The shepheards pipe

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE .

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LONDON Printed by N. O. for George Norton , and are to be sold at his Shop without Temple-barre . 1614.

Of his Friend Maister William Browne . A Poets borne , not made : No wonder then Though Spencer , Sidney : ( miracles of men , Sole English Makers ; whose cu●…n names so bie Expresse by implication Poesy ) Were long vnparaleld : For nature bold In their creation , spent that precious mould , That Nobly better earth , that purer spirit Which Poets , as their Birth ●…ights , claime ●…inherite : And in their great production , Prodigall ; Carelesse of futures well-nye spent her-all Veiwing her work : conscious sh 'had suffred wracke Hath caus'd our Countrymen ere since to lacke That better earth , and forme : Long thrifty growne Who truely might heare Poets , brought forth none : Till now of late , seeing her stockes new-full ( By Time , and Thrift ) of matter beautifull , And quint-essence of formes ; what seuerall Our elder Poets graces had , those all Shee now determin'd to vnite in one ; So to surpasse her selfe ; and call'd him Browne . ‛ That beggard by his birth , shee 's now so poore That of true Makers shee can make no more . Heereof accus'd ; answer'd , shee meant that ●…ee A species should , no indiuiduum bee . That ( Phoenix-like ) Hee in himselfe should find Of Poesy contain'd each seuerall kind . And from this Phoenix's vrne , thought shee could take Whereof all following-Poetswell to make . For of some forme , shee had , now made knowne They were her errours whilst ●…'intented Browne . In libellum , inscriptionemque . Not Aeglogues your , but Eclogues : To compare : Virgil's selected , yours elected are . Hee Imitates , you Make : and this your creature Expresseth well your Name , and theirs , their Nature . E. IOHNSON Int. Temp.

To the truely Vertuous , and worthy of all Honour , the Right Honourable EDWARD , Lord ZOVCH , Saint MAVRE and CANTELVPE , and one of his Mties . most Honourable Priuy Councell . BE pleas'd ( great Lord ) when vnderneath the shades Of your delightfull Brams-hill , ( where the spring Her flowers for gentle blasts with Zephire trades ) Once more to heare a filly Shepheard sing . Yours be the pleasure , mine the Sonneting ; Eu'n that hath his delight ; nor shall I need To seeke applause amongst the common store ●…t is enough if this mine-oaten Reed Please but the eare it should ; I aske no more . Nor shall those rurall notes which heretofore Your true attention grac'd and wing'd for fame ●…mperfect lye ; Obliuion shall not gaine Ought on your worth , but sung shall be your name ●…o long as England yeelds or song or Swaine . Free are my lines , though drest in lowly state , And scorne to flatter but the men I hate . Your Honours . W. BROWNE .

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE . The first Eglogue . THE ARGVMENT . Roget and Willy both ymet , Vpon a greeny Ley , With Rondelayes and Tales are set . To spend the length of day . WILLIE . ROGET . Willie . ROGET , droope not , see the spring Is the earth enamelling , And the birds on euery Tree Greete this morne with melody : Hearke , how yonder Thrustle chants it , And her mate as proudly vants it ; See how euery streame is drest By her Margine , with the best Of Flora's gifts , she seemes glad For such Brookes such flowres she had . All the trees are quaintly tyred With greene buds , of all desired ; And the Hauthorne euery day , Spreads some little shew of May : See the Prim-rose sweetely set By the much-lou'd Violet All the Bankes do sweetly couer , As they would inuite a Louer With his Lasse , to see their dressing And to grace them by their pressing ? Yet in all this merry tyde When all cares are laid aside , Roget sits as if his bloud Had not felt the quickning good Of the Sun , nor cares to play , Or with songs to passe the day As he wont : Fye , Roget flye , Raise thy head , and merrily Tune vs somewhat to thy reed : See our Flockes do freely feed , Heere we may together sit , And for Musicke very fit Is this place ; from yonder wood Comes an Eccho shrill and good , Twice full perfectly it will Answere to thine Oaten quill . ●…oget , droope not then , but sing Some kind welcome to the Spring . Roget . AH Willie , Willy , why should I , Sound my notes of iollity ? Since no sooner can I play Any pleasing Roundelay , But some one or other still 'Gins to descant on my Quill ; And will say , by this , he me Meaneth in his Minstralsie . If I chance to name an Asse In my song , it comes to passe , One or other sure will take it As his proper name , and make it Fit to tell his nature too . Thus what e're I chance to do Happens to my losse , and brings To my name the venom'd stings Of ill report : How should I Sound then notes of iollity ? Willie . T Is true indeed , we say all Rub a gal'd horse on the gall , Kicke he wil , storme and bite , But the horse of sounder plight Gently feeles his Maisters hand . In the water thrust a brand Kindled in the fire , 't will hisse , When a sticke that taken is From the Hedge , in water thrust , Neuer rokes as would the first , But endures the waters touch : Roget , so it fares with such Whose owne guilt hath them enflam'd , Rage when e're their vice is blam'd . But who in himselfe is free From all spots , as Lillies be , Neuer stirres , do what thou can . If thou slander such a man Yet he 's quiet , for he knowes With him no such vices close . Onely he that is indeed Spotted with the leprous seed Of corrupted thoughts , and hath An vlcerous soule in the path Of reproofe , he straight will brall If you rub him on the gall . But in vaine then shall I keepe These my harmlesse flocke of sheepe . And though all the day I tend them , And from Wolues & Foxes shend them . Wicked Swaines that beare mee spight , In the gloomy vaile of night , Of my fold will draw the pegges , Or else breake my Lambkins legges : Or vnhang my Weathers bell , Or bring bryers from the dell , And them in my fold by peeces Cast , to tangle all their fleeces . Welladay ! such churlish Swaynes Now and then lurke on our plaines : That I feare , a time , ere long Shall not heare a Sheepheards song . Nor a Swayne shall take in taske Any wrong , nor once vnmaske Such as do with vices rife Soyle the Sheepheards happy life : Except he meanes his Sheepe shall bee A prey to all their iniury . This causeth mee I do no more Chant so as I wont of yore : Since in vaine then should I keepe These my harmlesse flocke of Sheope . Willie . YEt if such thou wilt not sing , Make the Woods and Vallies ring With some other kind of lore , Roget hath enough in store , Sing of loue , or tell some tale , Praise the flowers , the Hils , the Vale : Let vs not heere idle be ; Next day I will sing to thee . Hearke on knap of yonder Hill Some sweet Sheepheards tune his quill ; And the Maidens in a round Sit ( to heare him ) on the ground . And if thou begin , shall wee Grac'd be with like company . And to gird thy Temples bring Garlands for such fingering . Then raise thee Roget . Roget . Gentle Swaine Whom I honour for thy straine , Though it would beseeme me more To attend thee and thy lore : Yet least thou might'st find in me 〈◊〉 neglect of courtesie , 〈◊〉 will sing what I did leere Long agon in Ianiueere Of a skilfull aged Site , As we tosted by the fire . Willy . SIng it out , it needs must be Very good what comes from thee . Roget . Whllome an Emperour prudent and wise , Raigned in Rome , and had sonnes three Which he had in great chiertee & great prise , And when it shop so , that th' infirmitee Of death , which no wight may eschew or flee Him threw downe in his bed , hee let do call His sonnes , and before him they came all . And to the first he said in this maneere , All th' eritage which at the dying Of my fadir , he me left , all in feere Leaue I thee : And all that of my buying Was with my peny , all my purchasing , My second sonne bequeath I to thee , And to the third sonne thus said hee : Vnmoueable good , right none withouten oath Thee giue I may ; but I to thee deuise Iewels three , a Ring , Brooch and a Cloth : With which , and thou bee guied as the wise , Thou maist get all that ought thee suffi●… ; Who so that the Ring vseth still to weare Of all folkes the loue hee shall conquere . And who so the Broch beareth on his breast , It is eke of such vertue and such kind , That thinke vpon what thing him liketh best , And he as bliue shall it haue and finde . My words sonne imprint well in mind : The Cloth eke hath a meruailous nature , Which that shall be committed to thy cure . Who so sit on it , if he wish where In all the world to beene , he suddenly Without more labour shall be there . Sonne those three Iewels bequeath I To thee , vnto this effect certainely That to study of the Vniuersiree Thou go , and that I bid and charge thee . When he had thus said the vexation Of death so hasted him , that his spirit Anon forsooke his habitation In his body , death would no respyte Him yeue at all , he was of his life quitte . And buried was with such solemnity , As fell to his Imperiall dignity . Of the yongest sonne I tell shall , And speake no more of his brethren two , For with them haue I not to do at all . Thus spake the mother Ionathas vnto : Sin God hath his will of thy father do : To thy fathers Will , would I me conforme , And truly all his Testament performe . He three Iewels , as thou knowest well A Ring , a Brooch , and a Cloth thee bequeath , Whose vertues , he thee told euery deal , Or that he past hence and yalde vp the breath : O good God , his departing , his death Full grieuously sticketh vnto mine heart , But suffered mot been all how sore it smart . In that case women haue such heauinesse , That it not lyeth in my cunning aright You tell , of so great sorrow the excesse , But wise women can take it light , And in short while put vnto the flight All sorrow & woe , and catch againe comfort , Now to my tale make I my resort . Thy fathers will , my sonne , as I said ere , Will I performe , haue heere the ring and go To study anon , and when that thou art there , As thy father thee bade , do euen so , And as thou wilt my blessing haue also : Shee vnto him as swy the tooke the Ring And bad him keepe it well , for any thing . Hee went vnto the study generall Where he gat loue enough , and acquaintance Right good and friendly , the ring causing all , And on a day to him befell this chance , With a woman , a morsell of pleasance By the streetes of the Vniuersity , As he was in his walking , met he . And right as bliue he had with her a tale , ●…nd therewithall sore in her loue he brent , ●…ay , fresh and piked was she to the sale , ●…or to that end , and to that intent ●…he thither came , and both forth they went : And he a pistle rowned in her eare , Nat wot I what , for I ne came nat there . ●…he was his Paramour shortly to sey , This man to folkes all was so leefe , That they him gaue aboundance of money , He feasted folke , and stood at high boucheefe , Of the lacke of good , hee felt no griefe , All whiles the ring he with him had , But fayling it , his friendship gan sad . His Paramour which that'y called was ●…ellicula , maruailed right greatly Of the dispences of this Ionathas , ●…in she no peny at all with him sy , And on a night as there she lay him by In the bed , thus she to him spake , and said , And this petition assoile him praid . O reuerent sir , vnto whom quoth she , Obey I would ay with hearts humblenesse , ●…ince that ye han had my virginitie , ●…u I beseech of your high gentlenesse , Tellith me whence comth the good and richesse That yee with feasten folke , and han no store , By ought I see can , ne gold , ne tresore . If I tell it , quoth he , par auenture Thou wilt discouer it , and out it publish , Such is womans inconstant nature , They cannot keep Councell worth a rish : Better is my tongue keepe , than to wish That I had kept close that is gone at large , And repentance is thing that I more charge . Nay good sir , quoth she , holdeth me not suspect Doubteth nothing , I can be right secret , Well worthy were it me to been abiect From all good company , if I quoth she Vnto you should so mistake me . Be not adread your councell me to shew . Well , said he , thus it is at words few . My father the ring which that thou maist see On my finger , me at his dying day Bequeath'd , which this vertue and propertee Hath , that the loue of men he shall haue aye That weareth it , and there shall be no nay Of what thing that him liketh aske & craue But with good will , he shall as bliue it haue . Through the rings vertuous excellence Thus am I rich , and haue euer ynow . Now Sir , yet a word by your licence Suffreth me to say , and to speake now : Is it wisedome , as that it seemeth you , Weare it on your finger continually ? What woldst thou meane , quoth he , therby ? What perill thereof might there befall ? Right great , quoth she , as yee in company Walke often , fro your finger might it fall , Or plucked off been in a ragery And so be lost , and that were folly : Take it me , let me been of it wardeine , For as my life keepe it would I certeine . This Ionathas , this innocent yong man , Giuing vnto her words full credence , As youth not auised best be can : The Ring her tooke of his insipience . When this was done , the heat & the feruence Of loue which he beforne had purchased , Was quench'd , and loues knot was vnlaced . Men of their gifts to stint began . Ah thought he , for the ring I not ne beare , Faileth my loue ; fetch me woman ( Said he ) my Ring , anon I will it weare . She rose , and into chamber dresseth her , And when she therein had been a while , Alasse ( quoth she ) out on falshood and gyle . The chest is broken , and the Ring take out , And when he heard her complaint and cry , He was astonied sore , and made a shout , And said , Cursed be the day that I Thee met first , or with mine eyne sy. She wept and shewed outward cheere of wo , But in her heart was it nothing so . The ring was safe enough , and in her Chest It was , all that she said was leasing , As some woman other while at best Can lye and weepe when is her liking . This man saw her wee , and sayd Dearling Weep no more , Gods helpe is nye , To him vnwiste how false she was and slye . He twyned thence , and home to his countree Vnto his mother the streight way he went , And when she saw thither comen was he , My sonne , quoth she , what was thine intent Thee , fro the schoole , now to absent ? What caused thee fro schoole hither to hye ? Mother , right this , said he , nat would I lye . Forsooth mother , my ring is a goe , My Paramour to keepe I betooke it , And it is lost , for which I am full woe , Sorrowfully vnto mine heart it sit . Sonne , often haue I warned thee , and yet For thy profit I warne thee my sonne , Vnhonest women thou hereafter shunne . Thy brooch anon right woll I to thee fet , She brought it him , and charged him full deep When he it tooke , and on his breast it set , Bet than his ring he should it keepe , Lest he the losse bewaile should and weepe . To the vniuersity shortly to seyne In what he could , he hasted him ageine . And when he comen was , his Paramour Him met anon , and vnto her him tooke As that he did erst , this yong reuelour , Her company he nat a deale forsooke , Though he cause had , but as with the hooke Of her sleight , he beforne was caught and hent , Right so he was deceiued oft and blent . And as through vertue of the Ring before Of good he had abundance and plentee While it was with him , or he had it lo●…e : Right so through vertue of the brooch had hee What good him list ; she thought , how may this be , Some priuy thing now causeth this richesse : As did the Ring herebefore I gesse . Wondring hereon she praid him , and besought Besily night and day , that tell he would The cause of this ; but he another thought , He meant it close for him it kept be should , And a long time it was or he it told . She wept aye too and too , and said alasse , The time and houre that euer I borne was ! Trust ye not on me Sir ? she seid , Leuer me were be slaine in this place , By that good Lord that for vs all deid , Then purpose againe you any fallace ; Vnto you would I be my liues space As true , as any woman in earth is Vnto a man doubteth nothing of this . Small may she doe , that cannot well by heet , Though not performed be such a promesse . This Ionathas thought her words so sweet , That he was drunke of the pleasant sweetnesse Of them , and of his foolish tendernesse . Thus vnto her he spake , and said tho , Be of good comfort , why weepest thou so ? And she thereto answered thus , sobbing , Sir quoth she , my heauinesse and dreed Is this ; I am adread of the leesing Of your brooch , as Almighty God forbeed It happen so : Now what so God thee speed , Said he , wouldest thou in this case counsaile , Quoth she , that I keep it might sans faile . He said , I haue a feare and dread algate , If I so did thou wouldst it leese As thou lostest my ring , now gon but late , First God pray I quoth she , that I not cheese , But that my heart as the cold frost may freeze : Or else be it brent with wild fire : Nay , surely it to keepe is my desire . To her words credence he gaue pleneere , And the brooch tooke her , and after anone , Whereas he was beforne full leefe and cheere To folke , and had good , all was gone , Good & frendship him lacked , there was none . Woman , me fetch the brooch quoth he , swythee Into thy chamber for it goe ; hye thee . She into chamber went , as then he bad , ●…ut she not brought that he sent her fore , ●…he meant it nat , but as she had be mad Her clothes hath she all to rent and tore , And cryd alasse , the brooch away is bore . For which I wole anon right with my knife My selfe slay , I am weary of my life . This noice he heard , and bliue he to her ran , ●…eening she would han done as she spake , And the knife in all haste that he can From her tooke , and threw it behind his back , And said , ne for the losse , ne for the lacke Of the brooch , sorrow not , I forgiue all , I trust in God , that yet vs helpe he shall . To th' Emperesse his mother this yongman Againe him dresseth , he went her vnto , And when she saw him , she to wonder gan , The thought now somewhat there is misdoe , And said , I dread thy Iewels two Been lost now , percase the brooch with the ring . Mother he said , yea , by heauen King . ●…onne , thou wotst well no iewell is left ●…nto thee now , but the cloath pretious Which I thee take shall , thee charging eft The company of women riotous ●…hou flee , least it be to thee so gricuous That thou it nat sustaine shalt ne beare Such company on my blessing forbeare . The cloth she felt , and it hath him take , And of his Lady his mother , his leaue He tooke , but first this forward gan he make ▪ Mother said he , trusteth this wee l and leeue , That I shall seyn , for sooth ye shall it preeue , If I leese this cloth , neuer I your face , Henceforth see wole , ne you pray of grace ; With Gods helpe I shall do well ynow , Her blessing he tooke , and to study is go , And as beforne told haue I vnto you , His Paramour his priuy mortall foe Was wont to meet him , right euen so She did than , & made him pleasant cheere : They clip and kisse and walke homeward in feere . When they were entred in the house , he sprad This cloth vpon the ground , and thereon sit , And bad his Paramour , this woman bad , To sit also by him adowne on it . She doth as he commandeth , and bit , Had she this thought and vertue of the cloth Wist , to han set on it , had she been loth . She for a while was full sore affesed . This Ionathas wish in his heart gan : Would God that I might thus been eased , That as on this cloth I and this woman Sit heare , as farre were , as that neuer man Or this came , & vnneth had he so thought , But they with the cloth thither weren brought . Right to the worlds end , as that it were . When apparceiued had she this , she cry'd As thogh she through girt had be with a spere . Harrow ! alasse that euer shope this tide ! How came we hither ? Nay , he said , abide , Worse is coming here sole wole I thee leaue Wild beasts shallen thee deuoure or caue . For thou my Ring & Brooch hast fro me holden . O reuerent Sir ! haue vpon me pittee , Quoth she , if yee this grace do me wolden , As bring me home againe to the Cittee Where as I this day was , but if that yee Them haue againe , of foule death do me dye Your bountee on me kythe , I mercy cry , This Ionathas could nothing beware , Ne take ensample of the deceites tweine That she did him beforne , but feith him bare , And her he commanded on deaths peine Fro such offences thenceforth her restreine : She swore , and made thereto foreward , But herkneth how she bore her afterward . Whan she saw and knew that the wrath and ire That he to her had borne , was gone and past , And all was well : she thought him eft to fire , In her malice aye stood she stedfast , And to enquire of him was not agast In so short time how that it might be That they came thither out of her contree . Such vertue hath this cloth on which we sit , Said he , that where in this world vs be list Sodeinly with the thought shallen thither flit , And how thither come vnto vs vnwist : As thing fro farre , vnknowne in the mist. And therwith , to this woman fraudulent To sleep he said , haue I good talent . Let see , quoth he , stretch out anon thy lap , In which wole I my head downe lay and rest , So was it done , and he anon gan nap , Nap ? nay , he slept right well , at best , What doth this woman , one the sicklest Of women all , but that cloth that lay Vnder him , she drew lyte and lyte away Whan she it had all : would God , quoth she , I were as I was this day morning ! And therewith this root of iniquitee Had her wish , and sole left him there sleeping . O Ionathas ! like to thy perishing Art thou , thy paramour made hath thy berd , Whan thou wakest , cause hast thou to be ferd But thou shalt do full well , thou shalt obteene Victory on her , thou hast done some deed Pleasant to thy mother , well can I weene , For which our Lord quite shall thy meed , And thee deliuer out of thy wofull dreed . The child whom that the mother vseth blesse Full often sythe is eased in distresse . Whan he awoke , and neither he ne fond Woman ne Cloth , he wept bitterly , And said , Alasse ! now is there in no lond Man worse I know begon then am I On euery side his looke he cast , and sy Nothing but birds in the aire flying , And wild beasts about him renning . Of whose sight he full sore was agrysed , He thought all this well deserued I haue , What ayled me to be so euill auised , That my counsell could I nat keepe and saue ? Who can foole play ? who can mad and raue ? But he that to a woman his secret Discouereth , the smart cleaueth now on me ; He thus departeth as God would harmlesse ; And forth of auenture his way is went , But whitherward he draw , he conceitlesse Was , he nat knew to what place he was bent . He past a water which was so feruent That flesh vpon his feet left it him none ; All cleane was departed from the bone . It shope so that hee had a little glasse , Which with that water anon filled he And whan he further in his way gone was , Before him he beheld and saw a tree That faire fruit bore , and in great plentee : He eate thereof , the taste him liked well , But he there-through became a foule mesel . For which vnto the ground for sorrow and wo He fell , and said , cursed be that day That'I was borne , and time and houre also That my mother conceiued me , for ay Now am I lost ; alasse and well away ! And when some deel slaked his heauinesse , He rose , and on his way he gan him dresse , Another water before him he sye , Which ( sore ) to comen in he was adrad : But nathelesse , since thereby , other way Ne about it there could none be had , He thought so streitly am I bestad , That though it sore me affese or gast , Assoile it wole I , and through it he past . And right as the first water his flesh Departed from his feet , so the secownd Restored it , and made all whole and fresh : And glad was he , and ioyfull that stownd Whan he felt his feet whole were and sound : A violl of the water of that brooke He fild , and fruit of the tree with him tooke . Forth his iourney this Ionathas held , And as he his looke about him cast , Another tree from a farre he beheld , To which he hasted , and him hied fast , Hungry he was , and of the fruit he thrast Into his mouth , and eate of it sadly , And of the lepry he purged was thereby . Of that fruit more he raught , & thence is gone And a faire Castle from a farre , saw he In compasse of which , heads many one Of men there hung , as he might well see , But not for that he shun would , or flee , He thither him dresseth the streight way In that euer that he can or may . Walking so , two men came him ageine , And saiden thus : deere friend we you pray What man be ye ? Sirs , quoth he , certeine A leech I am , and though my selfe it say , Can for the health of sicke folkes well pu●…uay . They said him , of yonder castle the King A leper is , and can whole be for nothing . With him there hath bin many a sundry leech That vndertooke him well to cure and heale On paine of their heads , but all to seech Their Art was , ' ware that thou not with him deale , But if thou canst the charter of health enseale ; Least that thou leese thy head , as didden they , But thou be wise thou finde it shall no pley . Sirs , said he , you thanke I of your reed , For gently ye han you to me quit : But I nat dread to loose mine heed , By Gods helpe full safe keepe I will it , God of his grace such cunning and wit Hath lent me , that I hope I shall him cure , Full well dare I me put in auenture . They to the kings presence han him lad , And him of the fruit of the second tree He gaue to eate , and bad him to be glad , And said , anon your health han shall yee ; Eke of the second water him gaue he To drinke , & whan he those two had receiued His Lepry from him voided was and weiued . The King ( as vnto his high dignity Conuenient was ) gaue him largely , And to him said , If that it like thee Abiden here , I more habundantly Thee giue wole . My Lord sickerly , Quoth he , faine would I your pleasure fulfill . And in your high presence abide still . But I no while may with you abide So mochill haue I to done elsewhere . Ionathas euery day to the sea side Which was nye , went , to looke and enquere If any ship drawing thither were Which him home to his country lead might , And on a day of ships had he sight . Well a thirty , toward the Castle draw , And at time of Euensong , they all Arriueden , of which he was full faw , And to the shipmen cry he gan and call , And said , if it so hap might and fall , That some of you me home to my countree Me bring would , well quit should he bee . And told them whither that they shoulden go . One of the shipmen forth start at last , And to him said , my ship and no moe Of them that here been , doth shope and cast Thither to wend ; let see , tell on fast , Quoth the shipman , that thou for my trauaile Me giue , if that I thither saile . They were accorded , Ionathas forth goeth Vnto the King to aske him licence To twine thence , to which the king was loth , And nathlesse with his beneuolence , This Ionathas from his magnificence Departed is , and forth to the shipman His way he taketh , as swyth as he can . Into the ship he entreth , and as bliue As winde and wether good shope to be , Thither as he purposed him arriue They sailed forth , and came to the Cittee In which this Serpentine woman was , shee That had him terned with false deceitis , But where no remedy followeth , streit is . Turnes been quit , all be they good or bad Sometime ; though they put been in delay . But to my purpose , she deemed he had Been deuoured with beasts many a day Gone , she thought he deliuered was for ay . Folke of the Citty knew not Ionathas , So many a yeare was past , that he there was . Misliking and thought changed eke his face , Abouten he go'th , and for his dwelling In the Cittie , he hired him a place , And therein exercised his cunning Of Physicke , to whom weren repairing Many a sicke wight , and all were healed , Well was the sick man that with him dealed . Now shape it thus that this Fellicula , ( The well of deceiuable doublenesse , Follower of the steps of Dallida ) Was than exalted vnto high richesse , But she was fallen into great sicknesse And heard seine , for not might it been hid How masterfull a leech he had him kid . Messages solemne to him she sent , Praying him to do so mochill labour As come and see her ; and he thither went : Whan he her saw , that she his Paramour Had been , he well knew , and for that dettour To her he was , her he thought to quite Or he went , and no longer it respite . But what that he was , she ne wist nat He saw her vrine , and eke felt her pous , And said , the sooth is this plaine and flat , A sicknesse han yee strange and meruailous , Which to auoid is wonder dangerous : To heale you there is no way but one , Leech in this world other can finde none . Auiseth you whether you list it take Or not , for I told haue you my wit . Ah sir , said she , for Gods sake , That way me shew , and I shall follow it What euer it be : for this sicknesse sit So nigh mine heart , that I wot not how , Me to demene , tell on I pray yow . Lady yee must openly you confesse , And if against good conscience and right , Any good han ye take more or lesse , Beforne this houre , of any manner wight , Yeeld it anon ; else not in the might Of man is it , to giue a medicine That you may heale of your sicknes & pine . If any such thing be , tell out it reed , And yee shall been all whole I you beheet ; Else mine Art is naught withouten dreed . O Lord she thought health is a thing ful sweet Therewith desire I souerainly to meet : Since I it by confession may recouer , A foole am I but I my guilt discouer . How falsely to the sonne of th' Emperour Ionathas , had she done , before them all As yee han heard aboue , all that errour By knew she , ô Fellicula thee call Well may I so , for of the bitter gall Thou takest the beginning of thy name , Thou root of malice and mirrour of shame . Than said Ionathas , where are those three Iewels , that thee fro the Clerke with-drew ? Sit in a Coffer at my beds feet , yee Shall finde them ; open it , and so pray I you . He thought not to make it queint and tow And say nay , and streine courtesie , But with right good will thither he gan hye . The Coffer he opened , and them there fond , Who was a glad man but Ionathas ? who The ring vpon a finger of his hond He put , and the brooch on his breast also , The cloth eke vnder his arme held he tho ; And to her him dresseth to done his cure . Cure mortall , way to her sepulture . He thought rue she should , and fore-thinke That she her had vnto him mis bore . And of that water her he gaue to drinke , Which that his flesh from his bones before Had twined , where through he was almost lore Nad he relieued been , as ye aboue Han heard , and this he did eke for her loue . Of the fruit of the tree he gaue her ete , Which that him made into the Leper stert , And as bliue in her wombe gan they fret And gnaw so , that change gan her hert , Now harkneth how it her made smert . Her wombe opened , & out fell each intraile That in her was , thus it is said sans faile . Thus wretchedly , ( lo ) this guile-man dyde , And Ionathas with iewels three No lenget there thought to abide , But home to the Empresse his mother hasteth he , Whereas in ioy , and in prosperitee His life led he to his dying day , And so God vs grant that we doe may . Willy . By my hooke this is a Tale Would befit our Whitson-ale : Better cannot be I wist , Descant on it he that list . And full gladly giue I wold The best Cosset in my fold , And a Mazor for a fee , If this song thou 'lt teachen me . T is so quaint and fine a lay , That vpon our reuell day If I sung it , I might chance ( For my paines ) be tooke to dance With our Lady of the May. Roget . Roget will not say thee nay , If thou deem'st it worth thy paines . T is a song , not many Swaines Singen can , and though it be Not so deckt with nycetee Of sweet words full neatly chused As are now by Shepheards vsed : Yet if well you sound the sence , And the Morals excellence , You shall finde it quit the while , And excuse the homely stile . Well I wot , the man that first Sung this Lay , did quench his thirst , Deeply as did euer one In the Muses Helicon . Many times he hath been seen With the Farries on the greene , And to them his Pipe did sound , Whilst they danced in a round . Mickle solace would they make him , And at mid-night often wake him , And convey him from his roome To a field of yellow broone ; Or into the Medowes , where Mints perfume the gentle Aire , And where Flora spends her treasure : There they would begin their measure . If it chanc'd nights sable shrowds Muffled Cinthia vp in clowds ; Safely home , they then would see him , And from brakes and quagmires free him . There are few such swaines as he Now adayes for harmony . Willie . What was he thou praisest thus ? Roget . Scholler vnto Tityrus . Tityrus the brauest Swaine Euer liued on the plaine , Taught him how to feed his Lambes , How to cure them , and their Dams : How to pitch the fold , and then , How he should remoue agen : Taught him when the Corne was ripe , How to make an Oaten Pipe , How to ioyne them , how to cut them , When to open , when to shut them , And with all the skill he had Did instruct this willing lad . Willie . Happy surely was that Swaine ! And he was not taught in vaine : Many a one that prouder is , Han not such a song as this ; And haue garlands for their meed , That but iarre as Skeltons reed . Roget . T is too true : But see the Sunne Hath his iourney fully run ; And his horses all in sweate , In the Ocean coole their heate ; Seuer we our sheepe and fold them , T' will be night ere we haue told them .

THOMAS OCCLEEVE , one of the priuy Seale , composed first this tale , and was neuer till now imprinted . As this shall please , I may be drawne to publish the rest of his workes , being all perfect in my hands . Hee wrote in CHAVCER Stime .

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE . The second Eglogue . THE ARGVMENT . Two Shepheards here complaine the wrong Done by a swinish Lout , That brings his Hogges their Sheepe among , And spoyles the Plaine throughout . WILLIE . IOCKIE . Willie . IOCKIE , say : what might he be That sits on yonder hill ? And tooteth out his notes of glee So vncouth and so shril ? Iockie . Notes of glee ? bad ones I trow , I haue not heard beforne One so mistooke as Willie now , T is some Sow-gelders horne . And well thou asken mightst if I Do know him , or from whence He comes , that to his Minstralsie Requires such patience . He is a Swinward , but I thinke No Swinward of the best . For much he reketh of his swinke , And carketh for his rest . Willie . Harme take the Swine ! What makes he heere ? What lucklesse planets frownes Haue drawne him and his Hogges in feere To root our daisied downes . ●…ll more hee thriue ! and may his Hogges And all that ere they breed Be euer worried by our Dogges , For so presumptuous deed . Why kept hee not among the Fennes ? Or in the Copses by , Or in the Woods , and braky glennes , Where Hawes and Acornes lye ? About the Ditches of the Towne , Or Hedge-rowes hee might bring them . Iockie . But then some pence 't would cost the Clowne To yoke and eke to ring them . And well I weene he loues no cost But what is for his backe : To goe full gay him pleaseth most , And lets his belly lacke ▪ Two sutes he hath , the one of blew , The other home-spun gray : And yet he meanes to make a new Against next reuell day ; And though our May-lord at the feast Seem'd very trimly clad , In cloth by his owne mother drest , Yet comes not neere this lad . His bonnet neatly on his head , With button on the top , His shooes with strings of leather red , And stocking to his slop . And yet for all it comes to passe , He not our gybing scapes : Some like him to a trimmed Asse , And some to lacke-an-Apes . Willie . It seemeth then by what is said , That Iockie knowes the Boore ; I would my scrip and hooke haue laid Thou knewst him not before . Iockie . Sike lothed chance by fortune fell , ( If fortune ought can doe ) Not kend him ? Yes . I ken him well And sometime paid for 't too . Willie . Would Iockie euer stoope so low , As conissance to take Of sike a Churle ? Full well I know No Nymph of spring or lake , No Heardesse , nor no shepheards gerle But faine would sit by thee , And Sea-nymphs offer shells of perle For thy sweet melodie . The Satyrs bring thee from the woods The Straw-berrie for hire , And all the first fruites of the budds To wooe thee to their quire . ●…iluanus songsters learne thy straine , For by a neighbour spring The Nightingale records againe What thou dost primely sing . Nor canst thou tune a Madrigall , Or any drery mone , But Nymphs , or Swaines , or Birds , or all Permit thee not alone . And yet ( as though deuoid of these ) Canst thou so low decline , As leaue the louely Naides For one that keepeth Swine ? But how befell it ? Iockie . Tother day As to the field I set me , Neere to the May-pole on the way This sluggish Swinward met me . And seeing Weptol with him there , Our fellow-swaine and friend , bad , good day , so on did fare To my preposed end . But as backe from my wintring ground I came the way before , This rude groome all alone I found Stand by the Ale-house dore . There was no nay but I must in And taste a cuppe of Ale ; Where on his pot he did begin To stammer out a tale . He told me how he much desir'd Th' acquaintance of vs Swaines , And from the forrest was retir'd To graze vpon our plaines : But for what cause I cannot tell , He can nor pipe nor sing , Nor knowes he how to digge a well , Nor neatly dresse a spring : Nor knowes a trappe nor snare to till , He sits as in a dreame ; Nor scarce hath so much whistling skill Will hearten-on a teame . Well , we so long together were , I gan to haste a way , He licenc'd me to leaue him there , And gaue me leaue to pay . Willie . Done like a Swinward ; may you all That close with such as he , Be vsed so ! that gladly fall Into like company . But if I faile not in mine Art , I le send him to his yerd , And make him from our plaines depart With all his durty herd . I wonder he hath suffred been Vpon our Common heere , His Hogges doe root our yonger treen And spoyle the smelling breere . Our purest welles they wallow in , All ouer-spred with durt , Nor will they from our Arbours lin , But all our pleasures hurt . Our curious benches that we build Beneath a shady tree , Shall be orethrowne , or so defilde As we would loath to see . Then ioyne we Iockie ; for the rest Of all our fellow Swaines , I am assur'd will doe their best To rid him fro our plaines . Iockie . What is in me shall neuer faile To forward such a deed . And sure I thinke wee might preuaile By some Satyricke reed . Willie , ●…f that will doe , I know a lad Can hit the maister-vaine . But let vs home , the skyes are sad , And clouds distill in raine .

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE . THE THIRD EGLOGVE . THE ARGVMENT . Old NEDDY'S pouertie they mone . Who whilome was a Swaine That had more Sheepe himselfe alone , Then ten vpon the plaine . PIERS. THOMALIN . Thomalin . WHere is euery piping lad That the fields are not yclad With their milk-white shee Tell me : Is it Holy-day , Or if in the Month of May Vse they long to sleepe ? Piers. Thomalin 't is not too late , For the Turtle and her mate Sitten yet in nest : And the Thrustle hath not been Gath'ring worms yet on the green But attends her rest . Not a bird hath taught her yong , Nor her mornings lesson sung In the shady groue : But the Nightingale in darke Singing , woke the mounting Larke She records her loue . Not the Sun hath with his beames Guilded yet our christall streames Rising from the Sea , Mists do crowne the mountaines tops , And each pretty mirtle drops , T is but newly day . Yet see yonder ( though vnwist ) ●…ome man commeth in the mist ; Hast thou him be held ? ●…ee he crosseth or'e the land With a dogg and staffe in hand , Limping for his eld . Thomalin . ●…es , I see him , and doe ? know him , ●…nd we all do reu'rence owe him , T is the aged Sire ●…EDDY , that was wont to make ●…ch great feasting at the wake , And the * * The Midsummer fires are tearmed so in the West parts of England . blessing-fire . Good old man ! see how he walkes Painfull and among the balkes Picking lockes of wull : I haue knowne the day when he Had as much as any three , When their lofts were full . Vnderneath yond hanging rockes All the valley with his Flockes Was whilome ouer-spread : Hee had milch-goates without peeres , Well-hung kine , and fatned steeres Many hundred head . WILKINS core his Dairy was , For a dwelling it may passe With the best in towne . Curds and Creame with other cheare , Haue I had there in the yeare For a greeny gowne . Lasses kept it , as againe Were not fitted on the plaine For a lusty dance : And at parting , home would take vs , Flawnes or Sillibubs to make vs For our iouisance . And though some in spight would tell , Yet old NEDDY tooke it well ; Bidding vs againe Neuer at his Cote be strange : Vnto him that wrought this change , Mickle be the paine ! Piers. What disaster THOMALIN This mischance hath cloth'd him in , Quickly tellen me ; Rue I doe his state the more , That hee clipped heretofore Some felicity . Han by night accursed theeues Slaine his Lambs , or stoine his Beeues ? Or consuming fire Brent his shearing-house , or stall ; Or a deluge drowned all ? Tell me it intire . Haue the Winters been so set To raine and snow , they haue wet All his driest Laire : By which meanes his sheepe haue got Such a deadly curelesse rot , That none liuing are ? Thomal●…n . Neither waues , nor theeues , nor fire , Nor haue rots impoor'd this Sire , Suretiship , nor yet Was the vsurer helping on With his damn'd extortion , Nor the chaines of debt . But deceit that euer lies Strongest arm'd for treacheries In a bosom'd friend : That ( and onely that ) hath brought it . Cursed be the head that wrought it ! And the basest end . Groomes he had , and he did send them With his heards a field , to tend them , Had they further been ; Sluggish , lazy , thriftlesse elues , Sheep had better kept themselues From the Foxes teen . Some would kill their sheepe , and then Bring their maister home agen Nothing but the skin ; Telling him , how in the morne In the fold they found them torne , And nere lying lin. If they went vnto the faire With a score of farned ware , And did chance to sell , If old NEDDY had againe Halfe his owne ; I dare well saine , That but seldome fell . They at their returne would say , Such a man , or such would pay , Well knowne of your Hyne . Alas poore man ! that subtill knaue Vndid him , and vaun●… i●… braue Though his Maister pine . Of his maister he would begg Such a lambe that broke his legg , And if there were none : To the fold by night hee 'd hye , And them hurt full rufully Or with staffe or stone . Hee would haue petitions new , And for desp'rate debts would sue NEDDY had forgot : He would grant : the other then Tares from poore and aged men : Or in Iayles they rot . NEDDY lately rich in store , Giuing much , deceiued more , On a sudden fell : Then the Steward lent him gold , Yet no more then might bee told Worth his maisters Cell . That is gone , and all beside , ( Well-a-day , alacke the tide ) In a hollow den , Vnderneath yond gloo my wood Wons he now , and wails the brood Of ingrateful men . Piers. But alas ! now hee is old , Bit with hunger , nipt with cold , What is left him ? Or to succour , or releeue him , Or from wants oft to repreeue him Thomalin . Al 's bereft him , Saue he hath a little crowd , ( Hee in youth was of it prowd ) And a dogge to dance : With them , he on holy-dayes In the Farmers houses playes For his sustenance . Piers. See ; he 's neere , let 's rise and meet him , And with dues to old age , greet him , It is fitting so . Thomalin . T is a motion good and sage , Honour still is due to age : Vp , and let vs go .

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE . THE FOVRTH EGLOGVE . THE ARGVMENT .

In this the Author bewailes the death of one whom he shadoweth vnder the name of Philarete , compounded of the Greeke words 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 , a louer of vertue , a name well be fitting him to whose memory these lines are consecrated , being sometime his truly loued 〈◊〉 now as much lamented ) friend Mr THOMAS MANWOOD . sonne to the worthy Sir PETER MANWOOD Knight .

VNDER an aged Oke was WILLY laid , Willy , the lad who whilome made the rockes To ring with ioy , whilst on his pipe he plaid , And from their maisters wood the neighbring flockes . But now o're-come with dolors deepe That nye his heart-strings rent , Ne car'd he for his silly sheepe , Ne car'd for merriment . But chang'd his wonted walkes For vncouth paths vnknowne , Where none but trees might heare his plaints , And eccho rue his mone . Autumne it was , when droop't the sweetest floures , And Riuers ( swolne with pride ) orelook'd the bankes , Poore grew the day of Summers golden houres , And void of sapp stood Ida's Cedar-rankes , The pleasant meadows sadly lay In chill and cooling swears By rising fountaines , or as they Fear'd Winters wastfull threats . Against the broad-spred Oke , Each winde in fury beares ; Yet fell their leaues not halfe so fast As did the Shepheards teares . As was his seate , so was his gentle heart , Meeke and deiected , but his thoughts as hye As those aye-wandring lights , who both impart Their beames on vs , and heauen still beautifie . Sad was his looke , ( ò heauy Fate ! That Swaine should be so sad Whose merry notes the forlorne mate With greatest pleasure clad . ) Broke was his tunefull pipe That charm'd the Christall Floods , And thus his griefe tooke airie wings And flew about the woods . Day , thou art too officious in thy place , And night too sparing of a wished stay , Yee wandring lampes : ô be ye fixt a space ! Some other Hemisphere grace with your ray . Great Phoebus ! Daphne is not heree , Nor Hyacinthus faire ; Phoebe ! Endimion and thy deere Hath long since clef●… the aire . But yee haue surely seene ( Whom we in sorrow misse ) A Swaine whom Phoebe thought her loue , And Titan deemed his . But he is gone ; then inwards turne your light , Behold him there ; here neuer shall you more ; O're-hang this sad plaine with eternall night ! Or change the gaudy green she whilome wore To fenny blacke . HYPERION great To ashy palenesse turne her ! Greene well befits a louers heate But blacke beseernes a mourner . Yet neither this thou canst , Nor see his second birth , His brightnesse blindes thine eye more now , Then thine did his on earth . Let not a shepheard on our haplesse plaines , Tune notes of glee , as vsed were of yore ! For PHILARET is dead , let mirthfull straines With PHILARETE cease for euermore ! And if a fellow swaine doe liue A niggard of his teares ; The Shepheardesses all will giue To store him , part of theirs . Or I would lend him some , But that the store I haue Will all be spent before I pay The debt I owe his graue . O what is left can make me leaue to mone ? Or what remains but doth increase it more ! Looke on his sheepe : alas ! their masters gone . Looke on the place where we two heretofore With locked arms haue vowd our loue , ( Our loue which time shall see In shepheards songs for euer moue , And grace their harmony ) It solitary seemes . Behold our flowrie beds ; Their beauties fade , and Violets For sorrow hang their heads . T is not a Cypresse bough , a count'nance sad , A mourning garment , wailing Elegie , A standing herse in sable vesture clad , A Toombe built to his names eternitie , Although the shepheards all should striue By yearly obsequies , And vow to keepe thy fame aliue In spight of destinies That can suppresse my griefe : All these and more may be , Yet all in vaine to recompence My greatest losse of thee Cypresse may fade , the countenance bee changed , A garment rot , an Elegie forgotten , A herse'mongst irreligious rites bee ranged , A toombe pluckt down , or else through age be rotten : All things th' vnpartiall hand of Fate Can raze out with a thought , These haue a seu'rall fixed date , Which ended , turne to nought , Yet shall my truest cause Of sorrow firmly stay , When these effects the wings of Time Shall fanne and sweepe away . Looke as a sweet Rose fairely budding forth Bewrayes her beauties to th' enamour'd morne , Vntill some keeneblast from the enuious North , Killes the sweet budd that was but newly borne , Or else her rarest smels delighting Make her , her selfe betray Some white and eurious hand inuiting To plucke her thence away . So stands my mournfull case , For had he beene lesse good , He yet ( vncropt ) had kept the stocke Whereon he fairely stood . Yet though so long hee liu'd not as hee might , Hee had the time appointed to him giuen . Who liueth but the space of one poore night , His birth , his youth , his age is in that Eeuen . Who euer doth the period see Of dayes by heau'n forth plotted , Dyes full of age , as well as hee That had more yeares alotted . In sad Tones then my verse Shall with incessant teares Bemoane my haplesse losse of him And not his want of yeares . In deepest passions of my griefe-swolne breast ( Sweete soule ! ) t●…is onely comfort seizeth me , That so few yeares should make thee so much blest , And gaue such wings to reach ETERNITY . Is this to dye ? No : as a shippe Well built , with easie winde A lazy hulke doth farre out-strippe , And soonest harbour finde : So PHILARETE fled , Quicke was his passage giuen , When others must haue longer time To make them fit for heauen . Then not for thee these briny teares are spent , But as the Nightingale against the breere T is for my selfe I moane , and doe lament Not that thou left'st the world , but left'st mee heere . Heere , where without thee all delights Faile of their pleasing powre , All glorious dayes seeme vgly nights , Me thinkes no Aprill showre Embroder should the earth , But briny reares distill , Since FLORA'S beauties shall no more Be honour'd by thy quill . And yee his sheepe ( in token of his lacke ) Whilome the fairest flocke on all the plaine : Yeane neuer Lambe , but bee it cloath'd in blacke . Yee shady Sicamours ! when any Swaine , To carue his name vpon your rinde Doth come , where his doth stand , Shedde droppes , if he be so vnkinde To raze it with his hand . And thou my loued Muse No more should'st numbers moue , But that his name should euer liue , And after death my loue . This said , he sigh'd , and with o're-drowned eyes Gaz'd on the heauens for what he mist on earth ; Then from the earth , full sadly gan arise As farre from future hope as present mirth , Vnto his Cote with heauy pace As euer sorrow trode He went , with minde no more to trace Where mirthfull Swaines abode , And as he spent the day , The night he past alone , Was neuer Shepheard lou'd more deere , Nor made a truer mone .

TO THE VERTVOVS and much lamenting Sisters of my euer admired friend , Mr THOMAS MANWOOD . To me more known then you , is your sad chance , Oh! had I still enioy'd such ignorance ; Then , I by these spent teare not bin known , Nor left anothers griefe to sing mine owne . Yet since his fate hath wrought these throes Permit a Partner in your woes The cause doth yeeld , and still may do Ynough for YOV , and others to●… But if such plaints for YOV are kep . Yet may I grieue since you haue wept . For hee more perfect growes to be●… That feeles anothers MISERIE And thogh these drops which mourning run From seuerall Fountaines first begun And some farre off , some neerer sleete They will ( at last ) in one streame meete Mine shal with yours , yours mix with mine And make one Offring at his Shrine : For whose ETERNITIE on earth , my Muse To build this ALTAR , did her best skill vse ; And that you , I , and all that held him deere , Our teares and sighes might freely offer heere .

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE . THE FIFTH EGLOGVE . To his ingenious friend Mr. CHRISTOPHER BROOKE . THE ARGVMENT . WILLY incites his friend to write Things of a higher fame Then silly Shephards vse endite Valid in a Shepheards name . WILLY and CVTTY . MOrne had got the start of night , Lab'ring men were ready dight With their shouels and their spades For the field , and ( as their trades ) Or at hedging wrought , or ditching For their food more then enritching . When the shepheards from the fold All their bleating charges told , And ( full carefull ) search'd if one Of all their flocke were hurt or gone , Or ( if in the night-time cul'd ) Any had their fleeces pul'd : 'Mongst the rest ( not least in care ) CVTTY to his fold gan fare , And yong WILLY ( that had giuen To his flocke the latest euen Neighbourhood with CVTTY's sheep ) Shaking off refreshing sleepe , Hy'd him to his charge that blet ; Where he ( busied ) CVTTY met . Both their sheepe told , and none mist Of their number ; then they blist PAN , and all the Gods of plaines For respecting of their traines Of silly sheepe ; and in a song Praise gaue to that holy throng . Thus they draue their flockes to graze , Whose white fleeces did amaze All the Lillies , as they passe Where their vsuall feeding was . Lillies angry that a creature Of no more eye-pleasing feature Then a sheepe , by natures duty should be crownd with far more beauty Then a Lilly ; and the powre Of white in sheepe , ourgoe a flowre : From the middle of their sprout ( Like a Furies sting ) thrust out Dart-like forks in death to steep them , But great PAN did safely keepe them ; And affoorded kinde repaire To their dry and wonted laire , Where their maisters ( that did eye them ) Vnderneath a Haw-thorne by them , On their pipes thus gan to play , And with rimes weare out the day . Willie . CEase CVTTY : cease , to feed these simple Flockes , And for a Trumpet change thine Oaten-reeds ; O're-looke the vallies as aspiring rockes , And rather march in steele , then shepheards weeds . Beleeue me CVTTY ! for heroicke deeds Thy verse is fit ; not for the liues of Swaines , ( Though both thou canst do well ) and none proceeds To leaue high pitches for the lowly plaines : Take thou a Harpe in hand , striue with APOLLO ; Thy Muse was made to lead , then scorne to follow . Cuttie . WILLY : to follow sheepe I ne're shall scorne ; Much lesse to follow any Deity ; Who'gainst the Sun ( though weakned by the morne ) Would vie with lookes , needeth an Eagles eye , 〈◊〉 dare not search the hidden mistery Of tragicke Scenes ; nor in a buskin'd stile Through death and horror march , nor their height fly Whose pens were fed with blood of this faire I le . It shall content me , on these happy downes To sing the strife for garlands , not for crownes . Willie . O who would not aspire , and by his wing Keep stroke with fame , and of an earthly iarre Another lesson teach the Spheres to sing ? Who would a shepheard that might be a star ? See learned Cutty , on yond mountaines are Cleere springs arising , and the climbing goat That can get vp , hath water cleerer farre Then when the streames do in the vallies float . What mad-man would a race by torch-light run That might his steps haue vsher'd by the Sunne ? We Shepheards tune out layes of Shepheards loues , Or in the praise of shady groues , or springs ; We seldome heare of CITHEREA's Doues , Except when some more learned Shepheard sings ; And equall meed haue to our sonetings : A Belt , a sheep-hooke , or a wreath of flowres , Is all we seeke ; and all our versing brings , And more deserts then these are seldome ours . But thou whose muse a falcons pitch can sore Maist share the bayes euen with a Conqueror . Cuttie . Why doth not WILLY then produce such lines Of men and armes as might accord with these ? Willie . Cause Cutties spirit not in Willy shines , Pan cannot weild the Club of Hercules , Nor dare a Merlin on a Heron seise . Scarce know I how to fit a shepheards eare ; Farre more vnable shall I be to please In ought , which none but semi-gods must heare ; When by thy verse ( more able ) time shall see Thou canst giue more to kings then kings to thee . Cuttie . But ( wel-a-day ) who loues the muses now ? Or helpes the climber of the sacred hill ? None leane to them : but striue to disalow All heauenly dewes the goddesses distill . Willie . Let earthly mindes base mucke for euer fill , Whose musicke onely is the chime of gold , Deafe be their eares to each harmonious quil ! As they of learning thinke , so of them hold . And if ther 's none deserues what thou canst doe , Be then the Poet and the Patron too . I tell thee Cuttie , had I all the sheepe With thrice as many moe , as on these plaines Or shepheard or faire maiden sits to keepe , I would them all forgoe , so I thy straines Could equalize : O how our nearest swaines Do trim themselues , when on a holy-day They hast to heare thee sing , knowing the traines Of fairest Nymphs wil come to learne thy lay . Well may they run and wish a parting neuer , ( uer , So thy sweet tongue might charme their eares for e●… Cuttie . These attributes ( my lad ) are not for me , Bestow them where true merit hath assign'd ; Willie . And do I not ? bestowing them on thee : Beleeue me Cuttie , I doe beare this minde , That whereso'ere we true deseruing finde , To giue a silent praise is to detract ; Obscure thy verses ( more then most refin'd ) From any one , of dulnesse so compact . And rather sing to trees then to such men , Who know not how to crowne a Poets pen. Cuttie . WILLY , by thy incitement I 'le assay To raise my subiect higher then tofore , And sing it to our Swaines next holy-day , Which ( as approu'd ) shall fill them with the store Of such rare accents ; if dislik'd , no more Will I a higher straine then shepheards vse , But sing of Woods and Riuers as before . Willie . Thou wilt be euer happy in thy Muse. But see , the radiant Sun is gotten hye , Let 's seeke for shadow in the groue hereby .

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE . THE SIXTH EGLOGVE . THE ARGVMENT . PHILOS of his Dogge doth bragge For hauing many feates ; The while the Curre vndoes his bagge , And all his dinner eates . WILLY . IOCKIE . PHILOS. WILLY . STay IOCKIE , let vs rest here by this spring , And PHILOS too , since we so well are met ; This spreading Oke will yeeld vs shadowing Till Phaebus steeds be in the Ocean wet . Iockie . Gladly ( kind swaine ) I yeeld , so thou wilt play And make vs merry with a Roundelay . Philos. No Iockie , rather wend we to the wood , The time is fit , and Filberds waxen ripe , Let 's go and fray the Squirrell from his food ; We will another time heare Willie pipe . Willie . But who shall keepe our flockes when we are gone ? I dare not go and let them feed alone . Iockie . Nor I : since but the other day it fell , Leauing my sheep to graze on yonder plaine , I went to fill my bottle at the well , And ere I could return two lambs were slaine . Philos. Then was thy dogg iil taught , or else a sleepe ; Such Curres as those shall neuer watch my sheepe . Willie . Yet Philos hath a dogg not of the best ; He seemes too lazy , and will take no paines , More fit to lye at home and take his rest Then catch a wandring sheep vpon the plains . Iockie . T is true indeed : and Philos wot ye what ? I thinke he playes the Fox he growes so fat . Philos. Yet hath not Iockie nor yet Willie seene A dogge more nimble then is this of mine , Nor any of the Fox more heedfull beene When in the shade I slept , or list to dine . And though I say 't , hath better tricks in store Then both of yours , or twenty couple more . How often haue the maidens stroue to take him , When he hath crost the plaine to barke at Crowes ? How many Lasses haue I knowne to make him Garlands to gird his necke , with which he goes Vaunting along the lands so wondrous trim , That not a dog of yours durst barke at him . And when I list ( as often-times I vse ) To tune a Horne-pipe , or a Morris-dance , The dogge ( as hee by nature could not chuse ) Seeming asleepe before , will leap and dance . Willie . Belike your dog came of a Pedlers brood , Or Philos musicke is exceeding good . Philos. I boast not of his kin , nor of my Reed , ( Though of my reed and him I wel may boast ) Yet if you will aduenture that some meed Shall be to him that is in action most , As for a Coller of shrill sounding bels My dog shall striue with yours , or any 's els . Iockie . PHILOS in truth I must confesse your Wagge ( For so you call him ) hath of trickes good store , To steale the vittailes from his maisters bagge , More cunningly , I nere saw dogge before . See WILLY , see ! I prithee PHILOS note How fast thy bread & cheese goes down his throte . Willie . Now PHILOS see how mannerly your Curre , Your well-taught dog , that hath so many trickes , Deuoures your Dinner . Philos. I wish 't were a burre To choke the Mungtell ! Iockie . See how cleane he lickes Your Butter-boxe ; by Pan , I doe not meanly Loue Philos dog that loues to be so cleanly . Philos. Well flouted IOCKIE . Willie . PHILOS ! run amaine , For in your scrip hee now hath thrust his head So farre , he cannot get it forth againe ; See how he blind-fold strags along the mead ; And at your scrip your bottle hangs , I thinke . He loues your meat , but cares not for your drinke . Iockie . I , so it seemes : and PHILOS now may goe Vnto the wood , or home for other cheere . Philos. T were better he had neuer seru'd me so , Sweet meat , sowre sauce , he shal abye it deere . What must he be aforehand with his maister ? Willie . Onely in kindnesse hee would be your taster . Philos. Well Willy you may laugh , and vrge my spleen ; But by my hooke I sweare he shall it rue , And had far'd better had hee fasting been . But I must home for my allowance new . So farewell lads . Looke to my fleeced ●…raine Till my returne . Iockie . We will . Willie . Make haste againe .

THE SHEPHEARDS PIPE . THE SEVENTH EGLOGVE . THE ARGVMENT . PALINODE intreates his friend To leaue a wanton Lasse ; Yet hee pursue her to his end And 〈◊〉 all Councell passe . PALINODE . and HOBBINOL . WHither wends Hobbinoll so early day ? What be thy Lamkins broken from the fold , And on the plaines all night haue run ast ray ? Or are thy sheepe and sheep-walkes both ysold ? What mister-chance hath brought thee to the field Without thy sheepe ? thou wert not wont to yeeld To idle sport , But didst resort As early to thy charge from drowzy bed As any shepheard that his flocke hath fed Vpon these downes . Hobbinoll . Such heauy frownes Fortune for others keepes ; but bends on me Smiles would be fit the seat of maiestie . Hath Palinode Made his abode Vpon our plaines , or in some vncouth Cell ? That heares not what to Hobbinoll befell ; Phillis the faire , and fairer is there none , To morrow must be linkt in marriage bands , T is I that must vndo her virgin Zone . Behold the man , behold the happy hands . Palinode . Behold the man ? Nay then the woman too , Though both of them are very smal beholding To any powre that set them on to wooe ; Ah Hobbinoll ! it is not worth vnfolding What shepheards say of her ; thou canst not chuse But heare what language all of Phillis vse ; Yet , then such tongues , To her belongs More men to sate her lust ; vnhappy elfe ! That wilt be bound to her to loose thy selfe . Forsake her first . Hobinoll . Thou most accurst ! Durst thou to slander thus the innocent , The graces patterne , Vertues president ? She , in whose eye Shines modesty , Vpon whose brow lust neuer lookes with hope , Venus rul'd not in Phillis Horoscope ; T is not the vapour of a Hemblocke stem Can spoile the perfume of sweet Cynnamon ; Nor vile aspersions , or by thee or them Cast on her name , can stay my going on . Palinode . On maist thou goe , but not with such a one , Whom ( I dare sweare ) thou knowst is not a maid : Remember when I met her last alone As wee to yonder Groue for filberds straid , Like to a new-strook Doe from out the bushes , Lacing herselfe , and red with gamesome blushes Made towards the greene , Loth to be seene : And after in the groue the goatheard met : What saidst thou then ? If this preuaile not , yet I 'le tell thee moe . Not long agoe Too long I lou'd her , and as thou dost now Would sweare Diana was lesse chaste then she , That Iupiter would court her , knew he how To finde a shape might tempt such chastity : And that her thoughts were pure , as new-falne snow Or siluer swans that trace the bankes of Poe , And free within From spot of sin : Yet like the flinte her lust-swolne breast conceal'd A hidden fire ; and thus it was reueal'd : Cladon , the Lad Who whilome had The Garland giuen for throwing best the barre , I know not by what chance or lucky star Was chosen late To bee the mate Vnto our Lady of the gleesome May And was the first that danc'd each holyday , None would hee take but Phillis forth to dance , Nor any could with Phillis dance but hee , On Palinode shee then ceforth not a glance Bestowes , but hates him and his pouerty , Cladon had sheepe and lims for stronger lode Then ere shee saw in simple Palinode , Hee was the man Must clip her than , For him shee wreathes of flowers , and chaplets made To strawberries inuites him in the shade , In sheering time And in the prime Would helpe to clip his sheepe , and gard his lambs , And at a need lend him her choicest rams , And on each stocke Worke such a clocke With twisted couloured thred ; as not a Swaine On all these downes could shew the like againe . But as it seemes , the Well grew dry at last , Her fire vnquench'd ; and shee hath Cladon left , Nor was I sorry ; nor do wish to taste The flesh whereto so many flyes haue cleft . Oh Hobbinoll ! Canst thou imagine shee That hath so oft beene tryde so oft misdone , Can from all other men bee true to thee ? Thou knowst with mee , with Cladon , shee hath gone Beyond the limites that a maiden may , And can the name of wife those rouings stay ? Shee hath not ought That 's hid , vnsought , These eyes , these hands , so much know of that woman As more thou canst not ; can that please that 's common ? No : should I wed , My marriage bed And all that it containes , should as my heart Be knowne but to my selfe ; if wee impart What golden rings The Fairie brings , Wee loose the Iem nor will they giue vs more , Wiues loose their value if once knowne before Behold this Violet that cropped lyes , I know not by what hand first from the stem , With what I plucke my selfe shall I it prise ? I scorne the offals of a Diadem . A Virgins bed hath millions of delights If then good parents please shee know no more : Nor hath her seruants nor her fauorites That waite her husbands issuing at dore : Shee that is free both from the act and eye Onely deserues the due of Chastitie . But Phillis is As farre from this , As are the Poles in distance from each other Shee well beseemes the daughter of her mother . Is there a brake By Hill or Lake In all our plaines that hath not guilty beene In keeping close her stealths ; the Paphian Queene Ne're vs'd her skill To win her will Of yong Adonis , with more heart then shee Hath her allurements spent to work on moe . Leaue , leaue her Hobinol ; shee is so ill That any one is good that 's nought of her , Though she be faire , the ground which oft we till Growes with his burden old and barrenner . Hobbinoll . With much ado , and with no little paine Haue I out-heard thy railing 'gainst my loue : But it is common , what wee cannot gaine Wee oft disualew ; sooner shalt thou moue Yond lofty Mountain from the place it stands , Or count the Medowes flowers , or Isis sands Then stirre one thought In mee , that ought Can be in Phillis which Diana faire And all the Goddesses would not wish their . Fond man then cease To crosse that peace Which Phillis vertue and this heart of mine Haue well begun ; and for those words of thine I do forgiue If thou wilt liue Heereafter free from such reproaches moe , ●…ince goodnesse neuer was without her foe . Palinode . ●…eleeue mee Hobinoll what I haue said ●…as more in loue to thee then hate to her : Thinke on thy liberty ; let that bee weigh'd ; Great good may oft betide if wee deferre And vse some short delayes ere marriage rites Wedlocke hath daies of toile as ioysome nights . Canst thou bee free From iealousy ? Oh no : that plague will so infect thy braine That onely death must worke thy peace againe . Thou canst not dwell One minute well From whence thou leau'st her ; locke on her thy gate Yet will her minde bee still adulterate . Not Argos eyes Nor ten such spies Can make her onely thine ; for shee will do With those , that , shall make thee mistrust them to●… . Hobbinoll . Wilt thou not leaue to taint a virgines name●… Palinode . A virgine ' yes : as sure as is her mother . Dost thou not heare her good report by fame ? Hobbinoll . Fame is a lyer and was neuer other . Palinode . Nay , if shee euer spoke true ; now shee did : And thou wilt once confesse what I foretold The fire will bee discos'd that now lies hid , Nor will thy thought of her thus long time hold . Yet may shee ( if that possible can fall ) Bee true to thee that hath beene false to all . Hobbinoll . So pierce the rockes A Red-breasts knockes As the beleefe of ought thou tell'st mee now . Yet bee my guest to morrow . Pallinode . Speed your plough . I feare ere long You 'le sing a song Like that was sung heereby not long ago . Where there is carrion neuer wants a crow . Hobinoll . Ill tuto●…'d Swaine , If one the plaine Thy sheep hence-forward come where mine do feed , They shall bee sure to smart for thy misdeed . Palinode . Such are the thankes a friends fore-warning brings . Now by the loue I euer bore thee , stay ! Meete not mishaps ! themselues haue speedy wings . Hobbinoll . It is in vaine . Farewell . I must away . FINIS . W. B.

OTHER EGLOGVES : BY Mr. BROOKE , Mr. WITHER , and Mr. DAVI●…S .

LONDON Printed by N. O. for G. Norton . 1614.

To his much loued friend Mr W. Browne of the Inner Temple . D. D. Cuttie . WIlly well met , now whiles thy flockes do feed So dangerlesse , and free from any feare ; Lay by thy Hooke , and take thy pleasant Reed , And with thy melody reblesse mine eare , Which ( vpon Lammas last ) and on this plaine , Thou plaidst so sweetly to thy skipping Traine . Willy . I Cutty , then I plaid vnto my sheepe Notes apt for them , but farre vnfit for thee ; How should my layes ( alas ) true measure keepe With thy choyce eares , or make thee melodie : For in thy straine thou do'st so farre exceede , Thou canst not rellish such my homely Reede . Cuttie . Thy nicenesse shewes thy cunning , nothing more , Yet since thou seem'st so lowly in thy thought ; ( Who in thy Pastorall veine , and learned lore Art so much prais'd ; so farre and neere art sought . ) Lend me thine eares , and thou shalt heare me sing In praise of Shepheards , and of thee their King . MY loued WILLY , if there be a Man That neuer heard of a browne colour'd Swan ; Whose tender Pinions scarcely fledg'd in show Could make his way with whitest Swans in Poe ; Or if there be among the Spawne of earth , That thinkes so vilely of a shepheards birth , That though he tune his Reed in meanest key , Yet in his braine holds not heauen , earth , and sea : Then let him know , thou art that yong browne Swan , That through the winding streames of Albion Taking thy course dost seeme to make thy pace With flockes full plum'd equall in loue and grace ; And thou art he ( that though thy humble straines Do moue delight to those that loue the plaines : ) Yet to thy selfe ( as to thy sort ) is giuen A IACOBS staffe , to take the height of Heauen ; And with a naturall Cosmography , To comprehend the earths rotunditie : Besides the working plummet of thy braine , Can sound the deepes , and secrets of the maine : For if the Shepheard a true figure be Of Contemplation ( as the learn'd agree ) Which in his seeming rest , doth ( restlesse ) moue About the Center , and to Heau'n aboue ; And in his thought is onely bounded there , See's Natures chaine fastned to IOVES high Chaire , Then thou ( that art of PAN the sweetest Swaine And farre transcending all his lowly traine ) In thy discoursiue thought , do'st range as farre Nor canst thou erre ; led by thine owne faire starre . Thought hath no prison and the minde is free Vnder the greatest King and tyrannie . Though low thou seem'st thy Genius mounts the Hill Where heauenly Nectar doth from Ioue distill ; Where Bayes still grows ( by thunder not struck down ) The Victors-Garland ; and the Poets-Crowne , And vnderneath the Horse-foote-foun●… doth flow , Which giues Wit verdure , and makes learning grow . To this faire Hill ( from stormes and tempests free . ) Thou oft repair'st for Truthes discouery , A prospect vpon all times wandring mazes Displaying vanity ; disclosing graces , Nay in some cliffe it leades the eye beyond The times horizon stripping sea and land . And farther ( not obscurely ) doth deuine All future times : Heere do the Muses shine , Heere dignity with safety do combine , Pleasure with merite make a louely twine . Vitam vitalem they shall euer leade That mount this hill and Learning's path do treade : Heere admiration without enui 's wonne , All in the light , but in the heate sit none . And to this Mount thou dost translate thine Essence Although the plaines containe thy corporal presence , Where though poore peoples misery thou shewe That vnder g●…iping Lords they vndergoe , And what content they ( that do lowest lye ) Receiue from Good-men ; that do sit on hye . And in each witty Ditty ( that surpasses ) Dost ( for thy loue ) make strife'mongst Country lasses Yet in thy humble straine ; Fame makes thee rise And strikes thy mounting forehead'●…ainst the skies Renowned friend ; what Trophe may I raise To memorize thy name ; would I could praise ( In any meane ) thy worth ; strike enuy dumbe , But I dye heere ; thou liu'st in time to come ; States haue their Period statues lost with rust : Soules to Elizium , Nature yeelds to dust , All monuments of Armes and Power decay , But that which liues to an Eternall day , Letters preserue ; Nay Gods , with mortall men Do simpathize by vertue of the penne . And so shalt thou : sweete Willy then proceede And in eternall merite fame thy Reede . PAN to thy fleeced numbers giue increase And Pales to thy loue-thoughts giue true peace Let faire Feronia ( Goddesse of the woods ) Preserue thy yong Plants multiply thy buds . And whiles thy Rams do Tup , thy Ewes do twyn Do thou in peacefull shade ( from mens rude dyn ) Adde Pinyons to thy Fame : whose actiue wit With Hermes winged cap doth suite most fit . Christopher Brooke .

THIRSIS AND ALEXIS . Thirsis . ALEXIS if thy worth do not disdaine The humble friendship of a meaner Swaine ; Or some more needfull businesse of the day Vrge thee to bee too hasty on thy way ; Come ( gentle shepheard ) rest thee here by me Vnder the shadow of this broad-leau'd tree : For though I seeme a stranger , yet mine eye Obserues in thee the markes of curtesie : And if my iudgement erre not , noted too More then in those that more would seeme to doe : Such vertues thy rude modestie doth hide Which by thy proper luster I espy'd ; And though long mask't in silence they haue beene , I haue a wisedome through that silence seene : Yea I haue learned knowledge from thy tongue , And heard when thou hast in concealement sung : Which me the bolder and more willing made Thus to inuite thee to this homely shade . And though ( it may be ) thou couldst neuer spye Such worth in me to make me knowne thereby , In thee I doe ; for here my neigbouring sheepe Vpon the border of these downes I keepe : Where often thou at Pastorals and playes Hast grac'd our Wakes on Sommer Holy-dayes : And many a time with thee at this cold spring Met I , to heare your learned shepherrds sing , Saw them disporting in the shady groues , And in chast Sonnets wooe their chaster loues : When I endued with the meanest skill , Mongst others haue been vrg'd to tune my quill , Where ( cause but little cunning I had got ) Perhaps thou saw'st me , though thou knew'st me 〈◊〉 Alexis . Yes Thirsis I doe know thee and thy name , Nor is my knowledge grounded all on fame , Art not thou hee , that but this other yeare , Scard'st all the Wolues and Foxes in the sheere ? And in a match at Foot-ball lately try'd ( Hauing scarce twenty Satyres on thy side ) Held'st play : and though assailed , kept'st thy stand Gainst all the best-try'd Ruffians in the land : Did'st thou not then in dolefull Sonnets ●…one , When the beloued of great Pan was gone ; And at the wedding of faire THAME and RHYNE , Sing of their glories to thy Valentine ? I know it , and I must confesse that long In one thing I did doe thy nature wrong : For till I markt the aime thy Satyrs had , I thought them ouerbold and Thirsis mad , But since I did more neerely on thee looke 〈◊〉 soone perceiu'd that I had all mistooke ; 〈◊〉 saw that of a Cynicke thou madst show ●…here since I find that thou were nothing so , And thatof many thou much blame hadst go●… When as thy Innocence deseru'd it not . But this too good opinion thou hast seem'd To haue of mee ( not so to bee esteem'd ) Preuailes not ought to stay him who doth feare Hee rather should reproofes then praises heare T is true I found thee plaine and honest too Which made mee like then loue , as now I do And Thirsis though a stranger this I say Where I do loue I am not coy to stay . Thirsis . THankes gentle Swayne that dost so soone vnfold What I to thee as gladly would haue told And thus thy wonted curtesie exprest ●…n kindly entertaining this request : Sure I should iniury my owne content Or wrong thy loue to stand on complement , Who hast acquaintance in one word begunne As well as I could in an age haue done : Or by an ouer weaning slownesse marre What thy more wisedome hath brought on so farre ; Then sit thou downe and I 'le my minde declare As frely , as if wee familiars were : And if thou wilt but daigne to giue mee eare Something thou maist for thy more profite heare . Alexis . Willingly Thirsis I thy wish obey . Thirsis . Then know Alexis from that very day When as I saw thee at that Shepheards Coare Where each I thinke of other tooke first noate , I meane that Pastor who by Tauies springs Chaste Shepheards loues in sweetest numbers sings , And with his Musicke ( to his greater fame ) Hath are made proud the fairest Nimphes of Tham E'ne then mee thought I did espy in thee Some vnperceiu'd and hidden worth to bee Which in thy more apparant vertnes shin'd And among many I in thought deuin'd , By something my conceit had vnderstood That thou wert markt one of the Muses brood That made mee loue thee : And that loue I beare Begat a Pitty , and that Pitty Care : Pitty I had to see good parts conceal'd , Care I had how to haue that good reueal'd , Since 't is a fault admitteth no excuse To possesse much and yet put nought in vse : Heereon I vow'd ( if wee two euer met ) The first request that I would striue to get Should bee but this that thou wouldst shew thy skill , How thou couldst tune thy verses to thy quill : And teach thy Muse in some well framed song , To shew the Art thou hast supprest so long : Which if my new acquaintance m●…y obtaine Thirsis will euer honour this daies gaine . Alexis . Alas ! my small experience scarce can tell So much as where those Nymphes the Muses dw●…ly Nor ( though my slow conceit still trauels on ) Shall I ere reach to drinke of Hellicon ; Or if I might so fauour'd be to taste What those sweet streames but ouer-flow in waste , And touch Parnassus where it low'st doth lye , I feare my skill would hardly flagge so hye . Thirsis . Despaire not Man the Gods haue prized nought So deere that may not be with labour bought , Nor need thy paine be great since Fate and Heauen They ( as a blessing ) at thy birth haue giuen . Alexis . Why say they had . Th. Then vse their gifts thou must , Or be vngratefull , and so be vniust : For if it cannot truly be deny'd , Ingratitude mens benefites do hide , Then more vngratefull must he be by oddes Who doth conceale the bounty of the Gods . Alexis . That 's true indeed , but Enuy hateth those Who seeeking fame their hidden skill disclose : Where else they might ( obscur'd ) from her espying Escape the blasts and danger of enuying : Critickes will censure our best straines of Wit , And purblinde Ignorance misconster it . All which is bad : yet worse then this doth follow , Most hate the Muses , and contemne APOLLO . Thirsis . So let them ; why should we their hate esteeme ▪ Is 't not enough we of our selues can deeme ? T is more to their disgrace that we scorne them Then vnto vs that they our Art contemne ; Can we haue better pastime then to see Our grosse heads may so much deceiued bee , As to allow those doings best , where wholly We scoffe them to their face , and flout their folly ; Or to behold blacke Enuy in her prime Die selfe-consum'd whilst we vie liues with time : And in despight of her , more fame attaine Then all her malice can wipe out againe , Alexis . Yea but if I apply'd me to those straines , Who should driue forth my flockes vnto the plaines , Which whilst the Muses rest , and leasure craue , Must watering , folding and attendance haue . For if I leaue with wonted care to cherish Those tender heards : both I and they should perish . Thirsis . Alexis now I see thou dost mistake , There is no meaning thou thy charge forsake , Nor would I wish thee so thy selfe abuse As to neglect thy calling for thy Muse : But let these two so of each other borrow , That they may season mirth , and lessen sorrow , Thy flocke will helpe thy charges to defray , Thy Muse to passe the long and tedious day . Or whilst thou tun'st sweet measures to thy Reed Thy sheep to listen will more neere thee feed , The wolues will shun them , birds aboue thee sing , And Lambkins dance about thee in a Ring ; Nay which is more : in this thy low estate Thou in contentment shalt with Monarkes mate : For mighty Pan , and Ceres to vs grants Our fields and ●…lockes shall helpe our outward wants ▪ The Muses teach vs songs to put off cares , Grac'd with as rare and sweet conceits as theirs : And we can thinke our lasses on the greenes As faire , or fairer then the fairest Queenes ; ●…r what is more then most of them shall do , Wee 'le make their iuster fames last longer too , hauing our Lines by greatest Princes grac'd When both their name and memory 's desac'd . Therefore Alexis though that some disdaine The heauenly musicke of the Rurall plaine , What is 't to vs , if they ( or eseent ) contemne ●…he dainties which were nere ordain'd for them ? And though that there be other some enuy The praises due to sacred Poesie , Let them disdaine and frer till they are wearie , ●…e in our selues haue that shall make vs merrie : Which he that wants , and had the power to know it , Would giue his life that he might dye a Poet. Alexis . Thou hast so well ( yong Thirsis ) plaid thy part I am almost in loue with that sweet Art : And if some power will but inspire my song , Alexis will not be obscured long . Thirsis . Enough kinde Pastor : But oh ! yonder see Two Shepheards , walking on the lay-banke be , Cuttie and Willie , that so dearly loue , Who are repairing vnto yonder groue : Let 's follow them : for neuer brauer Swaines Made musicke to their flockes vpon these plaines . They are more worthy , and can better tell What rare contents do with a Poet dwell . Then whiles our sheep the short sweet grasse do shere And till the long shade of the hilles appeare , Wee le heare them sing : for though the one be young , Neuer was any that more sweetly sung . Geo. Wither .

An Eclogue between yong Willy the singer of his natiue Pastorals , and old WERNOCKE his friend . Wernocke . WILLY , why lig'st thou ( man ) so w●…-be-gon ? What ? been thy rather Lamkins ill-apaid ? Or , hath some drerie chance thy Pipe misdone ? Or , hast thou any sheep-cure mis-assaid ? Or , is some conteck 'twixt thy loue and thee ? Or , else some loue-warke arsie-varsie tane ? Or , fates lesse frolicke than they wont to be ? What gars my WILLY that he so doth wane ? If it be for thou hast mis-said , or done , Take keepe of thine owne councell ; and , thou art As shoene and cleare fro both-twaine as the Sunne : For , all Swaines laud thine hauiour , and thine Art . Ma hap thine heart ( that vnneath brooke neglect , And iealous of thy fresh fame ) liggs vpon Thy rurall songs , which rarest Clarkes affect , Dreading the descant that mote fall thereon . Droope not for that ( man ) but vnpleate thy browes , And blithly , so , fold enuies vp in pleats : For , fro thy Makings milke , and mellie flowes To feed the Songster-swaines with Arts soot-meats . Willie . Now , sil●…er ( Wernocke ) thou hast split the marke Albe that I ne wot I han mis song : But , for I am so yong , I dread my warke Woll be misualued b●…th of old and yong . Wern●…cke . Is thilke the cause that thou been ligge so laid , Who whilom no encheson could fore-haile ; And caitiue-courage nere made misapaid , But with chiefe yongsters songsters bar'st thy saile ? As swoot as Swans thy straines make Thames to ring Fro Coiswould where her sourse her course doth take , To her wide mouth which vents thy carolling Beyond the hether and the further lake . Than vp ( sad swaine ) pull fro thy vailed cheeke Hur prop , thy palme : and let thy Virilaies , Kill enuious cunning swaines ( whom all do seeke ) With enuy , at thine earned gaudy praise . Vp lither lad , thou reck'st much of thy swinke , When swinke ne swat thou shouldst ne reck for fame ; At Aganip than , lay thee downe to drinke Vntill thy stomacke swell , to raise thy name . What though time yet han not bedowld thy Chin ? Thy Dams deere wombe was Helicon to thee ; Where ( like a Loach ) thou drew'st thilke liquor in , Which on thy heart-strings ran with musickes glee . Than vp betimes , and make the sullen swaines With thy shrill Reed such iolly-iovisance That they ( entranc'd ) ma wonder at thy straines ; So , leaue of thee ne're ending souenance . Willie . Ah Wernocke , Wernocke , so my sp'rits been steept In dulnesse , through these duller times missawes Of sik-like musicke ( riming rudely cleept . ) That yet I pipe well , must be better cause . Ah , who ( with lauish draughts of Aganip ) Can swill their soule to frolick ; so , their Muse , Whan Courts and Camps , that erst the muse did clip , Do now forlore her ; nay , her most abuse ? Now , with their witlesse , causelesse surquedry They been transpos'd fro what of yore they were , That Swaines , who but to looser luxurie Can shew the way , are now most cherisht there . These times been crimefull ( ah ) and being so , Bold Swaines ( deft Songsters ) sing them criminall ; So , make themselues oft gleefull in their woe : For thy the Songsters are misween'd of all . Mecaen●… woont in blonket liueries Yelad sike chanters ; but these miser times Vncase hem quite , that all may hem despise , As they don all their best embellisht Rimes . And Haruest-queenes , of yore , would Chaplets make To crowne their scalpes that couth most swootly sing , And giue hem many a gaude at Ale or Wake , But now ne recke they of soot carrolling . Enaunter they should be as seeme they would , Or songen lowdly for so deere desart ; Or else be peregall to Nymphes of old , From which their beastl●…hed now freely start . Than must they latch the blowes of Fates too fell With their too feeble clowches as they con : For , none regards or guards hem for their spell , Tho they , on point-deuice , empt Helicon ! There nis thilke chiuisance they whilome had For piping swoote ; sith , with an Heydeguies , Pipt by Tom-piper , or a Lorrel-lad , ( So be he clawes hem ) they idolatrize . ( sale , And those that should presse proper songs for Bene , in their doomes , so dull ; in skill , so crude ; That they had leauer printen Iacke a vale , Or Cl●…m ô Clough ( alacke ) they beene so rude ! And sith so few feate Songsters in an age Bene founden ; fo●… do weigh hem as they been , For , Swaines , that con no skill of holy-rage , Bene foe-men to faire skils enlawrel'd Queen . Enough is mee , for thy , that I ma vent My wits spels to my selfe , or vnto thee ( Deer Wernock ) which dost feel like miscontent Sith thou , and all vnheeded , singt with mee . Wernock . Vartue it 's sed ( and is an old said-saw ) Is for hur selfe , to be for sought alone : ( draw , Then eftsoones fro their case thy shrill pipes And make the welkin ringen with their tone . Of world , ne worly men take thou no keepe , What the one doth , or what the other say ; For should I so , I so , should Eyne out-weepe : Than , with mee ; Willy , ay sing care-away . It 's wood to be fore-pinde with wastefull carke In many a noyfull stoute of willing bale For vading toyes : But trim wits poorest wark The vpper heau'n han hent fro nether Dale . Thilks all our share of all the quelling heape Of this worlds good : enough is vs to tell How rude the rest bene , caduke , & how cheape ; But , laude for well-done warks , don all excell ! For thy we shoulden take keepe of our Race That here wee reunen , and what here we doon That whan wee wenden till an other place , Our souenance may here , ay-gayly wonne . For , time will vnderfong vs ; and our voice Woll woxen weake ; and , our deuising lame ; For , life is briefe ; and skils beene long , and choise : Than , spend we Time , that Time may spare our Fame , Look how breme Winter chamfers Earths blecke face ; So , corbed Eld accoyes youths surquedry ; And , in the front , deepe furrowes doon enchase , Inueloped with falling snow a hy . Then nought can be atchieu'd with witty shewes , Sith griefe of ●…lde accloyen wimble wit ; Than , vs behonen , yer Elde sick accrewes , Time to forelay , with spels retarding it . I not what blisse is whelm'd with heau'ns coape So b●…e the pleasance of the Muse be none : For , when thilk gleesome ioyes han hallowed scope They beene as those that heau'ns-folke warble on . I con my good ; for , n●…w my scalpe is frost Yeelding to snow ; the crow-feete neere mine Eyne Beene markes of mickle preefe I haue , that most Of all glees else alow , han suddaine fine . O how it garres old Wernock swynck with glee In that emprise that chiuen fearest fame , It heats my heart aboue ability To leaue parduring souenance of my name . And whan mine Engine han heau'd by my thought , An that on point-deuice eftsooones y fell , O! how my heart 's ioy-rapt , as I had cought , A Princedome to my share , of thilk Newell . They beene of pleasances the alderbest : Than , God to forne ; I wol no mo but tho : Tho beene the summe of all I louen best : And for hem loue I life ; else nold I so . Driue on thy flocke than , to the motley plaines Where by some prill , that 'mong the Pibbles plods , Thou , with thyne Oaten reede , and queintest straines , Maist rapt the senior Swaines , and minor Gods : That as on Ida that mych-famed Mount , A Shepheard Swaine ; that sung lesse soote than tho●… , By light loues Goddesse , had the grace to mount To owe the sheenest Queene that Earth did owe : So , thou maist , with thy past'rall Minstralsy Beating the aire , atweene resounding Hils , Draw to thee Bonibels as smirke , as hy , And wrap hem in thy loue begrey their wils : For ( ah ) had Phoebus Clarkes the meanes of some Worse Clarkes ( paravnter ) so to sing at ease ; They soone would make high long-wing'd haggards And vaile vnto their Lures : so , on hem seise . ( come ; For , bright Nymphes buxume Breastes do eas'ly ope To let in thirling notes of noted laies : For , deftly song they han a charming scope ; So , Nymphs themselues adore Brows girt with Bayes . Than , Willy ( ah for pitty of thine heart That drouping yearnes , at misses of these times ) Take thou thy Pipe , and of glee take thy part ; Or cheere thy selfe with cordials of thy Rimes . Before the worlds sterne face , the world backe-bite So flyly that her parts ne'it perceiue : Morall thy matter so , that , tho thou smite , Thou maist with tickling her dull sence ; deceiue . Than by thee , Willy , to the neighbour wasts Where thou ( as in another world alone ) Maist ( while thy flocke do feede ) blow bitter blast●… On thy loudst Pipe , to make il's pertly knowne . For , sith the rude-crude world doon vs misplease That well deseruen , tell wee hur hur owne ; And let her ken our cunning can , with ease , Aye shend , or lend hur sempiterne renowne . Willy . Ah Wernocke , so thy sawes mine heart downe thril With loue of Muses skill in speciall , That I ne wot , on mould what feater skill Can bee yhugg'd in Lordings pectorall . Ne would I it let-bee for all the store In th' vncoth scope of both-twain hemispheres ; Ynough is mee , perdy , nor striue for more But to be rich in hery for my leeres . Ne would I sharen that soule-gladding glee In th' euer gaudy Gardens of the blest Not there to han the Muses companee , Which , God to-fore , is of the best , the best . Now , Wernock , shalt thou see ( so more I thee ) That I nill vsen any skill so mytch ( Faire fall my swinck ) as this so nice , and free , In case I may my name to Heauen stitch . For why ; I am by kind so inly pulde To these delices ; that when I betake My selfe to other lore I more am dul'd ; And therefro , keenely set , I fall to make . But , well-away , thy nis the way to thriuen ; And , my neer kith , for that wol sore me shend : Who little reck how I by kind am giuen ; But hur wold force to swinck for thriftier end . Hence forward then I must assay , and con My leere in leefull lore , to pleasen them That , sib to mee , would my promotion , And carke for that to prancke our common Stemme : For , now ( as wends the world ) no skill to that ( Or rather but that ) thriues ; sith Swaines are now So full of contecke , that they wot ne what They would ; so , if they could ; they all would owe. So fares it in calme seasons with curst men ; If frennes forbeare , at home , hem to inuade , They wry their peace to noy each other then By plees , till they decease , or fall , or fade . So times beene keener now with common Swaynes Than whan as forraigne foe-men with hem fought : For , now they swyncke , but for flye Law-mens gaines Or seld they should possessen what they ought . But , what for this ? to mee it little longs To gab of sikliche notes of misery ; Ynough is mee to chaunten swoote my songs , And blend hem with my rurall mynstrelsy . But , ô ( my Wernock ) how am I to thee Obligen , for thy keene reencouragements To skill so mickle lou'd and sought of mee As this of making with Arts Elements ? I not how I shall thriue therein ; ne how I shall be dempt of in these nicer times : But how soere so thou my workes alow , I nill bee ill-apaidon with my Rimes . Wernock . Thou nedst not , Willy ; wretch were I to laude Thee in thy misses : for , I so should bee To th' adultries of thy wits-scapes , but a Baude Ne , as a friend , in sentence , should bee free . Than , wend thou fairely on , with thyne emprise ; Sing cleerely , Will , on mine encouragement , And other Swaines , more able to deuise ; And , fixe thee for it , in the firmament . Ynough is mee so I may beare a part Aye in the Muses Quire with those and thee ; I l'e sing ( at ease ) aloud , with cheerefull hart , No base ne meane but Tenor of best glee . Willy . And I , with thee , woll chaunt each counter-verse So shrilly that wee 'l make thilk Quire to ring As euer do the Angels ; who rehearse The loudest lauds of heau'ns-Lord whan they sing . So , farewell , Wernock , mickle thankes to thee For thy freedome , that canst so well deuise : Phoebus now goes to glade ; than now goe wee , Vnto our sheddes to rest vs till he rise . Wernock . Agree'd deere , Willy , gent and debonaire , Wee 'l hence : for , rhumaticke now fares the Aire . Io. Dauies . FINIS .

To his better beloued , then knowne friend , Mr. BROWNE . SVch is the fate of some ( write ) now a daies Thinking to win and weare , they breake the Bayes , As a slow Foote-man striuing neere to come A swifter that before him farre doth runne , Puft with the hope of Honours gole to winne Runnes out of Breath yet furthest of from him . So do our most of Poets whose Muse flies About for honour : catch poore Butterflies . But thou faire freind not rankt shall be 'mongst those That makes a Mountaine where a Mole-bill growes ; Thou whose sweete singing Pen such layes hath writ That in an old way : teacheth vs new wit : Thou that wert borne and bred to bee the man To turne Apollo's glory into Pan , And when thou lists of Shepheards leaue to write , To great Apollo adde againe his light For neuer yet , like Shepheards forth haue come Whose Pipes so sweetely play as thine haue done . Faire Muse of Browne , whose beauty is as pure As women Browne that faire and long'st endure Still mayst thou as thou dost a louer moue , And as thou dost each mouer may thee loue , Whilst I my selfe , in loue with thee must fall , Brownes Muse the faire Browne woman still will call . IOHN ONLET . Int. Temp.

AN OTHER ECLOGVE : BY Mr. George Wither . Dedicated to his truely louing and worthy friend , Mr W. BROWNE .

LONDON , Printed for George Norton . 1614.

TO HIS TRVLY BELOVED louing friend Mr WILLIAM BROWNE of the Inner Temple . Roget . and Willie . PRethee Willy tell me this , What new thing late hapned is , Thou ( that wert the blythest lad ) Art become so wondrous sad ? And so carelesse of thy quill , As if thou had'st had no skill . Thou wert wont to charme thy Flockes , And among these rudest rockes Hast so cheer'd me with thy Song , That I haue forgot my wrong . Something hath thee surely crost , That thy old wont thou hast lost , But what is 't ? Haue I ought said That hath made thee misapaid ? Hath some Churle done thee a spight ? Dost thou misse a Lambe to night ? Frownes thy fairest Shepheards Lasse ? Or how comes this ill to passe ? Is there any discontent Worse then this my banishment ? Willie . Why , doth that so euill seeme , That thou nothing worse dost deeme ? Shepheard , there full many be , That would change Contents with thee . Those that choose their walkes at will , On the valley or the Hill . Or those pleasures boast of can Groues or fields may yeeld to man : Neuer come to know the rest Wherewithall thy minde is blest . Many a one that oft resorts To make vp the troope at sports , And in company some while Happens to straine forth a smile : Feeles more want , more outward smart And more inward griefe of hart , Then this place can bring to thee , While thy minde remaineth free . Thou condemn'st my want of mirth , But what find'st thou in this earth , Wherein ought may bee beleeued , Worth to make me ioy'd , or grieued ? And yet feele I ( naithelesse ) Part of both I must confesse . Sel'd , yet for such causes small : But I grieue not not now at all . Roget . Why hath WILLY then so long , Now forborne his wonted song ? Wherefore do●… he now let fall , His well-tuned Pastorall ? And my eares that Musicke barre , Which I more long after farre Then the liberty I want . Willie . That were very much to grant , But doth this hold alway lad , Those that sing not must be sad ? Did'st thou euer that bird heare Sing well , that sings all the yeare ? Tom the Piper doth not play Till he weares his Pipe away : There s a time to slacke the string , And a time to leaue to sing . Roget . Yea , but no man now is still , That can sing , or tune a quill . Now to chant it , were but reason , Song and Musicke are in season . Now in this sweet iolly tide , Is the earth in all her pride . The faire Lady of the May Trim'd vp in her best array Hath inuited all the Swaines , With the Lasses of the Plaines , To attend vpon her sport At the places of resort . Corridon ( with his bold Rout ) Hath already been about For the elder Shepheards dole : And fetcht in the Summer-Pole ; Whilst the rest haue built a Bower , To defend them from a shower , Seil'd so close with boughes all greene , Tytan cannot pry betweene . Now the Dayrie Wenches dreame Of their Strawberries and Creame : And each doth her selfe aduance To be taken in , to dance . Euery one that knowes to sing , Fits him now for Carrolling : So doe those that hope for meede , Either by the Pipe or Reed , And though I am kept away , I doe heare ( this very day ) Many learned Groomes doe wend , For the Garlands to contend Which a Nymph that hight Desart , ( Long a stranger in this part ) With her owne faire hands hath wrought A rare worke ( they say ) past thought , As appeareth by the name , For she calles them Wreathes of Fame . She hath set in their due place Euery flower that may grace , And among a thousand moe , ( Whereof some butse ne for show ) She hath woue in Daphnes tree , That they may not blasted bee . Which with Time she edg'd about , That it might not shatter out . And that they might wither neuer , Intermixt it with Liue-euer . These are to bee shar'd among Those that do excell for song : Or their passions can rehearse In the smooth'st and sweetest verse . Then for those amid the rest , That can play and pipe the best , There 's a Kidling with the Damme , A fat Weather , and a Lambe . And for those that leapen farre , Wrastle , Runne , and throw the Barre , Ther 's appointed guerdons too : He that best the first can doe Shall for his reward be paid , With a Sheepe-hooke , fai●…e in-laid With fine bone , of a strange beast , That men bring from out the west . For the next , a Scrip of red , Tassel'd with fine coloured thred . Then for him that 's quick'st of foote , A Cup of a Maple-roote : Whereupon the skilfull man Hath ingrau'd the Loues of Pan. And the last hath for his due , A fine Napkin wrought with blew . Then my Willy what moues thee , Thus forgetfull now to be ? What mak'st thou here with a wight That is shut vp from delight : In a solitary den As not fit to liue with men . Go my Willy , get thee gone , Leaue me in exile alone . Hye thee to that merry throng , And amaze them with thy Song . Thou art yong , yet such a Lay Neuer grac'd the month of May , As ( if they prouoke thy skill ) Thou canst fit vnto thy Quill . I with wonder heard thee sing , At our last yeares Reuelling . Then I with the rest was free , When vnknowne I noted thee : And perceiu'd the ruder Swaines , Enuie thy farre sweeter straines . Yea I saw the Lasses cling Round about thee in a Ring : As if each one iealous were , Any but herselfe should heare . And I know they yet do long For the res'due of thy song . Haste thee then to sing it forth , Take the benefit of worth . And Desert will sure bequeath Fames faire garland for thy wreath . Hye thee Willy , hye away . Willie . Roget rather let me stay , And be desolare with thee , Then at those their Reuels be . Nought such is my skill I wis , As indeed thou deem'st it is . But what ere it be , I must Be content , and shall I trust . For a song I doe not passe , Mong'st my friends , but what ( alas ) Should I haue to doe with them That my Musicke doe contemne ? Some there are , as well I wot , That the same yet fauour not : Yet I cannot well avow , They my Carrols disallow . But such malice I haue spid , T is as bad as if they did . Roget . Willy , what may those men be , Are so ill to malice thee , Willie . Some are worthy-well esteem'd Some without worth are so deem'd . Others of so base a spirit , They haue nor esteeme , nor merit . Roget . What 's the wrong ? Willie . A slight offence , Wherewithall I can dispence ; But hereafter for their sake , To my selfe I 'le musicke make . Roget . What , because some Clowne offends , Wilt thou punish all thy friends ? Willy . Honest Roget vnderstand me , Those that loue me may command me , But thou know'st I am but young , And the Pastorall I sung , Is by some suppos'd to bee ( By a straine ) too high for me : So they kindly let me gaine , Not my labour , for my paine . Trust me , I do wonder why They should me my owne deny . Though I 'me yong , I scorne to flit On the wings of borrowed wit . I 'le make my owne feathers reare me , Whither others cannot beare me . Yet I 'le keepe my skill in store , Till I 'ue seene some Winters more . Roget . But in earnest mean'st thou so ? Then thou art not wise , I trow . Better shall aduise thee Pan , For thou dost not rightly than : That 's the ready way to blot All the credit thou hast got . Rather in thy Ages prime , Get another start of Time : And make those that so fond be , ( Spight of their owne dulnesse ) see That the sacred Muses can Make a child in yeares , a man . It is knowne what thou canst do , For it is not long agoe , When that CVDDY , Thou , and I Each the others skill to try , At Saint Dunstanes charmed Well , ( As some present there can tell ) Sang vpon a sudden Th●…ame , Sitting by the Crimson streame . Where , if thou didst well or no , Yet remaines the song to show . Much experience more I 'ue had , Of thy skill ( thou happy Lad ) And would make the world to know it , But that time will further show it . Enuy makes their tongues now runne , More then doubte of what is donne . For that needs must be thy owne , Or to be some others knowne : But how then wilt suit vnto What thou shalt hereafter do ? Or I wonder where is hee , Would with that song part to thee : Nay , were there so mad a swaine , Could such glory sell for gaine ; Phoebus would not haue combin'd That gift with so base a mind . Neuer did the Nine impart The sweet secrets of their Art Vn to any that did scorne To haue their faire Badge seen worne . Therefore vnto those that say , Were they pleas'd to sing a Lay , They could doo 't , and will not tho ; This I speake , for this I know : None ere drunke the Thespian Spring , And knew how , but he did sing . For that one infus'd in man , Makes him shew 't , doe what he can , Nay those that doe onely sip Or but eu'n their fingers dip In that sacred Fount ( poore Elues ) Of that brood will shew themselues ; Yea , in hope to get them fame , They will speake though to their shame Let those then at thee repine , That by their wits measure thine . Needs those Songs must be thy owne , And that one day will be knowne , The same imputation to , I my selfe doe vndergo : But it will bee knowne ere long , I 'me abus'd , and thou hast wrong , Who at twice ten hast song more Then some will doe at fourescore . Cheere thee ( honest Willy ) then , And begin thy song agen . Willy . Faine I would , but I doe feare When againe my Lines they heare , If they yeeld they are my Rimes , They will finde some other Crimes . And 't is no safe ventring by , Where we see Detraction lye . For doe what I can , I doubt , She will pick some quarrell out , And I oft haue heard defended , Little said , and soone amended . Roget . See'st thou not in cleerest dayes Oft thick fogges cloud Heauens rayes ? And the vapours that doe breath From the earths grosse womb beneath , Seeme they not with their blacke steatne●… , To polute the Sunnes bright beames , And yet vanish into aire , Leauing them ( vnblemisht ) faire ? So ( my Willy ) shall it bee With Detractions breath and thee . It shall neuer rise so hye , As to staine thy Poesie . Like the Sunne shee oft exhales Vapours from the rot'nest vales ; But so much her power can doo , That she may dissolue them too . If thy verse do brauely tower , As she makes wing , she gets power . But the higher she doth sore , Shee 's affronted still the more : Till she to the high'st hath past , Then she rests with fame at last . Let nought therefore thee affright , But make forward in thy flight : For if I could match thy Rime , To the very starres I 'de clime . There begin againe and flye Till I reach'd Aeternity . But ( alas ) my Muse is slow : For thy pace she flagges too low . Yea , the more'●… her haplesse fate , Her long wings were clipt of late . And poore I , her fortune ruing , Am my selfe put vp a muing . But if I my Cage can rid , I 'le flye where I neuer did . And though for her sake l'me crost , Though my best hopes I haue lost , And knew she would make my trouble , Ten times more then ten times double , I would loue and keepe her toe , Spight of all the world could doe . For though banisht from my flockes , And confin'd within these rockes , Here I waste away the light , And consume the sullen Night , She doth for my comfort stay , And keepes many cares away . Though I misse the flowry Fields , With those sweetes the Spring-tide yeelds , Though I may not see those Groues , Where the shepheards chaunt their Loues , And the Lasses more excell , Then the sweet-voyc'd Philomel . Though of all those pleasures past , Nothing now remaines at last , But Remembrance ( poore reliefe ) That more makes , then mends my griefe . She 's my smind●… companion still , Maugre Enuies euill will . Whence she should be driuen to , Wert't in mortals power to do . She doth tell me where to borrow Comfort in the mid'st of sorrow ; Makes the desolatest place To her presence be a grace ; And the blackest discontents Be her fairest ornaments . In my former dayes of blisse , Her diuine thoughts taught me this , That from euery thing I saw , I could some inuention draw : And raise pleasure to her hight , Through the meanest obiects sight , By the murmur of a spring , Or the least leaues rustling . By a Dazie whose leaues spred Shut when Tytan goes to bed , Or a shady bush or tree , She could more infuse in me , Then all Natures beauties can , In some other wiser man . By her helpe I also now , Make this churlish place allow Somthings , that may sweeten gladnesse In the very gall of sadnesse . The dull loanesse , the blacke shade , That these hanging vaults haue made , The strange Musicke of the waues , Beating on these hollow Caues . This grim den which Rockes embosse , Ouer-growne with eldest mosse . The rude portals that giue light , More to Terror then Delight . This my Chamber of Neglect , Wal'd about with Disrespect , From all these , and this dull aire , A fit obiect for Despaire , Shee hath taught mee by her might To draw comfort and delight . Therefore thou best earthly blisse I will cherish thee for this . Poesy ; thou sweet'st content That ere Heau'n to mortals lent . Though they as a trifle leaue thee Whose dull thoughts can not conceiue thee Though thou bee to them a scorne That to nought but earth are borne : Let my life no longer bee , Then I am in loue with thee . Though our wise ones call it madnesse Let me neuer taste of gladnesse If I loue not thy mad'st fits Aboue all their greatest wits . And though some too seeming holy Do account thy raptures folly : Thou dost teach mee to contemne What makes Knaues and Fooles of them . O high power that oft doth carry Men aboue Willy . Good Roget tarry 〈◊〉 do feare thou wilt begon Quite aboue my reachanon , The kind flames of Poesy Haue now borne thy thoughts so high , That they vp in Heauenbee And haue quite forgotten mee , Call thy selfe to minde againe Are these Raptures for a Swaine , That attends on lowly sheepe And with simple heards doth keepe ? Roget . Thankes my Willy , I had runne Till that Time had lodg'd the Sunne , If thou had'st not made mee stay ; But thy pardon heare I pray . Lou'd Apollo's sacred fire Had rais'd vp my spirits higher Through the loue of Poesy Then indeed they vse to flye . But as I said , I say still , If that I had Willi's skill Enuy nor Detractions ●…ongue , Should ere make me leaue my song ; But I'd●… sing it euery day Till they pin'd themselues away . Be●… thou then aduis'd in this Which both iust and ●…itting is , Finish what thou hast begunne Or at least still forward runne , Haile and Thunder ill he 'le beare That a blast of wind do●…h feare : And if words will thus afray thee ? Prethee how will deeds dismay thee Do not thinke so rathe a song Can passe through the vulgar throng And escape without a touch , Or that they can hurt it much : Frosts wee see do nip that thing Which is forwardst in the Spring : Yet at last for all such lets Some what of the rest it gets : And I 'me sure that so maist thou ; Therefore my kind Willy now , Since thy folding time drawes on And I see thou must bee gon , I no more of this will say Till we meete next holiday . Geor. Wither .

Imitatus est Moschi 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 Idyll . 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 & Meleagri Epigram . Antholog . lib. 7. I. S. olim inter Otia Rustica . To his Melisa . LOVD did Cytherea cry , If you stragling Cupid spy , And but bring the news to me , Your reward a Kisse shall be : You shall ( if you him restore ) With a Kisse , haue something More . Markes enough the Boy 's known by , Ti'ry Colour , Flamy Eie ; Subtill Heart ; and sweetned Mouth , Faining still , but Failing Truth ; Daring Visage , Armes but small ; Yet can Strike vs Gods and all . Body Naked , Crafty Mind ; Winged as a Bird and blind ; Litle Bow , but wounding hearts ; Golden both , and Leaden darts . Burning Taper ; if you find him , Without pity , look you Bind him . Pity not his Teares or Smiles : Both are false , both forged guile●… . Fly it , if a Kisse He profer ; Lips inchanting hee will offer , And his Quiuer , Bow , and Candle , But none of them see you handle . Poysoned they are , and such , As my selfe I dare not touch : Hurt no sight , yet peirce the Eie , Thence vnto the Heart they flie . Warned thus , Pray , take some paine , Thelp mee to my Boy againe . Thus while Cytherea cry'd him , Sweet , within Thine Eys I spy'd him . Thence he s●…ly shot at Mine , 〈◊〉 My Heart and crept to Thine . Pay you , Sweet , the promi'st Fee , Him , I le swear , I did not see . FINIS .

Notes, typically marginal, from the original text

Notes for div A17043-e12390