Three pastoral elegies of Anander, Anetor, and Muridella. By William Bas.

THREE PASTORAL ELEGIES ; of Anander , Anetor , and Muridella .

By William Bas.

Printed by V. S. for I. B. and are to be sold at his shop in Fleet-street , at the signe of the great Turkes head . 1602.

To the Honourable and Virtuous Lady , the Lady Tasburgh .

IF your Ladyship hath not before this time very iustly expected the best office of my Muse , it is now time for me to be voluntarily ashamed , that you should so long forbeare the vse of so many honourable encouragements . But ( alas ) finding my abilitie too little to make the meanest satisfaction of so great a Principall as is due to so many fauourable curtesies , I am bold to tender your 〈◊〉 this vnworthy Interest , wherewithall I will put in good securitie , that assoone as Time shall relieue the necessitie of my young inuention , I will disburse my Muse to the vttermost mite of my power , to make some more acceptable composition with your bounty : In the meane space , liuing without hope to be euer sufficient inough to yeeld your Worthinesse the smallest halfe of your due , I doe onely desire to leaue your Ladyship in 〈◊〉 ▪

That when encrease of Age and Learning , sets My Monde in wealthi'r state then now it is , 〈◊〉 pay a greater portion of my debts , O● mo●gage you a better Muse then this , 〈◊〉 then , no kinde for bearance is amisse , While , though I owe more then I can make good , 〈◊〉 is inough , to thew how fame I woo'd . Your Ladiships in all humblenes , Willam Bas.

To the Reader . REade one , and say , t is good : I beare the name : Reade one , and say , t is ill , I beare the shame : If thou sayst , good , and think'st it too in heart , Sweetely farewell , no matter who thou art : If thou sayst , meane , thou iudgest like a frend , I would be so , because I meane to mend : If thou sayst , ill , and doost in heart dispraise it , I yeeld not till I know a Wiseman saies it . Thus quit me , or condemne me , I le not grudge , So that I know a foole be not my Iudge . Yours , William bas .

A Shepheards youth dwelt on the plaines , That passi the common sort of Swaines , By how much had himselfe before Beene nursed vp in Colins lore , Who , while his flocke ybent to stray , Glad of the Sunne-shine of the day , Wanderd the field , and were abroade 〈◊〉 He tooke his Pipe and sate him do●ne 〈…〉

Elegie I. Anander lets Anetor wot , His Loue , his Lady , and his Lot . A Ciuill Youth , whose life was led in Court , In Court , the place of all Ciuilitie ; Who lou'd no riot , tho delighted sport , Such sport as with such place might well agre● To giue him credite , by a true report : The only glory of his time was hee : For ( mote I sweare , ) the gentry of his kind , Was fai●ely match'd with gentlenes of mind . His personage , a thing for Gods to tell , Whose wits can reach , beyond the reach of Muse ; Diuine proportion in his limmes did dwell , Eye-wonder'd feature did his visage vse : He was ( as may the wiser tell , ) For Ladies choice ( if Ladies list to chuse : ) If not , what helpe ? the weaker his successe , Though his perfections be nothing lesse . His birth was great , his bloud the nobler then , His thoughts ( no doubt ) the worthier by his bloud ; And his desires , though somwhat like to men , Yet as his thoughts ( I guesse ) were faire and good : And for his loues , none knew them but him sen , And that faire she , on whom their fortune stood : Yet did he often plaine of ill succeed , The hoter loue , somtime the colder speed . And in his passions , ( for I must needs breake Into some speech of him , and his mis-lo● ; ) He vnto me , as whom he lou'd , did speake The cleare discou'rie of his eager plot In gracefull termes , and yet the best too weake , To tell his thoughts sufficiently ( God wot : ) That I should often stand and weepe to see , His griefes more copious , then his language bee . First did he lay his fine vnswarfed hand Vpon my shoulder , close vnto my necke ; And then for twentie minutes did he stand , As one that spar'd to speake , in feare of checke : Then sighs , then speakes , but speakes words three times s●and , As if he durst not trust his tongues defect : Lest in his woes , his woes might seeme to bite , Th' vnfriendly dealings of his hearts delight . Shepheard ( quoth he ) and giu's me one faint smile , That signifi'de a long-sustained wrong ; Suffer a Courtier to record a stile , More zealous then the Thracian widow's song : When he in his immortall Musicks guile , Be●ought the freedome of his wife so long : With pitty marke the treatize of my ruth , The like hereafter may befall thy youth . Meane while , the childhood of thy younger wit , That neuer did more then thy flocks regard ; Shall haue a stronger cause to wonder it . Then those that like my haples selfe hath car'd : While 〈◊〉 ne vowes , he circumstance omit Of those mishaps , wherein I haue bene snar'd : Vnder the leaue ( sweet boy ) of thy forbea●●ng . An elders griefe profits a youngers hearing . Woo'd thou had'st had in Court but halfe that skill , As here thou hast with thy obezant sheepe ; T haue seene , the strictnes of a Ladies will , And how vnmou'd she doth hir fauor keepe : T haue knowne the hardship of a Louers ill , And what a wretchednes it is to weepe : And I had kept thy pastures as mine owne , No life too base where better is vnknowne . Then hadst thou seene faire Muridellaes eyes , The dangerous planets of my ripening youth ; Thou shoud'st haue knowne how beautifull , how wise My Lady was : Perhaps vnto thy ruth Thou shouldst ha'knowne , more then thou canst deuise Of that deare Girle , and yet no more then truth : For he that mounts the high'st degree of hie , In praising of her Beautie , cannot lie . But he that sai's the mercy of hir minde , Is like the grace of hir admired blee ; He might doe well to bridle in that winde , Vntill his fortune were to speake with me : Lesse it be one , to whom sh'ha's beene more kinde , Then to my true affection she cou'd be : And then I thanke him to commend hir hart , For the best Loue deserues the best report . Yet shalt thou thinke , that that deare truth I beare , To that faire Sight that first subdude mine eie , Shall say the best , although she be not here , To see how woe how discontent am I , That when henceforth it comes vnto hir eare , That I speake wonders of hir Curtesie : She may recall me with a gracious minde , For praising of hir when she was vnkinde . And if it euer be thy hap to view Her on this greene , where thou inhabitest , ●ust , for my sake , salute her to the shoo , And tell hir with so solemne a protest . That her poore seruant , and hur only true , Doth liue that life , that she with hate disblest : H●w , where , and in what sorrow , let her know , She loues to heare , though not to helpe my woe . Shat know her by that bright and curious brow , Where Loue in his eternall triumph sits Chastising with the warfarre of his bow , The rumour of desires , the force of wits , And by her eyes , and other glories moe , That first in me wrought these rebellious sits : But ( to be short ) if thou a thousand see , Looke which is fairest , and be sure that 's shee . Hir hand ( if thou hir hand canst naked see From those blest musses that guard their blisfull whitenes , Is like that gripe that Alpheus maz'd to see , Place A●ethu●a in perpetuall brightnes , And by her foote these plaines shall blessed bee , Vnles the ground relent not at her lightnes : Hir substance is so gi●t in slender finenes , That nothing's heauy , but hir owne vnkindenes . ●ut that thou mayst belieue she is a creature , As hardly else thou mout'st conceiue the same , I tell thee shall : when that Creatres nature Once set a Princely webbe into her frame , And was about to loome her sacred feature , T●is sed , that in the while Minerua came , Who by enquirie faine would vnderstand , What blessed body now she had in hand . Nature , forth● n , no otherwise inclinde , In thought but to obe●ant curtesie , Freely acq●●nt , the goddes of hir minde , And humbly craues hir gracious remedie , In such defects , as may hir wisedome finde In this new portion of hir huswifery , Or if at least there might no fault bee had , Yet , that she would some more perfection adde . For truth she said , that whensoe're she might Once bring to good this Idoll that she wrought , She would present it to the gracious sight Of hir owne selfe , ( for so she had bethought ) And since hir comming now fell out so right , The larger was her hope , that she had brought Some ornamentall grace , whose large infusing Might make it fit the gift , and worth the chusing . Then Pallas tooke into her owne embrace , This curious Plot that Nature was about , Hauing no meanes to worke into hir face , This bloud that glorifies hir shape without , Nor could of Venus borrow any grace , Cause they alate had sharpely fallen out , Therefore bids Nature for some beautie goe : High hearts disdaine the kindenes of the foe . Meane while from th● issue of that sacred vaine , That her whole selfe with wits abundance fills , She f●eely powres into this Infants braine , By ho●y d●ops , and plentifull distills That 〈◊〉 conceit that now doth raigne Ouer herselfe , her Loue , her Louers ills : Yet by this gift hir selfe no lesse cou'd haue , She gaue hir selfe what to her owne she gaue . Two siluer cuppes then drew she from her brest , The one of Spirit and hauty influence , The other fild with maydenly Pretest Of Chastities diuinest conunence , Some drops whereof she in this hart imprest , Therein to double Natures excellence : But chiefely in these heau'nly honours three , Of Wisedome , Puissance , and Chastitie . Yet hast thou leaue to thinke , and so doe I , ( Vnlesse my thoughts should sinne in thinking so , ) That loues wise daughter did not meane hereby , That both these gifts should be alike in show : For if her Chastnes liue perpetually , As does hir spirit , Ananders cake were dow , Though neuer gift descended from aboue , Of greater honesty then honest Loue . Then neither is her labour vainely spent , Nor yet her gifts in idlenes defray'd , If Muridella with true loue content Anander , in encreasing Loues decay'd , For why doth ciuill curtesie consent The marri'd wife to goe aboue the mayde ? Because the Life by Loue is doubly grac'de , And to be wed , is more then to be chaste . This , while the busie dame in eager post , Comes home to see how faire hir worke went on , And from an luory boxe of wonders cost , That friendly 〈◊〉 had bestowed vpon Her , for her Infant sake , began to cast , With greater art then was in 〈◊〉 son , That red and white : thus in hir beauties making , Nature and heau●ns themselues were al pertaking . And this is it that holdes in Loue and Muse , The two blacke circles of my conquer'd sight , What wondrous cunning Nature seem'd to vse , In placing of this mingled 〈◊〉 so right , And what a skill she shewed when she did chuse So red a crimson , and so white a white , O heau'ns ( sed I ) what gifts were Beauties Peeres , If it might neuer beene yclad in yeares ? Thus , or as like to thus , as I can say , The youth concluding his teare-liquored vaine , Leaues my vnletter'd thoughts to beare away , Both what he said , and what he wood ha saine , And though I want his griefe , yet sure I may Well ground vpon his passionate complaine , His Loue was faire , and blest in euery lim , With no default , but that she lou'd not him . My youngling wit amuzed at the hearing Of that her dayes had no conuersement in , Like a new-fielded souldrer , wanting chearing , Stands all astoni'd , two conceits betwin , Whether I mo●e with small or no for bearing , Burden some disobedience vpon him . Or shou'd an verdict of dispraises tuch Her whom himselfe durst dispraise too much . If you quoth I haue neuer yet misdone , To then sane 〈◊〉 Lady more then I can deeme In these your words : By heau'n , and by this Sunne , Your 〈◊〉 should deserue a more esteeme . 〈◊〉 alas 〈…〉 haue ouer-run In things to her that mote vngratefull seeme , G●udge not a sharpe rewardance of the same , Men ●ust doe well that wou'd enioy good name . With this , about to aske him somwhat more , With hasty answer , and a hearty oth , He 〈◊〉 my speech : and said , and vow'd , and swore , No spot of guilt in his attaintles ●●oth : But ●s t is now , so euer heretofore : Quoth I , the better , for I would be loth : Though now I aske you as f●s sit he shu'd , Well know your ill , that must procure your good . Yet did my soule within it selfe y● doubt , No vndeseruings in his noble heart , Though I ( for reasons sake , ) mote go about , To shew him that I fear'd some vndesart : He mought ha thought me , else , some soothing lout , Ylearn'd in neither iudgement , nor good part , To discommend hir thoughts , and mourne his fall , Without examining the cause of all . Yet speake no further of thy chaunce , said I , A single cause wou'd haue a single telling , But 〈◊〉 discourse , hopes mortall enemy , Tat's 〈◊〉 preua●ing in his oft reuealing , O giue me leaue , saith he , to balme mine eie , And let those teares that hurt it giue it healing ! For since hir loues are not disposde to granting , Poore helpes are welcome , when the best are wanting . These teares shall witnes ( when he wept indeed , ) How neere vnto my soule hir enuy crept ; How much my hart doth hir owne substance bleed , In fresh remembrance of what vowes I kept . And in what hate that Lady did exceed , That threw me downe to this ( and still he wept ) O thing for euer to be vnforgot , Vntill she loues me , as she loues me not My ●locks this while that saw their maisters eie , Perus●d in things , vntut●hing their estate , Ywended to a neighbors seu●ral me , That for faire feed was mounded in alate : Where left they shou'd too much offendingly , Ore-ramp the grasse , and get the owners hate : I crau'd his name , and leaue away to go , No shame to part , when need compelles thereto . My name tho now it may a causer be , Of too long memory of a man forlorne ; Is called Anander of the Court ( quoth he ) Though neuer Country-man abid more scorne : Yet keep it as thy heardlam close to thee , That no day heare it , but that blessed morne , Wherein that angell of my good and ill , Salutes thy stocks , and thee , vpon this hill . Then tell hir when she giues thee hir good morrow , That thou alate didst see Anander here ; And then speake teares of my vnfained sorrow , Or speake vnfained sorrow of my teares : And when she doth some light occasion borrow , Of other reasons to employ hir eares : Seeme thou as if thou didst not vnderstand hir , And mixe thy speeches with distrest Anander . If she dispraise or praise thy wanton flocke , Tell thou hir that Anander did so too ; If brode the ●ield , she for some mate doth looke , Anander , ( tell hir , ) thus did looke for you , And let remembrance worke some better lucke , For sure I am , more harme it cannot do , And sometimes absence do●s ingender Passion , By giuing leasure to consideration . So hie thee to thy sheep ( good Shepheard boy : ) But stay ( O ) first enrich me with thy name ; Anetor of the Field , ( Sir ) did I say , Though ( vnderstand yee ) I am not the same : That in amendall of the woolues annoy , That mighty voyage vnto Peleus came : Anetor he , and I Anetor am , But he seru'd Peleus , I as good a man . Discourses ended : t' was now time a day For him to ride , and for my selfe to wander ; Such causes call vs both , we cannot stay , His dear's at Court , and my deere flockes be yonder : And all our part no more but this to say , Farewell Anetor , and farewell Anander : Saue that in our farewelles , this wish we moue , Me to recall my Flocks , and he his Loue .

Elegie II. Anetor seeing , seemes to tell The beauty of faire Muridell , And in the end , he lets hir know Ananders plaint , his l●ue , his woe . WHen Ianiuere in 's one and thirtith age , Had late embrac'd the wintring Feuerill , And March departed with his windy rage , Presented time with honny'd April , And Shepheards to their lasses layd to gage The yellow Cowslip , and the Daffadill : Wh●n flocks gan to be lusty , lambes to skip , That ioy'd the well yscape of Winters nip . The dayes were wealthie in a greater store , Of temp'rate minutes , and of calmer weather , The Welkin blast was milder then before , The winde and Sunne was blended so togither , The spready Beech , and dangling Sycomores Were clad in tender leaues and shady shiuer , Where was by Sheapheards toyle , and Shepheards wit , Banks vnder-set , for Nimphes to vnder-sit . Morne-walking Feiries , halfe gods of the woods , Trip through the plenty of our flowery plots , Gracing our Medowes , hallowing our fl●ods , With wholesome blessings to our gladsome flocks : Chearing their colours , chearing of their bloods , Their milky vdders , and their milke-white locks , All ioy the lib●rall sweetnes of the aire , Beauty's renewed , and all things now looke faire . Now Proserpine besets her com●ly locks , With such perfumes as Aetnaes woods can yeeld , And Ceres with hir rolle and weeding hookes , 〈◊〉 the infant huswifery of her field , And Ocean calls in his immounded brookes ; From spoyling where Tr●ptolemus hath til'd , Our master ●an seekes Syrinx in the reedes , Poynts out our Pastures , and diuides our feedes . This sacred Time inuited to the hill , This hill where I my louing Lambes do feede , That comely mistris of vnhappy will , In whom that Court'ers comforts first did breed , Though with vnkinde succession of that ill , That wrought by hir : in him did more exceed : The Infant Spring breath'd out his youthfull aire , A gratefull thing to Ladies yong and faire . Now as mine eyes did stretch their curious looke , Ouer the spreading heardlam of my worth , Eu'n from that king the formost of my troupe , That beares the ringing triumph of their mirth , Vnto that poorest Lambe that seemes to droope Through weaknes , youth , and latternes of birth , With many blessings to my wandring ●locke , And wishes of amendance to their flocke . I might afarre discerne a princely crew , Of twenty ●adies , ( pera ●uenture more ) A hie on yonder greene where da●ses grew , And sommers mistresse kept her flowers in store , Too heau'nly prospect for so poore a view , And yet a case in vulg●r●ence forbore , The eyes themselues haue euer bene thus free , What things must needes be seene , they must needs see . No man at all to guard this louely traine , Where Peeres and Princes might haue guardants beene , Saue one faire youth of a pure modest graine , That neuer yet desirous dayes had seene , Nor neuer greater thoughts besieg'd his braine , Then what belongs to one of seuenteene , Brought vp a purpose for this mayden taske , One that would shame to loue , and blush to aske . And by his nouice lookes , and childish grace , Cast on himselfe wherein was all his glory , I saw he made a poorer vse on 's place Then wou'd that worthy causer of my Story : That sober sad Anander , if in case His Muridella were not peremptory : Who now that grace , that fauour , and that ioy , That longs vnto her man , she giues hir boy . This feate yong stripling , guided by the will And wandring finger of his Ladies hand , Thus leades his blessed Army o're the hill , Yet not where he list , but where they command , A thing that taught me one faire point of skill , That my rude dayes yet did not vnderstand , The last may haue the first in seruile dreade , And some are led , although they seeme to leade . And as they stood aloofe beyond my heard , Marking the homely ioyes of them and mee , With many curteous smiles , and much good word , To their encrease , and my prosperitie : To quittance all the graces they affoord , I wend aside , where I vnseene may see These walking Saints , and giue them secret praise , Since t is not good to stand in sight and gase . And as I note their faces , iudge their yeares , Compare their Beauties to discerne the best ; One saw I gone , betwixt two women peares , Two gentles , Lady-like and maides profest : Who , by your leaue , if she had not beene there , That for hir state their seruices possest : For comlines and beauty might haue got , The vndissembled verdict of my thought . But she , whose Armes were folded vp in theirs , ( Three gracefull fadams twisted all in one ; Like Pallas led twixt Iunos hand and Ceres , Where nothing but the midst is look't vpon : So rich yclad in beauties pomp appeares , Besides the wonders cost she had put on : That when I look't vpon no more but she , I cou'd ha wisht , ther had beene no more to see . But O! what eye can be contented in So straight a compasse , or so small a round ? But that some sparkle of his sight , shall sinne , In glauncing here , or there , or vp , or downe : So did these ●azeled circles neuer linne To looke on all , till they the fairest found : Then fixe themselues , still to behold the best , Some peeuish light wou'd swarue and see the rest . On cloudy sullen implement of blacke , Y●ald a maske , or some such hideous name ; Vpon hir face : whether it was for lacke Of things more fit , more gracefull then the same : Or whether careles might she be to take A vesture that the place so ill became , I wot not : But in conscience , God forbid , That things so worthy sight should e're be hid . This enuious visard ; glories needles Iaile , Deformed enemy of Beauties praise ; This new-inuented Night , that so doth vaile , The mingled looks of Natures holy-dayes : This artificiall Morphew , that as●ailes The seemely obiect of our mortall ioyes : This cloud , this face-case , this attire of Chance , This ougly outside of a countenance . Did thus , as in despightfull bondage hold , The wondrous feature of so blest a looke , Till beautie snuffing to be so control'd , Nor wou'd her slaue to be hir mistres●e brooke : This strange garment aboue hir browe did fold , And thereby hir deserued freedome tooke , And as in taske I kept mine eyes to see , If she so beaut'ous might as comely bee . Like to Queene Morning when she fresh appear'd , To Cephalus vpon th' Hymetian hill , Or Wisedome , when she lookt from skie , and rear'd , The barb ●rous kin that did each other kill : Or smiling Loue , when in hir armes she chear'd , That beauteous youngling that the Bore did kill : So look't she out to giue hir eies such scope , As Appias do's when heauens windowes ope . How blessed are you ●locks and fieldes ( quoth I ) To be perus'd with such Immortall view ? How can thou but excell in Iolitie , When fairer sight then heau'n doth visit you ? Yet did I speake these words but whispringly , As one that had not mate to tell them to : With eager griefe that I had none with me , To sooth me in the praise of that I see . Like to some banke , whose grounds of Lillies white Was here and there with roles inter-set ; Empaled in with flowers of faire delight , As if Cibele were in Floracs debt : And to incurre more wonder to the sight , Fronted with veines of Azure violet : So did she seeme if I may like a face So excellent , vnto a thing so base . But how much do I weaken and depriue , Those honours great that in hir greatnes are , When like my selfe , fond shepheard , I do striue To bring such beautie into rude compare : Knowing full well , that nothing is aliue That mought be reckon'd like to one so faire : Yet pardon Beauty , me vnskilfull wight , That wrong thee , in desire to do thee right . So long bewitched with this mateles hiew , Ofth unbeguiling beautie of hir face , Mine earnest eies with teares at length withdrew , And wandring , wonder at another grace , That in hir necke and bosome was to view , That ioyned plot , that admirable place : And while to maze at that I had desier , Contentles sight woo'd still be gasing hier . So long as yet I haue the keeper bin , Of these faire meades ( starres be my witnes true ; ) No Winters snow that euer fell therein , Or summers Assodill that euer grew : Passed the Natiue whitenes of her skin , So mixt with bas●full red and vaynie blue : Yet dare I brag , that neuer shepheard moe , Saw fairer fl●wres then I , or whit●r snow . O creature blessed mot'st thou neuer die , For if thou should'st with mortalls breathe thy last , Where finde we Pearle to fashion such an eye , Or whither shall we send for Aliblast' , Or seeke for Iuory of so white a die ? Wherein thy Bosom's Picture may be cast , When thy names highnes , and thy beauties newnes , Should be sepulchred in the truest truenes . This Bosome is Loues owne delightfull walke , When comming from hir eye , his princely nest , He wanders downe to dally and to talke With Chastitie that dwelleth in hir brest : Where , like a Lambe vpon a bed of chalke , Lies downe , and whites himselfe and takes his rest , The Iourney is so delicate , vpon The way twixt his , and hir pauilion . Then comes he to that double-fronted place , The temple of a chaste and prudent feare , In whose bright out-side he beholds hir face , As if Loue asked here , and answerd there , But the beguiled boy 's in no such grace , As for Ananders sake I wish he were : Tho leaue him there , and I the while be telling This brest , of Chastitie the sumptuous dwelling . It is as cleere as is the finest glasse , And men would thinke it easie to be broken , But when the violence of intreat wou'd passe , The substance doth no brittlenes betoken : But still it stands as close and firme as brasse , Yet is so pure , that one wou'd iudge it open , And by this day ( forgiue me heau●ns to sweare , ) Those that disdaine to loue , why are they faire ? Anander ( oh ) that thou wer 't Porter here , To walke the entrance of this Castle dore ; And I the Vicar of thine office were , When thou bee'st feeble , and can toile no more : But let me blush , I was too sawcie there , Yet in thy quarraile , dare I say therefore : Faire is the Portall , but the house is hate , Poorest the Almes , though purest is the gate . Before this gate there are two fountaines built , Of ycie Cristall and of Diamond , Whose Cisternes siluer be , whose Conduits gilt , And in them sweeter wines then Nectar stond : Yet neuer was ( they say ) one spoonfull spilt , Nor neuer any drop that from them run'd : Nor neuer shall , till th' are vnlock't below , But who doth keep the key therof , God know . Oft hath Anander in Loues likenes shot His hardy shaftes against this Castle great , Where , though he made frank warre and battry hot , The end of all was euer meere retreat : That I say this in ieasting thinke ye not , Farre is from me the wanton of conceit , Punish me heauens , if I meane nought , More then his earnest loue , and hir chast thought . Next to her brest , that faire and beauteous strond , ( Describe I now by guesse , and not by sight ) That white empaled walke , that spacy laund , That smooth , and milky high-way of delight , Where the same Loue walks at his owne commaund To make experience lower of his might : Whenas himselfe vnworthily hath borne , From hir hard brest , this great repulse of scorne . But in the midst , or neere the lower end Of this 〈◊〉 belly-walke ▪ a marke is set , And further then the same he may not wend , Where want of liberty doth make him fret , And where he may not come ▪ his shaft doth send ; But where they light was neuer heard on yet , For if they did , t' would quickely be appearant , For where Loue woundeth , Loue is like to heare on 't . Nature hirselfe did set that limit there , To curb young Cupids freakish Infancy , As often as his boyship durst come neere , Or enter his as●ault so sawcily , Vpon the hidden blis of that place , where Himselfe doth liue in secret secrecy , And yet there is no doubt , but Loue shall dwell Hereafter there , if he please Nature well . Now sober thought sha●l silently passe o're , Without rude language or immodest wrong , The things that reason euer hath forbore , Cause they surpasse the eloquence of tongue : While I pursue the meaner dainties lower , And so in faire Content I passe along : For where the eye doth leade , the lips are bold , But what was neuer seene , must not be told . When I haue then bethought hir veinie thighne , Hir smooth and dainty leg , hir handsome knee , The pillers of this euer-worthy shrine , Where Chastnes , Beauty , Wit enrooded Bee , Who can perswade me , that hir foot 's not fine , When these adoring eyes the shooe did see , That for his length , might of the sixes bee , But sure for bredth , it cou'd be but the three . To tell how ●aire and straight this vnder-part , Held vp the rest so br●ght , and goodly hie ; Would make the heau● n-supporting Atlas start , And in a rage let fall the mighty skie : And whisper to himselfe within his hart , How base and euer lasting slaue am I , Whom this eternall drudgery contents , While meaner props beare fairer elements . How comely Lord , ( me thinks ) hir backe was made , How right hir shoulders to the same were knit ; How excellently both hir sides were laid● , How straight , how long hir armes were , and how fit : How white hir hand was , and how vndecai'd , And what faire fingers ioyned were to it : How delicately euery limme was plac't , And euery member by another grac't . No painter that did euer pensill dip , In oryent Russet or in sable die ; Ha's pow'r to match the rednes of hir lip , Or the thr●e-colour'd harts-case of hir eie : Pygmalion at her cheekes and chin wou'd trip , And at hir browes would blush and looke awry : And for hir Nose , Nature would doe as much , For heauen and earth yields not another such . A wounden wreathe she had of Baies and Firre , That had y'clipt hir formost locks in greene ; Whose trembling Leafe the mildest blast would stirre , Vnlesse the winde had much forbearefull beene : And for hir haire except you look on hir , I 'm sure there is no more such to be seene : And all hir head was dressed in that haire , So might it best , no dressing is so faire . Hir band about hir necke was plainey' spread , Withouten doubles , settes , but falling flat ; And all vpon it , wrought in golden thread , Roses , vines , pances , and I wot not what : A curled locke descending from hir head , Hung on her shoulder , partly hiding that : On hir left shoulder : Shoulders that do beare , Somthing : what ? Nothing , but the things they weare . She wore withall a Tyrian mantle , made Of silken yearne , with strippe of siluer mixt ; Of the same webbe that young Appollo had ; For certainely went but the sheares betwixt : Hir vpper● part was in a Doublet clad , Wrought ore with cloudes , and golden planets fixt : And skirted like a man , but that before Hir buttons , and hir girdle , came much lower . Hir buttons were great store , and very small , In colours like vnto hir doublet wrought ; Hir Belt was finer geare , but yet withall , As semblant to the rest as might be thought : Saue that it was with pearle as round as ball , With aggets , and with glimsy saphyres fraught : And all was like hir doublet to hir hand , Sauing hir cuffes , and they were like hir band . Hir kirtle was an equall minglement , Of diuers silks in diuers beauties dide ; And with a tucke it was , that as she went , Her middle-leg the fringe did scarcely hide : And to this tucke , brode Lace in order spent , One from another not a finger wide : And from hir ankle to hir knee did rise , Gamashaes of the best of Iasons prise . Of silken greene hir nether stocks were knit , One of her garters cou'd I hardly see , For she aboue the ioynt had twisted it , Yet seem'd it like to that below the knee , Because I saw the endes were sembled fit , With broydery as like as like might bee : H●● shooe was lowe , because she did desie , Any aditions to make hir hie . As I a while was standen in a weare , In ill conceit of my vnworthy state , Whether I mote presume to let hir heare What of hirselfe was told to me so late , I sodainly might see approaching neere , A handsome bonny Virgin that did waite Vpon this Lady : and in hand she led A milke-white Steede , and richly furnished . Withouten bashfull dread , or further thought , I crosst aloose vnto this comely Maide , And hauing bid her welcome , as I ought , And broke into a homely speech , and sayde , Faire Mistresse you are she that I haue sought , But cer●es for no harme , be not afraide If you a mayde to Muridel●a be , Pray tell me , is she here , and which is she ? This Damsell seeming proud and angry too , Snuffes at my plainenesse , flouts , and walkes awry , I follow on , and for an answere wooe , ●ut for my heart I cou'd haue no reply , What shall it boote me then in vaine to sue , If thou be thus , what is thy Dame ? thought I , Or mayst thou be , as ancient tales expresse , A Mayde more dainty then thy Misteresse . But ( yet anon ) because she would not stay , Nor I thinke of her any worse then well , She threw this minsing Answere in my way , I am : she 's here : that 's she , and so farewel . But which ( quoth I ) is that you meane I pray , Whoo then ( she sayth ) go looke , I will not tell . With this we part , and both our wayes we keepe , And she leades on hir Horse , and I my sheepe . And well I was that I so much cou'd know , And for the same I gaue hir faire God-speed , And after that preparde my selfe to go To meete with hir whom I shou●d meete indeed , I meane the ●ady that I praysed so , The Mistresse of the Mayde and of the Steed ? 〈◊〉 goddes and his loue for aye , My goddes and my Mistresse for to day . Now look'd I on my selfe what must be don , And ●ub●d my garments cleane in euery seame , My face that long had basked in the Sunne , I made it handsome in the gentle streame , I combd my bustled locks , and wipt my shoon , And made my selfe as tricke as Polypheme , When he first kept his heardlam neere the Sea , For loue and sake of constant Galate . The gentle Ladies when they did behold My 〈◊〉 approch , anon began to fleere , Ether th● occasion was to see me bold , To vent● 〈◊〉 in a Swaynish guise so neere , Or else they highly wonderd what I would , Or what might be the bus'nes I had there , Yet feared not , for they full well did know , The Country to the Court was neuer foe . The princocke youth , ( as I alate did tell , ) That mand this goodly so●t along the hil ; In his pure wisdome thought I did not well , ( Though I had sworne in thought to do no ill : ) And therefore meetes me with a count'nance fell , And this disdaineful question : What 's your will ? No harme sweet maister ( sed I ) but to see , My Land-lady , if any here be she . These are the Ladies of the court ( quoth he , ) Whose pleasure is to walke vpon this greene ; Whose honour des●ices and high degree , Is daily waiting on our Soueraigne Queene ; ( And with that word his head vncouer'd he ) , And all his youthfull yellow locks were seene : And I kneeld downe and cride , O heauens so deare Preserue hir grace and all her Ladies here . With that on gentle Lady mong them all , Partly resoul'd I had some tale to 〈◊〉 ; With becking hand the Image of a call , Examins what I would , and where I dwell : Quoth I , my wonning is in yonder stall , And I would speake with beauteous M●ridell : All honour be to euery one of you , But she is whom my message longs vnto . Whose faire respect in such abundance wrought , And curtesie did in such sort supplie ; That euery grace , and euery gentle thought , Did seeme to be assembl'd in hir eie : When with a piercing smiling glaunce it sought , The arrand of the homely stander by : And did inspire the mouing lips to say , What newes to Muridella , ( Shepheards boy . ) If shepheards then may dare to be so bolde With such estates as yours , I gan to'say , Or if Loues Message may be rudely tolde , ( As better know my betters what it may ) Duty and promise vrge me to vnfolde , That on this greene I met vpon a day Youthfull Anander , that in Court doth dwell , As you well know , if you be Muridell . And that aboue the world he loues you deare , If be to you vnthought of , or vnknowne , Once trust my oth vpon it ( if I sweare ) Where in I yet haue bene vntrue to none : If euer Loues did by the lookes appeare , Or euer miseries were declar'd by mone , Anander is as farre in loue with you , As he on this side death , ha's powre to goe . But are you sure ( she saith ) it is to me ? As sure as I am sure y' are Muridell : But are you sure ( she sayth ) that that was hee , As sure as I am sure , he loues you well : But are you sure ( she sayth ) that I am shee , That is ( quoth I ) the thing I least can tell , But that 's the name I 'm sure he do's adore , And shee that owes that name , he honours more . Be-like ( she saith ) your message doth pertaine To Muridell : and that 's I indeed , But that those loues and honors that you saine , And those high thoughts that from his heart proceed Are● one to me it is a lest but vaine , And let it be no member of your creed : T' was he , I know t : he loues , I know it too , But whom he loues , he knowes , not I , nor you . For thee to sweare what thou hast heard him vow , Is but the childish error of thy youth ; For me to trust things sworne I wot not how , Might arg●e fondnes , lightnes , and vntru●h : And therefore , ( Shepheard ) what a foole art thou , To thinke that euery teare proceedes of ruth , When men that other causes doe lament , Will burden loue with all their Discontent ? Be thou not then so lightly borne away , With euery idle tale that men professe ; And looke how much the more of Loues they say , Be wise inough to credit them the lesse : For if in sooth they are enclind that way , Thy pitty do's but adde to their distresse : But if they doe not meane the things they say , What foole are you , and what dissemblers they ? Downe halts the beggar when he seekes to moue , The mistresse of the Almes-house to be kinde ; And craft is sickly when he meanes to proue , The lib'rall pitty , of the innocent minde , And light beliefe is but the Asse of Loue , That beares his oathes before , his mocks behinde : And neuer trauels with an empty poke , Vntill all mockes be spent , all oathes be broke . Mens vowes to vs haue beene of small import , Since loue put on Dianas moony cap , And in the lo●ely woods of chast disport , Opprest Cal●sto with a dire mishap , Since 〈◊〉 outlawes came to Carthage Court , And ●alse Iulus play'd in Didoes lap , No why Loues into our hearts shall creepe , ( O word full ill to speake , full hard to keepe ▪ ) All shamefac'd as I stood at this defence , With all my wittes astounded in a muse ; I had a suddaine hap to call to sence , Anander told me how she wou'd excuse Hir drery hardnes , and vnkind offence , A thing she so familarly did vse , That to a meane and single vnderstander , The fault of Loue seem'd rather in Anander . Herewith the gentle silence of hir tongue , Giues more tune to my message and his cause ; This feeble answer , from affection strong , Fild vp the empty minutes of that pause : Faire Lady , more it please you , do no wrong , Though for his Loue you guiden all the Lawes : Nor him of fayning , or false oathes condemne , For sure that hart did neuer harbor them . To count those vowes before me he did take , To tell the teares that he did lauish here ; To call to minde the praises he did make Of you his Muridella , you his deare : What griefes , what thoughts , what labors for your sake , What discontent , what fury he did beare , Would make me ( Lady ) more distraught to tell , Then is the maddest Eumenis of hell . But since the Euening hastes , let all things rest , Till please it you to meet him on this hill ; That ha●●y heau'ns may make your hart possest , With 〈◊〉 pitty of Ananders ill : A 〈◊〉 wished change restore him blest , With Muridellaes gentles and good-will : And if that then the fault in him shal be , Let me cu●se him , and you abandon me . To this request hir greatnes mildely spake , Much is the Loue Anander might haue won , If other courses he had pleas'd to take , Then thus abroade haue cry'd himselfe vndon , And by his open blames , a Tyrant make Of me , that wisht him as I wou'd my son , Though I confesse the loues he would haue had , I did denie , but not to make him mad . For let our weakenes as it well hath need , Resolue it selfe vpon profound aduise , For when consent is made with too much speed , Entreating Loue esteemes it of no price : Such weighty bargaines are not soone agreed : A substance is too much to play at twice , The loue 's but small that is too yong to know , That all the hope 's not past when wee say no. But on the day that I him here shall meete , ( The fairest day of all the fairest dayes ) I learne him shal , how to be more discreete And curteous , in the bruite of my disprayse : And then ( if heau'ns ordaine it not vnmeete ) Vnarmed Loue shall part our lingring fraies , And where the most vnkindenesse then shall bee , There the iust sentence shall be giu'n by thee . For I do know An●nder young and faire , And much I thinke , and much I wou'd doe for him , And that it is my euerlasting care , That disconsent of loue should neuer marre him : Witnes thy selfe ( yong shepheard boy ) that are The onely iudge to whom I shal referre him , And so I must be gon the night is neere , Time stayes no longer at the Court then here . With that the lightnes of hir nimble foote Withdrew it selfe into a silent trace , And all hir veiny limmes consenting to 't , Made a faire turne , and vanisht hence apace , With all the comely troupe , leauing me mute , And languisht in the loosing of hir face , While does the aire into mine eares infuse The message of hir musicall adewes .

Elegie III. Anander sicke with Loues disdaine Doth change himselfe into a Swaine , While dos the youthful shepherd show him His Muridellaes answere to him . THe Sunne that had himselfe a Courtier beene , And for his beautie lou'd of Ladies faire , Spread forth his yellow beames vpon the greene , And with attentiue eye , and Courtly care , Flourisht his wandring torch , till he had seene This troup arriue the place where now they are : Which done , he hies him thence , and takes his rest Behinde the furthest Mountaines of the West . Blinde drouzie night , all clad in misty ray , Began to ride along the welkins round , Hangs out his gazing Lanthornes by the way , And makes the outside of the world his bound , The Queene of starres in enuy of the daye , Throwes the cold shadow of hir eyes to ground , And supple grasse opprest with heauy dew , Doth wet the Sheepe , and licke the shepheards shooe . There as I dwelt there dwelled all my sheepe , And home we went tog●●her , flocks and I , As euen where I rest , and take my sleepe , There are my flocks asleepe and resting by , And when I rise to go to field and keepe , So will my flocks , that can no longer he : Thus in the Sheepe is all the Shepheards care , And in the Shepheard is the ●locks welfare . W●ile did the yeare let slip his tender Spring , And merry Moones went merrily away , I with this happy flocke alone did sing , And pipe the oaten galhard euery day , As well content as Pan himselfe our King , With a new Carroll or a Roundelay , For he ( as good a Minstrell as he is ) Couth neuer tune a better Lay then this . When Shepheards sit vpon the hills , Nursed in their Swainish wills , Young , and in desires vnripe , Curious of the flocke and pipe , Then is Swaynish life the best , And he that cares , and loues the lest , Thinkes he fares aboue the rest . Then our ioyes beguile our ruthes , Shepheards boyes , be merry youthes , Loues do dwell in Couri'rs beds , Peace doth ●well in Shepheards heads , ●usts are like our flocks ypent , Want of age doth barre consent , Youth doth flourish with content . But when elder dayes shall show , Whether Swaines be men or no , Loue shall rule in shepheards braines , Grauitie shall guide the swaines . Wanton thoughts shall then be checkt , Shepheards shall no playes respect , Age shall conquer youths defect . Sing I then , heigh ho for ioy , Cause I yet am but a boy , But when shepheards boyes be men , Ho my hart , what sing I then ? Heigh-ho , sorrow , loyes away , Conqu'ring Loue ha's won the Day , This is all my Roundelay . Whilome when I was Colli●s loued boy , ( Ah Collin , for thee Collin , weep I now , ) For thou art dead , ah , that to me didst ioy , As Coridon did to Alexis vow . But ( as I sed , ) when I was Col●ns boy , This deare young boy , and yet of yeares inow , To leade his willing heard along the plaine , ● on his pipe did learne this singing vaine . And oh , ( well mote he now take rest therfore , ) How oft in pray'rs and songs he pray'd and sung , That I ( as had himselfe full long before , ) Mought liue a happy shepheard and a young ; And many vowes , and many wishes more , When he his Pipe into my bosome ●lung : And said , though Col●in ne're shall be surpast , Be while thou hu●st , as like him as thou maist . Much was my deare therefore when Collin died , When we ( alacke ) were both agreed in griefe : He for his infant swaine that me a●●ide , Yet happed not to hue t● see my priefe . And I t●at to his gouernance had tide My bounden youth , in loosing such a chiefe : Ah how wou●d he haue sung , and with what grace ? Ananders Loue , and Muridellaes Face . He wou'd haue blazed in eternall note , Anan●ers Loue and worthy Man●●nes ; And then recorded with a wondrous throte , His Muridellaes louely worthines , And by those witching tunes he had by wrote , Cur'd his Loues griefe with his desires succes : And by his loftie pipe , and pleasing ditty , Molted hir hearts hardnes with her Loues pitty . Then mought full well these hils of Shepheards feed , Beene priuy to loues secret discontent , And all these quarrels might ha beene agreed And ended , by a Iudge so reuerent : For he was letter'd well , and well couth reed , And was a swaine profound and eloquent , But now is left of him but bare report , And I m fields , must sing the Loues in Court . Anan●ier now whose loues did waxe in age , So as they did in greatnes and in wait , Sometimes bursts out into disbounded rage . And ●oy's his eager heart on Passions bait : Sometimes the swelling minde begins to swage , And slender hopes appeare , but vanish strait , And Griefe drawes out the Anticks of his care , Vpon his face , his bosome , and his haire . Poore gentle youth ▪ as yet a man vnwitting , With that true truth , his arrand I had sed , And with what milde respect , and hopefull pittying , The answers of his loue were answered : Liues wide from sumptuous Court , as one more sitting , To sh●owd pale sicknes in a country bed : And so●●times ( though the space was farre between ) Casts his long looks , where his long Loues had been , At length , what forc't by Loue , what by good-will , Loue that he bore to hir , good-will to me ; It pleas'd him once more to salute this hill , And me , and these my flocks that weakned be For want of care and shepheards wary skill , That for this while couth neuer well o're-see Their ●ickle state , so greatly did me stir , The woe for him , the wondering at hir . A weeping face ( at first ) I durst not shew him , Lest he should swound in weening ill successe ; Nor wou'd I smile when I at first did view him , Lest he shou'd dreame of greatest happinesse : But look't as I look't when first I knew him , Withouten change of feature , more or lesse : So that my Count'nance cou'd him not disclose , Great cause of ioyes , or greater meanes of woes . Now while the action of his hand and foot , Daunc't out the measures of his courtly greeting ; And I in silent bowes , and grosse salute , Doubl'd the curteous Congees of our meeting : His gentle heart fed with no other fruite , But griefes sowre Plumme , and Passions bitter-sweeting : Sends to the mouth the sighes that she had broken , Where being shap't in words , they were thus spoken . Sith is no doubt ( young curteous boy ) but thou , Hast seene my Loue vpon this gladsome plaine ; Therefore declare my doome vnto me now , Declare thou happy , or vnhappy swaine : Tell me what Muridella said , and how Thou lik'st her speech , hir beauty , and hir traine : Powre out hir praise to me with such a tongue , As vnto hir thou didst my loue and wrong . Say , what she sed to thee , what to thy flocke , What vnto me , and what vnto my Loue , Say : did she pitty me , or did she mocke , Or challenge witnes of the heau'ns aboue ? At what time came she , and at what a clocke Went she away ? for loue of mighty Ioue Tell me deere youth ▪ and if my hopes succeed , I le crowne thy kindenes with a lib'rall deed . For now my life stands on the crazie point Of tott'ring hope , and feeble expectation : Doubt trembles Agew-like in eu'ry ioynt , And feare assaults with threats of desolation : And now , vnles the balmes of comfort noint , I die the luckelest man of all our nation : Therefore discourse the fortunes of that day , And at that word I thus began to say . That I this Lady faire haue seene and met , Know wel mine eyes that were my arrands guide , Out of whose circles is not vanisht yet The Image of that beauty that they ey'd , And that I told your loues and passions great Shall by the iudgement of your selfe be try'd , When lips vnlearned motion shal present you , With such a luke-warme answere as she sent you . But first if you were not so farre in dote , As that ( O starres ) you cou'd not iealous be , Wonder would make me digresse , and quote Your answer , with the praise of blessed shee : But at more leasure will I sing that note , When in the vallies I alone shall bee . Meane while ( faire Knight ) I will declare togither , Your Ladies speech and my aduenture with hir . At first ▪ a comely Virgin groom that met me , For fauour to my tale I did beseech , Who for a rude young Shepheard did outset me , And with an answere of short carel●sse speech Runne from my earnest plaint ; and scarce wou'd let me Take knowledge , who was Muridell , and which : And seeing then so little vexe hir maide , I thought that nothing might to hir be saide . At length a youth that led them o're the plaine , A faire yong boy , of modest age and looke , Clad in a silken garment di'd in graine , As greene of hiew as Neptunes tidy brooke , And a greene veluet cap of the same staine , Wherein a plume of curled feathers stooke , And round about his skirt , in seemly grace , Thirteene bright circles made of siluer lace . As it befell : this white-cheek'd youth and I , Instead of bearding , chin'd at one another ; He , like a hauty spirit , obseruingly Wou'd needs know what I go about , and whother , I , in pure meekenesse , and in simplicy , Leg'd him a faire excuse ( sir ) and no other , While thus we both our wordey combate breake , She gently heard me , and she bade me speake . And what I sed full well to you is knowne . Whose loue did lesson it to me before : Vnles your thoughts cannot containe their owne , Or memory let fall hir chiefest store , That is ; the teares , the pray'rs , the prayse , the mone , That your great griefe vpon my lips did score , And therefore read she halfe my message there , And from my mouth the other halfe did beare . She in milde termes repli'd , she wonderd much That that faire knight shou'd bene so louely ill , Sith she ne're knew that his desires were such As to complaine the stiffnes of hir will . And to be plaine , and giue the neerest tuch , Of that she vtter'd here vpon this hill , She sed , some beautie had your loues ywon , But loues to her were neither meant nor don . Sometimes in sooth , ( she couth it not deny ▪ ) You wou'd in courtly dalliance , and in iest , Discourse of your owne loues full amorously , With much faire promises , and large protest , And she hirselfe in sober contrary , Would answere as you aske , and bid you rest : But that for hir , you did so deerely pine , She neuer thought it , by that Sun that shine . Thou knowst ( saith he ) if youth debarre thee not , That not in man can such dissemblance liue , As faine himselfe vnsufferably hot , Whenas his handes like melting y●e forgiue , Nor can yshroud himselfe in carelesse blot , When in his thoughts the pangs of sorrowes grieue , And that my Loues haue had time and appearing , Be iu●ge thy youth , that giues me gentle hearing . When first my youth was in that ages odnesse , That lacks the three bare twelue months of a score , Loue was a suckling then in infant gladnesse , And onely liu'd on dalliance , and no more , The eighteenth was the first yeare of his madnesse , And greater were his randone then before : The nineteenth yeare he silently befell In single choyce of beauteous Muridell . The twentith did I waste away in vttring , All that the yea●e before I had fore-thought , And this last tweluemonth is neere gone in suffring , The hard succeedings that my vttrance wrought ; If the next yield the like discomforting , In such defects as sufferance hath brought : The next to that is like to end in me , Loues long sixe yeares with Lifes short twenty-three . Meane while , if thou fearst not the fellowship Of lingring Loues infectious languishment , In these delicious meades I will o●re-ship , The wearisome discourse of discontent : And in a shepheards humble out-side , clip My drouped Noblenesse , and liue vnkent : And vnrespected on the loanly hilles , Till either Loue or Death conclude my illes . My deare vnkind , that in the wanton Court This while doth liue , admired and obaid , Shall bide the blame of desperate report , From the grieu'd Nemesis of a minde decaid : Where let hir liue to dally and disport ▪ In selfe loues riuer with hi● beauties shade : Vntill the louely Lilly of hir looke , Become the lowly Lilly of the brooke . And those young Lordings that with enuious eies , Tooke secret watch of my affection to hir , Shall now haue time and liberty to guise Their bounteous thoughts and gentle lips to woe hir : And tire out their desiers vnsuffice , As I the first , first did ▪ when I first knew hir : Till some more gallants suffer with Anander , The mastry of a feminine commander . The eares of Ioue shall then be sicke to heare The miserous complaint of cou●tly louers , Old care shall clothe young loue as gray as freere , When him with eie deceiuing Anticks couers : And men of Court shall dwell with shepheards heere , And Pallace hawkes shall feast with Meadow plouers , For thus none-spa●ing Loue did vanquish me , That thought my selfe as strong as others be . Though once I cou'd , when I was weake and young , ( Is 't not a wonder worthy three dayes weeping ) Contend in any game and be too strong For Loue ▪ that now hath all my strength in keeping : Since in the Flower of Age , I fall along , Like vnto him that whilo●●e at a meeting Recoil●d rash wounding Death himself vpon , When he with Sol durst throw the weighty stone . O 〈◊〉 , how like thy case is mine ? Then f●om thy vent●ous soule that ●●owrs didst bleed When prowdly that presumptuous arme of thine Attempted so vnpossible a deede . I ▪ 〈◊〉 with Loue do in like combat ioine , My cou●tly wanton turnes a meadow weed : And s●epheards seruants proue we both by that , I grace his field , and thou dost decke his hat . So shall this bo●e , whose eies ne're look't into The fat●ll change of our Imperious state : Be gouernour of those vnhappy twoo , That in their glo●y , found their glories date : He th●t into a ●lowre dide long agoe , He that into a weed chang'd now alate : He that by 〈◊〉 dide , by him suruiues : He that by 〈◊〉 liu'd , and by hir dies . And with this speech , and those dumbe sighes beside , Wherewith his lights shut vp his woes discourse : His comely furnishments of courtly pride , He couers in a shape mo●e homely worse : And in a swainish Counte●fet doth hide His noble limmes : the ruines of Loues force : And ( O ) it was to see a wondrous grace , So deare a Iewell in so cheape a case . I meane , saith he , a shepheards life to leade , So long as Gods my Life a leading giue , Or till that Lady shall salute this meade , For whose deare hate I thus am bound to liue : This wilfull penance put I on my head , Which none but Muridella shall forgiue : Till when , I liue that life in hope to mend it , Or else in good-assurance ne're to end it . If she proue kinde , as she was neuer yet , ( Though she in vertue else was blest ) Then shal be voide the Couenants of this ●it , And ioyes shall lose the knot of strict Protest : If still she in the like contempt doth sit , My vowe continues as it is 〈◊〉 prest : Thus I am bound , though she the debt must pay , And I must forfait , though she breake the day . Herewith the youthfull noble-seeming swaine , Adowne and set himselfe besiden me : All in th● middest of the lightsome plaine , Where all around wee might our heardlams see ▪ With●uten signe or shew of nice disdaine , The Sh●p-booke in that hand receiued ●●e That was wont to beare the warlike lance , And leade the Ladies many a cou●tly dance . Thou ensigne of poore Life , badge of content , Staffe of my cares , yet piller of my blis●e , Cheape relique of that ●oie that is dispent , And chiefe foundation of that ioie that is , True watchman of those smiles that hopes present , Strong porter of those griefes that hatred gi 's : Witnes of woes , my hooke , my hope as much , The Shepheards weapon , and the Louers crutch . I doe embrace thee , as I once imbrac't ( Saith he ) that vertuous mistresse that I had , When on the easie measure of hir waste , I in this sort desiringly fell mad . Though vnto me thou yield●st not such repast , Nor art so faire , nor art so gayly clad : Yet looke how much hir beauties passe thy state , So much thy Company excels hir hate . Thus did the spirit of Ananders eie , ( Whose brightnes care had masked in a dim , ) Pertake with me the life of shepheardie , As I both Life and Loue pertooke with him . And vntill she relents , or till we die , No second fortunes can in vs begin . All liberties as thankles offers be , Till Loue that tide him vp , do set him free . Till heau'ns aboue ordaine one pleasing day , Wherein that Angel of their iealous care , That Muridella please to come this way , And with hir foote steps lighter then●the aire , Trip through the dwellings of hir amorous boy , And chear'd his droup't li●●mes with embracings faire , Anetor hath Ananders loues in keepe , And faire Anander hath Anetors sheepe . Till then , yee Gods ordaine vs both good speed , In Loues and flocks presented to your care , And when your grace shall stand vs in such steed , To end a Loues griefe , and do a happy chare : I le sacrifice the fairest lambe I feed , And tun● my pipe againe : and then prepare One Dittie more , wherein the world shall view , How much you fauour vs , wee honour you . FINIS .

— Quando vacat , quando est , iucunda relatu , historiam prima repetens ab origine pandam .