Englands Helicon Casta placent superis, pura cum veste venite, et manibus puris sumite fontis aquam.

¶The Sheepheards slumber.

IN Pescod time, when Hound to horne, giues eare till Buck be kild: And little Lads with pipes of corne, sate keeping beasts a field. I went to gather Strawberies tho, by Woods and Groaues full faire: And parcht my face with Phoebus so, in walking in the ayre. That downe I layde me by a streame, with boughs all ouer-clad: And there I met the straungest dreame, that euer Sheepheard had. Me thought I saw each Christmas game, each reuell all and some:

And euery thing that I can name, or may in fancie come. The substance of the sights I saw, in silence passe they shall: Because I lack the skill to draw, the order of them all. But Venus shall not passe my pen, whose maydens in disdaine: Did feed vpon the harts of men, that Cupids bowe had slaine. And that blinde boy was all in blood, be-bath'd to the eares: And like a Conquerour he stood, and scorned Louers teares. I haue (quoth he) more harts at call, then Caesar could commaund: And like the Deare I make them fall, that runneth o're the lawnd. One drops downe heere, another there, in bushes as they groane; I bend a scornfull carelesse eare, to heare them make their moane. Ah Sir (quoth Honest Meaning) then, thy boy-like brags I heare: When thou hast wounded many a man, as Hunts-man doth the Deare. Becomes it thee to triumph so? thy Mother wills it not: For she had rather breake thy bowe, then thou shouldst play the sot. What saucie merchant speaketh now, sayd Venus in her rage: Art thou so blinde thou knowest not how I gouerne euery age? My Sonne doth shoote no shaft in wast, to me the boy is bound: He neuer found a hart so chast, but he had power to wound,

Not so faire Goddesse (quoth Free-will,) in me there is a choise: And cause I am of mine owne ill, if I in thee reioyce. And when I yeeld my selfe a slaue, to thee, or to thy Sonne: Such recompence I ought not haue, if things be rightly done. Why foole stept forth Delight, and said, when thou art conquer'd thus: Then loe dame Lust, that wanton maide, thy Mistresse is iwus. And Lust is Cupids darling deere, behold her where she goes: She creepes the milk-warme flesh so neere, she hides her vnder close. Where many priuie thoughts doo dwell, a heauen heere on earth: For they haue neuer minde of hell, they thinke so much on mirth. Be still Good Meaning, quoth Good Sport, let Cupid triumph make: For sure his Kingdome shall be short if we no pleasure take. Faire Beautie, and her play-feares gay, the virgins Vestalles too: Shall sit and with their fingers play, as idle people doo, If Honest Meaning fall to frowne, and I Good Sport decay: Then Venus glory will come downe, and they will pine away. Indeede (quoth Wit) this your deuice, with straungenes must be wrought, And where you see these women nice, and looking to be sought: With scowling browes their follies check, and so giue them the Fig:

Let Fancie be no more at beck, when Beautie lookes so big. When Venus heard how they conspir'd, to murther women so: Me thought indeede the house was fier'd, with stormes and lightning tho. The thunder-bolt through windowes burst. and in their steps a wight: Which seem'd some soule or sprite accurst, so vgly was the sight. I charge you Ladies all (quoth he) looke to your selues in hast: For if that men so wilfull be, and haue their thoughts so chast; And they can tread on Cupids brest, and martch on Venus face: Then they shall sleepe in quiet rest, when you shall waile your case. With that had Venus all in spight, stir'd vp the Dames to ire: And Lust fell cold, and Beautie white, sate babling with Desire. Whose mutt'ring words I might not marke, much whispering there arose: The day did lower, the Sunne wext darke, away each Lady goes. But whether went this angry flock, our Lord him-selfe doth know: Where-with full lowdly crewe the Cock, and I awaked so. A dreame (quoth I?) a dogge it is, I take thereon no keepe: I gage my head, such toyes as this, dooth spring from lack of sleepe.

Ignoto.

FINIS.