won, 8, dwelling. 
 Woneth, 16, dwelleth. 
 Woodstock, 67, near Oxford. 
 Worldlings, 4, persons only 
 
 Ymay, 89, may. 
 Yode, 2, went. 
 Yplight, 17, plighted. 
 Yrun, 86, 88, run. 
 Ytanned, 86, tanned. 
 
 Vhill, 171, until. 
 
 living for this life. 
 
 Ytorn, 41, torn. 
 
 312 
 
BRITISH ANTHOLOGIES. 
 
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