The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. Written by Sir Philip Sidney Knight. Now since the first edition augmented and ended

[ 35] The thirde Egloges.

THyrsis not with many painted words nor falsified promises, had wone the con∣sent of his beloued Kala, but with a true & simple making her know he loued her not forcing himselfe beyond his reach to buy her affection, but giuing her [ 40] such preatie presentes, as neither coulde wearie him with the giuing, nor shame her for the taking. Thus the first Strawberies he could find, were euer in a cleane washt dish sent to Kala thus poesies of the spring flowers were wrapt vp in a litle grene silke and dedicated to Kalas brestes, thus somtimes his sweetest Creame, sometimes the best Cakebread his mother made, were reserued for Kalas taste. Neither would hee [ 45] stick to kil a lamb when she would be content to come ouer the way vnto him. But thē lo, how the house was swept & rather no fire thē any smoke lefte to trouble her. Then loue songes were not daintie, when she would heare them, and as much ma∣nerlie

silence when shee would not: in going to Church great worship to Kala. So that all the parish said, neuer a maide they knew so well wayted on: and when daun∣cing was about the Maypole, no body taken out but she, and he after a leape or two to shewe her his owne actiuitie, woulde frame all the rest of his dauncing, onely to grace her. As for her fathers sheepe, he had no lesse care of them then his owne: so [ 5] that she might play her as she would, warranted with honest Thyrsis carefulnes. But if he spied Kala fauourd any one of the flocke more then his fellowes, then that was cherished: shearing him so (when shorne he must be) as might most become him: but while the wole was on, wrapping within it ••••me verses, wherin Thyrsis had a spe∣ciall gifte, and making the innocent beast his vnweting messinger. Thus constantly [ 10] continuing, though he were none of the fayrest, at length he wanne Kalas harte, the honestest wenche in all those quarters. And so with consent of both parents (with∣out which nether Thyrsis would aske, nor Kala grant) their marring day was appoin∣ted, which because it fell out in this time, I thinke it shall not be impertinent, to re∣member a little our shepheards, while the other greater persons, are either sleeping [ 15] or otherwise troubled. Thyrsis mariage time once knowne, there needed no inuiting of the neighbours in that valley, for so well was Thyrsis beloued, that they were al∣ready to doe him credit, neither yet came they like Harpies to deuoure him: but on bought a fat pigge, the other a tender kidd, the thirde a great goose: as for chese, milke, & butter, were the gossips presents. Thither came of strange shepheards onely [ 20] the melancholy Philisides, ••or the vertuous Coridon had long since left off al his ioyful solemnities. And as for Strephon and Klaius, they had lost their mistresse, which put them into such extreme sorrowes as they could scarcely abide the light of the daye, much lesse the eyes of men. But of the Arcadian borne shepheardes, thither came good olde Geron, young Histor, though vnwilling, and vpright Dicus, mery Pass and [ 25] iolly Nico. As for Damaetas they durst not presume (his pride was such) to inuite him: and Dorus they founde might not bee spared. And there vnder a bower was made of bowes (for Thyrsis house was not able to receaue them) euery one placed according to his age. The women (for such was the maner of the country) kept to∣gether to make good cheare among themselues, from which otherwise a certaine [ 30] painefull modestie restraines them, and there might the sadder matrones giue good counsel to Kala: who poore soule wept for feare of that she desired. But among the shepheards was al honest libertie, no feare of daungerous tel-tales, who hunt greater prayes, nor indeede mindes in them to giue tell-tales any occasion; but one questi∣oning with another of the manuring his ground, and gouerning his flock, the highest [ 35] pointe they reached to was to talke of the holines of mariage, to which purpose as∣soone as their sober dynner was ended, Dycus insteede of thankes, sange this songe with a cleare voice and cheerfull countenaunce.

LEt mother earth now decke her selfe in flowers, [ 40] To see her ofspring seeke a good increase, Where iustest loue doth vanquish Cupids powers And ware of thoughts is swallow'd vp in peace Which neuer may decrease But like the turtells faire [ 45] Liue one in two, a well vnited paire, Which that no chaunce may staine,

O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

O heau'n awake shewe forth thy stately face, Let not these slumbring clowds thy beawties hide, [ 5] But with thy cheerefull presence helpe to grace The honest Bridegroome, and the bashfull Bride, Whose loues may euer bide, Like to the Elme and Vyne, With mutuall embracements them to twyne: [ 10] In which delightfull paine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Yee Muses all which chaste affects allow, And haue to Thyrsis shewd your secret skill, [ 15] To this chaste loue your sacred fauours bow, And so to him and her your giftes distill, That they all vice may kill: And like to lillies pure May please all eyes, and spotlesse may endure. [ 20] Where that all blisse may raigne, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Yee Nymphes which in the waters empire haue, Since Thyrsis musick oft doth yeeld you praise, [ 25] Graunt to the thing which we for Thyrsis craue. Let one time (but long first) close vp their daies, One graue their bodies seaze: And like two riuers sweete, When they though diuers do together meete: [ 30] One streame both streames containe, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Pan, father Pan, the god of silly sheepe, Whose care is cause that they in number growe, [ 35] Haue much more care of them that them do keepe, Since from these good the others good doth flowe, And make their issue showe In number like the hearde Of yonglings, which thy selfe with loue hast rearde. [ 40] Or like the drops of raine. O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Vertue (if not a God) yet Gods chiefe parte, Be thou the knot of this their open vowe, [ 45] That still he be her head, she be his harte, He leane to her, she vnto him do bow: Each other still allow:

Like Oke and Mistletoe. Her strength from him, his praise from her do growe. In which most louely traine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 5]

But thou foule Cupid syre to lawlesse lust, Be thou farre hence with thy empoyson'd darte, Which though of glittring golde, shall heere take rust Where simple loue, which chastnesse doth imparte, Auoydes thy hurtfull arte, [ 10] Not needing charming skill, Such mindes with sweet affections for to fill, Which being pure and plaine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 15]

All churlish wordes, shrewd answeres, crabbed lookes, All priuatenes, selfe-seeking, inward spite, All waywardnes, which nothing kindly brookes, All strife for toyes, and clayming masters right: Be hence aye put to flight, [ 20] All sturring husbands hate Gainst neighbors good for womanish debate Be fled as things most vaine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 25]

All peacock pride, and fruites of peacocks pride Longing to be with losse of substance gay With retchlesnes what may thy house b••tide, So that you may on hyer slippers stay For euer hence awaye: [ 30] Yet let not sluttery, The sinke of filth, be counted huswifery: But keeping holesome meane, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 35]

But aboue all away vile iealousie, The euill of euils iust cause to be vniust, (How can he loue suspecting treacherie? How can she loue where loue cannot win trust?) Goe snake hide thee in dust, [ 40] Ne dare once shew thy face, Where open hartes do holde so constant place, That they thy sting restraine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 45]

The earth is deckt with flowers, the heau'ns displaid, Muses graunt guiftes, Nymphes long and ioyned life,

Pan store of babes, vertue their thoughts well staid, Cupids lust gone, and gone is bitter strife, Happy man, happy wife. No pride shall them oppresse, [ 5] Nor yet shall yeeld to loathsome sluttishnes, And iealousie is slaine: For Himen will their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 10] Truly Dicus, sayd Nico, although thou didst not graunt me the price the last day, when vndoubtedly I wan it, yet must I needes say, thou for thy parte hast soong well and thriftelie. Pas straight desired all the companie they would beare wit∣nes, that Nico had once in his life spoken wisely; for sayde he, I will tell it his fa∣ther, who will be a glad man when he heares such newes. Very true, sayd Nico, [ 15] but indeede so would not thine in like case, for he would looke thou shouldest liue but one houre longer, that a discreate word wandred out of thy mouth. And I pray thee (sayd Pas) gentle Nico, tell me what mischaunce it was that brought thee to taste so fine a meate? Mary goodman blockhead sayde Nico, because hee speakes against iealousie, the filthie traytor to true affection, and yet disguising [ 20] it selfe in the rayment of loue. Sentences, Sentences, cried Pas. Alas howe ripe witted these young folkes be now adayes! But well counselled shall that husband be, when this man commes to exhort him not to be iealous. And so shall he, aunswered Nico, for I haue seene a fresh example, though it be not very fit to be knowen. Come, come, sayde Pas, be not so squeamish, I knowe thou longest more to tell it, then we to heare it. But for all his wordes Nico would not be∣stowe [ 25] his voyce till he was generally entreated of all the rest. And then with a merry marriage looke, he sang this following discourse, for with a better grace he could sing then tell.

[ 30] A Neighbor mine not long agoe there was, (But namelesse he, for blamelesse he shall be) That married had a trick and bonny lasse As in a sommer day a man might see: But he himselfe a foule vnhansome groome, [ 35] And farre vnfit to hold so good a roome.

Now whether mou'd with selfe vnworthines, Or with her beawtie fit to make a pray, Fell iealousie did so his braine oppresse, [ 40] That if he absent were but halfe a day, He gest the worst (you wot what is the worst) And in himselfe new doubting causes nurst.

While thus he fear'd the silly innocent, [ 45] Who yet was good, because she knewe none ill, Vnto his house a iollie shepeheard went, To whome our prince did beare a great good will,

Because in wrestling and in pastorall He farre did passe the rest of Shepheards all.

And therefore he a courtier was benamed, And as a courtier was with cheere receaued, [ 5] (For they haue toongs to make a poore man blamed. If he to them his dutie misconceaued) And for this Courtier should well like his table, The goodman bad his wife be seruiceable.

[ 10]

And so she was, and all with good intent, But fewe dayes past while she good maner vs'de, But that her husband thought her seruice bent To such an end as he might be abus'de. Yet like a coward fearing strangers pride, [ 15] He made the simple wench his wrath abide.

With chumpish lookes, hard words, and secret nips, Grumbling at her when she his kindnes sought, Asking her how she tasted Courtiers lips, [ 20] He forst her thinke that which she neuer thought. In fine he made her gesse, there was some sweet In that which he so fear'd that she should meet.

When once this entred was, in womans hart, [ 25] And that it had enflam'd a new desire, There rested then, to play a womans part, Fuell to seeke and not to quench the fire: But (for his iealous eye she well did finde) She studied cunning how the same to blinde. [ 30]

And thus she did. One day to him she came, And (though against his will) on him she leand, And out gan cry, ah well away for shame, If you helpe not our wedlocke will be staind, [ 35] The goodman starting, askt what did her moue? She sigh'd and sayd, the bad guest sought her loue.

He little looking that she should complaine Of that, whereto he feard she was enclinde, [ 40] Bussing her oft, and in his hart full faine, He did demaunde what remedy to finde; How they might get that guest, from them to wend, And yet the prince (that lou'd him) not offend.

[ 45]

Husband, quoth she, go to him by and by, And tell him you do finde I doo him loue,

And therefore pray him that of courtesie He will absent himselfe, least he should moue A young girles hart, to that were shame for both, Whereto you knowe, his honest harte were loath.

[ 5]

Thus shall you show that him you do not doubt, And as for me (sweete husband) I must beare. Glad was the man when he had heard her out, And did the same, although with mickle feare. [ 10] For feare he did, least he the young man might In choller put, with whom he would not fight.

The Courtlie shepheard much agast at this, Not seeing earst such token in the wife, [ 15] Though full of scorne, would not his duty misse, Knowing that euill becommes a houshold strife, Did goe his way, but soiourn'd neere thereby, That yet the ground hereof he might espie.

[ 20] The wife thus hauing settled husbands braine, Who would haue sworne his spowse Diana was, Watched when she a furder point might gaine, Which little time did fitlie bring to passe. For to the Courte her man was calld by name, [ 25] Whither he needes must goe for feare of blame.

Three dayes before that he must sure depart, She written had (but in a hand disguisde) A letter such which might from either part [ 30] Seeme to proceede, so well it was deuisde. She seald it first, then she the sealing brake, And to her iealous husband did it take.

With weeping eyes (her eyes she taught to weepe) [ 35] She told him that the Courtier had it sent: Alas, quoth she, thus womens shame doth creepe. The goodman read on both sides the content, It title had, Vnto my only loue, Subscription was, Yours most, if you will proue.

[ 40]

The pistle selfe, such kinde of wordes it had, My sweetest ioy, the comfort of my sprite, So may thy flockes encrease thy deere hart glad, So may each thing, euen as thou wishest lighte, [ 45] As thou wilt deigne to reade and gentlie reede This mourning inck, in which my hart doth bleeds.

Long haue I lou'd, (alas thou worthy arte) Long haue I lou'd, (alas loue craueth loue) Long haue I lou'd thy selfe, alas my harte Doth breake, now toong vnto thy name doth moue, And thinke not that thy answere answere is, [ 5] But that it is my doome of bale or blisse.

The iealous wretch must now to Courte be gone: Ne can he faile, for prince hath for him sent: Now is the time we may be here alone, [ 10] And geue a long desire a sweet content. Thus shall you both reward a louer true, And cke reuenge his wrong suspecting you.

And this was all, and this the husband read [ 15] With chafe enough, till she him pacified: Desiring, that no griefe in him he bread Now that he had her words so truely tried: But that he would, to him the letter show That with his fault he might her goodnes know. [ 20]

That streight was done with many a boistrous threat, That to the King, he would his sinne declare, But now the Courtier gan to smell the feate, And with some words which shewed little care, [ 25] He stayd vntill the goodman was departed, Then gaue he him the blow which neuer smarted.

Thus may you see, the iealous wretch was made The Pandare of the thing, he most did feare, [ 30] Take heed therefore, how you ensue that trade, Least the same markes of iealousie you beare. For sure, no iealousie can that preuent, Whereto two parties once be full content.

[ 35]

Behold, sayd Pas, a whole dicker of wit: he hath pickt out such a tale with inten∣tion to keepe a husband from iealosie, which were enough to make a sanctified husband iealous, to see subtleties so much in the feminine gender. But, sayd he, I will strike Nico dead, with the wise words shall flowe out of my gorge. And with∣out further entreatie thus sang. [ 40]

WHo doth desire that chaste his wife should be, First be he true, for truth doth truth deserue: Then such be he, as she his worth may see, And one man still credit with her preserue. [ 45]

Not toying kinde, nor causlesly vnkinde,

Not sturring thoughts, nor yet denying right Not spying faults, nor in plaine errors blinde, Neuer hard hand, nor euer raines too light.

[ 5] As farre from want, as farre from vaine expence, (The one doth force, the later doth entise) Allow good company, but kepe from thence Al filthy mouth's that glory in their vice. This done, thou hast no more, but leaue the rest [ 10] To vertue, fortune, time & womans brest.

Wel cōcluded said Nico, When he hath done al, he leaues the matter to his wiues discretion. Now whensoeuer thou mariest, let her discretion decke thy head with Actaeons ornament, Pas was so angrie with his wish, being in deede towards mari∣age, [ 15] that they might perchaunce haue falne to buffets, but that Dicus desired Philisi∣des (who as a stranger sate among them, reuoluing in his mind al the tempests of euil fortunes hee had passed) that he woulde doe so much grace to the companie, as to sing one of his country songes. Philisides knowing it no good maners to besquemish of his comming, hauing put himself in their company, without further studie began [ 20] to vtter that, wherewith his thoughtes were then (as alwaies) most busied: and to shew what a straunger he was to himselfe, spake of himselfe as of a thirde person, in this sorte.

THe ladd Philisides [ 25] Lay by a riuers side, In flowry fielde a gladder eye to please: His pipe was at his foote His lambs were him besides, A widow turtle neere on bared rootes [ 30] Sate wailing without bootes. Each thing both sweet & sadd Did draw his boyling braine To thinke, & thinke with paine Of Miras beames eclipst by absence bad. [ 35] And thus, with eyes made dimme With teares, he saide, or sorrow said for him. O earth, once answere giue, So may thy stately grace By north, or south still rich adorned liue: [ 40] So Mira Long may be On thy then blessed face, Whose ••oote doth set a heau'n on cursed thee, I aske, now answere me. If th' author of thy blisse [ 45] Phoebus, that shepheard high Do turne from thee his eye, Doth not thy selfe, when he long absent is,

Like Rogue, all ragged goe, And pine away with daily wasting woe? Tell me you wanton brooke, So may your sliding race Shunn lothed-louing bankes with conning crooke: [ 5] So in you euer new Mira may looke her face, And make you faire with shadow of her hue: So when to pay your due To mother sea you come, [ 10] She chide you not for stay, Nor beat you for your play, Tell me if your diuerted springs become Absented quite from you, Are you not dried? Can you your selues renew? [ 15] Tell me you flowers faire Cowslipp & Columbine, So may your Make this wholsome springtime aire With you embraced lie, And lately thence vntwine: [ 20] But with dew dropps engendre children hy: So may you neuer dy, But pulld by Miras hande Dresse bosome hers or hedd, Or scatter on her bedd, [ 25] Tell me, if husband springtime leaue your lande, When he from you is sent, Whither not you, languisht with discontent? Tell me my seely pipe, So may thee still betide [ 30] A clenly cloth thy moistnes for to wipe. So may the cheries redd Of Miras lipps diuide Their sugred selues to kisse thy happy hedd: So may her eares be ledd, [ 35] Her eares where Musique liues, To heare, & not despise The liribliring cries, Tell, if that breath, which thee thy sounding giues, Be absent farre from thee, [ 40] Absent alone canst thou then piping be? Tell me my Lamb of gold, So maist thou long abide The day well fed; the night in faithfull folde: So grow thy wooll of note, [ 45] In time that richly di'de It may be part of Miras peticoate,

Tell me, if wolues the throte Haue cought of thy deare damme, Or she from thee be staide, Or thou from her be straide, [ 5] Canst thou, poore lamme, become anothers lamme? Or rather till thou die Still for thy Dam with bea-waymenting crie? Tell me ô Turtle true, So may no fortune breed [ 10] To make thee nor thy better-loued rue: So may thy blessings swarme That Mira may thee feede With hand & mouth, with lapp & brest keepe warme, Tell me if greedy arme, [ 15] Do fondly take away With traitor lime the one, The other left alone, Tell me poore wretch, parted from wretched pray Disdaine not you the greene, [ 20] Wayling till death shun you not to be seene? Earth, brooke, flowr's, pipe, lambe, Doue Say all, & I with them, Absence is death, or worse, to them that loue. So I vnlucky lad Whome hills from her do hemme, [ 25] What fitts me now but teares, & sighings sadd? O fortune too too badd, I rather would my sheepe Thad'st killed with a stroke, [ 30] Burnt Caban lost my cloke, When want one hower those eyes which my ioyes keepe. Oh! what doth wailing winne? Speeche without ende were better not begin. My song clime thou the winde [ 35] Which holland sweet now gently sendeth in, That on his wings the leauell thou maist finde To hit, but Kissing hit Her ear's the weights of wit. If thou know not for whome thy Master dies, [ 40] These markes shall make thee wise: She is the heardesse faire that shines in darke And giues her kidds no food, but willow's barke. This said, at length he ended, His oft sigh-broken dittie, [ 45] Then raise, but raise on leggs: which faintnes bended, With skinne in sorrow died, With face the plot of pittie,

With thoughts which thoughts their owne tormentors tried, He rase, & streight espied His Ramme, who to recouer The Ewe another loued, With him proud battell proued. [ 5] He enuied such a death in sight of louer, And alwaies westward eying More enuied Phoebus for his westerne flyinge.

The whole company would gladly haue taken this occasion of requesting Phili∣sides [ 10] in plainer sorte to discouer vnto them his estate. Which he willing to preuent (as knowing the relation thereof more fit for funeralles then the time of a mariage) began to sing this song he had learned before he had euer subiected his thoughts to acknowledge no Master, but a Mistresse.

[ 15]

AS I my little flocke on Ister banke (A little flocke; but well my pipe the couthe) Did piping leade, the Sunne already sanke Beyond our worlde, and ere I got my boothe Each thing with mantle black the night doth scothe; [ 20] Sauing the glowe worme, which would curteous be Of that small light oft watching shepheards see.

The welkin had full niggardly enclosed In cofer of dimme clowdes his siluer groates, [ 25] Icleped starres; each thing to rest disposed: The caues were full, the mountaines voide of goates: The birds eyes closd closed their chirping notes. As for the Nightingale woodmusiques King, It August was, he daynde not then to sing. [ 30]

Amid my sheepe, though I sawe nought to feare Yet (for I nothing sawe) I feared sore; Then founde I which thing is a charge to beare As for my sheepe I dradded mickle more [ 35] Then euer for my selfe since I was bore. I sate me downe: for see to goe ne could, And sange vnto my sheepe lest stray they should.

The songe I sange old Lanquet bad me taught, [ 40] Lanquet, the shepheard best swift Ister knewe, For clerkly reed, and hating what is naught, For faithfull hart, cleane hands, and mouth as true: With his sweet skill my skillesse youth he drewe, To haue a feeling iast of him that sitts [ 45] Beyond the heauen, far more beyond your witts.

He said, the Musique best thilke powers pleasd Was iumpe concorde betweene our wit and will: Where highest notes to godlines are raisd, And lowest sinke not downe to iote of ill: [ 5] With old true tales: he woont mine eares to fill, How sheepheards did of yore, how now they thriue, Spoiling their flock, or while twixt them they striue.

He liked me, but pitied lustfull youth: [ 10] His good strong staffe my slippry yeares vpbore: He still hop'd well, because he loued truth; Till forste to parte, with harte and eyes euen sore, To worthy Coriden he gaue me ore, But thus in okes true shade recounted he [ 15] Which now in nights deepe shade sheep heard of me.

Such maner time there was (what time I n'ot) When all this Earth, this damme or mould of ours Was onely won'd with such as beastes begot: [ 20] Vnknowne as then were they that builded towers: The cattell wild, or tame, in natures bowers Might freely rome, or rest, as seemed them: Man was not man their dwellings into hem.

[ 25] The beastes had sure some beastly pollicie: For nothing can endure where order n'is. For once the Lion by the Lambe did lie; The fearefull Hinde the Leopard did kisse: Hurtles was Tygers pawe and Serpents hisse. [ 30] This thinke I well, the beasts with courage clad Like Senators a harmeles empire had.

At which whether the others did repine, (For enuie harbreth most in feeblest hartes) [ 35] Or that they all to chaunging did encline, (As euen in beasts their dammes leaue chaunging partes) The multitude to Ioue a suite empartes, With neighing, blaying, braying, and barking, Roring, and howling for to haue a King.

[ 40]

A King, in language theirs they said they would: (For then their language was a perfect speech) The birdes likewise with chirpes, and puing could Cackling, and chattering, that of Ioue beseech. Onely the owle still warnde them not to seech [ 45] So hastily that which they would repent: But sawe they would, and he to deserts went.

Ioue wisely said (for wisedome wisely sayes) O beasts, take heed what you of me desire. Rulers will thinke all things made them to please, And soone forget the swincke due to their hire, But since you will, part of my heau'nly fire [ 5] I will you lende; the rest your selues must giue, That it both seene and felte may with you liue.

Full glad they were and tooke the naked sprite, Which streight the Earthy clothed in his claye: [ 10] The Lion, harte; the Ounce gaue actiue might; The Horse, good shape; the Sparrow, lust to playe; Nightingale, voice, entising songes to saye. Elephant gaue a perfect memorie: And Parot, ready tongue, that to applie. [ 15]

The Foxe gaue crafte; the Dog gaue flatterie; Asse, pacience; the Mole, a working thought; Eagle, high looke; Wolfe secrete crueltie: Monkie, sweet breath; the Cow, her faire eyes brought; [ 20] The Ermion, whitest skinne, spotted with nought; The sheep, mild-seeming face; climing, the Beare; The Stagge did giue the harme eschewing feare.

The Hare, her sleights; the Cat, his melancholie; [ 25] Ante, industrie; and Connie, skill to builde; Cranes, order; Storkes, to be appearing holie; Camaeleon, ease to chaunge; Ducke, ease to yelde; Crocodile, teares, which might be falsely spilde: Ape great thing gaue, though he did mowing stand, [ 30] The instrument of instruments, the hand.

Ech other beast likewise his present brings: And (but they drad their Prince they ought should want) They all consented were to giue him wings: [ 35] And aye more awe towards him for to plant, To their owne worke this priuiledge they graunt, That from thenceforth to all eternitie, No beast should freely speake, but onely he.

[ 40]

Thus Man was made; thus Man their Lord became: Who at the first, wanting, or hiding pride, He did to beastes best vse his cunning frame; With water drinke, herbes meate, and naked hide, And fellow-like let his dominion slide; [ 45] Not in his sayings saying I, but we: As if he meant his lordship common be.

But when his seate so rooted he had found, That they now skilld not, how from him to wend; Then gan in guiltlesse earth full many a wound, Iron to seeke, which gainst it selfe should bend, [ 5] To teare the bowels, that good corne should send. But yet the common Damme none did bemone; Because (though hurt) they neuer heard her grone.

Then gan the factions in the beastes to breed; [ 10] Where helping weaker sort, the nobler beastes, (As Tygers, Leopards, Beares, and Lions seed) Disdaind with this, in deserts sought their restes; Where famine rauine taught their hungrie chestes, That craftily he forst them to do ill, [ 15] Which being done he afterwards would kill.

For murthers done, which neuer erst was seene, By those great beastes, as for the weakers good, He chose themselues his guarders for to bene, [ 20] Gainst those of might, of whom in feare they stood, As horse and dogge, not great, but gentle blood: Blith were the commons cattell of the fielde, Tho when they saw their foen of greatnes kilde.

[ 25] But they or spent, or made of slender might, Then quickly did the meaner cattell finde, The great beames gone, the house on shoulders light: For by and by the horse faire bitts did binde: The dogge was in a coller taught his kinde. [ 30] As for the gentle birds like case might rewe When faloon they, and gossehauke saw in mewe.

Worst fell to smallest birds, and meanest heard, Whom now his owne, full like his owne he vsed. [ 35] Yet first but wooll, or fethers off he teard: And when they were well vs'de to be abused, For hungrie teeth their flesh with teeth he brused: At length for glutton taste he did them kill: At last for sport their sillie liues did spill.

[ 40]

But yet ô man, rage not beyond thy neede: Deeme it no glorie to swell in tyrannie. Thou art of blood; ioy not to see things bleede: Thou fearest death; thinke they are loth to die. A plaint of guiltlesse hurt doth pierce the skie. [ 45] And you poore beastes, in patience bide your hell, Or know your strengths, and then you shall do well.

Thus did I sing, and pipe eight sullen houres To sheepe, whom loue, not knowledge, made to heare, Now fancies fits, now fortunes balefull stowers: But then I homewards call'd my lambkins deare: For to my dimmed eyes began t' appeare [ 5] The night growne old, her blacke head waxen gray, Sure shepherds signe, that morne should soone fetch day.

ACcording to the nature of diuerse cares, diuerse iudgements streight followed: some praising his voice, others his words fit to frame a pastorall stile, others [ 10] the strangenes of the tale, and scanning what he should meane by it. But old Geron (who had borne him a grudge euer since in one of their Eclogues he had taken him vp ouer-bitterly) tooke hold of this occasion to make his reuenge, and sayd, He neuer saw thing worse proportioned, then to bring in a tale of he knewe not what beastes at such a sport-meeting, when rather some song of loue, or matter for [ 15] ioyfull melody was to be brought forth. But, said he, This is the right conceipt of young men, who thinke, then they speake wiseliest, when they cannot vnderstand themselues. But little did the melancholike shepherd regard either his dispraises, or the others praises, who had set the foundation of his honour there; where he was most despised. And therefore he returning againe to the traine of his desolate [ 20] pensiuenesse, Geron inuited Histor to answere him in Eclogue-wise; who indeed hauing bene long in loue with the faire Kala, and now by Lalus ouergone; was growne into a detestation of mariage. But thus it was.

Geron. Histor. [ 25]

Geron.

In faith, good Histor, long is your delay, From holy marriage sweete and surest meane: Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay. I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane: [ 30] Thou seest, how friske, and iolly now he is, That last day seem'd, he could not chew a beane. Beleeue me man, there is no greater blisse, Then is the quiet ioy of louing wife; Which who so wants, halfe of himselfe doth misse. [ 35] Friend without change, playfellow without strife, Foode without fulnes, counsaile without pride, Is this sweet doubling of our single life.

Histor.

No doubt to whom so good chance did betide, [ 40] As for to finde a pasture strawed with golde, He were a foole, if there he did not bide. Who would not haue a Phoenix if he could? The humming Waspe, if it had not a sting, Before all flies the Waspe accept I would. But this bad world, few golden fieldes doth bring, [ 45] Phoenix but one, of Crowes we millions haue:

The Waspe seemes gay, but is a combrous thing. If many Kalaes our Arcadias gaue, Lalus example I would soone ensue, And thinke, I did my selfe from sorrow saue. [ 5] But of such wiues we finde a slender crew; Shrewdnes so stirres, pride so puffes vp the hart, They seldome ponder what to them is due. With meager lookes, as if they still did smart; Puiling, and whimpring, or else scolding flat, [ 10] Make home more paine then following of the cart. Either dull silence, or eternall chat; Still contrarie to what her husband sayes; If he do praise the dog, she likes the cat. Austere she is, when he would honest playes; [ 15] And game some then, when he thinkes on his sheepe; She bids him goe, and yet from iorney stayes. She warre doth euer with his kinsfolke keepe, And makes them fremb'd, who friends by nature are, Enuying shallow toyes with malice deepe. [ 20] And if forsooth there come some new found ware, The little coine his sweating browes haue got, Must goe for that, if for her lowres he care: Or els; Nay faith, mine is the lucklest lot, That euer fell to honest woman yet: [ 25] No wife but I hath such a man, God wot. Such is their speech, who be of sober wit; But who doo let their tongues shew well their rage, Lord, what bywords they speake, what spite they spit? The house is made a very lothsome cage, [ 30] Wherein the birde doth neuer sing but cry; With such a will as nothing can asswage. Dearely the seruants doo their wages buy, Reuil'd for ech small fault, sometimes for none: They better liue that in a gaile doo lie. [ 35] Let other fowler spots away be blowne; For I seeke not their shame, but still me thinkes, A better life it is to lye alone.

Geron.

Who for ech fickle feare from vertue shrinkes, [ 40] Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing: No mortall man the cuppe of suretie drinkes. The heau'ns doo not good haps in handfuls bring, But let vs pike our good from out much bad: That still our little world may know his king. [ 45] But certainly so long we may be glad, While that we doo what nature doth require, And for th'euent we neuer ought be sad.

Man oft is plag'de with aire, is burnt with fire, In water drownd•• in earth his buriall is; And shall we not therefore their vse desire? Nature aboue all things requireth this, That we our kind doo labour to maintaine; [ 5] Which drawne-out line doth hold all humane blisse. Thy father iustly may of thee complaine, If thou doo not repay his deeds for thee, In granting vnto him a grandsires gaine. Thy common-wealth may rightly grieued be, [ 10] Which must by this immortall be preserued, If thus thou murther thy posteritie. His very being he hath not deserued, Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forbeare, Whereby that being aye must be conserued. [ 15] And God forbid, women such cattell were, As you paint them: but well in you I finde, No man doth speake aright, who speakes in feare. Who onely sees the ill is worse then blind. These fiftie winters maried haue I beene; [ 20] And yet finde no such faults in womankind. I haue a wife worthie to be a Queene, So well she can command, and yet obay; In ruling of a house so well shee's seene. And yet in all this time betwixt vs tway, [ 25] We beare our double yoke with such consent, That neuer past foule word, I dare well say. But these be your loue-toyes, which still are spent In lawlesse games, and loue not as you should, But with much studie learne late to repent. [ 30] How well last day before our Prince you could Blinde Cupids workes with wonder testifie? Yet now the roote of him abase you would. Goe to, goe to, and Cupid now applie To that where thou thy Cupid maist auowe, [ 35] And thou shalt finde, in women vertue lie. Sweet supple mindes which soone to wisdome bowe Where they by wisdomes rule directed are, And are not forst fonde thraldome to allow. As we to get are fram'd, so they to spare: [ 40] We made for paine, our paines they made to cherish: We care abroad, and they of home haue care. O Histor, seeke within thy selfe to flourish: Thy house by thee must liue, or els be gone: And then who shall the name of Histor nourish? [ 45] Riches of children passe a Princes throne; Which touch the fathers hart with secret ioy,

When without shame he saith, these be mine owne. Marrie therefore; for marriage will destroy Those passions which to youthfull head doo clime, Mothers and Nurses of all vaine annoy.

[ 5]

He spake these wordes with such affection, as a curious eye might easilie haue perceyued he liked Thyrsis fortune better then he loued his person. But then in deede did all arise, and went to the women, where spending all the day, and good part of the night in dauncing, carolling, and wassaling. Lastly, they left [ 10] Thyrsis, where he long desired to be left, and with many vnfayned thankes retur∣ned euerie man to his home. But some of them hauing to crosse the way of the two Lodges, might see a Ladie making dolefull lamentations ouer a bodie which seemed dead vnto them. But me thinkes Damaetas cries vnto me, if I come not the sooner to comfort him, he will leaue off his golden worke that hath alreadie [ 15] cost him so much labour and longing.