THE I 
 
 MUSES GARDIN y^ 
 
 FOR ^ 
 
 
 DELIGHTS 
 
 
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 With the 
 'Puhlifher's Compliments 
 
 -^©OQOOooooQOce^oooeec^o?^
 
 The ^JMuses Gar din 
 for Delights 
 
 Or thejift Booke ofo^yres 
 
 Onely for the Lute^ the 
 Base-vyoll and the voice 
 
 Composed by l^bert Joties 
 
 Edited loith an IntroduElion 
 
 by 
 
 WILLIAM BARCLAY S^IRE 
 
 Oxford : B. H. Blackwell 
 m dccccj 
 
 ' ' > ' > > ' •> 
 
 
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 THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY 
 COPIES PRINTED 
 
 Oxford : Horace Han 
 Printer to the Univerfity 
 
 4 K 
 
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 INTHpDf^CTIOlSr. 
 
 'T^O Mr Arthur Bullen the credit is due of having been really 
 the firji to reveal to the general public the lyrical treasures 
 hidden in the many coUeSiions of madrigals and airs which appeared 
 in England at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seven- 
 teenth century. In his nvo delightful Anthologies^ ^Lyrics from 
 the Song-Book^ of the Elir^^bethan ^ge' (1887) and ^ More Lyrics 
 p-om the Song-Book^ of the Eli:i^bethan ^ge' (1888) and the sub- 
 sequent editions of these colle&ions^ Mr Bullen praBically exhaufted 
 the mine which he so fortunately discovered^ and there was little left 
 for future explorers but to draw upon the treasures revealed by hii 
 induflry. One or two song-books^ howerver^ of which there remained 
 ^ record^ eluded even Mr Bullen'j patient research, and experience has 
 proved repeatedly that in a country likf England, where colkElions of 
 book^ often remain for years untouched and negleBed in some country- 
 house or little used library, the hope must never be abandoned that 
 a work^may be found in some unlikely quarter after it ha^s long been 
 given up a-s lost. In the preface to Air Bullen'j first colleBion he 
 says : — 
 
 ' There is much excellent verse hidden aivay in the Song-Books of 
 Robert Jones, a famous performer on the lute. Between 1601 and 
 1611 Jones issued fix musical tvorks. Two of these — ''The Firfl Set 
 
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 ^ 'V 'V •»■ •»- •»- '»- TP V '♦- '»- '♦' 'if' 'V 'A f V 'tf 'Jit 'V 'jp 'If V V WWV'ft'tl^'ff^ V 
 
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 try^i^
 
 of Madrigals", 1 607, and " The Muses' Garden for Delight", 1611, 
 — / have unfortunately not been able to see, as I have not yet suc- 
 ceeded in discovering their present refting-place.' ^n incomplete set 
 of the Part-Book^ of the Madrigals in the British Museum Library 
 was drawn upon for the same editor s second Anthology, but ^The 
 Muses' Garden' fiill eluded every attempt to discover it. In 1 8 1 2 a 
 copy exifted in the library of the Aiarquis of Stafford, and in that year 
 Beloe printed from it fix songs {which Mr. Bullen included in his 
 second coUeElion) in the fixth volume of his ^ Anecdotes', oi well as 
 ^ Love is a prettie fren'^ie' , with a note to the effeEl that he did not re- 
 member where he transcribed it. Enquiry at Stafford House and 
 Trentham proved that the book^ was in neither library, but the Duk^ 
 of Sutherland'/ librarian advised search being made at Bridgewater 
 House, and here the long-lofi volume wa^ found, together with many 
 other treasures of a like kfnd, one of which, an incomplete set of the 
 part-books ofTessier's ^ Premier Livre de Chansons & ^irs de Cour 
 tant enfrancois qu'en italien & en gascon a /\. & $ parties' (Thos 
 Efte, London, I 597.), had not previously been k^own to any biblio- 
 grapher of musical publications. By the kindness of the Earl of 
 Ellesmere I am now enabled to re-print the words of this lofl treasure. 
 May some future investigator be so fortunate as to discover the where- 
 abouts o/Michael Cavendifh'j ^Ayres for Four Joyces ' (l 599) and 
 Walter Porter'j ' Madrigales & Ayres of Two, Three, Foure and 
 Five Voyces' (1632), both of which are mentioned in Rimbault'j 
 ^Bibliotheca Madrigaliana ' (1847) but for the present have eluded 
 all research ! 
 
 iv
 
 of Robert Jones, the composer of the music of these songs, 'very 
 little is k^ovm. It is said in 'vol. xxx of the ^ DiBionxry of National 
 Biography " that he tf>as a foet a^ well oi a musician^ hut for this claim 
 there seems to be no good ervidence^ though^ unfortunately ^ it has been 
 followed by several modern musicians who have re-set some of the 
 verses in his song-hook^. It is possible that the statement was made 
 on the strength of the following passage in the dedication of ^ ^ Musical 
 Dreame' : — ^ It is not unk^owne unto your wel deserving self , B^ght 
 Worshipfull, that not long since I took^ my Ultimum Vale, with a 
 resolving in my selfe, never to publish any work^s of the same Nature 
 and Fashion, whereupon I betook^ me to the ease of my Pillow, where 
 Somnus having tah^n possession of my eyes^ and Morpheus the 
 charge of my senses; it happened mee to fall into a Musical 
 Dreame^ wherein I chanced to have many opinions and extravagant 
 humors of divers Natures and Conditions^ some of modest mirth^ 
 some of amorous Lorve^ and some of most divine contemplation ^ all 
 these I hopCj shall not give any distaste to the earesj or dislike to 
 the mindj eyther in their words, or in their severall sounds, although 
 it is not necessarie to relate or divulge all Dreames or Phan- 
 tasies that opinion begets in sleepe, or happeneth to the mindes 
 apparition.' ^ literal interpretation of this passage might conceiv- 
 ably lead to the supposition that the composer intended in it to claim 
 both music and words as the product of his dream, but this theory 
 falls to the ground in the face of the fact that the very first song in 
 *-<* Musicall Dreame ' is a setting of words by Thomas Campion, 
 and that the lafi two numbers of the volume are Italian Madrigals
 
 tvhich had been set respeBhefy by Verdelot and Jachet Berchem 
 so far bacl\as l J 3 8 and I J 4^. The passage above quoted is the only 
 one in Jones'j characteristic prefaces and dedications which by any 
 stretch of fancy can be construed as evidence that he was a poet^ while 
 on the other hand he expressly refers in his Second Book, to the ^ditties " 
 being ^ the private contentments of divers gentlemen^' a statement 
 borne out by the fafi that many of the poems in his earlier publica- 
 tions are to be found in such ivell-k^own Anthologies as ^England's 
 Helicon' and Davidson''j ^Poetical Rhapsody.' The songs in the 
 'Muses' Garden ' / have not traced in any other work^, but their in- 
 equality is strong evidence they were not the work^ of one hand, and 
 there is no reason for attributing their authorship to the composer who 
 set them. 
 
 The authentic details of Robert Jones'j career are moji meagre. 
 On 19 April I ^^7 a grace was passed for hii degree of AIus. Bac. 
 at Oxford^ in which it is stated that he had studied music for sixteen 
 years and rvas a member of St. Edmund^s Hall. Almost the only 
 other facts kriown about him are derived from Collier's ' Annals 
 of the Stage' {1S7 ^), inwhich[l. ^'io.) it is said that in i^rf a Privy 
 Seal for Patent was granted to Philip Rosseter, Philip Kingman, 
 Robert Jones <& Ralph Reeve, rvho had bought ground & buildings 
 near Puddle-TVharf\ Blackjriars, on which to ercfi a Theatre. 
 Rosseter was a musician of some repute and had been (1509—10) 
 Master of the Children of the Queen's I^evels. The new house was to 
 be occupied by this company, by the Prince of fVales' and the Lady 
 EWzsheth's players, to which /rf«er Rosseter had recently joined him-
 
 self. CoWiQX prints the original document in full, andjrotn this it seems 
 that the building the partners had acquired wa^ ^called by the name of 
 the Ladie Saunders' House^ or otherwise PorterV Hall,' and was then 
 in the occupation 0/ Robert Jones. The grant of the patent is dated 
 Greenwich J 1 3 Jas. l, and in the following autumn a beginning was 
 made in pulling down the house and ereEling the new theatre. The 
 scheme, however, met with great opposition from the Lord Mayor & 
 aldermen and the Privy Council, and in the following January ^ when 
 the building was nearly finished, the Lord Mayor was ordered by the 
 King's authority to make it unfit for use 04 a theatre, which wa4 done 
 within three days' time. These are praElically the only faEls k^own 
 about Robert Jones, though it can be gathered f>om the dedications 
 of his various musical worlds that he enjoyed at one period of his 
 career the patronage 0/" Robert Sidney, first Earl of Leicester. To 
 him he dedicated his 'First Book^ of gyres' (i(5oo,) {not the Second 
 Book^ as stated by Mr. Sidney Lee in his life of Leicester in the 
 'DiBionary of National Biography'), styling them 'the unworthie 
 labours of my musicall travels'. In 1601 he published a Second 
 Boof\, dedicated to Sir Henry Lennard, afterwards twelfth Baron 
 Dacre of the South, whose house at Chevening was not far from that 
 of the Sydneys at Penshurst. In the same year Jones contributed a 
 Madrigal to the celebrated 'Triumphs of Oriana,' and in 1607 he 
 brought out a set of Madrigals (no complete copy of which is k^oivn 
 to exist) dedicated to Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury. His next 
 work^was ' Ultimum yale,' another booJ\ of ^irs, dedicated to Henry, 
 Prince of Wales, a tmique copy of which is preserved in the Library 
 
 71]
 
 of the ^$yal College of Music. This was followed (in 16^09) by a 
 fourth book^of ^irsj entitled ^^ Musicall Dreame^' dedicated to Sir 
 John Leventhorpe, ofSatvbridgeworth, Herts. 'The Muses' Garden* 
 {1616) &- three fieces in Sir William Leighton's 'Teares or La- 
 mentacioims of a SorrowfuU Soule' [1614) complete the list of his 
 compositions. The former is dedicated to Lady Mary Wroth, a 
 daughter 0/ Robert Sidney Earl of Leicester by his first wife Barbara 
 Gamage. She married (17 Sept. i6oi) Sir Robert Wroth, of 
 Durance^ Middlesex^ and in \6zi published a romance called 
 ' Urania.* The esteem in which she was held by the literary circles 
 of the day is shown by the two epigrams addressed to her by Ben Jonson 
 in i6i6y and also by a passage in Peacham^j ' Compleat Gentleman ' 
 (1^13)5 to the ejfeEl that she ' seemeth by her late published Urania 
 inheritrix of the Divine wit of her immortal Vncle.' 
 
 0/ Jones' merits as a composer it is not possible to speah^ decisively^ 
 owing to the unfortunate loss of some of the part-booh^ of his madri- 
 gals. He was evidently one of the little group of English composers 
 who were educated as polyphonists and were the first to introduce the 
 new homophonic style which sprang up in Italy at the beginning of the 
 17th century. To modern ears his airs seem very slight in texture 
 and their accompaniments poor in harmony^ but in more than one in- 
 stance he wrote pretty melodies^ and he may justly claim to be considered 
 one of the first to have presented the charaSierifiics of English folk^ 
 music in a more artifiic form than in the old dance-tunes and ballads 
 to which they had hitherto been confined. But it is chiefly by the taste 
 he displayed in the selection of his words that Robert Jones deserves 
 
 0iFimiW)mm/m m^m^mwj^.mm^^j'm 
 
 V^^ V^^ VK^ *'^^ i'^g^ ^'^^ k'^^ VV^ y^^ ^'^^ ^'^^ y^^ V^^ V^^ 
 
 VUJ
 
 
 to be remembered, ^jter the song-booh^ o/^ Campion there is no more 
 delightful mine of lyrical poetry to be found among the musical publica- 
 tions of the time of Elizabeth &• James l than in the thin folios 
 nhich contain Jones^j jiije sets of ^irs^ and it is not to be wondered 
 at that Mr Sullen should have been ' consumed with a desire' to set 
 the missing work^which is here re-printed. That the merits of its con- 
 tents^ though uery unequal^ are fully equal to those of its predecessors, 
 will hardly be denied after perusing the fallowing pages. 
 
 It only remains to be said, that one poem {a poor piece of indecency 
 not in accordance with modern tafle) has been omitted^ and that the 
 spelling of the original {but not the punEiuation) has been generally 
 retained in the present edition, such variations as seemed absolutely 
 necessary being noted at the end of the volume. For the excellent 
 photograph of the original title-page, as rvell as for much other assist- 
 ance in preparing this edition, I am indebted to the kindness of 
 Mr Strachan Holme, the librarian at Bridgewater House. 
 
 i Wir HW mW WW mW I
 
 cMfm. 
 
 OrchcfiftBookcof Ayrcs,oncIyfor tlic Lute, the 
 
 Bilc-vycll , ind tlic Voycc. 
 
 QM/cprx^itnlfinguU, mtJls iuMJnt. 
 
 PritKcJ bydie Atig.irs ol ,)^^,j.„C,/,^. . C. . o.
 
 To The True Honourable, 
 
 And Efteemed Worthie, The 
 
 Hight WorJhipfuU the Lady Wroth. 
 
 ]V/fOST Honoured Lady, my eldeft and firft iflue, hauing 
 thriu'd fo well vnder the proteftion of your Right 
 Honourable Father, blame not this my youngeft and lad: Babe, 
 if it defiroufly feeke Sanftuarie with your felfe, as being a moft 
 worthy branch from fo Noble and renowmed a ftocke : It is 
 hereditarie to your whole houfe, not onely to be truely Ho- 
 nourable in your felues, but to be the fauourers and furtherers 
 of all honeft and vertuous endeuours in others. And that 
 makes me fo farre daring, as to prefume to offer this Dedica- 
 tion to your faire acceptance j And howfoeuer my defefts 
 therin may happily (or rather vnhappily) be many : Yet am 
 I moft confident (and that growes from the worthineffe of your 
 owne nature) that your Honourable minde will be pleafed 
 (iince it cafts it felfe moft humbly in your armes) to giue it 
 willing entertainment, and to countenance it with the faire 
 Liuerie of your noble Name. It may bee flighted in refpeft of 
 its owne valew, but your fauourable acceptance will both 
 grace it, and my felfe, as a poore Table hung vp, euen in 
 Princes Gallories, not for the Wood, but for the Pifture 
 And fo (Noble Lady) not daring to bee iealous 
 of your Honourable entertaine- 
 ment, I reft 
 Tour Ladyjhip deuoted in all dutie, 
 
 Robert Iones. 
 
 *J
 
 To the friendly Censvrers. 
 
 '~r\EA^E fiends-y forfo I call yon^ if you pleafe to accept my good 
 meanings I prefented you lafl with a Dreame^ in which 
 I doubt not but your fantajies haue receiued fome reafonable con- 
 tentment, <&" nofw if you fkafe to be awaked out of that Dreamey 
 I Jhall far your recreation and refrejhing^ guide you to the Mvses 
 Garden, where you Jljall find fuch varietie of delightSy that 
 quefiionleffe yon will willingly jpend fome time in the view thereof 
 In yottr firfi entrance into which Garden, you Jhall meete with 
 Loue, LotKj and nought but Loue, fet foorth at large in his colours, 
 by way of decyphering him in his nature. In the midji of it, you 
 Jhall find Loue reiefled, -vpon inconjlancie and hard meafure of 
 ingratitude. Touching them that are louers, / leane them to their 
 rjwne cenfure in Loues defcription. ^nd now for tlx end, it is 
 'variable in another maner, for the delight of the eare to fatisfie 
 opinion. I am not fo arrogant to commend mine owne gifti, 
 neitlxr yet fo degenerate as to beg your tolleration. if thefe delights 
 of Flowers, or -varietie of Fruites, may any wayes be p leafing to your 
 fenfes I Jhall be glad, otherwise I will -vow neuer to set, fow, plant 
 or graft, and my labours henceforth Jhall ceafe to trouble y oh. If you 
 will needs miflike, I care not. I will preztent your 
 cenfures, and defieyour malice, if you dejpise me. 
 J am refolute, if you vfe me with ref^e£i. 
 I bid you mofi heartily 
 Farewell. R. I. 
 
 xitj
 
 The Table. 
 
 Loue loue. I 
 Soft Cupid foft^ z 
 ^s I the filly fiJI} beguile. 3 
 The fountaines fmoak^. 4 
 JValking by the I^ver fide. J 
 I cannot chufe but giue a fmile. 6 
 loy in thy hopes. 7 
 
 How many NevQ yeeres haue grorven aide. 8 
 There was a Jhepheard that did Hue. 9 
 The Sea hath many thoufxnd fands. 10 
 Once did my thoughts both ebbe and flow. 
 I am fo farre from pittying thee. I 2 
 ^s I lay lately in a dreame. 1 3 
 There was a willy ladde. 14 
 My father faine would have me tah^. 1 J 
 My Loue hath her true Loue betraide. 1 6 
 ^11 my fence thy fweeteneffe gained. 1 7 
 To thee deafe -^jpe with dying -voice. 1 8 
 Behold her lock^s like wires of beaten Gold, 
 although the Wrings of my defire be dipt. 
 Might I redeeme mine errors with mine eyes. 
 
 I r 
 
 19 
 zo 
 
 ZI 
 
 XV
 
 gyggve) gyggvi) cvraw) gyggvt) svp^ 
 
 
 TOVE is a prettie frencie, 
 A melancholy fire, 
 Begot by lookes, 
 Maintain'd with hopes, 
 
 And heythen'd by defire. 
 
 Love is a pretie tyrant 
 
 By our afFeftions armed, 
 Take them away. 
 None lives this day. 
 
 The coward boy hath harmed. 
 
 Love is a pretie idole. 
 Opinion did devife him, 
 
 His votaries 
 
 Is floth and lies. 
 The robes that doe dilguife him. 
 
 >«s^*^^>g>s^>^^ '*S^ 
 
 s^gw' •SNO^ -s^g^^ %^3^ -s^ w 
 
 <t^^ e>W^ ^A55^5 <MEa^5 <M5^
 
 Love is a pretie painter. 
 And counterfeiteth paffioHj 
 
 His fliadow'd lies, 
 
 Makes fanfies rife, 
 To fet beliefe in fadiion. 
 
 Love is a pretie pedler, 
 
 Whofe packe is fraught writh forrowes, 
 With doubts, with feares. 
 With fighs, with teares, 
 
 Some joyes — but thofe he borrowes. 
 
 Love is a pretie nothing, 
 Yet what a cjuoile it keepes. 
 
 With thoufand eyes 
 
 Of jealoufies. 
 Yet no one ever fleepes.
 
 II 
 
 Soft Cupid /of t, 
 
 COFT, Cupid, foft, there is no hafte 
 For all unkindnefle gone and paft. 
 Since thou wilt needs forfake me fo, 
 Let us parte friendes, before thou goe. 
 
 Still fhalt thou have my heart to ufe, 
 When I cannot otherwife chufe. 
 My life thou may'ft command fans doubt, 
 Ojmmand, I fay, and goe with out. 
 
 And if that I doe ever prove 
 Falfe and unkind to gentle Love, 
 He not delire to live a day, 
 Nor any longer then I may. 
 
 He dayly blefle the little God, 
 But not without a fmarting rod ; 
 Wilt thou ftill unkindly leave mee ? 
 Now I pray God all ill goe with thee !
 
 III. 
 
 As I the Jillyjifh beguik. 
 
 AS I the illly fiHi deceive, 
 
 So Fortune playes with me, 
 Whofe baites my heart of joyes bereave, 
 And angles taketh mee. 
 
 I ftill doe fifh, yet am I caught. 
 And taken am, their taking taught. 
 
 The river wherein I doe fwimme. 
 Of ftreames of hope is made. 
 Where joyes as flowers drefle the brimrae, 
 And frownes doe make my fhade j 
 
 Whence fmiles as funfhine gives me heat, 
 And fhadow-frownes from fhowers beat. 
 
 Thus taken like an envious one 
 Who glads for others* care. 
 Since he himfelfe mufb feel fuch mone. 
 Delights all fo fhould fare. 
 
 And ftrives to make them know like fmart. 
 So make I this to beare a part.
 
 IK 
 
 The fountaines fmoake. 
 
 'THE fountaines fmoake, and yet no flames they ftiewe, 
 
 Starres fhine all night, though undefern'd by day. 
 And trees doe fpring, yet are not feene to growe, 
 
 And fhadowes moove, although they feeme to ftay, 
 In Winter's woe is buried Summer's blifle, 
 And Love loves moft, when Love moft fecret is. 
 
 The ftilleft ftreames defcries the greateft deepe. 
 
 The cleareft fkie is fubjeft to a fhower, 
 Conceit's moft fweete, whenas it feems to fleepe, 
 And faircft dayes doe in the morning lower j 
 
 The lilent groves fweete nimphes they cannot miffe. 
 For Love loves moft, where Love moft fecret is. 
 
 The rareft jewels hidden vertue yeeld. 
 
 The fweete of trafiiq^ue is a fecret gaine, 
 The yeere once old doth fhew a barren field, 
 
 And plants feeme dead, and yet they fpring againe j 
 Cupid is blind, the reafon why is this : 
 Love loveth moft, where Love moft fecret is.
 
 Walking hy the River /ide, 
 
 'y^/'ALKING by a river-fide, 
 
 In prime of fummer's morning, 
 Viewing Phoebus in his pride 
 
 The filver ftreames adorning. 
 And paffing on, myfelfe alone, ' 
 
 Methought I heard a wofull grone. 
 
 Still I ftood as one amaz'd 
 
 To heare this wofull crying. 
 Round about me then I gaz'd, 
 
 In every meddow prying, 
 Yet could I not this wight furprife. 
 Although the voice did pierce the fkies. 
 
 * Venus, thou haft kild my heart 
 
 And quite my foule confounded. 
 
 Thy fonne Cupid, with his dart. 
 
 My vitall parts hath wounded ; 
 
 Shoote home ! proude boy, and doe thy worft. 
 
 That fhee may die that lives accurft.
 
 Draw thy fhaft unto the head 
 And ftrongly it deliver, 
 
 Draw that thou may ft ftrike her dead 
 That lives a hopelefTe lover. 
 
 Let come, blind boy, to fatiifie 
 
 His mind that moft defires to die.*
 
 
 VL 
 
 I cannot chufe hut giue afmile. 
 
 J CANNOT chufe but give a fmile 
 
 To fee how Love doeth all beguile, 
 Except it bee my frozen heart 
 That yecldes not to his fierie dart. 
 
 Belike I was, Achillis like, 
 Drencht in that fatal) hardning flood, 
 My flefh it feares no pufh of pike. 
 The fpeare againfl: me doth no good. 
 
 Onely my heele may Cupid hit, 
 And yet I care not much for it, 
 Becaufe the hurt I cannot feele, 
 Vnleffe my heart were in my heele. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 •8
 
 The Q^^nswere, 
 
 I cannot chufe but needes mud fmile 
 To fee how Love doth thee beguile, 
 Which did of puipofe frieze thy heart, 
 To thaw it to thy greater fmart. 
 
 Suppofe thou wert, Achillis like, 
 Drencht in that fatall hardning flood, 
 That might avail 'gainll pufh of pike. 
 But 'gainft his dart t'will doe no good. 
 
 For if thy heele he doe but hit, 
 His venom'd fhaft will rancle it, 
 The force whereof the heart muft feele, 
 Convaide by arteryes from thy heele. 

 
 fAc^ c^ c^ fvx» rrx. f^ r^ r'su r^ r^ c^u t^xi c^ c\t (\t f^ r^s 
 jj-T^j nij <%> ""V* '"'V ''V ""V* '^V ""V 'V 'V ""V 'V "V "V 'V '^ "^ 
 ^ J^ J^ J^'i^ J^*^^ J^^ J^ J^ J^ J^ ^ J^ J^ ' 
 
 ni. 
 
 Toy in thy hopes. 
 
 JOYE in thy hope, the earneft of thy love. 
 For fo thou may ft enjoy thy heart's defire j 
 True hopes things abfent doe as prefent proove 
 And keepe alive love's ftill renewing fire. 
 
 But of thy hope let lilence be the tongue 
 And fecrefie the heart of loving fire, 
 
 For hopes revealed may thy hopes prolong, 
 Or cut them off in prime-time of defire. 
 
 Sweete are thofe hopes that doe themfelves enjoy. 
 As vowed to themfelves to live and dye, 
 
 Sweeteft thofe joyes, and freeeft from annoy. 
 That waken not the eye of jealoufie. 
 
 UEnvoy. 
 
 Thy love is not thy love, if not thine owne. 
 And fo it is not, if it once be knowne. 
 
 ^ r^ c^ rV^j r^ r^ r^su o^ rhj r^ r^ r^ r^ t"^ <"^ t"^ f^'SL* f^^j S 
 TS ""V '■^v-' '"h-' 'Vj '"v ""^ '"V ""V '%-' ""V ""V ""V ""V ''V ""V '"*v-' ""V "r 
 
 lo
 
 )^ ^A^ ^D^ ^fi^ ^A^ ^ra^ ^D^ 
 
 ifi^riS) 
 
 if 
 
 VIIL 
 
 How many New yeeres haue 
 growen olde, 
 
 T-JOW many new yeres have grow'n old, 
 Since firft your fervant old was new } 
 How many long hours have I told. 
 
 Since firft my love was vow'd to you j 
 And yet, alas, fhee doeth not know 
 Whether her fervant love or no ! 
 
 How many walls as white as fnow 
 
 And windowes cleere as any glafTe 
 Have I conjur'd to tell you fo. 
 
 Which faithfully pefrormed was ; 
 
 And yet you'l fweare you do not know 
 Whether your fervant love or no ! 
 
 How often hath my pale leane face. 
 
 With true charafters of my love. 
 Petitioned to you for grace. 
 
 Whom neither fighs nor teares can move j 
 O cruell ! yet doe you not know 
 Whether your fervant love or no ? 
 
 II
 
 ■^1 
 
 JVi« 
 
 1^ 
 
 And wanting oft a better token, 
 
 I have been faine to fend my heart, 
 Which now your cold difdaine hath broken, 
 Nor can you heal 't by any art. 
 
 O Icokc upon 't, and you fhall know 
 Whether your fervant love or no. 
 
 12
 
 
 /X 
 
 There nvas aJJoepheard that did Hue. 
 
 'T'HERE was a fhephcard that did live, 
 
 And held his thoughtes as hie 
 As were the mounts whereon his flockes 
 
 Did hourely feede him by. 
 
 He from his youth, his tender youth, 
 
 Which was unapt to keepe 
 Or hopes, or feares, or loves, or cares, 
 
 Or thoughts but of his fheepe 
 
 Did with his dogge, as fhepheards doe 
 
 For fhepheards wanting wit, 
 Devife fome fports, though foolifh fports, 
 
 Yet fports for fliepheards fit. 
 
 The boy that yet was but a boy, 
 
 And fo defir's were hid. 
 Did grow a man, and men must love, 
 
 And love this fhepheard did. 
 
 @| 
 
 ii)' 
 
 »3
 
 ^5^5^S^!^^5^ 
 
 He loved much, none can too much 
 Love one fo high divine, 
 
 As but herfelfe, none but herfelfe 
 So faire, fo frefh, fo fine. 
 
 He vowed by his fhepheard's weede, 
 An oath which fhepheards keepe. 
 
 That he would follow Phillyday, 
 Before a flocke of fheepe. 
 
 NOTE — The composer (or his printer) seems to 
 have omitted some verses of this poem. There 
 is an obvious break^ of continuity between the 
 third and fourth fian'^^s. 
 
 ^ 
 
 »4
 
 X 
 
 The Sea hath many thoufandfands. 
 
 npHE fea hath many thoufand fands, 
 
 The fun hath motes as many. 
 The fkie is full of ftarres, and love 
 
 As full of woes as any : 
 Beleeve me, that doe knowe the elfe. 
 And make no tryall by thyfelfe. 
 
 It is in tnieth a prettie toye 
 
 For babes to play withall j 
 But O ! the honies of our youth 
 
 Are oft our age's gall ! 
 Selfe-proofe in time will make thee know 
 He was a prophet told thee fo. 
 
 A prophet that, Caflandra like, 
 
 Tels trueth without beliefe j 
 For headftrong youth will runne his race. 
 
 Although his goale be griefe : 
 Love's martyr, when his heate is paft, 
 Prooves Care's confefTor at the laft. 
 
 15
 
 ,^5^^^^^^,-^^,^'5^^^..^^^ei^ 
 
 ^'W''^'^^^^^^^^S^^^^Q^''^^jr^'f^r^^ 
 
 XL 
 
 Once did my thoughts both ehhe 
 and flow, 
 
 /^NCE did my thoughts both ebbe and flowe. 
 
 As paflion did them moove, 
 Once did I hope, ftraight feare againe, 
 
 And then I was in love. 
 
 Once did I waking fpend the night 
 
 And told how many minutes moove, 
 
 Once did I wifhing wafte the day, 
 And then I was in love. 
 
 Once, by my carving trae love's knot. 
 
 The weeping trees did prove 
 That wounds and teares weie both our lots. 
 
 And then I was in love. 
 
 Once did I breathe another's breath 
 
 And in my miftris move. 
 Once was I not mine owne at all, 
 
 And then I was in love. 
 
 i6
 
 
 Once woare I bracelets made of hayre 
 
 And collers did aprove, 
 Once were my clothes made out of waxe, 
 
 And then I was in love. 
 
 Once did I fonnet to my faint, 
 My foul in numbers mov'd, 
 
 Once did I tell a thoufand lies, 
 And then in trueth I lov'd. 
 
 Once in my eare did dangling hang 
 
 A little turtle-dove. 
 Once, in a word, I was a foole. 
 
 And then I was in love. 
 
 17
 
 
 XIL 
 lamfofarrefrom pt tying thee, 
 
 T AM fo fa ire from pittying thee, 
 
 That wears't a branch of willow-tree. 
 That I doe envie thee and all 
 That once was high and got a fall : 
 
 willow, willow, willow-tree, 
 
 1 would thou didft belong to me ! 
 
 Thy wearing willow doth imply 
 That thou art happier farre then I ; 
 
 For once thou wert where thou wouldft be 
 Though now thou wear'ft the willow-tree : 
 O willow, willow, fweete willow, 
 Let me once lie upon her pillow ! 
 
 I doe delie both bough and roote 
 And all the fiends of Hell to boote. 
 One houre of Paradifed joye 
 Makes Purgatorie feeme a toye : 
 
 O willow, willow, doe thy worft. 
 Thou canft not make me more accurft ! 
 
 4p'w*'w*4?''w''w''w''W''W'4>''W''w''w''^y^ 
 
 «^k* i^kj iAj i^ki tA^ tAd i^ki kA< ti^ t^ki ii^ i^ki iA^ iAd t^k< ii^ t^ki ftl^ l4kt lJik< l4ki t4ki iflkt iJiki l4kl iJ^ 
 
 i8
 
 I have fpent all my golden time 
 In writing many a loving rime, 
 I have confumed all my youth 
 In vowing of my faith and trueth : 
 O willow, willow, willow-tree, 
 Yet can I not beleeved bee ! 
 
 And now alas, it is too late, 
 Gray hayres, the meflenger of fate. 
 Bids me to fet my heart at reft. 
 For beautie loveth yong men beft : 
 O willow, willow, I muft die. 
 Thy fervant 's happier far re then I ! 
 
 19
 
 XIIL 
 
 z^s I lay lately in a dreame. 
 
 A S I lay lately in a drearae. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 qK»Q»QE»q»( 
 
 20
 
 
 xir. 
 
 f 
 
 There was a willy ladde. 
 
 'J'HERE was a wyly ladde 
 Met with a bony lafTe, 
 Much pretie fport they had. 
 
 But I wot not what it was. 
 He woed her for a kifle, 
 She plainely faid him no, 
 ' I pray', quoth he, 
 'Nay, nay', quoth fhee, 
 
 * I pray you let mee goe'. 
 
 Full many lovely tearms 
 
 Did pafle in merrie glee. 
 He cold* her in his armes 
 
 And daunc't her on his knee. 
 And faine he would have paide 
 Such debts as he did owe, 
 ' I pray', quoth he, 
 * Nay, nay', quoth fhee, 
 
 * I pray you let me goe '. 
 
 *embraczd 
 

 
 1^ 
 
 ' Sweete, be you not fo nice 
 
 To gratifie a friend. 
 If kifling be a vice, 
 
 My fute is at an end *. 
 ' Noe, noe, it is the rule 
 
 To learne a man to woe *, 
 
 * I pray *, quoth he, 
 
 ' Nay, nay ', quoth fhee, 
 
 * I pray you let me goe '. 
 
 * For Cupid hath an eye 
 
 To play a lover's part. 
 And fwift his arrowes flie 
 
 To leavell at the heart. 
 Thy beautie was my bane. 
 
 That brought me to his bowe ', 
 
 * I pray ', quoth he, 
 
 ' Nay, nay ', quoth fhee, 
 
 * I pray you let me goe *. 
 
 simmmmr'mwmm^wmmrm-mmxiirs 
 
 
 £2
 
 ' Good Sir, alas, you feede 
 Your fancie with conceit *, 
 
 * Sweet, fweet, how fhould we fpeede 
 
 If lovers could not fpeake ? 
 I fpeake but what I willi, 
 
 The fpirit wils me fo ', 
 ' I pray ', quoth he, 
 * Nay, nay ', quoth fhee, 
 
 * I pray you let me goe *. 
 
 With that fhee fwore an oath. 
 
 And loth fhe was to breake ity 
 And fo, to pleafe them both. 
 
 He gave and fhee did take it. 
 There was no labour loft, 
 True amitie to fhow, 
 
 ' Adew ', quoth he, 
 
 ' Nay, ftay *, quoth fhee, 
 
 * Let's kifle before you goe'. 
 
 »3
 
 <dMy father faine would have 
 me take. 
 
 A/iY father faine would have mee take 
 
 A man that hath had a beard. 
 My mother fhee cries out * Alacke * 
 And makes mee much afearde j 
 In footh, I am not olde enough, 
 Nowe furely this is goodly ftuffe ! 
 Faith ! let my mother burie mee 
 Or let fome young man marrie me. 
 
 For I have liv'd thefe fourteene yeeres. 
 
 My mother knows it well. 
 What neede fhee then to caft fuch feares. 
 Can any body tell ? 
 
 Although young women doe not know 
 That cuftome will not let them wo, 
 I would be glad if I might chufe, 
 But I were madde if I refufe. 
 
 Z4
 
 
 My mother bids me goe to fchoole 
 And learn to doe fome good, 
 'Twere well if (hee would let the foole 
 Come home and fucke a dugge. 
 As if my father knew not yet 
 That maidens are for young men fit ! 
 Give me my mind and let me wed 
 Or you lliall quickly find me dead. 
 
 How foone my mother hath forgot 
 
 That ever fhee was yong 
 And how that fhee denyed not 
 But fung another fong. 
 
 I muft not fpeake what I doe thinke, 
 When I am drie, I may not drinke, 
 Though her defire be now growen old, 
 Shee muft have fier when fhee is cold. 
 
 
 ay
 
 You fee the mother loves the fonne, 
 
 My father loves the maide, 
 What ? would fhee have me be a nun ? 
 I will not be delaide, 
 
 I will not live thus idle ftill. 
 My mother shall not have her will. 
 My father fpeaketh like a man, 
 I will be married, doe what fhee can. 
 
 z6
 
 XVL 
 
 <dMy Lone hath her true Loue 
 betraide. 
 
 A/fY love hath her trae love betraide, 
 
 Why, 'tis a fault that is to common, 
 Yet fhall it not be ever faide. 
 
 My faith depended on a woman : 
 If fhee did, to prove untrue, 
 I fhall doe worfe, to change for new. 
 
 She hath fome vertues ; follow them, 
 
 Take not example by her lightnefTe, 
 Be not amongft the vulgar men. 
 
 Though fhe be clouded, keepe thy brightneffe : 
 '' Perhaps herfelfe in time may prove 
 
 What 'tis to wrong a conftant love. 
 
 The many vowes given by my faire 
 
 Were none of hers : the wind did owe them, 
 Then were they breath, now are they ayre. 
 
 Whence firft they came, there fhe beftowes them 
 Then marvell not, though women alter. 
 When all things turne to their firft matter. 
 
 ^t
 
 (L/fll my fence thy fweetnejfe gamed. 
 
 A LL my fenfe thy fweetenefTe gained. 
 Thy faire hayre my hart enchained, 
 My poore reafon thy wordes mooved. 
 So that thee like heaven I loved. 
 Fa, la, la, 
 Leri, deri, dan. 
 While to my minde the outfide ftoode 
 For meflenger of inw^ard good. 
 
 Now thy fweetnefle fowre is deemed. 
 Thy hayre not worth a hayre efteemed. 
 While to my mind the outfide flood 
 Finding that, but words they proov'd. 
 
 Fa, la, la, 
 
 Leri, deri, dan. 
 For no faire figne can credit winne 
 If that the fubftance faile within. 
 
 28
 
 
 No more in thy fweetenefTe glorie. 
 For thy knitting hayre be forie, 
 Vfe thy words but to bewaile thee 
 That no more thy beames availe thee. 
 Fa, la, la, 
 Leri, deri, dan. 
 Lay not thy colours more to viewe 
 Without the pifture be found true. 
 
 Woe to me, alas, fhee weepeth ! 
 Foole in me, what follie creepeth ? 
 Was I to blafphemie enraged 
 Where my foule I have engaged? 
 Fa, la, la, 
 Leri, deri, dan. 
 And wretched I muft yeeld to this, 
 The fault I blame her chaftnefle is. 
 
 illllllllllllllllllllllllll 
 
 29
 
 
 SweetnefTe, fweetely pardon folly, 
 Tye my hayre your captive folly, 
 Words, O words of heavenly knowledge 
 Know my words their faults acknowledge. 
 
 Fa, la, la, 
 
 Leri, deri, dan, 
 And all my life I will confefle. 
 The lelTe I love, I live the leffe. 
 
 
 30
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To thee deafe'^Jpewithdy'tngvoice. 
 
 "^O thee, deafe afpe, with dying voice, 
 Sadly I ling this heavie charme. 
 
 That if thy heart doe ere rejoyce 
 
 And fet at nought my grievous harme. 
 This verfe, writ with a dead man's arme, 
 
 May haunt thy fenfelefs eyes and eares, 
 
 Turn joyes to cares and hopes to feares. 
 
 By thy Creator's pietie, 
 
 By her that brought thee to this light, 
 
 By thy deare nurfe's love to thee 
 
 By Love itfelfe, heavens, day and night. 
 By all that can thy fenfe delight. 
 
 When I am cold and wrapt in lead, 
 
 Remember oft thy fervant dead. 
 
 '^'^'^fi^^^^^l^ 
 
 31
 
 
 So fhall my fhadow thee attend 
 
 Like calmeft breath of wefterne wind, 
 
 If not, with grones it fliall afcend 
 
 Like raven, owle, beare or hellifh fiend. 
 Ratling the chaines which doe it bind, 
 
 And where thou art by iilent night. 
 
 It fhall thy guiltie foule affright. 
 
 Yet fea-men, toft with ftormie wind, 
 Voide of all hope, refolv'd to die. 
 
 From powerfiill heavens oft mercie find 
 And fo may I find grace with thee. 
 No, no, thou canft not pitie me, 
 
 Afpes cannot heare nor live can I, 
 
 Thou heareft not, unheard I die ! 
 
 
 3»
 
 •■^j 'Tsj Tij •%-» ""^ ''v' '%-' ""V ""V 'V ""V ''V ""V ""V ""V """V ""V ""V 
 f^ c^ c^^ c^ r^ r*^ f^ o^ <^\t c^\i oi* r'su c^ c^ Cvu r^ c^ c^ 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Behold her lockes like wires 
 of beaten Gold. 
 
 "DEHOLD her locks like wyers of beaten gold. 
 Her eyes like liars that twinkle in the fkie, 
 Her heavenly face, not fram'd of earthly mold, 
 Her voice that founds the heavens' melody ; 
 The miracles of time, the worlde's ftorie, 
 Fortune's queene, Love's treafure. Nature's glorie ! 
 
 No flattering hopes fhee likes, blind Fortune's baite. 
 
 Nor fhadowes of delight, fond Fancie's glafle, 
 Nor charmes that doe inchant, falfe Art's deceipt, 
 
 Nor fading joyes, which Time makes fwiftly pafl^e ; 
 But chart de fires, which beateth all thefe downe, 
 A goddeffe' looke is worth a monarch's crowne. 
 
 T^ '^ '<5i_> "TnJ 'TV) "^ *Tl^ '%^ '%^ Ti^ nv^ "TV^ 'Ts_> frNJ TSJ "l^^ 'TSJ ThJ 
 
 <vx» r<i* t^i., r\ii r\ii r^ r^ rv^* r*^ c^ c^ <\^ c^ r^ rvi^ r^ (^ f^ 
 
 33
 
 XX. 
 
 (^Although the Wings of my dejire 
 
 he dipt. 
 
 A LTHOVGH the wings of my defires bee clipte 
 
 And my love-thoughtes from mounting lowlye bounded, 
 Though flie Sufpeft my joyes with frofl: hath nipt, 
 
 So as my hopes with feares are ftill furrounded. 
 Yet will I live to love, although through love I die. 
 And cumbers ftill do grow, and comforts from mee flie, 
 No jealous thoughts fhall force mee to retyre, 
 But I will hope to enjoye my heart's defire. 
 
 Which likes to love, and yet the fame conceale. 
 Remembrance chiefly working my relieving. 
 
 Though times of joy be fhort, yet will I fteale 
 
 Such times, to keepe my heart from further grieving ; 
 
 Force may remoove my lookes, but not expell my joy, 
 
 Though Cupid's fhaft give curelefle wounds, 'tis no annoy, 
 Whileft life endures. He love, though feeme to fhunne 
 That port of reft from whence my comforts come. 
 
 34
 
 XXL 
 
 dMight I redeeme mine errors with 
 
 mine eyes. 
 
 A/TIGHT I redeeme myne enours with mine eyes 
 
 And fhed but for each feverall finne a teare. 
 The fumme to fuch a great account (hould rile. 
 That I fhould never make mine audit clearc, 
 The totall is too bigge to paye the fcore, 
 I am fo rich in iinne, in teares fo poore. 
 
 O wretched wealth ! that doth procure fuch want, 
 
 Vnhappy foule to bee fo rich in fin, 
 The (tore whereof doth make all graces fcant 
 
 And flops thy teares, ere they doe fcarce begin j 
 What once a famous poet fung before 
 I finde too true, my plenty makes me poore. 
 
 3 5
 
 t"^ f^Sj <"^ij f^ osj f\iji c^ e\i^ oxt r^5j t^** c^ c^Xt c^ c^ <\^ c\u 
 
 •TSp 'Ts} TnJ nNj r^j r^v_j rrsj <T^> •T5>> '"^ "Ti.) "TS^ "^ij ""^l,* "TJiJ ""^ 'TXJ 
 
 might I proove in this a prodigall 
 
 And bate my meanes by lefT'ning of my ftocke, 
 
 1 fhould in grace grow great, in finnes but fmall, 
 
 If I could every day from forth the fhocke 
 
 But pull one eare. O ten times happy want, 
 When teares increafe and finnes doe grow more 
 fcant ! 
 
 O that my God with fuch fweete ftrokes would ftrike 
 
 And by His grace so bank-rout mine eftate, 
 That growing poore in finne I, Lazar-like, 
 Might dayly beg for mercy at His gate. 
 
 And crave, though not admittance to His fead, 
 Some crums of grace to feede my foule at leaft ! 
 
 f^xt (^^ c\Lt r^ 
 
 'XlJ HNJ ni_J "TNJ 
 
 3<J
 
 :SS6SS6S< 
 
 The Table 
 
 o 
 
 f /. 3. 
 
 RIGINAL SPELLINGS AND READINGS 
 ALTERED IN THE PRESENT EDITION 
 
 /. 3 . .^^ / the filly fiJJj beguile. 
 
 '). My father faine would have me rake. 
 
 I. 1. I. 5. hey th'endj by depre. 
   II. 2. /. 3. faunce doubt, 
 
 III. I. /. 4. Angels taketh mee. 
 3. /. 5. ;twc/ flrive to make. 
 
 L 6, to beare apart. 
 
 IV, 2. /. 3. Conceit's mofi ftveete^ when as it feemes. 
 V. 4. /. 6. that mofi defire to dies. 
 
 let filence be thy tongue, 
 to live and dey. 
 and fieefi from, annoy, 
 if it once be krioiven. 
 VIII. I. /. 3. Mow many long howers. 
 1. I. I. How many wals. 
 XII. I. /. f. O rvillowj willotVj willo tree. 
 
 VII. 2. /. I. 
 
 3. /. 2. 
 /. 3. 
 
 L'Envoy. /. 2, 
 
 37 
 
 ^';*^ 
 
 V^V^I^'
 
 XII. 3- !■' '^- ^nd all the friends of heU. 
 
 J. /. J. O ivilloiVj rvilloj I must die. 
 
 XV. I. /. 4. ^nd mah^s me much afaide. 
 
 II. 7j 8. Faith ! let my mother marrie mee. 
 Or let fome young man burie mee. 
 
 XVI. 1. /. I. Che hath fome vertues. 
 3 . /. 3 . Then iveare they breath. 
 3. /. y. Thofe women alter. 
 
 XVII. [The burden to all the veifes except the firft: is printed 
 
 — Frfj /<tj la Dan^ dan^ dan.^ 
 
 XVIII. I . /. I. To the deafe ^f^e ! 
 
 [The Table gives the reading adopted in the text.] 
 3. /. 4. hellijb fcind. 
 XX. 2. /. 6. Though Cupidis Jhaft. 
 
 >""
 
 ""35^ The First Edition of this Reprint of The 
 Muses Gardin for Delights was issued at the 
 private Press of the Rev. C. H. O. Daniel, 
 Worcester House, Oxford, Mdccccj i^ 
 
 39
 
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