The loves of Amandus and Sophronia, historically narrated a piece of rare contexture, inriched with many pleasing odes and sonnets, occasioned by the jocular or tragicall occurrences hapning in the progresse of the historie : disposed into three books or tracts / by Samuel Sheppard.

CHAP. V.

Sophronia, entertained by the Shepherd Crates, and his wife Phillida. The description of his Cottage. Sophronia becomming a Shepherdess, sings the praise of the Countrey life.

SOphronia (as you heard) ha∣ving made riddance of her Royall Remora (in great feare) travailed so long as her tender limbs were able to beare her delicate body, till at length she arrived neare a large over-growne Wood, whose aspiring branches almost kiss'd the Clouds; towards which, di∣recting her way, she saw where a shep∣herd was making melody to his fleecie Flock, on his oaten reed, singing this song.

Thus work we Fortunes discontent, To behold our merriment. We harmelesse Shepherds do despise The anger of the Destenies.

That which makes the Gown man pine, The Souldier curse Wars discipline, Begets our solace, no austere Phalarian Tyrant is our fear; Secure content, and quiet rest, No groanes, or cries of men opprest; Age is no trouble, Death but sleep, And we till Death, our vigour keep.

Sophronia, with great delight, listned unto the Shepherds Song, and approach∣ing near him, the good old man thought that some Diety, mask'd in a humane form, was making towards him.

Hail gentle Shepherd (quoth Sophronia) Silvanus, Pryapus, Pan, Pales, and all the Silvan dieties (and indeed, in naming one, I name all) be propitious unto thee and thy faire flock; and heaven (said Crates) for so was the Shepherd called, give thee (faire Lady) the full fruition of all thy desires: My present condition (quoth Sophronia) will not permit me (gentle Sir) to be tedious in my orratory, for that I expect every minute to be surprised, by a barbarous Earle of this Country, from

whose hands I have this day escaped (for the preservation of my chaste honour) be pleased therefore, to afford me an homely russet Coat, in exchange, for these gawdy Garments, together with shelter for some few dayes in thy Cot∣tage, till this storme be blown over, and to gratifie thy love, take these Jewels (of sufficient vallue, to make thee Lord of all this champion Country) as my gift.

For your Jewels (quoth Crates) I must not, dare not accept of them, they are the Plague and Poison of honest mindes, but if my homely Cottage, may be wor∣thy of the acceptance of so divine a crea∣ture; command it (Lady) as my self, and all I am master of.

Away went Sophronia with Crates to his Cottage, which was builded by a bank side, at the root of a Sycamore Tree, whose broad branches quite overshadow∣ed his shallow roffe; the Cottage it selfe was erected of grasse Turfes, so cu∣riously contrived, that it seemed rather framed by Nature then by Art, being all over of a verdant hew. Entred therein,

she espied many shelves of Cheeses, and pans of Milke, with large flitches of Ba∣con; Phillida (Crates wife) was exceed∣ingly abashed, to behold a creature of such bright beauty, so gloriously appa∣ralled, enter her homely habitation, ima∣gining that Juno, or Latona, had descen∣ded from Heaven (as of old, when the In∣nocency of Shepherds, made them worthy the society of the deathlesse Dieties) to visit their humble dwelling: but Crates soon took off her wonder, informing her the occasion of her arrivall; then Phillida heartily welcomed her, and spreading a homespun cloth upon an unpolish'd Ta∣ble, she adorned it with Cream, with But∣ter, with her choysest Cheese, and finest Bread, and taking a brown Bowle (bor∣rowed out of the body of an Almond Tree) repleated it brimfull of healthfull Sider, Crates and Phillida (with many congeis and ducks) proclaiming her wel∣come.

Having refreshed her selfe with these rurall Cates, she put off her gorgeous hab∣bit, and atired her selfe in a Coat of russet-gray,

binding up her golden haire in a packthread Cawle, and putting homely Buskins upon her feet, taking a hook in her hand, she led forth her Sheep day by day, folding them each night, in as seemly a manner, as if she had been Crates, not Almonios Daughter.

Exceedingly pleased with this rustick life, sitting one day, upon a bank of Flow∣ers, her Flock grazing by her, she sang these verses, in the praise of the country life.

While I the glad and smiling ground doe strew, In these most pleasant Groves, whose verdant hew, Allure great Pan and Pales here to sport, Forgetting quite the pleasures of the Court; Resting securely, void of ghastly feare, How well were I, were my Amandus here No Souldier here doth wipe his Sanguine Blade, Made drunk with blood, no Lording doth invade The poore mans House, or Land; no foule Sedition, No Edict, Remora, or Inhibition, Vexeth my quiet peace, my Flocks I keepe Secure, and dreadlesse of all danger sleepe. The fruitfull Vine the Poplar tall doth clip, W••o bowes his head, sweet Nectar for to sip. The lowing Heards, far off I doe behold, Feeding on Meadowes all off burnishd Gold. My head with mellow Apples I adorne, And Peares more ruddy then the blushing morne.

When Jove forceth his Thunder through the Skie, To empt the store of his Artillery, Into a Grove of Bay I doe retire, And reverence (not fear) his noise and fire. O happy country life, thrice blest they are, Who are contented with their houshold Lare. And wrapt in Goats skins, as securely rest, As those that doe on Tyrian Ta••stry feast, And sleep on quilted Down Beds, all the Pride Of Norimberge, or Turky sought to hide, Their glorious nakednesse; oh happy Fate, That still attends the humble Shepherds state. Crownes are compos'd of cares, and Honours be, But the ins••aring Gins of Destinie; The purblind Goddesse takes delight to wrong, None save the rich, the haughty, and the strong: Here without shew of feare, securely I Doe rob the earth of her Embroyderie. The Primrose, Lilly, Calaminth are here, The Violet, Paunsy, Pagle, and Kings-Speare, Smooth Ladies Smocks, with Hare hels, and the Flower, That cheifly springeth in Adonis Bower; The Myrtle, Spiknard, Gowlands, and the Rose, Sops dipt in Wine, Oxe eye, the lips of Cowes; This is the life thats free from cares, and feare, Oh that my sweet Amandus were but here.

Here leave we Sophronia, and look back to Verona, and see how the rumor of Clo∣domers death is resented.

Castrill having declared the time when, the place where, and by whom Clodomer was made away, the Nobles were so farre

from deploring that heavie Accident (being now grown weary and ashamed, of Clodomers absurd unkingly deport∣ment) that they lift up their hands to hea∣ven, thanking the great power, that had benignly bereaved them of so besotted a Prince; and the common people (who are ever delighted with change) sang Pae∣ans to Providence, that had taken off their burthensome Head, without hurt to the Body politick; but neither the one nor the other, had any true cause of rejoycing (though Clodomer had forfeited the es∣sence of a King, by giving too much scope to his fond loving Lunacie) for the Girpids being assured that Amandus was wandring about the world, and that King Clodomer was dead, resolved to break in peices the yoake of bondage, that Amandus had put upon them, and to invade those that had vassalized them.