(JE^cerpta Cubortana; OR EXTRACTS FROM ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE. WITH BY SIR EGERTON BRVDGES, M.P. " Silver hairs Will purchase us a good opinion, And buy men's voices to commend our deeds." Julius Caesar. /^T^WW^^^fBT"^ KENT : 19rintrt> at t&e prfbate tyxete of Xee $dorji ; BY JOHNSON AND WARWICK. 1814. ': ct '< : THIS EDITION OF EXCERPTA TUDORIAJVA; OH '%m&<&@& ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE EDITED BY SIR EGERTON BRYDGES, K.J. THE SECOND PUBLICATION, IN OCTAVO, I'KINTED AT %\>t pribate $rc#s of Utt i^rtotg, t&ent. The Impression is limited at usual to One Hundred Copies. 38|e ADVERTISEMENT. Y this small Collection of Elizabethan Poetry, drawn from the Lyrical and Pas- toral writers of those days, whose pro- ductions are now become, from their rarity, almost inaccessible, the Reader, it is hoped, will acknowledge a valuable contribution to literary curiosity. The names of the authors, fvho have furnished pieces to the present volume, are almost all of them familiar to the readers of 'Percy's Ballads;' of 'Ellis's Specimens;' and of the new editions of the 'Paradise of Dainty De- vices;' and 'England's Helicon.' The principal of these are Robert Greene, Thomas Lodge, Nicholas Breton, Francis Davison, Thomas Campion, Robert Southwell, and William Hunnis : of each of whom the manner and character will be sufficiently illustrated by the ensuing pages. The Editor trusts that with the conclusion of the Work he shall be spared leisure to give a Critical Intro- duction, gathered from a view of the whole Collection. This at present would be premature. London, Dec. 16, 1814. ; 1982 CONTENTS. Page DDRESS to London, from " Greene's & Lodge's Looking- Glass, "Jonas, the Prophet 3 Wi/Ssli T London, Oseas, the Priest, from the same 4 To London, Oseas, from the same 5 To London, Oseas, from the same 6 To London, Oseas, from the same ib. To London, Oseas, from the same 7 To London, Oseas, from the same 8 To London, Oseas, from the same 9 Soiig, from the same ib. Criticism 10 A Godly and Virtuous Song, made by the Honourable the Earl of Essex 14 Sleep 16 Gabriel Harvey's 13th Sonnet, from his " Greene's Memo- rial," his Intercession to Fame 17 Song ib. Dirge 18 The Sea 20 Despair 21 Psalm 130, versified by Francis Davison 22 Psalm 13, by the same 24 Psalm 23, by the same 25 On Ambition 27 Song* ib. Cupid Benighted, from Anacreon* 29 On Fortitude of Mind 31 Stanzas by Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex 33 Poem, by Thomas Campion 35 Another, by the same 36 Beauty, without Love, Deformity, by the same ib. Printed in " Davison's Portico I Rhapsody." 2 . . . ontentg. Page Anonymous 37 Menaphon's Song, from " Greene's Arcadia." 38 Sephestia's Song to her Child, from the same 39 A Pleasant Eclogue between Montanus and Coridon, from "Dr. Lodge's Euphues' Golden Legacy." 41 To his best Cousin, Mrs. Barbara Lok, by Michael Cosowarth 48 To my Cousin, Michael Cosowarth, by Richard Carew of Anthony 49 To his good Cousin, Mr. Michael Cosowarth, by the same . . 50 To his best Cousin, Mr. Michael Cosowarth, by Henry Lok. . 51 Sonnet, by H. Grey 52 On Ambition 53 On Life ib. Melicertus's Madrigal, from "Robert Greene's Arcadia." . . 54 Coridon' s Song, from "Dr. Lodge's Euphues' Golden Le- gacy." 55 Montanus' s Sonnet in the Woods, from the same . . . 57 Saladine 's Sonnet, from the same 58 Montanus' s Passion, from the same 59 Characters graven on a Beech Tree, from the same 60 Rosalind's Description, from the same 61 Sonnet, inscribed on the Bark of a Myrrh Tree 64 The Contents of the Schedule which Sir John of Bordeux gave his Sons, from the same 65 Menaphon's Roundelay, from "Robert Greene's Arcadia." 66 Doron's Description of his fair Shepherdess Samela, from the same 68 Phillida and Coridon, by Nicholas Breton 69 A Pastoral of Phillis and Coridon, by the same 70 A sweet Pastoral, by the same 72 Astrophell, his Song of Phillida and Coridon, by the same . . 74 Coridon 's Supplication to Phillis, by the same 77 A Shepherd 's Dream, by the same 78 A Report sung in a Dream, between a Shepherd and his Nymph, by the same 80 otttent*. ... 3 Page Another of the same, by the same 81 Criticism 82 Specimens of Breton 's Prose 87 Content and Rich, by Robert Southwell, from his "Saint Peter's Complaint." 92 St. Peter's Afflicted Mind, by the same, from his " Mceonue." 95 Song, from " Weelks's Ballets and Madrigals." 96 Song, from the same 97 Song, from the same ib. Another 98 An Elegy, in Remembrance of the Hon. the Lord Borough, ib. Song, 1600 ib. Song, 1604 . 99 Song, 1604 ib. Song, from " Byrd's Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs." 100 Song, from the same 101 Song, from the same 103 Sonnet, by George Chapman, the Translator of Homer. . . . 104 Meditation when we go to Bed, by William Hunnis, from his "Handful of Honisuckles." 105 Meditation, by the same, from his " Poor Widow 's Mite." 106 Christ to his Spouse, by William Baldwin, from " Solotnon's Canticles and Ballads." 108 The Description of the Shepherd and his Wife, from "Ro- bert Greene's Mourning Garment." 109 The Shepherd's Wife's Song, from the same 112 Hexametra Alexis in laudem Rosamunds, from the same . . 115 Hexametra Rosamunds in dolorem amissi Alexis, from the same 116 Philador 's Ode that he left with the despairing Lover, from the same 118 The Song of a Country Swain at the Return of Philador, from the same 122 The Conclusion, from the same 126 I I I I 1M B I I I I Crxerpta HDttoortana: OR EXTRACTS FROM ELIZABETHAN JLITERATUKEc " Mult a reriascentur, quce jam cecidere." Horat. " Behold, how Time draws back the mantle deep From sleeping Truth, and shews her blooming form In all its youthful vigour, breathing love, And hope, and joy." Axon. MBS TO JOSEPH HASLEWOOD, Esq. THESE EXCERPTA; 51^Ii1N ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE, DEDICATED, BY H IS SINCERE, AND MUCH OBLIGED FRIEND, S. E. BRYDGES. Dec. 21, 1813. OR EXTRACTS FROM ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE. ADDRESS TO LONDON. From Greene's fy Lodge's Looking-Glass, 1598. a JONAS, THE PROPHET. END on in peace, and prosecute this course, You Islanders, on whom the milder air Doth sweetly breathe the balm of kind increase; Whose lands are fattened with the dew of heaven, And made more fruitful than Actean plains ! You, whom delicious pleasures dandle soft, Whose eyes are blinded with security, Unmask yourselves, cast error clean aside ! O London, maiden of the Mistress Isle, Wrapp'd in the folds and swathing clouts of shame, In thee more sins than Nineveh contains! Contempt of God, despite of reverend age, " -/ Looking - Glasse for London and Englande. Made by Thomas Lodge, Gentleman, and Robert Greene, in Artibtts Magister. London, printed by Thomas Crrcde, and are to be sold by William Bar- ley, at his Shop in Gracious Street, 1698." 4to. 4 'EiccrjJta EuUortana. Neglect of law, desire to wrong the poor, Corruption, whoredom, drunkenness, and pride! Swoln are thy brows with impudence and shame. proud adulterous glory of the West, Thy neighbours burn, yet dost thou feel no fire ! Thy preachers cry, yet dost thou stop thy ears; The larum rings, yet sleepest thou secure ! London, awake ! for fear the Lord doth frown ; 1 set a Looking-glass before thine eyes. O turn, O turn, with weeping to the Lord, And think the prayers and virtues of thy Queen, Defers the plague, which otherwise would fall ! Repent, O London ! lest for thine offence Thy Shepherd fail, whom mighty God preserve, That she may bide the pillar of his church, Against the storms of Romish Antichrist ! b The hand of Mercy overshed her head; And let all faithful subjects say, Amen ! TO LONDON. OSEAS, THE PRIEST. Iniquity seeks out companions still, And mortal men are armed to do ill: b Lodge is said to have been a papist: he could not be so, when this was written. 3cxrpta Cufcortana 5 London, look on ! this matter nips thee near; Leave off thy riot, pride, and sumptuous cheer; Spend less at board, and spare not at the door; But aid the infant, and relieve the poor: Else seeking mercy, being merciless, Thou be adjudg'd to endless heaviness! TO LONDON. OSEAS. When disobedience reigneth in the child, And princes' ears by flattery be beguil'd; When laws do pass by favour, not by truth; When Falsehood swarmeth both in old and youth; When gold is made a God to wrong the poor, And Charity exil'd from rich mens' door; When men by wit do labour to disprove The plagues for sin sent down by Gods above; Where great mens' ears are stopp'd to good advice, And apt to hear those tales that feed their vice; Woe to the land ! For from the East shall rise A Lamb of Peace, the scourge of vanities ; The judge of Truth, the patron of the Just, Who soon will lay presumption in the dust; And give the humble poor their heart's desire, And doom the worldlings to eternal fire ! 6 . . . . Icictrpta ftutioriana. Repent, all you that hear, for fear of plagues ! O, London ! this and more doth swarm in thee ! Repent, repent; for why the Lord doth see. With trembling pray, and mend what is amiss : The sword of justice drawn already is ! TO LONDON. OSEAS. IVhere servants against masters do rebel, The commonweal may be accounted hell : For if the feet the head shall hold in scorn, The city's state will fall, and be forlorn. This error, London ! waiteth on thy state ! Servants, amend; and masters, leave to hate! Let Love abound; and Virtue reign in all: So God will hold his hand, that threatneth thrall ! TO LONDON. OSEAS. If, warned once, the Ethnics thus repent, And at the first their error do lament; What senseless beasts, devoured in their sin, Are they, whom long persuasions cannot win ? Beware, ye western cities, where the word lExeerpta Gfubotiana 7 Is daily preached both at church and board ! Where Majesty the gospel doth maintain; Where preachers for your good themselves do pain ! To dally long, and still protract the time, The Lord is just, and you but dust and slime. Presume not far; delay not to amend; Who suffereth long, will punish in the end. Cast thy account, O London! in this case; Then judge what 'excuse thou hast to call for grace. TO LONDON. OSEAS. Woe to the trains of women's foolish lust, In wedlock rights that yield but little trust; That vow to one, yet common be to all ! Take warning, wantons; pride will have a fall. Woe to the land, where warnings profit nought, Who say that Nature God's decrees hath wrought ! Who build on Fate, and leave the corner stone, The God of Gods, sweet Christ, the only one ! If such excesses, O London! reign in thee; Repent ! for why, each sin shall punish'd be. Repent, amend, repent ; the hour is nigh : Defer not time! Who knows when he shall die? 8 . . \ . lExccrpta tfufcoriana. TO LONDON. , OSEAS. JLook, London, look ! with inward eyes behold, What lessons the events do here unfold; Sin, grown to Pride, to Misery is thrall; The warning bell is rung, beware to fall! Ye worldly men, whom wealth doth lift on high, Beware and fear; for worldly men must die! The time shall come, where least respect remains; The sword shall light upon the wisest brains. The head, that deems to overtop the sky, Shall perish in his human policy. Lo, I have said, when I have said the truth; When will is law; when Folly guideth youth; When shew of zeal is prank'd in robes of zeal ; When Ministers powl the pride of commonweal; When Law is made a labyrinth of strife; When Honour yields him friend to wicked life; When Princes hear by other ears than folly; When Usury is most accounted holy ! If these should hap, as would to God they might not; The plague is near ! I speak, although I write not. t ..h. fSxcerpta ftuljoriana 9 TO LONDON. OSEAS. Where whoredom reigns, there murder follows fast, As falling leaves before the winter blast; A wicked life, train'd up in endless crime, Hath no reward unto the latter time : When Letchers shall be punish'd for their lust, When Princes plagued, because they are unjust, Foresee in time; the warning-bell doth toll; Subdue the flesh, by prayer, to save the soul. London, behold the cause of others' wreck, And set the sword of Justice at thy back : Defer not off! To-morrow is too late; By night he comes perhaps to judge thy state ! SONG. IBeauty, alas ! where wast thou born, Thus to hold thyself in scorn, When as Beauty kiss'd to woo thee, Thou by Beauty dost undo me? Heigho, despise me not! I and thou in sooth are one; Fairer thou; I, fairer none; 10 lExcerpta ftutooviana. Wanton thou, and wilt thou, wanton, Yield a cruel heart to plant on ? Do me right, and do me reason ! Cruelty is cursed treason. Heigho, I love; Heigho, I love; Heigho, and yet he eyes me not ! CRITICISM, ^HESE Extracts from " The Look- ing -Glass for England" by Lodge and Greene, will probably not only please, but astonish the Reader of Taste. The Address to London, which com- mences in the first page of these Excerpta will lose little by a comparison with a celebrated passage of a similar tendency in " Cowper^s Task," which must be familiar to every one, even without making allowances for the date of the composition. Of the lives of Lodge and Greene, I have lExccrpta ^ufcortana 11 given some account in other places.* All their works are scarce ; and none seem to have been less ransacked in modern days for specimens than the above play. If there are those who think that these investigations are the useless impertinences of literature, he, who reflects more deeply, who knows how to value the study of the progress of language, who loves to investigate the changes of manners, and to trace the history of the im- provements of the human mind, will form a very different opinion of them. If our poetical phraseology has altogether been enriched and refined since the days of Queen Elizabeth, it has lost something of its strength, and a great deal of its simplicity. It is now too often marked by an artificial sweetness, or an artificial splen- dour, which, if it catches for a moment, soon satiates, and then disgusts. The vigour of thought, the idea prevailing over the dress in which it is clothed, characterized the literature of those days far above the present. If there were no other advantage in a grow- * Set' nrw editions of *' Theatr. Poet, Angli." " England's He- licon," and " Greene's Groats-worth of Jf'it." 12 ... . lExcerpta {ITuDortana. ing familiarity with Elizabethan Literature, the increased taste which it will give us for all the varieties and all the beauties of Shakespeare's language will be an ample recompence: for I need not say, that in Shakespeare is to be found, above all uninspired writings, the most abundant and inexhaustible treasure of moral wisdom, fitted "to the bosom and business" of every human being, as well as of the most vivid and enchant- ing poetry. But Shakespeare so far eclipsed his cotem- poraries, that common and superficial readers are little aware how much merit is to be found even in them! Even Shakespeare's productions could not have existed without the aid of cotemporary literature, and the collision of other ingenious, though inferior intellects. When Greene died at a premature age,( 1 592,) Shakespeare had just begun to attract notice; and we have seen in Greene's Address to his Companions, in the " Groats-worth of IVit" that the pangs of envy and jealousy had begun their base operations in his bosom. If the superiority of another justifies jealousy, Greene had reason 3cxferpta TuDoriana 13 to be jealous. Yet Greene himself was no com- mon writer. He possessed a facility, (and I must contend, notwithstanding he has been ac- cused of Euphuism,) a simplicity, of thought and language, which give even now the power both of interest and instruction to his works. But every thing concurred, in the Eliza- bethan JEra, to give a vigour and a range to genius, to which neither prior nor subsequent times have been equally propitious. An heroic age, inflamed with the discovery of new worlds, gave increased impulse to fancies enriched by access both to the recovered treasures of ancient literature, and the wild splendours of Italian fiction. A command of language equal to, the great occasion was not wanting. For what is there either in copiousness or force of words, or in clearness of arrangement, or in harmony, or grandeur of modulation, which Spenser at least has not given proofs that that age could produce ? The more, therefore, we study those early writers, the more shall we admire the variety and strength of our language. And I trust that in furnishing the modern reader of taste and 14 ... . ISxcerpta ftufcoriana. curious research with additional specimens to those with which he has, within the last few years, been not scantily enriched, from stores rarely accessible, I shall perform a grateful, and not entirely useless service. If he find no value or attraction in these extracts beyond their antiquity, I lose my aim. I will not fear to own that, in my humble judgment, most of them possess intrinsic merit. But let the reader candidly proceed, and judge for himself. A GODLY AND VIRTUOUS SONG, MADE BY THE HONOURABLE THE EARL OF ESSEX, Late deceased, in Anno Domini, 1576. HEAVENLY God, O Father dear, Cast down thy heavenly eye Upon a wretch, that prostrate here, KB W^S Before thy throne doth lie ! O pour the precious oil of grace Into my wounded heart; O let the drops of mercy suage The rigour of my smart ! . HEicerpta Cutjortana 15 My sinful soul oppressed sore With careful clog of sin, In humble-wise submits itself Thy mercy for to win. Grant mercy then, O Saviour sweet, To me most woeful thrall; Whose mournful cry to you alone Doth still for mercy call ! Thy blessed name I have despis'd, Upon a stubborn mind; And to the sway of worldly things Myself I have inclin'd. Forgetting Heaven, and Heavenly powers, Where God and Saints do dwell, My life had like to tread the steps, That lead the way to hell. But O my Lord and Loadstone bright, I will no more do so: To think upon my former life My heart doth bleed for woe ! Alas ! I sigh ; alas ! I sob ; Alas ! I do repent, That ever my licentious life So wickedly was bent. Still thus therefore with doleful plaints I do thy mercy crave, 16 . . . . lEicetpta GFuDoriana. O Lord, for thy great mercy's sake Let me thy mercy have ! Restore to life the wretched soul That else is like to die : So shall my voice unto thy name Sing praise eternally! Now blessed be the Father first, And blessed be the Son; And blessed be the Holy Ghost, By whom all things are done. Bless me, O blessed Trinity, With thy eternal grace, That after death my soul may have, In Heaven a dwelling place." SLEEP. Sleep, Death's ally, oblivion of tears, Silence of Passion, balm of angry sore, Suspense of Loves, serenity of Fears, Wrath's lenative, Heart's ease, Storm's calmest shore, Sense's and Soul's reprieval from all cumbers, Benumbing sense of ill with quiet slumbers ! b ?E.tq)ta Cufcoriana 17 GABRIEL HARVEY'S XIII th SONNET. From his "GREENE'S MEMORIAL," 1592. HIS INTERCESSION TO FAME. Live ever, valorous renowned knights : Live ever, Smith and Bacon, peerless men : Live ever Walsingham, and Hatton wise: Live ever Mildmay's honourable name: Ah ! that Sir Humphry Gilbert should be dead : Ah ! that Sir Philip Sydney should be dead : Ah ! that Sir William Sackville should be dead : Ah ! that Sir Richard Granville should be dead : Ah ! that brave Walter Devereux should be dead : Ah ! that the flower of knighthood should be dead : What maugre deadliest deaths, and stoniests stones, That cover worthiest worth, shall never die ! Sweet Fame, adorn thy glorious triumph new : On Virtues all, and Honours all, adieu ! SONG. A man of late was put to death, For that he had his part Of stolen goods : should you then 'scape That stolen have my heart? 18 Icwerpta CuDortana. The law, you see, would you condemn, If I should plead my case ; But sure to work you such despite I cannot have the face. Yet Reason would, I should have 'mends; For that in any wise To have mine own restor'd again It will not me suffice. You had my heart, when it was whole; And sound I know you found it. Would you then give it back again, When you have all to wound it? The old law biddeth tooth for tooth, And eye for eye restore : Give then your heart to me for mine, And I will ask no more ! a DIRGE. Sitting late with sorrows sleeping, Where heart bled, and eyes were weeping, lExmpta {Eufcortana 19 I might see from high descending Beauty mourning for Love's ending: When with her hands woeful wringing, She entomb'd him with this singing. " Muses, now give over writing; Poets all, leave offenditing; Nymphs, come tear your tender hairs; Shepherds all, come shed your tears; Cupid's waxen but a warling; Death hath wounded Honour's darling. Cursed Death, and all too cruel, Hast thou stolen mine only jewel ? Doth the heavenly Fates so spite me, As on earth should nought delight me; And of such a love bereave me, As no love of Life should please me? Go, my flock; go, leave your feeding; And your life lies now a bleeding; Whiles my Shepherd did attend you, Wolf nor tiger might offend you. But now he is dead and gone, I shall lose you every one." b This is like Sydney's manner; perhaps it may be found among his Poems. 20 ... . Iticcrpta 'JTuDortana. Sorrows, now come show your powers; Earth, give over bringing flowers; Never tree let bear more fruit; Let all singing birds be mute; And let no more of Love be spoken ; For the heart of Love is broken." And with that, as in a cloud She did all her shining shroud; When sweet Phillis gave such groans, As did pierce the very stones; That all the earth with sorrow shaked; And then poor Coridon awaked. a THE SEA. W^ho life doth loath, and longs Death to behold, Before he die, already dead with fear; And yet would live with life half-stony cold, Let him to sea, and he shall see it there ! And yet as ghastly dreadful as it seems, Bold men, presuming life for gain to sell, Dare tempt that gulf, and in those winding streams Seek ways unknown, ways leading down to hell ! b Harl. MSS. 6910, f. 146. b Ibid. f. 165. ^icccpta STutioriana 21 DESPAIR. Amongst the groves, the woods, and thicks, The bushes, brambles, and the briars, The stubs, the shrubs, the thorns and pricks, The ditches, plashes, lakes, and mires, Where fish nor fowl, nor bird, nor beast, Nor living thing may take delight; Nor Reason's rage may look for rest, Till heart be dead with hateful spite; Within a cave of years unknown, Whose hope of comfort all decays, Let me with Sorrow sit alone, In doleful thoughts to end my days; And when I hear the storms arise, That troubled ghosts do leave their grave, With hellish sounds, and Horror's cries, Let me go look out of my cave ! And when I feel what storms they bide, Which do the greatest torments prove, Then let me not my sorrow hide, Which I do suffer for my love ! a Ilarl. MSS. 6910, f. I6:i. I I I I 'I Oli I ill I I i 22 lEmrpta GfuUorfana. PSALM CXXX.' VERSIFIED BY FRANCIS DAVISON. 1 From deep gulf of misfortunes O'erwhelm'd with miseries, Lord, I thine aid importune With never-ceasing cries. O hear my lamentation; O view my restless tears; And to my supplication Bow down attentive ears ! My manifold abuses If thou behold in ire, Lord, I have no excuses To 'scape eternal fire. Harl. MSS. 6930, p. 92. b This was Francis Davison, the Editor of " The Rhapsody ," a curious collection of Elizabethan Poems, which is reprinting at the Lee Priory Press. He was son of the unhappy Secretary, whose story is so well-known. There is a simple vigour and harmony in these versifica- tions, which gives them intrinsic merit. The sixth stanza of this psalm appears to me to convey a beautiful image in the most simple and harmonious language. It is not among the least attractions of these productions of Davi- son, that they exhibit such an happy variety of metre. Davison had a nice ear for the changes and modulations of lyric rhythm. lExcerpta CuDortana 23 But since with true contrition My sins I wail and blame, Lord, save me from perdition, To fear and praise thy name. Lord, thou art all my comfort, My Soul's sure prop and shield; My hopes in my discomfort Still on thy word I build. My soul base earth despising More longs with God to be, Than rosy Morning's rising Tir'd watchmen watch to see. Lay thy Hope's sure foundation In God, O Israel, O God, in whom salvation And boundless mercy dwell. The leprous spots that stain thee He then will purify; Sin's fetters, that enchain thee, He gently will untie. 24 lEicerpta 'Cufcortana. PSALM XIII. By the same. jLord, how long, how long wilt thou Quite forget, and quite neglect me? How long with a frowning brow Wilt thou from thy sight reject me? How long shall I seek a way Forth this maze of thoughts perplexed Where my griev'd mind night and day Is with thinking tir'd and vexed ! How long shall my stormful foe, On my fall his greatness placing, Build upon my overthrow; And be grac'd by my disgracing! Hear, O Lord and God, my cries; Mock my foe's unjust abusing; And illuminate mine eyes, Heavenly beams in them infusing; Lest my woes, too great to bear, And too infinite to number, Rock me soon, 'twixt Hope and Fear, Into Death's eternal slumber ! lacerpta tZTufcortana 25 Lest my foes their boasting make, " Spite of right on him we trample;" And a pride in mischief take, Hearten'd by my sad example ! As for me, I'll ride secure At thy mercy's sacred anchor, And undaunted will endure Fiercest stonns of wrong and rancour ! These black clouds will overflow; Sunshine shall have his returning; And my grief-dull'd heart, I know, Into mirth shall change his mourning. Therefore I'll rejoice, and sing Hymns to God in sacred measure, Who to happy pass will bring My just hopes at his good pleasure. PSALM XXIII. By the same. To St. Bernard's " Cum vwndus militat," Sfc. The Lord my pastor is; he tends me needfully; He still supplies my wants with all things needfully. 26 law pta Eulioriana. In fields he pastures me, clad with amenity; Through which a silver brook slideth with lenity. Through bushy labyrinths roaming audaciously, Ready to lose myself, my Shepherd graciously For his name's glory's sake eftsoons reduced me Unto his holy fold, whence Sin seduced me. Yea, through Death's vallies, a fruitful obscurity, If I should walk, I should walk in security, If thou dost guard me; for in tribulation Thy rod and sheep-hook are my consolation. Before mine enemies, enviously vicious, Thou hast prepar'd my board with meats delicious; With sweetly-swelling balms my head thou drowned hast, With sweetly-tasting wines my bowls thou crowned hast. Thy love I need not doubt, and thy gratuity Shall me accompany to perpetuity; So in this house I shall, O bless'd condition ! Of Heaven's endless joys here taste fruition! 3 * From the sauie MSS. This is a curious specimen of the Dactylic measure. .... >..,..,.., &l'*.('+'l '"*"' Siccrpta TuDortana 27 ! ON ambition. O could the mighty but give bounds to pride, And weigh back Fortune e'er she pull them down, Contented with enough, with honours satisfied, Not striving how to make so much their own, As to leave nothing for the rest beside ; Who seem by their high-spreading overgrown, Whilst they themselves remain in all mens' sight, The odious mark of hatred and despite ! Then should not, O, so many tragedies Burden our knowledge with their bloody end, Nor their disgrac'd confounded families From so high pride to so low shame descend; But planted on that ground where safety lies, Their branches should t' eternity extend ! But ever those that overlook so much, Must oversee themselves, their state is such. a SONG. Disdain that so doth fill me, Hath surely sworn to kill me, Harl. MSS. 6910, f. 123. 28 ... . lEicerpta ftufcortana. And I must die. Desire that still doth burn me, To life again will turn me, And live must I; O kill me then, Disdain, That I may live again. Thy looks are life unto me, And yet these looks undo me : O death and life ! Thy smile some rest doth shew me, Thy frown with war o'erthrow me; O peace and strife ! Nor life nor death is either, Then give me both, or neither ! Life only cannot please me, Death only cannot ease me; Change is Delight. I live, that Death may kill me, I die, that Life may fill me; Both day and night. If once Despair decay, Desire will wear away.* Ismrpta Cufcoriana 29 CUPID BENIGHTED.' From Anacreon. Of late what time the Bear turn'd round At midnight in her wonted way, And men of all sorts slept full sound, O'ercome with labours of the day: ' The following Translation of this Ode, in the subsequent century, from the scarce "Poems of Thomas Stanley, Esq. 1651." 8vo. the learned Editor of " .Eschylus," and Author of "The Lives of the Phi- losophers," deserves to be subjoined, that the Reader may compare it, for the purpose of remarking the progress of our language. ANACREON. Ode III. LOVE'S NIGHT-WALK. Downward was the wheeling Bear Driven by the waggoner : Men by powerful sleep opprest Gave their busy troubles rest : Love in this still depth of night Lately at my house did light ; Where perceiving all fast lock'd, At the door he boldly knock'd. " Who's that," said I, "that does keep Such a noise, and breaks my sleep?" " Ope," saith Love, " for pity hear; 'Tis a child ; thou need'st not fear, Wet and weary from his way Led by this dark night astray." With compassion this I heard; Light I struck ; the door unbarr'd ; Where a little boy appears, Who wings, bow, and quiver bears. 30 ... . lExccrpta EuDodana. The God of Love came to my door, And took the ring, and knock'd it hard : " Who's there," quoth I, " that knocks so sore? You break my sleep; my dreams are marr'd!" "A little Boy, forsooth," quoth he; "Dring wet with rain this moonless night." Witli that methought it pitied me; I op'd the door, and candle light; And straight a little boy I spied; A winged lad with shaft and bow; I took him to the fire-side, And set him down to dry him so : His little hand in mine I strain, To rub and warm them there-withall ; Out of his locks I crush'd the rain, From which the drops apace down fall; Near the fire I made him stand ; With my own I chaf d his hand; And with kindly busy care Wrung the chill drops from his hair. When well-warm'd he was, and dry, " Now," saith he, " 'tis time to try If my bow no hurt did get; For methinks the string is wet." With that, drawing it, a dart He let fly that pierc'd my heart. Leaping then, and laughing said, " Come, my friend, with me be glad; For my bow, thou seest, is sound, Since thy heart hath got a wound." 3Excerj)ta ut>ortana 31 At last, when he was waxen warm; "Now let me try my bow," quoth he; " I fear my string hath caught some harm ; And wet, will prove too slack for me." He said; and bent his bow and shot; And rightly hit me in the heart. The wound was sore, and raging hot; The heat-like fury ekes my smart. " Mine host," quoth he, "my string is well:" And laugh'd so, that he leap'd again; "Look to your wound, for fear it swell; Your heart may chance to feel the pain." b ON FORTITUDE OF MIND. Virtue can bear, what can on Virtue fall; Who cheapeneth Honour, must not stand on price; Who beareth Heaven, they say, can well bear all; A yielding mind doth argue cowardice; Our haps do turn, as chances, on the dice. Nor never let him from this hope remove, That under him hath mould, the stars above ! b Harl. MSS. 6.910, f. 145. b Stanley's Translation of this Ode is very well; but I very much doubt .whether this old Version is not more spirited; and on the whole still better. Such specimens of the gradual progress of language are curious and useful. 32 lExccrpta lEutioriana. Let dull-brain'd slaves contend for mud and earth; Let blocks and stones sweat but for blocks and stones; Let peasants speak of plenty and of dearth ; Fame never looks so low as on those drones ! Let Courage manage empires, sit on thrones ! And he that Fortune at command will keep, He must be sure, he never let her sleep. Who wins her grace, must with achievement woo her ; As she is blind, so never had she ears; Nor must with puling eloquence go to her; She understands not sighs ; she hears not prayers ; Flatter'd she flies; controul'd she ever fears; And though awhile she nicely do forsake it, She is a woman, and at last will take it. Nor never let him dream once of a crown, For one bad cast that will give up his game; And though by idle hap he be o'erthrown, Yet let him manage her, till she be tame : The path is set with danger leads to Fame. When Minos did the Grecians' fate deny, He made him wings, and mounted through the sky." lExceqpta tEufcottana 33 STANZAS BY ROBERT DEVEREUX, SECOND EARL OF ESSEX. 31 uses no more, but Mazes be your names, Where Discord's sound shall mar your concords sweet ! Unkindly now your careful Fancy frames, When Fortune treads your favour under feet: But foul befall that cursed cuckoo's throat, That so hath cross'd sweet Philomela's note. And all unhappy hatched was that bird, That parrot-like can never cease to prate; But most untimely spoken was that word, That brought the world in such a woeful state; That Love and Liking quite are overthrown, And in their place are Hate and Sorrows grown. Is this the honour of an haughty thought, For Lover's hap to have all spite or love ? Hath wretched skill thus blinded Reason taught In this conceit such discontent to move, That Beauty so is of herself bereft, That no good hope of ought good hap is left ? O let no Phoenix look upon a crow, Nor dainty hills bow down to dirty vales ! 34 ... . lEnerpta ^u&orfana. Let never heaven an hellish humour know, Nor firm Affect give ear to hellish tales ! For this in fine will fall to be the troth, That puddle water makes unwholesome broth. Woe to the world ! The sun is in a cloud, And darksome mists doth overrun the day; In hope Conceit is not content allow 'd; Favour must die, and Fancy wear away. O heavens, what hell ! The bands of Love are broken; Nor must a thought of such a thing be spoken ! Mars must become a coward in his mind, Whilst Vulcan stands to prate of Venus' toys; Beauty must seem to go against her kind, In crossing Nature in her sweetest joys. But, oh ! no more ! It is too much to think, So pure a mouth should puddle water drink ! But since the world is as thy woeful pass, Let Love's submission Honour's wrath appease ! Let not an horse be matched with an ass; Nor hateful tongue a happy heart disease! So shall the world commend a sweet conceit, And humble Faith on heavenly Honour wait ! a Harl. MSS. 6910, f. 151. lEicerpta Cufcortarta 35 POEM.' By Thomas Campion. * Thou shalt not love me; neither shall those eyes Shine on my soul shrowded in deadly night; Thou shalt not breath on me thy spiceries, Nor rock me in thy quavers of delight ! Hold off thy hands ! for I had rather die, Than have my life by thy coy touch reviv'd ! Smile not on me, but frown thou bitterly ; Slay me outright; no lovers are long-liv'd! As for those lips reserv'd so much in store, Their rosy verdure shall not meet with mine; Withhold thy proud embracements evermore; I'll not be swaddled in those arms of thine! Now shew it, if thou be a woman right; Embrace and kiss; and love me in despite. Harl. MSS. 6910, f. 150. This MS. appears to have the date of 1596. * Thomas Campion was author of ** The Art of English Poesie, London, 1602." 12 mo . " Relation of the Entertainment made by the the Lord Knowles for Quee?i Anne at Caivsame House, London, 1613." 4'. " Masque at Whitehall, London, 1613." 4 to . " Masque at the Marriage of the Earl of Somerset and Lady Frances Howard, Lon- don, 1614." 4 to . tfc. 36 lExcerpta 'STuDoriana. ANOTHER. By the same. Thrice toss those oaken askes in the air; And thrice three times tie up this true-love's-knot; Thice sit you down in this enchanted chair; And murmur soft, "she will, or she will not." Go, burn those poison 'd weeds in that blue fire; This cypress gather'd out a dead man's grave; These screech-owls feathers, and the prickly brier, That all thy thorny cares an end may have ! Then come, you Fairies, dance with me around; Dance in a circle; let my love be centre; Melodiously breathe an enchanted sound; Melt her hard heart, that some remorse may enter ! In vain are all the charms I can devise ; She hath an heart to break them with her eyes. BEAUTY WITHOUT LOVE. DEFORMITY. By the same. Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white, For all those rosy temperatures in thee; lExccrpta STutioriana 37 Thou art not sweet, though made of mere delight; Nor fair nor sweet unless thou pity me ! Thine eyes are black, and yet their glittering brightness Can night enlumine in her darkest den; Thy hands and bloody thoughts contriv'd of whiteness, Both black and bloody, if they murder men; Thy brows whereon my good hap doth depend, Fairer than snow, or lilly in the spring, Thy tongue which saves at every sweet word's end, That hard as marble, this a mortal sting. I will not soothe thy follies : thou shalt prove That Beauty is no Beauty without Love. ANONYMOUS. Like Hermit poor, in pensive place obscure, I mean to spend my days of endless doubt; To wail such woes as time cannot recure, Where nought but Love shall ever find me out. My food shall be of care and sorrow made, My drink nought else but tears fall'n from mine eyes; And for my light in such obscured shade, The flames may serve that from my heart arise. Harl. MSS. 6910. . ;f<*e-~:.' w 38 lExcerpta Cufcoriana. A gown of grief my body shall attire, And broken Hope shall be my strength and stay; And late Repentance, link'd with long Desire, Shall be the couch whereon my limbs I'll lay. And at my gate Despair shall linger still, To let in Death when Love and Fortune will." MENAPHON'S SONG. From " Robert Greene's Arcadia." * Some say love, Foolish love, Doth rue and govern all the gods : I say love, Inconstant love, Sets mens' senses far at odds. Some swear love, Smooth'd 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. * Edition 1616. Itiurpta STufcortana 39 Love is sweet, Wherein sweet, In fading pleasure that do fain : Beauty sweet, Is that sweet, That yields sorrow for a gain : If Love's sweet, Herein sweet, That minute's joys are monthly woes; 'Tis not sweet, That is sweet, No where but where repentance grows; Then love who list, if beauties be so sour, Labour for me, Love rest in prince's bower ! SEPHESTIA'S SONG TO HER CHILD. From the same. 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, 40 3Exrpta 'iZTufcoriana. He was glad, I was woe, Fortune's change made him so : When he had left his pretty boy, Last his sorrow, first his joy. 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 griev'd 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 smil'd, father wept, Mother cry'd, baby leapt ; More he crow'd, more he cry'd, 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. lEiccrpta 'SfuDoriana 41 Weep not "my wanton, smile upon my knee ; When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee ! A PLEASANT ECLOGUE BETWEEN MONTANUS AND CORIDON. From "Dr. Lodge's Euphues' Golden Legacy." CORIDON. Say, Shepherd's Boy, what makes thee greet so sore? Why leaves thy pipe his pleasure and delight? Young are thy years, thy cheeks with roses dight; Then sing for joy, sweet swain, and sigh no more. This milk-white poppy, and this climbing pine, Both promise shade; then sit thee down and sing, And make these woods with pleasant notes to ring, Till Phoebus deign all westward to decline. MONTANUS. Ah, Coridon, unmeet is melody To him whom proud contempt hath overborne : Slain are my joys by Phebe's bitter scorn; Far hence my weal, and near my jeopardy. 42 ... . lExcerpta 'JEutxmana. Love's burning brand is couched in my breast, Making a Phoenix of my faithful heart; And though his fury do inforce my smart, Ah, blithe am I to honour his behest. Prepar'd to woes since so my Phebe wills, My looks dismay'd since Phebe will disdain, I banish bliss and welcome home my pain ; So streams my tears as showers from Alpine hills. In Error's mask I blindfold Judgment's eye; I fetter Reason in the snares of Lust : I seem secure, yet know not how to trust : I live by that which makes me living die. Devoid of rest, companion of distress, Plague to myself, consumed by my thought, How may my voice or pipe in tune be brought, Since I am reft of solace and delight? CORIDON. A laurel lad, what makes thee here to love, A sugar'd harm, a poison full of pleasure : A painted shrine full fill'd with rotten treasure, A heaven in shew, a hell to them that prove. Icicerpta CuDortana 43 A gain in seeming, shadow'd still with want; A broken staff which Folly doth uphold : A flower that fades with every frosty cold, An orient rose sprung from a wither'd plant. A minute's joy to gain a world of grief; A subtile net to snare the idle mind ; A seeming scorpion, yet in seeming blind; A poor rejoice, a plague without relief. For thee, Montanus, follow mine aread, Whom age hath taught the trains that Fancy useth; Leave foolish Love, for Beauty Wit abuseth, And drowns, by Folly, Virtue's springing seed. MONTANUS. So blames the child the flame because it burns, And bird the snare because it doth entrap; And fools true love because of sorry hap, And sailors curse the ship that overturns. But would the child forbear to play with flame, And birds beware to trust the fowler's gin ; And fools foresee before they fall in sin, And masters guide their ships in better frame. The child would praise the fire because it warms, And birds rejoice to see the fowler fail; 44 ... . lExcerpta 'STufcoriana. And fools prevent before their plagues prevail, And sailors bless the barks that save from harms. Ah, Coridon, though many be thy years, And crooked Eld hath some experience left, Yet is thy mind of judgment quite bereft, In view of Love, whose power in me appears. The ploughman little wots to turn the pen, Or bookman skills to guide the ploughman's cart; Nor can the cobler count the terms of art, Nor base men judge the thoughts of mighty men. Nor wither'd Age (unmeet for Beauty's guide, Uncapable of Love's impression) Discourse of that, whose choice possession May never to so base a man betide. But I (whom Nature makes of tender mould, And Youth most pliant yields to Fancy's fire)- Do build my haven and heaven on sweet desire; On sweet desire more dear to me than gold. Think I of Love ? Oh how my lines aspire ! Hast thou the Muses to embrace my brows, And hem my temples in with laurel boughs, And fill my brains with chaste and holy fire ? Icxcerpta 'Euliortana 45 Then leave my lines their homely equipage, Mounted beyond the cirele of the sun; Amaz'd I read the style when I have done, And her I love that sent that heavenly rage. Of Phebe then, of Phebe then I sing, Drawing the purity of all the spheres, The pride of earth, or what in heaven appears, Her honour'd face, and fame to light to bring. In fluent members, and in pleasant veins, I rob both sea and earth of all their state ; To praise her parts I charm both time and fate, To bless the Nymph that yields me love-sick pains. My sheep are turn'd to thoughts, whom froward will Guides in the labyrinth of restless Love; Fear lends them pasture wheresoe'er they move, And by their death their life renounceth still. My sheep-hook is my pen, my oaten reed My paper where my many woes are written : Thus silly swain (with Love and Fancy bitten) I trace the plaints of pain in woeful weed. Yet are my cares, my broken sleeps, my tears, My dreams, my doubt, for Phebe sweet to me; 46 liacerpta TuOortana. Who waiteth heaven in Sorrow's vale must be, And glory shines where danger most appears. Then, Coridon, although I blithe me not, Blame me not man, since Sorrow is my sweet : So willeth Love, and Phebe thinks it meet, And kind Montanus liketh well his lot. CORIDON. Oh stayless youth, by Error so misguided, Where Will prescribeth laws to perfect Wits, Where Reason mourns, and Blame in triumph sits, And Folly poisoneth all that Time provided. With willful blindness blear'd, prepar'd to shame, Prone to neglect occasion when she smiles; Alas that Love by fond and froward guiles Should make thee track the path to endless blame. Ah, my Montanus ! cursed is the charm, That hath bewitched so thy youthful eyes ; Leave off in time to like these vanities ; Be forward to thy good, and flee thy harm. As many bees as Hebla daily shields, As many fry as fleet on ocean's face, Icicerpta ut>ortana 47 As many herds as on the earth do trace, As many flowers as deck the fragrant fields, As many stars as glorious heaven contains, As many storms as wayward winter weeps, As many plagues as hell inclosed keeps; So many griefs in Love, so many pains. Suspicion, thoughts, desires, opinions, prayers, Mislikes, misdeeds, fond joys, and feigned peace, Illusions, dreams, great pains, and small increase, Vows, hope, acceptance, scorns, and deep despairs. Truce, war, and woe, do wait at Beauty's gate ; Time lost, laments, reports, and privy grudge, And last, fierce Love is but a partial judge, Who yields for service, shame: for friendship, hate. MONTANUS. All adder-like I stop mine ears, fond swain, So charm no more, for I will never change ! Call home thy flock betime that stragling range, For, lo! the sun declineth hence amain. 48 ... . lExcerwta tTuDortana. BEST COUSIN, MRS. BARBARA LOKE, By Michael Cosowarth. Devoted love to God, to man, to thee, For hoped bliss, for kind, for kindred's sake, Did first inflame the frozen heart of me, That I this task too good should undertake. But do thou take it kindly at my hands, That I respect thy good in that I do, Though kind and kindness too, two mighty bands, Should me of duty have e'en held thereto. But kind and kindness in this waning age Are both abortive twins, both born to die; And slain of self-love in a bitter rage, With no remorse of dear affinity. But never shall th' injurious worldlings- say, That I did kind or kindness cast away. a Harl. MSS. 6906. It is prefixed to Cosowarth's MS. Version of the Psalms. lEtmpta STuOortana 49 MY COUSIN, MICHAEL COSOWARTH. By Richard Carew of Anthony. These Psalms which from their native sense exil'd, In soil of Barbarism long rov'd amiss, Coswarth calls home with high-tun'd voice of his, And for such dwellers doth meet palace build. Divine the author was, who them compil'd; Divine the stuff, divine the fashion is; a or divine for truth men serves to this ; Though on thy Muse to heaven up-mounted then, Thy mind inspired scorn Fame's lower blast, Yet will she blaze thy praises unto men And less esteem'd, the more thee follow fast. Myself of thee for these, of these for thee, Of both for both's worth will a lover be. b Illegible. b Harl. MSS. 6906. It is preHxed to Cosowarth's MS. Version of the Psalms,- of which a specimen will hereafter be given. >"mAh>.< 50 lEicerpta Tut)oriana. GOOD COUSIN, MR. MICHAEL COSOWARTH. By Richard Carew of Anthony. And now I have, as 'twas thy kind desire, Unkindly gentle censure of thy skill : And with a rugged brow I did retire, The love I love thee with, and will love still ; For Love is blind, and winks to see the ill, When friends' perfections have a wandering got; But I that love with truer faith did kill : Faith sware I should that was amiss out-blot; Faith sware I should, but Love sware I should not : Thus Faith and Love each other daring bold, When thy Muse saw, "be still," quoth she, " I wot That to amend, which any other could." And straight thy Muse herself did sweetly end it; As all the world it cannot now amend it. a a Harl. MSS. 6906. It is prefixed to Cosowarth's MS. Version of the Psalms, of which a specimen will hereafter be given. "M^H" laimpta 'Cutiortana 51 BEST COUSIN, MR. MICHAEL COSOWARTH. By Henry Luke. I muse to see the modern wanton Muse To glory in these borrowed fabling toys, Whilst they the Muse of Muses all abuse, Which fills the ear and heart with perfect joys. Such scan thy verse, but scant can scan aright The height of thy conceit, or depth of skill : In David zealous chaunts* they not delight, But, Micha like, perhaps controul thee will, Some this impeaching 3 seek to smother thee, That would no profit have but of their vein ! But like thyself might all men prophets be, Say I, and with like merit honour gain, Then some one grateful witness of thy praise Would seek with lasting words thy fame to raise. b Query. b Harl. MSS. 6906. It is prefixed to Cosowarth's MS. Version of the Psalms, of which a specimen will hereafter be given. i ii i in i i i i i 52 ... . lEjccerpta 'EuOodana. SONNET. By H. Grcy.< Fair crystal eye, remain still fierce and cruel ! Your wanton smiles charm, wound, and kill my heart. Ah, no, smile still ! my heart is of such fuel, As burneth when your eyes their frowns impart ! Ah, mitigate but these fair shining rays, So clear transparent that they dim my sight ! No: veil them not; for then my grief displays; And Hope doth fail, when your eyes hide their light. Sweet, cruel, mild, fierce, smiling, full with tears, Love finds sufficient to increase my grief; None giving hope, but all augmenting fears, Briefly, all these do take away my life. Sweet, hide yourself, lest your fair sight dismay me; Nay; hide you not ! your absence sure will slay me!* * A poet not recorded by Ritson. a Harl. MSS. 6910, f. 152. H.M^M Icicerpta tZTu&ortana 53 ON AMBITION. Ambition with the eagle loves to build, And on the mountains dreads no winter blast, But with self-soothing doth the humour gild, With arguments correcting what is past; Fore-casting kingdoms, dangers unforecast; Leaving this poor word of Content to such, Whose earthly spirits have not this fiery touch. But pleasures never dine but on excess, Whose diet, made to draw on all delight, And overcome in that sweet drunkenness, His appetite maintained by his sight, Strengtheneth Desire, but ever weakeneth Might. Until this ulcer ripening to an head, Vomits the poison which it nourished.* ON LIFE. Ah, Life, sweet drop, drown'd in a sea of sours, A flying good, posting to doubtful end; Still loving months and years to gain new hours; Fain time to have and spare, yet forc'd to spend; Harl. MSS. 6910, f. 127. 54 ... . lEicerpta STulioriana. The growth, decrease, a moment all thou hast; That gone, are known; the rest to come or past. Ah, Life, the maze of countless straying ways, Open to erring steps, and strew'd with baits, To wind weak senses into endless strays, Aloof from Virtue's rough unbeaten straits; A flower, a play, a blast, a shade, a drain; A living death, a never-turning stream." MELI CER TUS 'S MADRIGAL. From " Robert Greene's Arcadia." Wh at are my sheep without their wonted food ? What is my life except I gain my love? My sheep consume and faint for want of blood; My life is lost unless I grace approve : No flower that sapless thrives, No turtle without fear, The day without the sun doth lour for woe. Then woe mine eyes, unless thy beauty see My sun Samela's eyes by whom I know, Wherein delight consists, where pleasures be ! a Harl. MSS. 6910, f. 127. Icicerpta fEuboriana 55 Nought more the heart revives, Than to embrace his dear. The stars from earthly humours gain their light, Our humours by their light possess their power, Samela's eyes fed by my weeping sight, Infudes my pains or joys, by smile or lour : So wends the source of Love; It feeds, it fails, it ends. Kind looks clear to your joy, behold her eyes, Admire her heart, desire to taste her kisses. In them the heaven of joy and solace lies : Without them every hope his succour misses ! Oh, how I love to prove, Whereto this solace tends ! CORIDON'S SONG. From "Dr. Lodge's Euphues' Golden Legacy." A blithe and bonny country lass, Heigh ho, bonny lass; Sate sighing on the tender grass, And weeping said: "Will none come woo me?' 56 ISxcerpta 'EuUorfana. A smicker boy, a lither swain : Heigh ho, a smicker swain, That in his love was wanton fain, With smiling looks straight come unto her. When as the wanton wench espied, Heigh ho, when she espied The means to make herself a bride, She simper'd smooth like bonny bell. The swain that saw her squint-eyed kind, Heigh ho, squint-eyed kind, His arms about her body twin'd, And said, " Fair lass, how fare ye, well?" The country kit said, " Well forsooth, Heigh ho, well-forsooth ; But that I have a longing tooth, A longing tooth that makes me cry:" "Alas!" said he, "what gares thy grief, Heigh ho, what gares 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: laxeerpta STubortana 57 " I'll make thee wive it, gentle maid, And so recure thy malady:" Hereon they kist with many an oath, Heigh ho, many an oath ; And 'fore God Pan did plight their troth, So to the church apace they hie. And God send every pretty pate, Heigh ho, the pretty pate, That fears to die of this conceit, So kind a friend to help at last : Then maids shall never long again, Heigh ho, to long again; When they find ease for such a pain. Thus my roundelay is past. MONTANUS'S SONNET IN THE WOODS. From the same. Alas ! how wander I amidst these woods, Whereas no day bright shine doth find access ! But where the melancholy fleeting floods, (Dark as the night,) my night of woes express, Disarm 'd of Reason, spoil'd of Nature's goods, Without redress to salve my heaviness 58 1xrpta 'Eutjodana. I walk, whilst thought (too cruel to my harms,) With endless grief my heedless judgment charms. My silent tongue assail'd by secret fear, My traitorous eyes imprison'd in their joy: My fatal peace devour'd in feigned cheer, My heart enforc'd to harbour in annoy : My Reason rob'd of power by yielding Care, My fond opinions slave to every toy. Oh, Love ! thou guide in my uncertain way, Woe to thy bow, thy fire, the cause of my decay ! SALADINE'S SONNET. From the same. If it be true that heaven's eternal course With restless sway, and ceaseless turning glides: If air inconstant be, and swelling source Turns and returns with many fluent tides : If Earth, in Winter, Summer's pride estrange, And Nature seemeth only fair in change : If it be true that our immortal spright, Deriv'd from heavenly pure, in wandering still, lEifctpta Cv.Uortana 59 In novelty and strangeness doth delight, And by discovering power discerneth ill: And if the body, for to work his best, Doth with the seasons change his place of rest: Whence comes it, that inforc'd by furious skies, I change both place and soil, but not my heart, Yet salve not in this change my maladies? Whence grows it that each object works my smart? Alas ! I see my faith procures my miss, And change in Love against my nature is. Et fiorida pungunt. MOXTANUS'S PASSION. From the same. Madst thou been born whereas perpetual cold Makes Tanais hard, and mountains silver old : Had I complain 'd unto a marble stone, Or to the floods bewray'd my bitter moan, I then could bear the burthen of my grief: But even the pride of countries at thy birth, Whilst heaven did smile, did new array the earth, With flowers chief: 60 ... . SExcevpta Sht&oriana. Yet thou, the flower of beauty, blessed bom, Hast pretty looks, but all attir'd in scorn. Had I the power to weep sweet Mirrha's tears, Or by my tears to pierce repining ears : Hadst thou the heart to smile at my complaint, To scorn the woes that doth my heart attaint, I then could bear the burthen of my grief: But not my tears, but truth with thee prevails, And seeming sour thy sorrows thee assails : Yet small relief: For if thou wilt, thou art of marble hard; And if thou please, my suit shall soon be heard. CHARACTERS GRAVEN ON A BEECH TREE. From the same. jFirst shall the heavens want starry light ; The seas be robbed of their waves : The day want sun, and sun want bright, The night want shade, the dead men graves. The April flowers, and leaves, and tree, Before I false my faith to thee. Ifcxwrpta Cufcoriana 61 First shall the top of highest hills, By humble plains be overpride, And poets scorn the Muse's quills, And fish forsake the water glide : And Iris lose her colour'd weed, Before I fail thee at thy need. First direful Hate shall turn to Peace, And Love relent in deep disdain, And Death his fatal stroke shall cease, And Envy pity every pain, And Pleasure mourn, and Sorrow smile, Before I talk of any guile. First Time shall stay his stayless race, And Winter bless his brows with corn, And snow bemoisten Julia's face, And Winter spring and Summer mourn, Before my pen, by help of Fame, Cease to recite thy sacred name. ROSALIND'S DESCRIPTION. , From the same. Like to the clear in highest sphere, Where all imperial glory shines, 62 ... . HExeerpta ftitUoriana. Of self-same colours is her hair, Whether unfolded or in twines : Heigh ho, fair Rosalind. Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, Resembling heaven by every wink; The Gods do fear when as they glow, And I do tremble when I think. Heigh ho, would she were mine ! Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud, That beautifies Aurora's face, i Or like the silver crimson shroud, That Phcebus' smiling looks doth grace : Heigh ho, fair Rosalind ! Her eyes are like to budded roses, Whom ranks of lillies neighbour nigh, Within which bounds she balm incloses, Apt to entice a Deity. Heigh ho, would she were mine ! Her neck is like a stately tower, Where Love himself imprison'd lies, To watch for glances every hour, From her divine and sacred eyes; Heigh ho, for Rosalind. lEiccrpta tEu&ortana 63 Her paps are centers of delight, Her breasts are robes of heavenly frame, Where Nature moulds the dew of light, To feed Perfection with the same. Heigh ho, would she were mine ! With orient pearl, with ruby red, With marble white, with sapphire blue, Her body every way is fed, Yet soft in touch, and sweet in view: Heigh ho, fair Rosalind ! Nature herself her shape admires, The Gods are wounded in her sight, And Love forsakes his heavenly fires, And at her eyes his brand doth light. Heigh ho, would she were mine ! Then muse not nymphs though I bemoan The absence of fair Rosalind, Since for a fair there is a fairer none, Nor for her virtues so divine; Heigh ho, fair Rosalind; Heigh ho, my heart, would God that she were mine ! /'( fiit qititt deperibat. .'M^H-* 64 lEicerpta {ITuDorfana. SONNET, INSCRIBED ON THE BARK OF A MYRRH TREE. From the same. Of all chaste birds the Phoenix doth excel; Of all strong beasts the Lion bears the bell; Of all sweet flowers the Rose doth sweetest smell; Of all fair maids my Rosalind is fairest. Of all pure metals Gold is only purest ; Of all high trees the Pine hath highest crest; Of all soft sweets I like my mistress best ; Of all chaste thoughts my mistress' thoughts are rarest. Of all proud birds the Eagle pleaseth Jove ; Of pretty fowls kind Venus likes the Dove ; Of trees Minerva doth the Olive love; Of all sweet nymphs I honour Rosalind. Of all her gifts her wisdom pleaseth most ; Of all her graces virtue she doth boast; For all the gifts my life and joy is lost, If Rosalind prove cruel and unkind, i i ii"ii'iAnniiiii i SExeapta ul>ortana 65 THE CONTENTS OF THE SCHEDULE WHICH SIR JOHN OF BORDEUX GAVE HIS SONS. From the same. My sons, behold what portion I do give ! I leave you goods, but they are quickly lost; I leave advice to school you how to live; I leave you wit, but won with little cost : But keep it well, for counsel still is one, When father, friends, and worldly goods are gone. In choice of thrift, let honour be your gain; Win it by virtue and by manly might : In doing good esteem thy trouble no pain; Protect the fatherless and widow's right: Fight for thy faith, thy country, and thy king; For why ? this thrift will prove a blessed thing. In choice of wife prefer the modest, chaste ! Lillies are fair in shew, but foul in smell; The sweetest looks by age are soon defac'd: Then choose thy wife by wit, and living well. 66 ... . 3Excerpta Z. ufcortana. Who brings thee wealth, and many faults withall, Presents thee honey mix'd with bitter gall ! In choice of friends, beware of light belief; A painted tongue may shroud a subtle heart: The syren's tears do threaten mickle grief: Foresee my sons, for fear of sudden smart; Choose in your wants, and he that loves you then, When richer grown befriend you him again. Learn with the ant in summer to provide ; Drive with the bee the drone from out the hive; Build like the swallow, in the summer tide : Spare not too much, my sons, but sparing thrive. Be poor in folly, rich in all but sin ; So by your death your glory shall begin. MENAPHON'S ROUNDELAY. From " Robert Greene 's Arcadia TV hen tender ewes, brought home with evening sun, Wend to their folds, And to their holds The shepherds trudge, when light of day is done : lEicerpta Cufcoriana 67 Upon a tree, The eagle, Jove's fair bird, did perch, There resteth he: A little fly his harbour then did search : And did presume, (though others laugh'd thereat) To perch whereas the princely eagle sat. The eagle frown'd and shook his royal wings, And charg'd the fly From thence to hie. Afraid, in haste the little creature flings, Yet seeks again, Fearful to perk him by the eagle's side. With moody vein The speedy post of Ganimede replied : " Vassel avaunt, or with my wings you die; Is't fit an eagle seat him with a fly?" The fly crav'd pity; still the eagle frown'd: The silly fly, Ready to die, Disgrac'd, displac'd, fell groveling to the ground. The eagle saw, And with a royal mind said to the fly, " Be not in awe, I scorn by me the meanest creature die ! 68 ... . IHxcerpta 'Sfubortana. Then scale thee here:" the joyful fly up-flings, And sate safe shadow'd with the eagle's wings. DORON'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS FAIR SHEPHERDESS SAMELA. From the same. JLike 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 wash'd by Arethusa, faint they lie, Is fair Samela. As fair Aurora in her morning grey, Deck'd with the ruddy glister of her Love, Is fair Samela. Like lovely Thetis on a calmed day, When as her brightness Neptune's fancies move, 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 lilly yield forth gleams, Her brows bright arches fram'd of ebony, Thus fair Samela isiecrf ta 'Cufeortana 69 Passeth fair Venus in her brightest hue, And Juno, in the shew of majesty; (For she's Samela,) Pallas in wit : all three if you well view, For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity, Yield to Samela. PHILLIDA AND CORIDON. By Nicholas Breton. In the merry month of May, In a morn by break of day, Forth I walk'd by the wood-side, When as May was in his pride: There I spyed, all alone, Phillida and Coridon. Much-ado there was, God wot; He would love and she would not. She said, "Never man was true:" He said, " None was false to you:" He said, " He had lov'd her long:" She said, " Love should have no wrong." Coridon would kiss her then ; She said, " Maids must kiss no men, 70 tscerpta EuSortana. Till they did for good and all:" Then she made the shepherd call All the heavens to witness truth : Never lov'd a truer youth. Thus with many a pretty oath, Yea and nay, and faith and troth, Such as silly shepherds use When they will not Love abuse, Love which had been long deluded ; Was with kisses sweet concluded. And Phillida with garlands gay Was made the lady of the May. A PASTORAL OF PHILLIS AND CORIDON. By the same. On a hill there grows a flower, Fair befall the dainty sweet : By that flower there is a bower, Where the heavenly Muses meet. In that bower there is a chair, Fringed all about with gold: Where doth sit the fairest fair, That ever eye did yet behold. laicerpta tEu&ortana. 71 It is Phillis fair and bright, She that is the shepherd's joy : She that Venus did despight, And did blind her little boy. This is she, the wise, the rich, That the world desires to see : This is ipsa quce, the which, There is none but only she. Who would not this face admire ? Who would not this saint adore ? Who would not this sight desire, Though he thought to see no more? Oh fair eyes, yet let me see One good look, and I am gone : Look on me, for I am he, Thy poor silly Coridon. Thou, that art the shepherd's queen, Look upon thy silly swain : By thy comfort have been seen Dead men brought to life again ! 72 ... . lEicctpta Cutotiana. A SWEET PASTORAL. By the same. Good Muse rock me a-sleep With some sweet harmony : The weary eye is not to keep Thy wary company. Sweet Love be gone a while, Thou knowest my heaviness; Beauty is born but to beguile My heart of happiness. See how my little flock. That lov'd to feed on high, Do headlong tumble down the rock, And in the valley die. The bushes and the trees That were so fresh and green, Do all their dainty colour lees, And not a leaf is seen. The blackbird and the thrush, That made the woods to ring, lExcerpta uDoriana 73 With all the rest that are now at hush, And not a note they sing. Sweet Philomel the bird, That hath the heavenly throat, Doth now, alas ! not once afford Recording of a note. The flowers have had a frost, Each herb hath lost her savour : And Phillida the fair hath lost The comfort of her favour. Now all these careful sights So kill me in conceit, That how to hope upon delights, It is but mere deceit. And therefore, my sweet Muse, Thou know'st what help is best : Do now thy heavenly cunning use, To set my heart at rest. And in a dream bewray What fate shall be my friend : Whether my life shall still decay, Or when my sorrow end. 74 lEiecrpta ufcodana. ASTROPHELL, HIS SONG OF PHILLIDA AND CORIDON. By the same. Fair in a morn, O fairest Morn! Was never morn so fair; There shone a sun, though not the sun, That shineth in the air. For the earth, and from the earth, Was never such a creature; Did come this face ; was never face, That carried such a feature. Upon a hill, O blessed hill ! Was never hill so blessed, There stood a man, was never man For woman so distressed. This man beheld a heavenly view, Which did such virtue give : As clears the blind, and helps the lame,, And makes the dead man live. This man had hap, O happy man ! More happy none than he; For he had hap to see the hap, That none had hap to see. Icxcerpta 'ZfuDortana 75 This silly swain, and silly swains Are men of meanest grace; Had yet the grace, O gracious guest ! To hap on such a face. He pity cried, and Pity came; And pitied so his pain; As dying, would not let him die, But gave him life again. For joy whereof he made such mirth, As all the woods did ring: And Pan with all his swains came out To hear the shepherds sing; But such a song sung never was, Nor shall be sung again, Of Phillida the Shepherd's Queen, And Coridon the swain. Fair Phillis is the Shepherd's Queen, Was never such a queen as she ; And Coridon her only swain, Was never such a swain as he. Fair Phillis hath the fairest face, That ever eye did yet behold; And Coridon the constant'st faith, That ever yet kept flock in fold. Sweet Phillis is the sweetest sweet, That ever yet the earth did yield; 76 lExccrpta ^uDoriana. And Coridon the kindest swain, That ever yet kept lambs in field. Sweet Philomel is Phillis' bird, Though Coridon be he that caught her: And .Coridon doth hear her sing, Though Phillida be she that taught her. Poor Coridon doth keep the fields, Though Phillida be she that owes them : And Phillida doth walk the meads, Though Coridon be he that mows them. The little lambs are Phillis' love, Though Coridon is he that feeds them : The gardens fair are Phillis' ground, Though Coridon is he that weeds them. Since then that Phillis only is The only Shepherd's only Queen : And Coridon the only swain, That only hath a Shepherd been: Though Phillis keep her bower of state, Shall Coridon consume away? No, Shepherd, no, work out the week, And Sunday shall be holy-day. $< SExccrpta ttt)oriana. . coridon's supplication to phillis. By the same. Sweet Phillis, if a silly swain May sue to thee for grace, See not thy loving shepherd slain, For looking on thy face. But think what power thou hast got, Upon my flock and me : Thou seest they now regard me not; But all do follow thee. And if I have so far presum'd, With prying in thine eyes, Yet let not comfort be consum'd, That in thy pity lies. But as thou art that Phillis fair, That Fortune favour gives, So let not Love die in despair, That in thy favour lives. The deer do browse upon the briar; The birds do pick the cherries: And will not Beauty grant Desire One handful of her berries ? If it be so that thou hast sworn, That none shall look on thee; Yet let me know thou dost not scorn To cast a look on me. 78 ... . 3Exrpta STufcortana. But if thy beauty make thee proud, Think then what is ordain'd: The heavens have never yet allow 'd That Love should be disdain 'd. Then lest the fates that favour Love Should curse thee for unkind, Let me report, for thy behove, The honour of thy mind. Let Coridon, with full consent, Set down what he hath seen: That Phillida with Love's content, Is sworn the Shepherd's Queen. A SHEPHERD'S dream. By the same. A silly Shepherd lately sate Among a flock of sheep : Where musing long on this and that, At last he fell asleep. And in the slumber as he lay, He gave a piteous groan : He thought his sheep were run away; And he was left alone. He whoopt, he whistled, and he call'dj But not a sheep came near him : 3cxrpta 'JEufcouana 79 Which made the Shepherd sore appall'd To see that none would hear him. But as the swain amazed stood, In this most solemn vein, Came Phillida forth of the wood, And stood before the swain : Whom when the Shepherd did behold, He straight began to weep: And at the heart he grew a-cold, To think upon his sheep. For well he knew, where came the Queen, The Shepherd durst not stay: And where that he durst not be seen, The sheep must needs away. To ask her if she saw his flock, Might happen patience move: And have an answer with a mock, That such demanders prove. Yet, for because he saw her come Alone out of the wood, He thought he would not stand as dumb, When speech might do him good: And therefore falling on his knees. To ask but for his sheep, He did awake, and so did leese The honour of his sleep. 80 ... . Icxcerpta ^ufcortana. A REPORT SUNG IN A DREAM, BETWEEN A SHEPHERD AND HIS NYMPH. By the same. Shall we go dance the hay? The hay? Never pipe could ever play Better Shepherd's roundelay. Shall we go sing the song? The song? Never Love did ever wrong : Fair maids hold hands all along. Shall we go learn to woo? To woof Never thought came ever to, Better deed could better do. Shall we go learn to kiss? To kiss? Never heart could ever miss Comfort, where true meaning is. Thus at base they run, They run, When the sport was scarce begun : But I awak't, and all was done. 'H'i|ii>'i>H||aH i) ""<4- CRITICISM,, INLESS the Editor labours under a long-continued error of taste, there is something in the character of the Lyric compositions of Nicho- las Breton, which exhibits peculiar traits of elegance and airiness. Mr. G. Ellis, in his " Spe- cimens of early English Poets" has inserted eight pieces of this author in his second volume. 1. "A Farewell to Folly, 1 " beginning, " Since secret spite hath sworn my woe." 2. " Lines abridged from Thirty -nine Stanzas," beginning, " Not long ago, as I at supper sat." 3. " A Pastoral of Phillis and Coridon," here also printed, beginning, " On a hill there grows a flower." 4. "Phillida and Coridon," also in these pages, be- ginning, " In the merry month of May." 5. " The Shepherd's Address to his Muse," as here, beginning, " Good Muse, rock me asleep." 6. "A Quarrel with Love," beginning, " O that I could write a story." Icicerpta tJTuuortana 83 7. " On the Death of Spenser," beginning, "Mournful Muses, Sorrow's minions." 8. "A sweet Contention between Love, his Mistress, and Beauty," beginning, " Love and my Mistress were at strife." Dr. Percy has also inserted N 4, in his "Ballads," and Mrs. Cooper has given one of those extracts in her "Muses Library." In his "Sir Philip Sydney's Ourania,"* Breton certainly means himself by the charac- ter of Endyrnion, of whom he thus speaks : " Well could he sing divine and sacred lays, With blessed notes as poets did record, In silver'd lines painting high Jovah's praise, And eke the death of Christians' dying Lord. Such music did he oft his flock afford; As made them leave their food to listen well, As if they were enchanted with the spell. Satyrs and Sylvans at the harmony Sometimes come darting from the darksome grove, b Approving oft the chanting melody ; And with their harsh and rural voices strove To sound the praises of celestial Jove ; London, printed by Ed. Allde, for Edward White, 1606'. 4to. b This reminds us of a beautiful passage in " Collins' 's Ode to the Passions." 84 lEimpta HTuticirtana. But when their pipes and voices disagreed, They held their peace and cast away their reed. Sometimes he made the rocks for to rebound, . With echo of his notes; sometime the dales, And woods and springs to yield a bubbling sound, As beaten with reflex of madrigals; Sibilla's oracles, and prophets' tales: Which shew the way to immortality, In perfect hymns of true divinity. So well he could his warbling notes divide, That other shepherds did his lays admire, And set their notes, as he their pipes did guide, Until they could unto the like aspire; Yet never took he recompence, or hire: But as he lay upon th' Idean Hill, He daily sounded loud his oaten quill. But it seems by the concluding stanzas of the Poem, as if He, like other Bards, had fallen at length upon " evil days." " He liv'd awhile in reputation, Expounding oracles of theology: His flock was had in ostentation, As guided well by his philosophy: Profoundly could he chant that mystery; In languages of highest poetry, Unfolding riddles of antiquity. Iciccrpta ut)ortana 85 I left the shepherd in this happy state, Feeding his lambs in mirth and jollity: But it fell out when I return'd of late, His mirth -vvas moan, his solace misery. (Lo! here world's glass of mutability!) He wrung his hands, and made a rueful moan, His drops of tears might pierce a marble stone. I wonder'd how his blessed Comedy Could have so sudden alteration: I ask'd the cause of this his Tragedy 5 He answer'd: Envy's Sophistication! I thought to write the whole narration: But sith Tragedies have a bloody end, During his life he will not have it penn'd." In one of the Dedicatory Sonnets, he speaks of being " chained in obscurity," and in another, of being " in distress, entrapped by malicious treachery, of such as glory in his misery." In " Censura Liter aria" ix. 159, l6l, is an account of two of his poems, " The Saul's Im- mortal Crown" 1605, and "The Ravish' d Soul, and the Blessed Weeper" 1601, and an extract is given from an Hymn prefixed, which begins with these stanzas: 86 ^Excerpta ftutjortana. GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO. "Sing, my Soul, to God thy Lord, All in glory's highest key! Lay the angels' choir aboard, In their highest holy day! Crave their helps to tune thy heart Unto praise's highest part. Tell the world, no world can tell What the hand of Heaven deservethj In whose only mercies dwell All that heaven and earth preserveth! Death's confounding, Sin's forgiving, Faith's relieving, Comfort's living!" Breton is mentioned in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Scornful Lady" 1616, in a manner from which Mr. Park infers that he was then living. c Perhaps specimens from one of Breton's prose works may not be unacceptable in this place. They are from a short book of charac- ters, entitled, " The Good and the Badde ; or Descriptions of the Worthies and Unworthies of the Age, London" 1616, 4to. " Censura Literaria," ut supra. Sjiwpta STuboriana 87 "A WORTHY GENTLEMAN. " A Worthy Gentleman is a branch of the tree of Honour, whose fruits are the actions of Virtue, as pleas- ing to the eye of Judgment, as tasteful to the spirit of Understanding : whatsoever he doth it is not forced, ex- cept it be evil, which either through ignorance unwitting- ly, or through compulsion unwillingly, he falls upon. He in Nature kind, in Demeanour courteous, in Allegiance loyal, and in Religion zealous; in service faithful, and in reward bountiful : he is made of no baggage stuff, nor for the wearing of base people; but is woven by the spirit of Wisdom, to adorn the court of Honour. His apparel is more comely than costly, and his diet more wholesome than excessive, his exercise more healthful than painful, and his study more for Knowledge than Pride : his Love not wanton nor common; his gifts not niggardly nor pro- digal, and his carriage neither apish nor sullen. In sum, he is an approver of his pedigree, by the nobleness of his passage, and, in the course of his life, an example to his posterity." "AN UNWORTHY GENTLEMAN. "An Unworthy Gentleman is the scoff of Wit, and the scorn of Honour, where more wealth than wit is wor- shipped of simplicity; who spends more in idleness than would maintain thrift, or hides more in misery than might purchase honour: whose delights are vanities, and whose 88 ... . lEiccqpta GTufcottana. pleasures fopperies, whose study fables, and whose exer- cise worse than follies. His conversation is base, and his conference ridiculous; his affections ungracious, and his actions ignominious. His apparel out of fashion, and his diet out of order; his carriage out of square, and his com- pany out of request. In sum, he is like a mungrel dog with a velvet collar; a cart-horse with a golden saddle; a buzzard-kite with a falcon's bill; or a baboon with a pied jerkin." "A QUIET WOMAN. " A Quiet Woman is like a still wind, which neither chills the body, nor blows dust in the face : her patience is a virtue that wins the heart of Love, and her wisdom makes her will well worthy regard: she fears God and flieth sin, sheweth kindness and loveth peace ; her tongue is tied to discretion, and her heart is the harbour of good- ness: she is a comfort of calamity, and in prosperity a companion; a physician in sickness, and a musician in help: her ways are the walk towards heaven, and her guide is the grace of the Almighty : she is her husband's down-bed, where his heart lies at rest, and her childrens' glass in the notes of her grace, her servants' honour in the keeping of her house, and her neighbours' example in the notes of good nature : she scorns Fortune and loves Vir- tue, and out of thrift gathereth charity : she is a Turtle in her love, a Lamb in her meekness, a Saint in her heart, and an Angel in her soul. In sum, she is a jewel un- ^icctpta lEtitiortana 89 prizable, and a joy unspeakable, a comfort in Nature in- comparable, and a Wife in the world unmatchable." " AN UNQUIET WOMAN. " An Unquiet Woman is the misery of man, whose demeanour is not to be described, but in extremities : her voice is the shrieking of an owl, her eye the poison of a cockatrice, her hand the claw of a crocodile, and her heart a cabinet of horror : she is the grief of Nature, the wound of Wit, the trouble of Reason, and the abuse of Time: her pride is un supportable, her anger unquench- able, her will unsatiable, and her malice unmatchable: she fears no colours, she cares for no counsel, she spares no person, nor respects any time ; her command is must, her reason will, her resolution shall, and her satisfaction so: she looks at no law, and thinks of no Lord; admits no command, and keeps no good order; she is a cross, but not of Christ ; and a word, but not of grace ; a crea- ture, but not of wisdom ; and a servant, but not of God. In sum, she is the seed of trouble, the fruit of travail, the taste of bitterness, and the digestion of death." " AN USURER. " An Usurer is a figure of misery, who hath made himself a slave to his money : his eye is closed from pity, and his hand from charity, his ear from compassion, and his heart from piety: while he lives he is the hate of a 90 lEicerpta STufcortana. Christian, and, when he dies, he goes with horror to hell : his study is sparing, and his care is getting, his fear is wanting, and his death is loosing: his diet is either fast- ing or poor fare, his clothing the hangman's wardrobe, his house the receptacle of thievery, and his music the chinking of his money : he is a kind of canker that, with the teeth of interest, eats the hearts of the poor, and a venomous fly, that sucks out the blood of any flesh that he lights on. In sum, he is a servant of dross, a slave to misery, an agent for hell, and a devil in the world." "A BEGGAR. " A Beggar is the child of idleness, whose life is a resolution of ease, his travel is most in the highways, and his rendezvous is commonly in an alehouse : his study is to counterfeit impotency, and his practice to couzen sim- plicity of charity; the juice of the malt is the liquor of his life, and at bed and board a louse is his companion : he fears no such enemy as a constable, and being ac- quainted with the stocks, must visit them as he goes by them : he is a drone that feeds upon the labours of the bee, and unhappily begotten, that is born for no goodness : his staff and his scrip are his walking furniture, and what he lacks in meat he will have out in drink : he is a kind of caterpillar that spoils much good fruit, and an unprofit- able creature to live in a commonwealth: he is seldom handsome, and often noisesome ; always troublesome, and never welcome: he prays for all, and preys upon all; be- lExwrpta lEufcodana 91 gins with blessing, but ends often with cursing : if he have a licence he shews it with a grace, but if he have none he is submissive to the ground : sometimes he is a thief, but always a rogue, and in the nature of his profession the shame of humanity. In sum, he is commonly begot in a bush, born in a barn, lives in a highway, and dies in a ditch." Our author had given to the world in the preceding year another Prose Tract, entitled, " Characters upon Essays Moral and Divine" of which a specimen is to be found in " Censura Literaria" v. 52. Five of his poems are inserted in " The Phoenix Nest" 1593, of which a reprint in " The Heliconia" is announced. His " Charac- ter of Queen Elizabeth" is revived in "Nichols's Progresses." A reprint of his " Longing of a Blessed Heart" has been produced by the Press of Lee Priory. A notice of his "Soul's Immortal Croivn" is inserted in "The British Bibliographer." His "Melancholy Humours," and " Ravish' d Soul" are now printing at Lee Priory. CONTENT AND RICH. By Robert Southwell. From his "St. Peter's Complaint," 1595. DWELL in Grace's court, Enrich'd with Virtue's rights; Faith guides my wit ; Love leads my will ; Hope all my mind delights. In lowly vales I mount To Pleasure's highest pitch; My seely shroud true honour brings; My poor estate is rich. My conscience is my crown, Contented thoughts my rest; My heart is happy in itself; My bliss is in my breast. Enough I reckon wealth; A mean the surest lot; That lies too high for base contempt; Too low for Envy's shot. My wishes are but few, All easy to fulfill; I make the limits of my power The bounds unto my will. "Sxcerpta Cuboriana 93 I have no hopes but one, Which is of heavenly reign; Effects attain'd, or not desir'd, All lower hopes refrain. I feel no care of coin ; Well-doing is my wealth ; My mind to me an empire is, While Grace affordeth health. I clip high climbing thoughts. The wings of swelling pride; Their fall is worst, that from the height Of greatest honours slide. Sith sails of largest size The storm doth soonest tear, I bear so low and small a sail, As freeeth me from fear. I wrestle not with Rage, While Fury's flame doth burn ; It is in vain to stop the stream, Until the tide doth turn. But when the flame is out, And ebbing wrath doth end, 94 ... . lExcerpta 'JTutiorfana. I turn a late enraged foe Into a quiet friend. And taught with often proof, A temper'd calm I find To be most solace to itself, Best cure for angry mind. Spare diet is my fare, My clothes more fit than fine; I know I feed and clothe a foe, That pamper'd would repine. I envy not their hap, Whom Favour doth advance; I take no pleasure in their pain, That have less happy chance. To rise by others' fall I deem a losing gain; All states with others' ruins built, To ruin run amain. No change of Fortune's calms Can cast my comforts down; When Fortune smiles, I smile to think How quickly she will frown. lexwrpta rufcoriana 95 And when in froward mood She proves an angry foe, Small gain I found to let her come; Less loss to let her go. ST. PETER S AFFLICTED MIND. By the same. From his " Mteonue," ligb. If that the sick man groan, Or orphan mourn his loss, If wounded wretch may rue his harms, Or caitiff shew his cross : If heart consum'd with care May utter signs of pain, Then may my breast be Sorrow's home, And tongue with cause complain. My malady is sin, And languor of the mind; My body but a lazar's couch, Wherein my soul is pin'd. The care of heavenly kind Is dead to my relief; 96 Isxeerpta 'SuDortana. Forlorn, and left, like orphan child, With sighs I feed my grief. My wounds with mortal smart My dying soul torment, And prisoner to my own mishaps, My follies I repent. My heart is but the haunt, Where all dislikes do keep: And who can blame so lost a wretch, Though tears of blood he weep? SONG, 1598/ SwEET-heart, arise ! why do you sleep, When lovers wanton sports do keep? The sun doth shine ; the birds do sing, And May delight and joy doth bring: Then join we hands, and dance till night : 'Tis pity Love should want his right. a From " JVeelks'n Ballets arid Madrigals," 1598. I " I " H li Ml I I il I lExeerpta STuDortana. SONG, 1598. From the lame. On the plains, Fairy trains Were a treading measures ; Satyrs play'd, Fairies staid, At the stop's set leisures: Nymphs began to come in quickly, Thick and threefold : Now they dance, now they prance, Present there to behold. SOAG* 1598. From the same. Say, dainty Dames, shall we go play, And run among the flowers gay; About the valleys and high hills Which Flora with her glory fills? The gentle heart will soon be won, To dance and sport, till day be done. 98 ... . lExwrpta ^Tufcodana. ANOTHER. We Shepherds sing, we pipe, and play ; With pretty sport we pass the day : We care for no gold; But with our fold, We dance and prance, as Pleasure would. AN ELEGY, IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE HONOURABLE THE LORD BOROUGH, 1598. Cease now, Delight ! give Sorrow leave to speak ; In floods of tears bewailing his decease, Whose timeless death a stony heart would break; Sweet Borough's life was Music's, Life's, increase. Borough is dead ! great Lord of greater fame, Live still on earth, by virtue of thy name ! SONG, 1600. When Thoralis delights to walk, The Fairies do attend her ; They sweetly sing and sweetly talk, And sweetly do commend her: 1Exrj>ta tTuUcrtana 99 The Satyrs leap, and dance the round, And make their conges to the ground; And evermore their song it is, Long may'st thou live, fair Thoralis ! SONG, 1604. Whither so fast? See how the kindly flowers Perfume the air, to make thee stay ! The climbing woodbine, clipping all these bowers, Clips thee likewise, for fear thou pass away ! Fortune our friend, our foe will not gainsay. Stay but awhile, Phoebe no tell-tale is : She her Endymion, I'll my Phoebe kiss. SONG, 1604. Sister, awake! The day her light discloses; And the bright morning doth arise, Out of her bed of roses ! See the clear Sun, the World's bright eye, In at our windows peeping ; Lo ! how he blusheth to espy Us idle wenches sleeping. 100 .... lEicetpta utioriana. Therefore awake, make haste, I say; And let us, without staying, All in our gowns of green so gay Into the Park a Maying. SONG, 1588. From " Byrd's Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs." I joy not in no earthly bliss; I force not Croesus' 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 : liircipta 'Cufcortana 101 I scorn no poor, nor fear no rich; I feel no want, nor have too much. The court and cart I like, nor loath; Extremes are counted worst of all : The golden mean between them both Doth surest sit, and fear no fall. This is my choice; for why, I find No wealth is like the quiet mind. SONG, 1588. From the same. My mind to me a kingdom is ; Such perfect joy therein I find, That it excels all other bliss, Which God or Nature hath assign'd : Though much I want, that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. No princely port, nor wealthy store ; No force to win a victory : No wily wit to salve a sore ; No shape to win a loving eye. To none of these I yield as thrall ; For why, my mind despise them all ! I see that plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soonest fall : I see that such as are aloft, Mishap doth threaten most of all. These get with toil, and keep with fear; Such cares my mind can never bear. I press to bear no haughty sway; I wish no more than may suffice : I do no more than well I may; Look, what I want my mind supplies. Lo, thus I triumph like a king, My mind content with any thing. I laugh not at another's loss; Nor grudge not at another's gain : No worldly waves my mind can toss; I brook that is another's bane : I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend; I loath not life, nor dread my end. My wealth is health, and perfect ease; And conscience clear my chief defence : _ iaicerpta STutiortana 103 I never seek by bribes to please; Nor by desert to give offence : Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I ! SONG, 1588. From the came. W^hat pleasure have great princes More dainty to their choice, Than herdmen wild, who careless In quiet life rejoice: And Fortune's fate not fearing, Sing sweet in summer mornine. Their dealings plain and rightful Are void of all deceit ; They never know how spiteful It is to feel and wait On favourite presumptuous, Whose pride is vain and sumptuous. All day their flocks each tendeth ; All night they take their rest, More quiet than who sendeth Mis ship into the East, | 104 .... Hsxccrpta tZTutottana. Where gold and pearl are plenty, But getting very dainty. For lawyers and their pleading They' esteem 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. SONNET, 1595. By George Chapman, the Translator of Homer. Muses, that sing Love's sensual emperie, And lovers kindling your enraged fires At Cupid's bonfires burning in the eye, Blown with the empty breath of vain desires; icxccrpta Tu&ortana 105 You, that prefer the painted cabinet Before the wealthy jewels it doth store ye, That all your joys in dying figures set, And stain the living substance of your glory; Abjure those joys, abhor their memory; And let my love the honour'd subject be Of Love, and Honour's complete history ! Your eyes were never yet let in to see The majesty and riches of the mind, That dwell in darkness; for your God is blind. MEDITATION WHEN WE GO TO BED. Hy William Hunnis. From his "Handful of Honimckles," 1583. O Lord my God, I wandered have As one that runs astray, And have in thought, in word, and deed, In idleness and play, Offended sore thy Majesty, In heaping sin to sin, And yet thy mercy hath me spar'd; So gracious hast thou been ! 106 .... lExcerpta 'tFufcodana. O Lord, my faults I now confess, And sorry am therefore; But not so much as fain I would : Lord, what wilt thou more? It is thy grace must bring that spirit, For which I humbly pray, And that this night thou me defend, As thou hast done this day. And grant, when these mine eyes and tongue Shall fail through Nature's might, That then the powers of my poor soul May praise thee day and night. MEDITATION. By the same. From his "Poor Widow's Mitt,'" 1585. Thou, God, that rul'st and reign'st in light, That flesh cannot attain; Thou God that know'st, the thoughts of men Are altogether vain; Thou God, whom neither tongue of man, Nor angel can express; Istccrpta STuboriana 107 Thou God it is, that I do seek; Thou pity my distress ! Thy seat, O God, is every where ; Thy power all powers transcend; Thy wisdom cannot measur'd be, For that it hath no end ! Thou art the power and wisdom too, And sole felicity: But I a lump of sinful flesh; Nurse of iniquity. Thou art by Nature merciful, And Mercy is thy name; And I by Nature miserable, The thrall of sin and shame : Then let thy Nature, O good God ! Now work his force in me ; And cleanse the nature of my sin, And heal my misery : One depth, good Lord, another craves; My depth of sinful crime Requires thy depth of mercy great, For saving health in time. Sweet Christ, grant that thy depth of grace May swallow up my sin; That I thereby may whiter be, Than even snow hath been. 108 .... Itjcwrpta Eu&ortana. CHRIST TO HIS SPOUSE. By William Baldwin.* From "Solomon's Canticles and Ballads," 1549. THE TEXT. JLo, thou art fair, my Love; lo, thou art fair; Thou hast dove's eyes. THE ARGUMENT. When the Church hath transcribed the glory of all her goodness to her beloved, and praised him as the author thereof, he, pleased with this her true judgment, praiseth her therefore, singing again, as followeth : Lo, thou, my Love, art fair: Myself have made thee so: Yea, thou art fair indeed, Wherefore thou shalt not need In beauty to despair; For I acceptthee so, For fair. For fair, because thine eyes Are, like the culver's, white; * Principal Author and Conductor of the " Mirror for Magis- trates," 1559, &c. Icxcerpta tTufcoiiana 109 Whose simpleness in deed All others do exceed ; Thy j udgment wholly lies In true sense of sprite Most wise. THE DESCRIPTION OF THE SHEPHERD AND HIS WIFE. From " Robert Greene's Mourning Garment," 1616. It was near a thieky shade, That broad leaves of beech had made; Joining all their tops so nigh, That scarce Phoebus in could pry, To see if Lovers in the thick, Could dally with a wanton trick ; Where sate the Swain and his Wife, Sporting in that pleasing life, That Coridon commendeth so, All other lives to over-go. He and she did sit and keep Flocks of kids, and folds of sheep : He upon his pipe did play, She tuned voice unto his lav. 110 . . . . Scicetpta STufcortana. And for you might her housewife know, Voice did sing and fingers sow : He was young, his coat was green, With welts of white seam'd between, Turned over with a flap, That breast and bosom in did wrap, Skirts side, and plighted free, Seemly hanging to his knee. A whittle with a silver chape, Cloak was russet, and the cape Served for a bonnet oft, To shroud him from the wet aloft: A leather scrip of colour red, With a button on the head ; A bottle full of country whig, By the Shepherd's side did lig; And in a little bush hard by, There the Shepherd's dog did lie, Who while his master 'gan to sleep, Well could watch both kids and sheep. The Shepherd was a frolic swain, For though his 'parel was but plain, Yet doon the authors soothly say, His colour was both fresh and gay; And in their writs plain discuss, Fairer was not Tytirus, lEicerpta GTuUortana Ill Nor Menaleas whom they call. The alderleefest swain of all ; Seeming him was his wife, Both in line and in life : Fair she was, as fair might be, Like the roses on the tree; Buxom, blithe, and young, I ween, Beautious, like a Summer's Queen, For her cheeks were ruddy hued, As if lillies were imbrued, With drops of blood to make thee white, Please the eye with more delight; Love did lie within her eyes, In ambush for some wanton prize, A leefer lass than this had been, Coridon had never seen. Nor was Phillis, that fair May, Half so gaudy or so gay : She wore a chaplet on her head, Her cassock was of scarlet red, Long and large as straight as bent, Her middle was both small and gent. A neck as white as whales' bone, Compast with a lace of stone ; Fine she was, and fair she was, Brighter than the brightest glass : 112 .. . . lEieerpta Cufcoriana. Such a Shepherd's wife as she, Was not more in Thessalv. Philador seeing this couple sitting thus lovingly, noted the concord of country amity, and began to conjecture with himself what a sweet kind of life those men use, who were by their birth too low for dignity, and by their fortunes too simple for envy : well, he thought to fall in prattle with them, had not the Shep- herd taken his pipe in hand and began to play, and his wife to sing out this Roundelay : THE SHEPHERD S WIFE S SONG. From the same. 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, Icxcerpta {EuDortana 113 If country loves such sweet desires 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 gain, What Lady would not love a Shepherd swain ? He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat His cream and curd, as doth the King his meat; And blither too : For Kings have often fears when they sup, Where Shepherds dread no poison in their cup. Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What Lady would not love a Shepherd swain? To bed he goes, as wanton then I ween, As is a King in dalliance with a Queen; More wanton too: For Kings have many griefs affects to move, Where Shepherds have no greater grief than Love: 114 ... . lExccrpta ftufcortana. Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires gain, What Lady would not love a Shepherd swain? Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound, As doth the King upon his beds 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 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 syth ; 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 gain, What Lady would not love a Shepherd swain? 3txterpta Cufcoriana 115 HEXAMETRA ALEXIS IX LAUDEM ROSAMUXDM. From the same. O ft have I heard my life, Coridon, report on a love-day, When bonny maids do meet with the swains in the valley by Tempe, How bright-ey'd his Phillis was, how lovely they glanced, When fro' th' AarchesEbon black, flew looks as a lightning, That set a fire with piercing flames even hearts adamantine, Face rose-hu'd, cherry-red, with a silver taint like a lilly. Venus' pride might abate, might abash with a blush to behold her: Phoebus' wires compar'd to her hairs unworthy the praising. Juno's state, and Pallas' wit disgrac'd with the Graces, That grac'd her, whom poor Coridon did choose for a love -mate : Ah ! but had Coridon now seen the star that Alexis Likes and loves so dear, that he melts to sighs when he sees her ! Did Coridon but see those eyes, those amorous eye-lids, From whence fly holy flames of death or life in a moment. Ah! did lie see that face, those hairs that Venus, Apollo 'Basht to behold, and. both disgrac'd, did grieve that a creature 116 .. . .^Ejccerpta SfuDoriana. Should exceed in hue, compare both a god and a goddess: Ah ! had he seen my sweet Paramour, the taint of Alexis, Then had he said, Phillis, sit down surpassed in all points, For there is one more fair than thou, beloved of Alexis ! HKXAMETRA ROSAMVSDM IN DOLOREM AMISS I ALEXIS. From the same. Tempk the grove where dark Hecate doth keep her abiding; Tempe the grove where poor Rosamond bewails her Alexis, Let not a tree nor shrub be green to shew thy rejoicing; Let not a leaf once deck thy boughs and branches, O Tempe ; Let not a bird record her tunes, nor chant any sweet notes, But Philomel, let her bewail the loss of her amours, And fill all the wood with doleful tunes to bemoan her. Parch'd leaves fill every spring, fill every fountain, All the meads in mourning weed fit them to lamenting. Echo sit and sing despair i'the vallies, i'the mountains; All Thessaly help poor Rosamond mournful to bemoan her: For she's quite bereft of her love, and left of Alexis, JEicerpta 'STutiortana 117 Once was she lik'd, and once was she loved of wanton Alexis; Now is she loath 'd, and now is she left of trothless Alexis. Here did he clip and kiss Rosamond, and vow by Diana : None so dear to the swain as I, nor none so beloved; Here did he deeply swear, and call great Pan for a witness, That Rosamond was only the rose belov'd of Alexis, That Thessaly had not such another nymph to delight him: "None," quoth he, "but Venus fair shall have any kisses; Not Phillis, were Phillis alive should have any favours, Nor Galatc, Galate so fair for beauteous eye-brows, Nor Doris that lass that drew the swains to behold her: Not one amongst all these, nor all should gain any graces, But Rosamond alone to herself should have her Alexis." Now to revenge the perjured vows of faithless Alexis, Pan, great Pan, that heardst his oaths, and mighty Diana, You Dryads and watery Nymphs that sport by the foun- tains : Fair Tempe the gladsome grove of greatest Apollo, Shrubs, and dales, and neighbouring hills, that heard when he swore him, Witness all, and seek to revenge the wrongs of a virgin; Had any swain been life to me but guileful Alexis; Had Rosamond twin'd myrtle boughs, or rosemary branches, Sweet hollyhock, or else daffodil, or slips of a bay-tree, 118 ... . lijrcerpta ut)criana. And given them for a gift to any swain but Alexis : Well had Alexis done t' have left his rose for a giglet. But Galate ne'er lov'd more dear her lovely Menalcas, Than Rosamond did dearly love her trothless Alexis. Endymion was ne'er belov'd of his Citherea, Half so dear as true Rosamond belov'd her Alexis. Now seely lass, hie down to the lake, haste down to the willows ; And with those forsaken twigs go make thee a chaplet, Mournful sit, and sigh by the springs, by the brooks, by the rivers, Till thou turn for grief, as did Niobe to a marble; Melt to tears, pour out thy plaints, let Echo reclaim them, How Rosamond that loved so dear is left of Alexis, Now die, die Rosamond, let men engrave o' thytomb-stone: Here she lies that loved so dear the youngster Alexis, Once beloved, forsaken late of faithless Alexis : Yet Rosamond did die for love, false hearted Alexis. PHILADOR'S ODE THAT HE LEFT WITH THE DESPAIRING LOVER. From the same. When merry Autumn in her prime, Fruitful mother of swift Time, Iijcccrpta Cu&oriana 119 Had fill'd Ceres' lap with store Of vines and corn, and miekle more, Such needful fruits as do grow From Terra's bosom here below; Tityrus did sigh and see With heart's grief and eyes gree ; Eyes and heart both full of woes, Where Galate his lover goes ; Her mantle was vermillion red, A gaudy chaplet on her head; A chaplet that did shroud the beams, That Phoebus on her beauty streams : For sun itself desir'd to see So fair a nymph as was she; For, viewing from the East to West, Fair Galate did like him best : Her face was like to Welkin's shine; Crystal brooks, such were his eyne; And yet within those brooks were fires, That scorched youth and his desires. Galate did much impair Venus' honour for her fair: For stately stepping Juno's pace, By Galate did take disgrace; And Pallas' wisdom bear no prize, Where Galate would shew her wise. 120 .... lExccrpta {Tutiorfana. This gallant girl thus passeth by Where Tityrus did sighing lie : Sighing sore for Love strains More than sighs from Lover's veins, Tears in eye, thought in heart, Thus his grief he did impart. Fair Galate but glance thine eye; Here lies he that here must die: For Love is death, if Love not gain, Lover's salve for Lover's pain. Winters seven and more are past, Since on thy face my thoughts I cast : When Galate did haunt the plains, And feed her sheep amongst the swains : When every shepherd left his flocks, To gaze on Galate's fair locks. When every eye did stand at gaze, When heart and thought did both amaz,e: When heart from body would asunder, On Galate's fair face to wonder: Then amongst them all did I Catch such a wound as I must die : If Galate oft say not thus, I love the shepherd Tityrus. 'Tis Love, fair Nymph, that doth pain Tityrus thy truest swain; lEicerpta tEubortana 121 True, for none more true can be, Then still to love, and none but thee. Say Galate, oft smile and say, 'Twere pity Love should have a nay: But such a word of comfort give, And Tityrus thy Love shall live: Or with a piercing frown reply, I cannot live, and then I die, For Lover's nay, is Lover's death ! And heart-break frowns doth stop the breath. Galate at this arose, And with a smile away she goes, As one that little car'd to ease Tityrus, pain'd with Love's disease. At her parting, Tityrus Sighed amain, and said thus : "O that women are so fair, To trap mens' eyes in their hair, With beauteous eyes, Love's fires, Venus' sparks that heats desires : But, oh ! that women have such hearts, Such thoughts, and such deep piercing darts, As in the beauty of their eye, Harbour nought but flattery : Their tears are drawn that drop deceit, Their faces calends of all sleight, 122 .... "icjccwpta Cu&ortana. Their smiles are lures, their looks guile, And all their love is but a wile ! Then Tityr leave, leave Tityrus To love such as scorns you thus : And say to Love, and women both, What I liked, now I do loath." With that he hied him to the flocks, And counted Love but Venus' mocks. THE SONG OF A COUNTRY STRAIN AT THE RETURN OF PHILADOR. From the same. The silent shade had shadowed every tree, ' And Phoebus in the west was shrouded low: Each hive had home her busy labouring bee, Each bird the harbour of the night did know ; Even then, When thus, All things did from their weary labour lin, Menalcas sate and thought him of his sin. lEicerpta 'CuUortana 123 His head on hand, his elbow on his knee, And tears, like dew, be-drencht upon his face, His face as sad as any Swains' might be: His thoughts and dumps befitting well the place, Even then, When thus, Menalcas sate in passions all alone : He sighed then, and thus he 'gan to moan. " I that fed flocks upon Thessalia plains, And bade my lambs to feed on daffodil; That liv'd on milk and curds, poor Shepherds* gains, And merry sate, and pip'd upon a pleasant hill : Even then, When thus, I sate secure, and fear'd not Fortune's ire, Mine eyes eclipst, fast blinded by Desire. Then lofty thoughts began to lift my mind; I grudg'd and thought my fortune was too low ; A Shepherd's life 'twas base and out of kind; The tallest cedars have the fairest grow. Even then, When thus, Pride did intend the sequel of my ruth, Began the faults and follies of my youth. ] 24 . . . . 1Et rpta ^ufcoriana. I left the fields, and took me to the town; Fold sheep who list ; the hook was cast away ; Menalcas would not be a country clown, Nor Shepherd's weeds, but garments far more gay. Even then, When thus, Aspiring thoughts did follow after ruth, Began the faults and follies of my youth. My suits were silk, my talk was all of state; I strecht beyond the compass of my sleeve; The bravest courtier was Menalcas' mate ; Spend what 1 would, I never thought on grief. Even then, When thus, I lasht out lavish, then began my ruth ; And then I felt the follies of my youth. I cast mine eye on every wanton face, And straight Desire did hail me on to Love ; Then, Lover-like, I pray'd for Venus' grace, That she my mistress' deep affects might move. Even then, When thus, Love trapt me in the fatal bands of ruth, Began the faults and follies of my youth. 3Exrpta ufcortana 125 No cost I spar'd to please my Mistress* eye, No time ill-spent in presence of her sight; Yet oft we frown'd, and then her love must die; But when she smil'd, oh, then a happy wight; Even then, When thus, Desire did draw me on to deem of ruth ; Began the faults and follies of my youth. The day in poems often did I pass, The night in sighs and sorrows for her grace ; And she as fickle as the brittle glass, Held sun-shine showers within her flattering face. Even then, When thus, I spy'd the woes that womens* loves ensu'th; I saw, and loath the follies of my youth. I noted oft that Beauty was a blaze ; I saw that Love was but a heap of cares, That such as stood as deer do at the gaze, And sought their wealth amongst Affection's thares. Even such, I saw, Which hot pursuit did follow after ruth, And fostered up the follies of their youth. 126 .... lEicerpta tFuDortana. Thus clogg'd with Love, with passions and with grief, I saw the country life had least molest; I felt a wound and fain would have relief, And this resolv'd I thought would fall out best. Even then, When thus, I felt my senses almost sold to ruth, I thought to leave the follies of my youth. To flocks again, away the wanton town, Fond pride avaunt, give me the Shepherd's hook, A coat of grey, I'll be a country clown; Mine eye shall scorn on Beauty for to look: No more Ado: Both Pride and Love are ever pain'd with ruth, And therefore farewell the follies of my youth." The Tract, from whence these Poems are taken, concludes thus: " Thus, Gentlemen, have I presented you with my 'Mourning Garment:' though a rough thread, and a coarse dye: yet the wool is good. If any Gentleman 2ixr|>ta UTuUortana. .... 127 wear it, and find it so warm, that it make him sweat out all wanton desires, then, O me fcelicem et fortunatum. It may be thought the shape seem bad, yet the opera- tion may be better, and seem secret; virtue may be hid- den in so ragged a garment. Diogenes' cloak would make a man a cynic, and if my robe could make a man civil, what care I, though I sat with him and delivered precepts out of a tub: scorn it not; Elias' garment was but a mantle, and yet it doubled the spirit upon Elizeus : reject not this, be it never so base; it is a mourning suit ; if you make the worst of it, wear it as the Ninivites did their sackcloth, and repent with them; and I have played the good tailor. I hope there will be none so fond as to measure the matter by the man, or to proportion the contents of my Pamphlet by the former course of my fond life ; that were as extreme folly as to refuse the rose because of the prickles, or to make light esteem of honey because the bee hath a sting. What? Horace writ wan- ton Poems, yet the gravest embraced his Odes and his Satires. Martial had many lacivious verses, yet none re- jected his honest sentences. So I hope, if I have been thought as wanton as Horace, or as full of amours as Ovid: yet you will vouchsafe of my 'Mourning Garment,' for that it is the first fruits of my new labours, and the last 128 .... lEiccrpta 'EuDorfaita, farewell to my fond desires. I know Momus will look at it narrowly, and say there is too little cloth; Zoilus with his squint eyes will find fault with the shape, so shall I be bitten both for matter and method. Well, I care not though they be crabbed, if I find other Gentlemen cour- teous: let an ass strike me, I will never lift my heel; and if Diogenes be cynical, I will shake off" his frumps with Aristippus. Because that Gentlemen have past over my works with silence, and have rid me without a spur, I have (like blind Bayard) plodded forward,- and set forth many Pamphlets full of much Love, and little Scholarism: well though Hipanchian could not warble like Orpheus, yet he could pipe, and though Ennius wrote a rough style, yet he was a Poet : the flint is a stone as well as the diamond, and I may term myself a writer, though an unskilfull inditer. What? Every one dips not his finger with Homer in the bason, nor all mens' works cannot be excellent. Howsoever, I have pleased some, and so I pass it over. But henceforth I mean to offend few: for as this is the first of my reformed passions, so this is the last of my trifling Pamphlets: so farewell. ROBERT GREENE." "H$M"< ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF FIRST LINES. cv. BLITHE and bonny country lass, 55 Ah ! what is Love? It is a pretty tiling, 112 Ah, Life, sweet drop, drown'd in a. ea of sours, 53 Alas '. how wander I amidst these woods, 57 A man of late was put to death, 17 Ambition with the eagle loves to build, 53 Amongst the groves, the woods, and thicks, 21 And now I have, as 'twas thy kind desire, 50 A silly Shepherd lately sate, 78 Beauty, alas ! where wast thou born, 9 Cease now.Delight! give Sorrow leave to speak;98 Devoted love to God, to man, to thee, 48 Disdain that so doth fill me, 27 Fair in a morn, O fairest Morn ! 74 Fair crystal eye, remain still fierce and cruel! 52 First shall the heavens want starry light; 60 From deep gulf of misfortune, 22 Good Muse, rock me a- sleep, 72 Hadst thou been born whereas perpetual cold, 5g I dwell in Grace's court, 92 If it be true that heaven's eternal course, 58 If that the sick man groan, 95 If, warned once, the Ethnics thus repent, 6 I joy not in no earthly bliss; 100 I muse to see the modern wanton Muse, 51 Iniquity seeks out companions still, 4 In the merry month of May, 69 It was near a thicky shade, 109 Like Hermit poor, in pensive place obscure, 37 Like to thtr clear in highest sphere, 61 ', Like to Diana in her summer weed, 68 Live ever, valorous renowned knights: 17 Look, London, look! with inward eyes behold, 8 1 I.o, thou art fair, my Love; lo, thou art fair; 108 ', Lord, how long, how long wilt thou, 24 Mu=es no more, hut Mazes be your names, .33 ] Muses, that sing Love's sensual emperie, 104 ! My mind to mc a kingdom is; 101 j My sons, b< hold what portion I do give '. 65 ', O could the mighty but give bounds to pride, 27 ] Of all (haste birds the Phrenix doth excel; 64 Of late what time the Bear turn'd round, 29 Oft have 1 heard my life, Coridon, report on a 1 love-dy. Hi ] J heavenly God, O Father dear, 14 i O Lord my God, I wandered have, lOi [ On a hill there grows a flower, 70 , On the plains, Fairy trains, 97 Say, Shepherd's Boy, what makes thee greet so \ sore? 41 ! Say, dainty Dames, shall we go play, 97 J Say that I should say, I love ye? 81 J Shall we go dance the hay ? The hay? 80 > Sister, awake ! The day her light discloses; 99 Sitting late with sorrows sleeping, 18 I Sleep, Death's ally, oblivion of tears, 16 > Some say love, 38 ! Sweet-heart, arise ! why do you sleep, 96 ; Sweet Phillis, if a silly swain, 77 ; Tempe, the grove, where dark Hecate doth keep her abiding; 116 ; The Lord my pastor is; he tends me heedlfuly;25 ; These Psalms which from their native sense exil'd, 49 The silent shade had shadowed every tree, 122 Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white, 36 Thou, God, that rul'st and reign'st in light, 106 Thou shalt not love me; neither shall those eyes, 35 Thrice toss those oaken ashes in the air; 36 Virtue can bear, what can on Virtue fall; 31 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; 39 Wend on in peace, and prosecute this course, 3 We Shepherds sing, we pipe, and play; 98 What are my shiiep, without their wonted food? 54 What pleasure have great princes, io:S When disobedience reigneth in the child, i When merry Autumn in her prime, 118 When Thoralis delights to walk, 98 When tender ewes, brought home with evening sun, 66 Where servants against masters do rebel, 6 Where whoredom reigns, there murder follows fast, 9 Whither so fast ? See how the kindly flowers, 99 Who life doth loath, and longs Death to behold, 20 Woe to the trains of women's foolih lust, 7 linfc of ti)c JFtrjSt Vofomt. Printed by Johnson and Warwick, At tht prhate Preis of LEE PRIORY, h'tnt. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY This book is DUE on the last date stamped below I DEC 2,1 964 DEC 21 A.M. 7|8|9!10111112N i L-9 10,'(2W*1) P.M. ]2|3|4L 5j 6 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSi ; Y OF CALIFORNIA r f \^ \ \mui l? PR 1125 B84e v.l