Chapter XIV (2)

And when His Majesty shall have occasion and employment for the furnishing of his Navy, there will be no want of Masters, Pilots, Commanders, and sufficient directors of a course and keeping of computation; but now there is a pitiful want of sufficient good men to do the offices and labours before spoken of. All which, these men of the Busses and Pinks will worthily supply.

And to the art of sailing they may happily attain. For hitherto it hath been commonly seen, that those men that have been brought up in their youth in fishery, have deserved as well as any in the land for artificial [_scientific_] sailing: for at this time is practised all the projections of circular and mathematical scales and arithmetical sailing by divers of the young men of the sea-coast towns, even as commonly amongst them, as amongst the Thamesers.

[Sidenote: Some of these be 60 and 80 tons, the burden.]

Besides all the Hollanders before spoken of, the Frenchmen of Picardy have also a hundred sail of fishermen, only [_solely_] for herrings on His Majesty's seas every year in the summer season; and they be almost like unto the Busses: but they have not any Yagers that cometh unto them, but they do lade themselves, and return home twice every year; and find great profit by their making but two voyages every summer season.

[Sidenote: The Hollanders do yearly take so many, as they do make more than two millions of pounds sterling. And we, his Majesty's subjects, do take no more than do bait our hooks!]

And it is much to be lamented that we, having such a plentiful country, and such store of able and idle people, that not one of His Majesty's subjects is there to be seen all the whole summer to fish or to take one herring; but only the North Sea boats of the sea-coast towns that go to take Cod, they do take so many as they do need to bait their hooks and no more.

We are daily scorned by these Hollanders for being so negligent of our profit, and careless of our fishing; and they do daily flout us that be the poor fishermen of England, to our faces at sea, calling to us and saying, _Ya English! ya zall, or oud scove dragien_, which in English is this, "You English! we will make you glad for to wear our old shoes."

And likewise the Frenchmen, they say, "We are apish," for that we do still imitate them in all needless and fantastical jags [_tatters_] and fashions. As it is most true indeed. For that they have no fashion amongst them in apparel nor lace, points, gloves, hilts, nor garters; even from the spangled shoe-latchet unto the spangled hat and hatband (be it never so idle and costly): but after that we do once get it, it is far bettered by our nation.

[Sidenote: The sailor's proverb, The sea and the gallows refuse none!]

Wherefore, seeing that we can excel all other nations, wastefully to spend money; let us in one thing learn of other nations! to get thousands out of His Majesty's sea! and to make a general profit of the benefits that Almighty GOD doth yearly send unto us, in far more greater abundance than the fruit of our trees! which although they [_the fishes_] be more changeable in the gathering together, yet is the profit far more greater unto this kingdom and common wealth of all His Majesty's subjects, increasing the wealth of the Adventurers; as also for the enriching of Merchants, and maintaining of trades, occupations, and employing of ships, and increasing of mariners which now do but little or nothing; as also for the setting of poor and idle people on work, which now know not how to live. And to teach many a tall fellow to know the proper names of the ropes in a ship, and to haul the bowline; that now for lack of employment many such, by the inconvenience of idle living, are compelled to end their days with a rope by an untimely death; which by the employment of the Busses might be well avoided, and they in time become right honest, serviceable, and trusty subjects.

* * * * *

Here since my book came to the press, I have been credibly certified by men[8] of good worth (being Fishmongers) that since Christmas last, unto this day; there hath been paid to the Hollanders, here in London, only for barrels of fish and Holland Ling, the sum of Twelve thousand pounds [= _about £50,000 in the present day_].

* * * * *

And last of all, if that there be any of worshipful Adventurers that would have any directions for the building of these Busses or fisherships, because I know that the ship carpenters of England be not yet skilful in this matter; wherefore if that any shall be pleased to repair to me, I will be willing to give them directions and plain projections and geometrical demonstrations for the right building of them, both for length, breadth, and depth, and also for their mould under water, and also for the contriving of their rooms and the laying of their gear,[9] according to the Hollanders' fashion. Any man shall hear of me at Master NATHANIEL BUTTER's, a Stationer's shop at Saint Austen's Gate in Paul's Churchyard. Farewell this 18th of February [1614].

_FINIS._

The States Proclamation.
_Translated out of Dutch._

_The States General of the United Provinces of the Low Countries, unto all those that shall see or hear these presents greeting. We let you to wit, that whereas it is well known, that the great fishing and catching of herrings is the chiefest trade and principal Gold Mine of these United Countries, whereby many thousands of households, families, handicrafts, trades, and occupations are set on work, well maintained, and prosper; especially the sailing and navigation, as well within as without these Countries, is kept in great estimation: moreover, many returns of money, with the increase of the means, convoys, customs, and revenues of these countries are augmented thereby and prosper. And forasmuch as there are made, from time to time, many good Orders concerning the catching, salting, and beneficial uttering_ [disposal] _of the said herrings, to the end to preserve and maintain the said Chief Trade in the United Provinces; which trade, by divers encounters of some that seek their own gain, is envied in respect of the great good it bringeth to the United Countries; and We are informed that a device is put in practice to the prejudice of the trade, to transport out of the United Countries into other countries staves for herring-barrels made here, and half herring-barrels put into other barrels, and nets; to cross the good orders and policy here intended to them of these countries for the catching, salting, and selling the herrings dressed in other countries after the order of these countries, whereby this chief trade should be decayed here, and the inhabitants of these countries damnified_ [damaged] _if we make not provision in time against such practices_.

_Therefore We, after mature judgement and deliberation, have forbidden and interdicted, and by these presents do forbid and interdict all and every one, as well home-born inhabitants as strangers frequenting these parts, to take up any herring-barrels or half ones prepared, or any kind of nets, in any ship, town, or haven of the United Provinces, to be sent into other countries or places; upon pain of confiscation of the same, and the ship also wherein they shall be found, besides a penalty of one hundred of Netherland Silver Royals, for the first time: and for the second time, above confiscation of ship and goods, and four hundred of the said Royals of Silver: and for the third time, above confiscation of ship and goods and six hundred of the said Royals of Silver, corporal punishment._

_All which confiscations and penalties shall be distributed one third part to the profit of the plaintiff_ [informer--? including the corporal punishment]; _one third part to the poor; and one third part to the Officers, where the said confiscation shall be demanded_.

_And not only they shall incur this penalty, which after shall be taken with the deed, but they also that within one year after the deed shall be convicted; and that none may pretend ignorance, and that this order may be in all places duly observed, and the offenders punished according to justice, We will and require, our dear and well beloved Estates, Governors, Deputies of the Council, and the Estates of the respective Provinces of Guelderland, and the county of Satfill in Holland, West Friesland, Zealand, Utrecht, Friesland, Merizel, the town of Groningen, and the circumjacent places: and to all Justices and Officers, that they cause to be published in all places and proclaimed where the usual proclamation and publication is made: We do charge also the Chancellors and Provincial Council, and the Council of Admiralty, the Advocatistical, and the Procurer General, and all other Officers, Judges, and Justices of these United Provinces, and to all general colonies, Admirals and Vice-Admirals, Captains, Officers, and Commanders, to perform and cause to be performed this order and commandment, and to proceed and cause to be proceeded against the offenders without grace, favour, dissimulation, or composition: because we have found it necessary for the good and benefit of the said United Provinces._

_Dated in Hague, this 19th of July._

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Our Author has however already specified the number to be, at least, Iceland barks 126, and North Sea boats 237.

[8] Master WILLIAM SNELLING, Master STEPHEN TOPLEY, and divers others of the Company of Fishmongers.

[9] And for providing of their Cordage and Nets, after the most neatest and cheapest rates.

_FAIR VIRTUE,
THE
+MISTRESS+
OF
PHIL'ARETE._

Written by
GEO. WITHER.

* * * * *

CATUL. Carmen. XV.

_nihil veremur_
_Istos, quid in platea, modo huc, modo illuc_
_In re pretereunt sua occupati._

* * * * *

LONDON.

Printed for John Grismand.
M.DC.XXII.

[It is singular that this truly astonishing Poem, a poetical _tour de force_ as it is, should not hitherto have obtained a universal acceptance and recognition. In it we see WITHER at his prime; and cannot but admire as much the sterling integrity of his Character, as the wonderful fertility of his poetical Invention.

His mastery herein over rhythm and rhyme, also amply vindicates the opinion of Dryden: who, considering himself unmatched by any in facility of versification, openly excepted WITHER, and F. QUARLES.

Well has our Poet said--

_When other noble Dames,_
_By greater men attended,_
_Shall, with their lives and names,_
_Have all their glories ended:_
_With fairest Queens, shall She_
_Sit, sharing equal glory;_
_And Times to come shall be_
_Delighted with our Story._

First stanza on _p._ 386.]

THE STATIONER
TO THE READER.

This being one of the Author's first poems, was composed many years agone; and (unknown to him) gotten out of his custody by an acquaintance of his. And coming lately to my hands, without a name: it was thought to have so much resemblance of the Maker, that many, upon the first sight, undertook to guess who was the author of it; and [were] persuaded that it was likely also, to become profitable both to them and me.

Whereupon, I got it authorised, according to Order [_It was entered at Stationers' Hall, on 31st January, 1622_]; intending to publish it without further inquiry.

But attaining by chance, a more perfect knowledge, to whom it most properly belonged; I thought it fitting to acquaint him therewithal. And did so, desiring also both his good will to publish the same, and leave to pass it under his name. Both [of] which, I found him very unwilling to permit; least the seeming lightness of such a subject might somewhat disparage the more serious studies, which he hath since undertaken.

Yet doubting (this being got out of his custody) some more imperfect copies might be scattered abroad, in writing; or be (unknown to him) imprinted: he was pleased, upon my importunities, to condescend [_agree_] that it might be published without his name.

And his words were these:

"When," said he, "I first composed it, I well liked thereof; and it well enough became my years; but, now, I neither like nor dislike it. That, therefore, it should be divulged, I desire not! and whether it be; or whether, if it so happen, it be approved or not, I care not! For this I am sure of, howsoever it is valued, it is worth as much as I prize it at. Likely it is also, to be as beneficial to the world, as the world hath been to me; and will be more than those who like it not, ever deserved at my hands."

These were his speeches. And if you looked for a Prologue, thus much he wished me to tell you, instead thereof, "because," as he said, "he himself had somewhat else to do."

Yet, to acknowledge the truth, I was so earnest with him, that, busy as he would seem to be, I got him to write this _Epistle_ for me. And have thereunto set _my_ name: which he wished me to confess, partly, to avoid the occasion of belying my invention; and partly, because he thought some of you would suppose so much.

I entreated him to explain his meaning in certain obscure passages. But he told me how "that were to take away the employment of his interpreters [_critics_]: whereas he would, purposely, leave something remaining doubtful, to see what Sir POLITIC WOULD-BE and his companions would pick out of it."

I desired him also to set down, to what good purposes, this Poem would serve. But his reply was how "that would be well enough found out in the perusing, by all such as had honest understandings; and they who are not so provided, he hopes will not read it."

More, I could not get from him.

* * * * *

Whether, therefore, the _Mistress of PHIL'ARETE_ be really a Woman, shadowed under the name of _VIRTUE_; or Virtue only, whose loveliness is represented by the beauty of an excellent Woman: or whether it mean both together, I cannot tell you!

But thus much dare I promise for your money, that, here, you shall find, familiarly expressed, both such beauties as young men are most entangled withal; and the excellency also of such as are most worthy their affection. That seeing both impartially set forth by him, that was capable of both; they might the better settle their love on the best.

Hereby, also, those women, who desire to be truly beloved, may know what makes them so to be: and seek to acquire those accomplishments of the Mind which may endear them, when the sweetest features of a beautiful Face shall be converted into deformities.

And here is described that Loveliness of theirs, which is the principal object of wanton affection, to no worse end, but that those (who would never have looked on this Poem, if Virtue and Goodness had been therein no otherwise represented, than as they are Objects of the Soul) might (where they expected the satisfaction of their sensuality only) meet with that also, which would insinuate into them an Apprehension of more reasonable, and most excellent perfections. Yea, whereas the common opinion of Youth hath been, that only old men, and such as are unable, or past delighting in a bodily loveliness, are those who are best capable of the Mind's perfections; and that they do, therefore, so much prefer them before the other, because their age or stupidity hath deprived them of being sensible what pleasures they yield: though this be the vulgar error; yet, here, it shall appear, that he who is able to conceive the most excellent Pleasingness which could be apprehended in a corpor[e]al Beauty, found it (even when he was most enamoured with it) far short of that inexpressible Sweetness, which he discovered in a virtuous and well tempered Disposition.

And if this be not worth your money; keep it!

JOHN MARRIOT.

PHIL'ARETE.
_To his Mistress._

Hail! thou Fairest of all Creatures,
Upon whom the sun doth shine!
Model of all rarest features,
And perfections most divine!
Thrice, All Hail! And blessed be,
Those that love and honour thee!

Of thy worth, this rural Story,
Thy unworthy Swain hath penned;
And to thy ne'er-ending glory,
These plain Numbers doth commend:
Which ensuing Times shall warble,
When 'tis lost, that's writ in marble.

Though thy praise, and high deservings,
Cannot all, be here expressed;
Yet my love and true observings
Some way, ought to be professed!
And where greatest love we see,
Highest things attemptèd be.

By thy Beauty, I have gainèd
To behold the best perfections;
By thy Love, I have obtainèd
To enjoy the best affections.
And my tongue to sing thy praise!
Love and Beauty thus doth raise.

What although in rustic shadows,
I, a Shepherd's breeding had!
And confinèd to these meadows,
So in home-spun russet clad!
Such as I, have, now and then,
Dared as much as greater men.

Though a stranger to the Muses,
Young, obscurèd, and despised;
Yet such Art, thy love infuses!
That I, thus, have poetised.
Read! and be content to see
Thy admirèd power in me!

And O grant, thou Sweetest Beauty!
(Wherewith ever Earth was graced),
That this Trophy of my duty
May, with favour be embraced!
And disdain not, in these rhymes,
To be sung to after Times!

Let those doters on Apollo,
That adore the Muses so,
(And, like geese, each other follow)
See what Love alone can do!
For in love lays, Grove and Field;
Nor to Schools, nor Courts will yield!

On this Glass of thy Perfection,
If that any women pry;
Let them, thereby, take direction
To adorn themselves thereby!
And if aught amiss they view;
Let them dress themselves anew!

Young men shall, by this, acquainted
With the truest Beauties, grow;
So the counterfeit, or painted,
They may shun, when them they know.
But the Way, all will not find;
For some eyes have, yet are blind.

Thee! entirely! I have loved:
So thy Sweetness on me wrought.
Yet thy Beauty never moved
Ill temptations in my thought.
But, still, did Beauty's ray
Sun-like, drive those fogs away.

Those, that Mistresses are named;
And for that, suspected be:
Shall not need to be ashamed,
If they pattern take, by Thee!
Neither shall their Servants fear,
Favours, openly to wear.

Thou, to no man favour deignest!
But what's fitting to bestow.
Neither Servants entertainest!
That can ever wanton grow.
For, the more they look on Thee,
Their Desires still better be!

This, thy Picture, therefore, show I
Naked unto every eye:
Yet no fear of rival know I,
Neither touch of jealousy.
For the more make love to Thee!
I, the more shall pleased be.

I am no Italian lover
That will mew thee in a gaol;
But thy Beauty I discover,
English-like, without a veil.
If thou mayest be won away:
Win and wear thee, he that may!

Yet in this, Thou may'st believe me!
(So indifferent, though I seem):
Death with tortures would not grieve me
More, than loss of thy esteem!
For if VIRTUE me forsake!
All a scorn of me will make.

Then, as I, on Thee relying,
Do no changing fear in Thee!
So, by my defects supplying;
From all changing, keep thou me!
That unmatched we may prove:
Thou, for Beauty! I, for Love!

Then, while their loves are forgotten,
Who to Pride and Lust were slaves;
And their Mistresses, quite rotten,
Lie, unthought on, in their graves:
King and Queens, in their despite,
Shall, to mind us, take delight.

FAIR VIRTUE,

OR
THE MISTRESS OF PHIL'ARETE.

_Two pretty rills do meet; and meeting, make_
_Within one valley, a large silver lake:_
_About whose banks, the fertile mountains stood_
_In ages passèd, bravely crowned with wood;_
_Which lending cold-sweet shadows, gave it grace_
_To be accounted CYNTHIA's bathing-place._
_And from her father NEPTUNE's brackish Court,_
_Fair THETIS thither, often, would resort;_
_Attended by the fishes of the sea,_
_Which, in these sweeter waters came to play._
_There, would the Daughter of the Sea God dive:_
_And thither came the Land Nymphs, every eve,_
_To wait upon her; bringing for her brows,_
_Rich garlands of sweet flowers, and beechy boughs._
_For pleasant was that Pool;[10] and near it, then,_
_Was neither rotten marsh, nor boggy fen._
_It was not overgrown with boisterous sedge,_
_Nor grew there rudely, then, along the edge_
_A bending willow, nor a prickly bush,_
_Nor broad-leafed flag, nor reed, nor knotty rush:_
_But here, well ordered, was a grove with bowers;_
_There, grassy plots set round about with flowers._
_Here, you might, through the water, see the land_
_Appear, strewed o'er with white or yellow sand._
_Yon, deeper was it; and the wind, by whiffs,_
_Would make it rise, and wash the little cliffs;_
_On which, oft pluming, sate, unfrighted then,_
_The gagling wild goose, and the snow-white swan,_
_With all those flocks of fowls, which, to this day,_
_Upon those quiet waters breed and play._
_For, though those excellences wanting be_
_Which once it had, it is the same that we,_
_By transposition, name the Ford of Arle:[11]_
_And out of which, along a chalky marl,_
_That river trills, whose waters wash the fort_
_In which brave ARTHUR kept his royal Court._[12]

_North-east, not far from this great Pool, there lies_
_A tract of beechy mountains, that arise,_
_With leisurely ascending, to such height_
_As from their tops, the warlike Isle of Wight_
_You, in the Ocean's bosom, may espy:_
_Though near two hundred furlongs thence it lie._
_The pleasant way, as up those hills you climb,_
_Is strewed o'er with marjoram and thyme,_
_Which grow unset. The hedgerows do not want_
_The cowslip, violet, primrose; nor a plant_
_That freshly scents: as birch, both green and tall;_
_Low sallows, on whose bloomings, bees do fall;_
_Fair woodbines which, about the hedges twine;_
_Smooth privet, and the sharp-sweet eglantine;_
_With many more, whose leaves and blossoms fair,_
_The Earth adorn, and oft perfume the Air._
_When you, unto the highest do attain;_
_An intermixture both of wood and plain,_
_You shall behold! which, though aloft it lie,_
_Hath downs for sheep, and fields for husbandry:_
_So much, at least, as little, needeth more;_
_If not enough to merchandise their store._
_In every row, hath Nature planted there;_
_Some banquet for the hungry passenger._
_For here, the hasle-nut and filbird grows;_
_There, bulloes; and little further, sloes._
_On this hand, standeth a fair wielding-tree;_
_On that, large thickets of black cherries be._
_The shrubby fields are raspice orchards, there;_
_The new felled woods, like strawberry gardens are._
_And had the King of Rivers blest those hills,_
_With some small number of such pretty rills_
_As flow elsewhere, Arcadia had not seen_
_A sweeter plot of earth than this had been._
_For what offence, this place was scanted so_
_Of springing waters, no record doth show;_
_Nor have they old tradition left, that tells;_
_But till this day, at fifty-fathom wells,_
_The Shepherds drink. And strange it was, to hear_
_Of any Swain that ever livèd there,_
_Who, either in a Pastoral Ode had skill,_
_Or knew to set his fingers to a quill:_
_For rude they were, who there inhabited,_
_And to a dull contentment being bred,_
_They no such Art esteemed; nor took much heed_
_Of anything the world without them, did._
_Ev'n there, and in the least frequented place_
_Of all these mountains, is a little space_
_Of pleasant ground hemmed in with dropping trees,_
_And those so thick, that PHOEBUS scarcely sees_
_The earth they grow on, once in all the year;_
_Nor what is done among the shadows there:_
_Along those lovely paths, (where never came_
_Report of PAN's, or of APOLLO's name;_
_Nor rumour of the Muses, till of late)_
_Some Nymphs were wandering, and, by chance or fate,_
_Upon a laund[13] arrived, where they met_
_The little flock of Pastor PHILARET._
_They were a troop of Beauties known well nigh_
_Through all the plains of happy Brittany._
_A Shepherd's Lad was He, obscure and young,_
_Who, being first that ever there had sung,_
_In homely verse, expressèd country loves,_
_And only told them to the beechy groves;_
_As if to sound his name, he never meant,_
_Beyond the compass that his sheepwalk went._
_They saw him not, nor them perceivèd he;_
_For in the branches of a maple tree,_
_He shrouded sate: and taught the hollow hill_
_To echo forth the music of his quill;_
_Whose tattling voice redoubled so the sound,_
_That where he was concealed, they quickly found._
_And there, they heard him sing a Madrigal_
_That soon betrayed his cunning to them all._
_Full rude it was, no doubt, but such a Song,_
_Those rustic and obscurèd shades among,_
_Was never heard, they say, by any ear,_
_Until his Muses had inspired him there._
_Though mean and plain, his country habit seemed,_
_Yet by his Song, the Ladies rightly deemed_
_That either he had travellèd abroad,_
_Where Swains of better knowledge make abode;_
_Or else, that some brave Nymph who used that grove,_
_Had deignèd to enrich him with her love._
_Approaching nearer, therefore, to this Swain,_
_Them, him saluted; and he, them again,_
_In such good fashion, as well seemed to be_
_According to their state, and his degree._
_Which greetings being passed, and much chat_
_Concerning him, the place, with this and that;_
_He, to an arbour doth those Beauties bring,_
_Where he, them prays to sit; they, him to sing,_
_And to express that untaught Country Art,_
_In setting forth the Mistress of his heart;_
_Which they o'erheard him practice, when unseen,_
_He thought no ear had witness of it been._
_At first, as much unable, he refused,_
_And seemèd willing to have been excused_
_From such a task, "For trust me, Nymphs!" quoth he,_
_"I would not purposely uncivil be,_
_Nor churlish in denying what you crave!_
_But, as I hope great PAN my flock will save!_
_I rather wish that I might, heard of none,_
_Enjoy my music by myself alone;_
_Or that the murmurs of some little flood,_
_Joined with the friendly echoes of the wood,_
_Might be the impartial umpires of my wit;_
_Than vent it where the world might hear of it._
_And doubtless, I had sung less loud while-ere,_
_Had I but thought of any such so near._
_Not that I either wish obscurified_
_Her matchless Beauty, or desire to hide_
_Her sweet Perfections. For, by LOVE I swear!_
_The utmost happiness I aim at here_
_Is but to compass Worth enough to raise_
_A high built Trophy equal to her praise._
_Which, fairest Ladies! I shall hope in vain,_
_For I was meanly bred on yonder plain!_
_And though I can well prove my blood to be_
_Derived from no ignoble Stems, to me:_
_Yet Fate and Time them so obscured and crosst_
_That with their fortunes, their esteem is lost;_
_And whatsoe'er repute I strive to win,_
_Now from myself alone, it must begin._
_For I have no estate, nor friends, nor fame,_
_To purchase either credit to my name,_
_Or gain a good opinion; though I do_
_Ascend the height I shall aspire unto._
_If any of those virtues yet I have_
_Which honour to my predecessors gave;_
_There's all, that's left me! And though some contemn_
_Such needy jewels: yet it was for them,_
_My Fair One did my humble suit affect;_
_And deignèd my adventurous love, respect:_
_And by their help, I passage hope to make,_
_Through such poor things as I dare undertake._
_But, you may say, 'What goodly thing, alas,_
_Can my despisèd meanness bring to pass?_
_Or what great Monument of Honour raise_
_To VIRTUE, in these vice abounding days?_
_In which, a thousand times, more honour finds,_
_Ignoble gotten Means, than noble Minds.'_
_Indeed, the world affordeth small reward_
_For honest minds, and therefore her regard_
_I seek not after; neither do I care,_
_If I have bliss, how others think I fare!_
_For, so my thoughts have rest; it irks not me,_
_Though none, but I, do know how blest they be._
_Here, therefore, in these groves and hidden plains,_
_I pleasèd, sit alone, and many strains_
_I carol to myself, these hills among,_
_Where no man comes to interrupt my song._
_Whereas, if my rude Lays, make known I should,_
_Beyond their home; perhaps, some carpers would_
_(Because they have not heard from whence we be)_
_Traduce, abuse, and scoff both them and me._
_For if our great and learned Shepherds (who_
_Are graced with Wit, and Fame, and Favours too)_
_With much ado, escape uncensured may;_
_What hopes have I to pass unscorched, I pray!_
_Who yet unto the Muses am unknown,_
_And live unhonoured, here, among mine own?_
_A gadding humour seldom taketh me,_
_To range out further than yon mountains be;_
_Nor hath applausive Rumour borne my name_
_Upon the spreading wings of sounding Fame:_
_Nor can I think, fair Nymphs! that you resort_
_For other purpose, than to make a sport_
_At that simplicity, which shall appear_
_Among the rude untutored Shepherds here._
_I know, that you, my noble Mistress ween,_
_At best, a homely milkmaid on the green,_
_Or some such country lass as taskèd stays_
_At servile labour until holidays._
_For poor men's virtues so neglected grow,_
_And are now prizèd at a rate so low;_
_As, 'tis impossible, you should be brought_
_To let it with belief possess your thought,_
_That any Nymph, whose love might worthy be,_
_Would deign to cast respective eyes on me._
_You see I live, possessing none of those_
_Gay things, with which the world enamoured grows._
_To woo a Courtly Beauty, I have neither_
_Rings, bracelets, jewels; nor a scarf, nor feather._
_I use no double-dyèd cloth to wear;_
_No scrip embroidered richly, do I bear:_
_No silken belt, nor sheephook laid with pearls,_
_To win me favour from the shepherds' girls._
_No Place of Office or Command I keep,_
_But this my little flock of homely sheep._
_And, in a word; the sum of all my pelf_
_Is this_, I am the Master of myself!
_No doubt, in Courts of Princes you have been!_
_And all the pleasures of the Palace seen!_
_There, you beheld brave Courtly passages_
_Between Heroes and their Mistresses._
_You, there, perhaps, in presence of the King,_
_Have heard his learned Bards and Poets sing!_
_And what contentment, then, can wood or field,_
_To please your curious understandings yield?_
_I know you walkèd hither, but to prove_
_What silly Shepherds do conceive of love?_
_Or to make trial how our simpleness,_
_Can Passions' force, or Beauty's power express?_
_And when you are departed, you will joy_
_To laugh, or descant on the Shepherd's Boy!_
_But yet, I vow! if all the Art I had_
_Could any more esteem or glory add_
_To her unmatchèd worth; I would not weigh_
_What you intended," "Prithee, Lad!" quoth they,_
_"Distrustful of our courtesy do not seem!_
_Her nobleness can never want esteem,_
_Nor thy concealèd Measures be disgraced;_
_Though in a meaner person they were placed._
_If thy too modestly reservèd quill_
_But reach that height, which we suppose it will;_
_Thy meanness or obscureness cannot wrong_
_The Nymph thou shalt eternize in thy Song._
_For, as it higher rears thy glory, that_
_A noble Mistress thou hast aimèd at;_
_So, more unto her honour it will prove_
_That (whilst deceiving shadows others move)_
_Her constant eyes could pass unmovèd by_
_The subtle Time's bewitching bravery;_
_And those obscurèd virtues love in thee,_
_That with despisèd meanness clouded be._
_Now then, for Her sweet sake! whose beauteous eye_
_Hath filled thy Soul with heavenly Poesy;_
_Sing in her praise some new inspirèd Strain!_
_And if, within our power, there shall remain_
_A favour to be done to pleasure thee;_
_Ask and obtain it, whatsoe'er it be!"_
_"Fair Ladies!" quoth the Lad, "such words as those,_
_Compel me can": and therewithal he rose,_
_Returned them thanks, obeisance made; and then_
_Down sate again, and thus to sing began._

[_The Prologue._]

You that, at a blush, can tell
Where the best perfections dwell!
And the substance can conjecture,
By a shadow or a picture!
Come and try, if you, by this,
Know my Mistress, who she is?
For, though I am far unable
Here to match APELLES' table;
Or draw ZEUXES' cunning lines
(Who so painted BACCHUS' vines
That the hungry birds did muster
Round the counterfeited cluster);
Though I vaunt not to inherit
PETRARCH's yet unequalled spirit;
Nor to quaff the sacred well
Half so deep as _ASTROPHEL_;
Though the much-commended _CELIA_,
Lovely _LAURA_, _STELLA_, _DELIA_,
(Who, in former times, excelled)
Live in lines unparalleled,
Making us believe, 'twere much
Earth should yield another such:
Yet, assisted but by Nature,
I assay to paint a Creature,
Whose rare worth, in future years,
Shall be praised as much as theirs.

Nor let any think amiss
That I have presumèd this;
For a gentle Nymph is She,
And hath often honoured me.
She's a noble spark of light
In each part so exquisite;
Had she, in times passèd been,
They had made her, Beauty's Queen.
Then, shall coward Despair
Let the most unblemished Fair,
(For default of some poor Art,
Which her favour may impart)
And the sweetest Beauty fade
That was ever born or made?
Shall, of all the fair ones, She,
Only so unhappy be,
As to live in such a Time,
In so rude, so dull a clime;
Where no spirit can ascend
High enough, to apprehend
Her unprizèd excellence,
Which lies hid from common sense?
Never shall a stain so vile
Blemish this, our Poets' Isle!
I myself will rather run
And seek out for Helicon!
I will wash, and make me clean
In the waves of Hippocrene!
And, in spite of Fortune's bars,
Climb the Hill that braves the stars!
Where, if I can get no Muse,
That will any skill infuse,
Or my just attempt prefer;
I will make a Muse of Her!
Whose kind heat shall soon distil
Art into my ruder quill.
By her favour, I will gain
Help to reach so rare a Strain;
That the Learned Hills shall wonder
How the Untaught Valleys under,
Met with raptures so divine;
Without the knowledge of the Nine.
I, that am a Shepherd's Swain
Piping on the lowly plain,
And no other music can
Than what learned I have of PAN;
I, who never sang the Lays,
That deserve APOLLO's bays;
Hope, not only here to frame
Measures which shall keep Her name
From the spite of wasting Times:
But (enshrined in sacred rhymes)
Place her, where her form divine
Shall, to after ages, shine;
And, without respect of odds,
Vie renown with Demi-Gods.

Then, whilst of her praise I sing;
Harken Valley! Grove! and Spring!
Listen to me, sacred Fountains!
Solitary Rocks! and Mountains!
Satyrs! and you wanton Elves
That do nightly sport yourselves!
Shepherds! you that, on the reed,
Whistle, while your lambs do feed!
Agèd Woods and Floods! that know
What hath been, long times, ago!
Your more serious notes among,
Hear, how I can, in my Song,
Set a Nymph's perfection forth!
And, when you have heard her worth,
Say, if such another Lass
Ever known to mortal was!
Listen Lordlings! you that most
Of your outward honours boast!
And you Gallants! (that think scorn,
We, to lowly fortunes born,
Should attain to any graces,
Where you look for sweet embraces)
See! if all those vanities
Whereon your affection lies;
Or the titles, or the powers,
(By your fathers' virtues, yours)
Can your Mistresses enshrine
In such State, as I will mine!
Who am forced to importune
Favours, in despite of Fortune.
Beauties, listen! chiefly you
That yet know not Virtue's due!
You, that think there are no sports,
Nor no honours, but in Courts!
(Though of thousands, there live not
Two, but die and are forgot).
See, if any Palace yields
Ought more glorious than the Fields!
And consider well, if we
May not, as high-flying be
In our thoughts, as you that sing
In the chambers of a King!
See! if our contented minds,
Whom Ambition never blinds,
(We, that, clad in homespun gray,
On our own sweet meadows play)
Cannot honour, if we please,
Where we list, as well as these!
Or, as well, of worth approve!
Or, with equal Passions, love!
See, if beauties may not touch
Our soon-loving hearts as much!
Or our services effect
Favours, with as true respect,
In your good conceits to rise,
As our painted butterflies!
And you, Fairest! give her room,
When your Sex's Pride doth come!

For that subject of my Song,
I invoke these groves among
To be witness of the Lays
Which I carol in her praise.
And because she soon will see
If my Measures faulty be,
Whilst I chant them, let each rhyme
Keep a well-proportioned time;
And with Strains, that are divine,
Meet her thoughts in every line!
Let each accent there, present
To her soul, a new content!
And, with ravishings, so seize her,
She may feel the height of pleasure!
You enchanting Spells, that lie
Lurking in sweet Poesy!
(And to none else will appear,
But to those, that worthy are)
Make Her know! there is a power
Ruling in these charms of yours;
That transcends, a thousand heights,
Ordinary men's delights;
And can leave within her breast
Pleasures not to be exprest!
Let her linger on each Strain
As if She would hear't again!
And were loath to part from thence
Till She had the quintessence
Out of each conceit, she meets!
And had stored her, with those sweets!
Make Her, by your Art to see!
I, that am her Swain, was he
Unto whom all beauties here,
Were alike and equal dear:
That I could of freedom boast,
And of favours with the most;
Yet, now, nothing more affecting,
Sing of Her! the rest neglecting.
Make her heart, with full compassion,
Judge the merit of True Passion!
And, as much my love prefer,
As I strive to honour Her!
Lastly, you that will, I know,
Hear me, whe'er you should or no!
You, that seek to turn all flowers,
By your breath's infectious powers,
Into such rank loathsome weeds,
As your dunghill nature breeds!
Let your hearts be chaste! or here
Come not, till you purge them clear!
Mark! and mark then, what is worst!
For whate'er it seem at first,
If you bring a modest mind,
You shall nought immodest find!
But if any, too severe,
Hap to lend a partial ear,
Or, out of his blindness, yawn
Such a word as, _O profane_!
Let him know thus much from me,
If here's ought profane, 'tis he
Who applies these excellences
Only to the touch of Senses;
And, dim sighted, cannot see
Where the Soul of this may be!
Yet, that no offence may grow;
'Tis their choice, to stay or go!
Or if any for despite
Rather comes, than for delight;
For his presence, I'll not pray,
Nor his absence. Come he may!
Critics shall admitted be,
Though I know they'll carp at me:
For I neither fear nor care
What in this, their censures are.
If the Verse here used, be
Their dislike. It liketh me!
If my Method they deride,
Let them know _Love is not tied,_
_In his free discourse, to choose_
_Such strict Rules as Arts-men use_.
These may prate of LOVE, but they
Know him not! For he will play
From the matter, now and then!
Off and on! and off again!
If this Prologue, tedious seem,
Or the rest too long they deem;
Let them know my love they win,
Though they go, ere they begin:
Just as if they should attend me
Till the last; and, there, commend me.
For I will, for no man's pleasure,
Change a Syllable or Measure;
Neither for their praises add
Ought to mend what they think bad.
Since it never was my fashion
To make Work of Recreation.
Pedants shall not tie my strains
To our antique Poets' veins;
As if we, in latter days,
Knew to love, but not to praise.
Being born as free as these,
I will Sing, as I shall please!
Who, as well new paths may run,
As the best before have done.
I disdain to make my Song,
For their pleasures, short or long;
If I please, I'll end it here!
If I list, I'll sing this year!
And, though none regard of it,
By myself, I pleased can sit;
And, with that contentment, cheer me,
As if half the world did hear me.
But because I am assured
All are either so conjured,
As they will my Song attend,
With the patience of a friend;
Or, at least, take note that I
Care not much. Now willingly,
I, these goodly colours lay,
Wind, nor rain shall wear away;
But retain their purest glass,
When the statues made of brass,
For some Prince's more renown,
Shall be wholly overthrown;
Or consumed with cankered rust,
Lie neglected in the dust.

And my Reason gives direction
When I sing of such Perfection,
First, _those beauties_ to declare,
_Which_ (though hers) _without her are_.
To advance her fame, I find,
Those are of a triple kind.
_Privileges_ she hath store
_At her birth_, _since_, and _before_.
From before her birth, the fame,
She of high descents may claim,
Whose well-gotten honours may
Her deserving more display,
For, from heavenly race she springs,
And from high and mighty Kings.
At her birth, She was, by Fate,
In those Parents fortunate,
Whose estate and virtues stood
Answerable to their blood.
Then the Nation, Time, and Place
To the rest, may add some grace.
For the People, with the Clime,
And the fashions of the Time;
(In all which, she hath been blest,
By enjoying them at best)
Do not only mend the features,
But, oft times, make better natures:
Whereas, those who hap not so,
Both deformed, and ruder grow.
In these climes, and latter days,
To deserve sweet Beauty's praise,
(Where so many females dwell,
That each seemeth to excel)
In more glory twenty-fold
Than it was in days of old:
When our ordinary fair ones
Might have been esteemèd rare ones;
And have made a subject fit,
For their bravest Poet's wit.
Little rushlights, or a spark
Sheweth fairly in the dark;
And to him occasion gives,
That from sight of greater, lives,
To adore it. Yet the ray
Of one torch will take away
All the light of twenty more
That shined very well before.
So, those petty Beauties which
Made the Times before us, rich;
Though but sparkles, seemed a flame
Which hath been increased by Fame,
And their true affections, who,
Better, never lived to know:
Whereas, Her, if they had seen
She had, sure, adorèd been!
And taught Ages past, to sing
Sweeter in the Sonneting.
Such a Ray, so clear! so bright!
Hath outshinèd all the light
Of a thousand, such as theirs
Who were then esteemèd Stars;
And would have enlightened near
Half the world's wide hemisphere.

She is fairest, that may pass
For a fair one, where the Lass
Trips it on the country green;
That may equal Sparta's Queen.
Where, in every street, you see
Throngs of Nymphs and Ladies be,
That are fair enough to move
Angels, and enamour JOVE.
She must matchless features bring
That now moves a Muse to sing:
When as one small Province may
Shew more beauties in one day,
Than the half of Europe could
Breed them, in an age of old.
Such is She! and such a lot
Hath her rare perfection got!

_Since her birth_ (to make the colour
Of so true a Beauty fuller;
And to give a better grace
To that sweetness in the face)
She hath all the furtherance had,
Noble educations add.
And not only knoweth all,
Which our Ladies, Courtship call;
With those knowledges that do
Grace her sex, and suit thereto:
But She hath attained to find
(What is rare with Womankind)
Excellences, whereby She
May in Soul delighted be;
And reap more contentment than
One of twenty thousand can.
By this means, hath bettered been
All without her, and within;
For it hath, by adding Arts,
To adorn her native parts,
Raised to a noble flame,
(Which shall lighten forth her fame)
Those dear sparks of sacred fire,
Which the Muses did inspire
At her birth: that She, complete,
Might, with them befit a seat.
But, perhaps, I do amiss,
To insist so long on this.
These are superficial things;
And but slender shadowings
To the work I have in hand.
Neither can you understand
What Her excellence may be,
Till Herself described you see!
Nor can mine or any pen
Paint her half so lovely, than
As She is indeed. For, here,
Might those deities appear,
Which young PARIS viewed at will,
Naked, upon Ida hill!
That I, from those Three might take
All their beauties, One to make;
(Those, no question! well compact,
Would have made up one exact)
Something, yet, we miss, of might
To express her Sweetness right.
JUNO's majesty would fit;
VENUS' beauty, PALLAS' wit
Might have brought to pattern hers
In some shewed particulars;
But they never can express
Her whole frame or worthiness
With those excellences, which
Make both Soul and Body rich.
PALLAS, sometimes, was untoward,
VENUS wanton, JUNO froward:
Yea all three, infected were
With such faults as women are;
And, though falsely deified,
Frailties had, which She'll deride.
By Her Self, must therefore She;
Or by nothing patterned be!
And I hope to paint her so,
By Her Self, that you shall know
I have served no common Dame,
Of mean worth, or vulgar fame!
But a Nymph, that's fairer than
Pen or pencil, portrait can!

And to-morrow, if you stray
Back again this uncouth way,
I, my simple Art will show:
But the time prevents me now.
For, except at yonder glade,
All the laund is under shade;
That, before these ewes be told;
Those my wethers, in the fold;
Ten young weanlings driven down
To the well beneath the town;
And my lambkins changèd from
Brome leaze, to the mead at home;
'Twill be far in night: and so,
I shall make my father woe
For my stay; and be in fear
Somewhat is mischancèd here.

On your way, I'll, therefore, bring you!
And a Song or two I'll sing you!
Such as I, half in despair,
Made when first I wooed my Fair:
Whereunto, my boy shall play;
That my voice assist, it may!