Chapter V: Part 5

Could there be words found to expresse my losse,
There were some hope, that this my heauy crosse
Might be sustained, and that wretched I
Might once finde comfort: but to haue him die
Past all degrees that was so deare to me;
As but comparing him with others, hee
Was such a thing, as if some Power should say
I'le take Man on me, to shew men the way
What a friend should be. But words come so short
Of him, that when I thus would him report, 10
I am vndone, and hauing nought to say,
Mad at my selfe, I throwe my penne away,
And beate my breast, that there should be a woe
So high, that words cannot attaine thereto.
T'is strange that I from my abundant breast,
Who others sorrowes haue so well exprest:
Yet I by this in little time am growne
So poore, that I want to expresse mine owne.
I thinke the Fates perceiuing me to beare
My worldly crosses without wit or feare: 20
Nay, with what scorne I euer haue derided,
Those plagues that for me they haue oft prouided,
Drew them to counsaile; nay, conspired rather,
And in this businesse laid their heads together
To finde some one plague, that might me subuert,
And at an instant breake my stubborne heart;
They did indeede, and onely to this end
They tooke from me this more then man, or friend.
Hard-hearted Fates, your worst thus haue you done,
Then let vs see what lastly you haue wonne 30
By this your rigour, in a course so strict,
Why see, I beare all that you can inflict:
And hee from heauen your poore reuenge to view;
Laments my losse of him, but laughes at you,
Whilst I against you execrations breath;
Thus are you scorn'd aboue, and curst beneath.
Me thinks that man (vnhappy though he be)
Is now thrice happy in respect of me,
Who hath no friend; for that in hauing none
He is not stirr'd as I am, to bemone 40
My miserable losse, who but in vaine,
May euer looke to find the like againe.
This more then mine own selfe; that who had seene
His care of me where euer I had beene,
And had not knowne his actiue spirit before,
Vpon some braue thing working euermore:
He would haue sworne that to no other end
He had been borne: but onely for my friend.
I had been happy if nice Nature had
(Since now my lucke falls out to be so bad) 50
Made me vnperfect, either of so soft
And yeelding temper, that lamenting oft,
I into teares my mournefull selfe might melt;
Or else so dull, my losse not to haue felt.
I haue by my too deare experience bought,
That fooles and mad men, whom I euer thought
The most vnhappy, are in deede not so:
And therefore I lesse pittie can bestowe
(Since that my sence, my sorrowe so can sound)
On those in Bedlam that are bound, 60
And scarce feele scourging; and when as I meete
A foole by Children followed in the Streete,
Thinke I (poor wretch) thou from my griefe art free,
Nor couldst thou feele it, should it light on thee;
But that I am a _Christian_, and am taught
By him who with his precious bloud me bought,
Meekly like him my crosses to endure,
Else would they please me well, that for their cure,
When as they feele their conscience doth them brand,
Vpon themselues dare lay a violent hand; 70
Not suffering Fortune with her murdering knife,
Stand like a Surgeon working on the life,
Deserting this part, that ioynt off to cut,
Shewing that Artire, ripping then that gut,
Whilst the dull beastly World with her squint eye,
Is to behold the strange Anatomie.
I am persuaded that those which we read
To be man-haters, were not so indeed,
The Athenian _Timon_, and beside him more
Of which the _Latines_, as the _Greekes_ haue store; 80
Nor not did they all humane manners hate,
Nor yet maligne mans dignity and state.
But finding our fraile life how euery day,
It like a bubble vanisheth away:
For this condition did mankinde detest,
Farre more incertaine then that of the beast.
Sure heauen doth hate this world and deadly too,
Else as it hath done it would neuer doe,
For if it did not, it would ne're permit
A man of so much vertue, knowledge, wit, 90
Of naturall goodnesse, supernaturall grace,
Whose courses when considerately I trace
Into their ends, and diligently looke,
They serue me for Oeconomike booke.
By which this rough world I not onely stemme,
In goodnesse but grow learn'd by reading them.
O pardon me, it my much sorrow is,
Which makes me vse this long Parenthesis;
Had heauen this world not hated as I say,
In height of life it had not, tane away 100
A spirit so braue, so actiue, and so free,
That such a one who would not wish to bee,
Rather then weare a Crowne, by Armes though got,
So fast a friend, so true a Patriot.
In things concerning both the worlds so wise,
Besides so liberall of his faculties,
That where he would his industrie bestowe,
He would haue done, e're one could think to doe.
No more talke of the working of the Starres,
For plenty, scarcenesse, or for peace, or Warres: 110
They are impostures, therefore get you hence
With all your Planets, and their influence.
No more doe I care into them to looke,
Then in some idle Chiromantick booke,
Shewing the line of life, and _Venus_ mount,
Nor yet no more would I of them account,
Then what that tells me, since what that so ere
Might promise man long life: of care and feare,
By nature freed, a conscience cleare, and quiet,
His health, his constitution, and his diet; 120
Counting a hundred, fourscore at the least,
Propt vp by prayers, yet more to be encreast,
All these should faile, and in his fiftieth yeare
He should expire, henceforth let none be deare,
To me at all, lest for my haplesse sake,
Before their time heauen from the world them take,
And leaue me wretched to lament their ends
As I doe his, who was a thousand friends.

Vpon the death of the Lady OLIVE STANHOPE

Canst thou depart and be forgotten so,
STANHOPE thou canst not, no deare STANHOPE, no:
But in despight of death the world shall see,
That Muse which so much graced was by thee
Can black Obliuion vtterly out-braue,
And set thee vp aboue thy silent Graue.
I meruail'd much the _Derbian_ Nimphes were dumbe,
Or of those Muses, what should be become,
That of all those, the mountaines there among,
Not one this while thy _Epicedium_sung; 10
But so it is, when they of thee were reft,
They all those hills, and all those Riuers left,
And sullen growne, their former seates remoue,
Both from cleare _Darwin_, and from siluer _Doue_,
And for thy losse, they greeued are so sore,
That they haue vow'd they will come there no more;
But leaue thy losse to me, that I should rue thee,
Vnhappy man, and yet I neuer knew thee:
Me thou didst loue vnseene, so did I thee,
It was our spirits that lou'd then and not wee; 20
Therefore without profanenesse I may call
The loue betwixt vs, loue spirituall:
But that which thou affectedst was so true,
As that thereby thee perfectly I knew;
And now that spirit, which thou so lou'dst, still mine,
Shall offer this a Sacrifice to thine,
And reare this Trophe, which for thee shall last,
When this most beastly Iron age is past;
I am perswaded, whilst we two haue slept,
Our soules haue met, and to each other wept, 30
That destenie so strongly should forbid,
Our bodies to conuerse as oft they did:
For certainly refined spirits doe know,
As doe the Angels, and doe here belowe
Take the fruition of that endlesse blisse,
As those aboue doe, and what each one is.
They see diuinely, and as those there doe,
They know each others wills, so soules can too.
About that dismall time, thy spirit hence flew,
Mine much was troubled, but why, I not knew, 40
In dull and sleepy sounds, it often left me,
As of it selfe it ment to haue bereft me,
I asked it what the cause was, of such woe,
Or what it might be, that might vexe it so,
But it was deafe, nor my demand would here,
But when that ill newes came, to touch mine eare,
I straightwayes found this watchfull sperit of mine,
Troubled had bin to take it leaue of thine,
For when fate found, what nature late had done,
How much from heauen, she for the earth had won 50
By thy deare birth; said, that it could not be
In so yong yeares, what it perceiu'd in thee,
But nature sure, had fram'd thee long before;
And as Rich Misers of their mighty store,
Keepe the most precious longst, so from times past,
She onely had reserued thee till the last;
So did thy wisedome, not thy youth behold,
And tooke thee hence, in thinking thou wast old.
Thy shape and beauty often haue to me
Bin highly praysed, which I thought might be, 60
Truely reported, for a spirit so braue,
Which heauen to thee so bountifully gaue;
Nature could not in recompence againe,
In some rich lodging but to entertaine.
Let not the world report then, that the Peake,
Is but a rude place only vast and bleake;
And nothing hath to boast of but her Lead,
When she can say that happily she bred
Thee, and when she shall of her wonders tell
Wherein she doth all other Tracts excell, 70
Let her account thee greatst, and still to time
Of all the rest, accord thee for the prime.

To Master WILLIAM IEFFREYS, Chaplaine to the Lord Ambassa_dour in Spaine_

My noble friend, you challenge me to write
To you in verse, and often you recite,
My promise to you, and to send you newes;
As 'tis a thing I very seldome vse,
And I must write of State, if to _Madrid_,
A thing our Proclamations here forbid,
And that word State such Latitude doth beare,
As it may make me very well to feare
To write, nay speake at all, these let you know
Your power on me, yet not that I will showe 10
The loue I beare you, in that lofty height,
So cleere expression, or such words of weight,
As into _Spanish_ if they were translated,
Might make the Poets of that Realme amated;
Yet these my least were, but that you extort
These numbers from me, when I should report
In home-spunne prose, in good plaine honest words
The newes our wofull _England_ vs affords.
The Muses here sit sad, and mute the while
A sort of swine vnseasonably defile 20
Those sacred springs, which from the by-clift hill
Dropt their pure _Nectar_ into euery quill;
In this with State, I hope I doe not deale,
This onely tends the Muses common-weale.
What canst thou hope, or looke for from his pen,
Who liues with beasts, though in the shapes of men,
And what a poore few are we honest still,
And dare to be so, when all the world is ill.
I finde this age of our markt with this Fate,
That honest men are still precipitate 30
Vnder base villaines, which till th' earth can vent
This her last brood, and wholly hath them spent,
Shall be so, then in reuolution shall
Vertue againe arise by vices fall;
But that shall I not see, neither will I
Maintaine this, as one doth a Prophesie,
That our King _Iames_ to _Rome_ shall surely goe,
And from his chaire the _Pope_ shall ouerthrow.
But O this world is so giuen vp to hell,
That as the old Giants, which did once rebell, 40
Against the Gods, so this now-liuing race
Dare sin, yet stand, and Ieere heauen in the face.
But soft my Muse, and make a little stay,
Surely thou art not rightly in thy way,
To my good _Ieffrayes_ was not I about
To write, and see, I suddainely am out,
This is pure _Satire_, that thou speak'st, and I
Was first in hand to write an Elegie.
To tell my countreys shame I not delight.
But doe bemoane 't I am no _Democrite_: 50
O God, though Vertue mightily doe grieue
For all this world, yet will I not beleeue
But that shees faire and louely, and that she
So to the period of the world shall be;
Else had she beene forsaken (sure) of all,
For that so many sundry mischiefes fall
Vpon her dayly, and so many take
Armes vp against her, as it well might make
Her to forsake her nature, and behind,
To leaue no step for future time to find, 60
As she had neuer beene, for he that now
Can doe her most disgrace, him they alow
The times chiefe Champion, and he is the man,
The prize, and Palme that absolutely wanne,
For where Kings Clossets her free seat hath bin
She neere the Lodge, not suffered is to Inne,
For ignorance against her stands in state,
Like some great porter at a Pallace gate;
So dull and barbarous lately are we growne,
And there are some this slauery that haue sowne, 70
That for mans knowledge it enough doth make,
If he can learne, to read an Almanacke;
By whom that trash of _Amadis de Gaule_,
Is held an author most authenticall,
And things we haue like Noblemen that be
In little time, which I haue hope to see
Vpon their foot-clothes, as the streets they ride
To haue their hornebookes at their girdles ti'd.
But all their superfluity of spite
On vertues hand-maid Poesy doth light, 80
And to extirpe her all their plots they lay,
But to her ruine they shall misse the way,
For his alone the Monuments of wit,
Aboue the rage of Tyrants that doe sit,
And from their strength, not one himselfe can saue,
But they shall tryumph o'r his hated graue.
In my conceipt, friend, thou didst neuer see
A righter Madman then thou hast of me,
For now as _Elegiack_ I bewaile
These poor base times; then suddainely I raile 90
And am _Satirick_, not that I inforce
My selfe to be so, but euen as remorse,
Or hate, in the proud fulnesse of their hight
Master my fancy, iust so doe I write.
But gentle friend as soone shall I behold
That stone of which so many haue vs tould,
(Yet neuer any to this day could make)
The great _Elixar_ or to vndertake
The _Rose-crosse_ knowledge which is much like that
A Tarrying-iron for fooles to labour at, 100
As euer after I may hope to see,
(A plague vpon this beastly world for me,)
Wit so respected as it was of yore;
And if hereafter any it restore,
It must be those that yet for many a yeare,
Shall be vnborne that must inhabit here,
And such in vertue as shall be asham'd
Almost to heare their ignorant Grandsires nam'd,
With whom so many noble spirits then liu'd,
That were by them of all reward depriu'd. 110
My noble friend, I would I might haue quit
This age of these, and that I might haue writ,
Before all other, how much the braue pen,
Had here bin honoured of the _English_ men;
Goodnesse and knowledge, held by them in prise,
How hatefull to them Ignorance and vice;
But it falls out the contrary is true,
And so my _Ieffreyes_ for this time adue.

Vpon the death of Mistris ELIANOR FALLOWFIELD

Accursed Death, what neede was there at all
Of thee, or who to councell thee did call;
The subiect whereupon these lines I spend
For thee was most vnfit, her timelesse end
Too soone thou wroughtst, too neere her thou didst stand;
Thou shouldst haue lent thy leane and meager hand
To those who oft the help thereof beseech,
And can be cured by no other Leech.
In this wide world how many thousands be,
That hauing past fourescore, doe call for thee. 10
The wretched debtor in the Iayle that lies,
Yet cannot this his Creditor suffice
Doth woe thee oft with many a sigh and teare,
Yet thou art coy, and him thou wilt not heare.
The Captiue slaue that tuggeth at the Oares,
And vnderneath the Bulls tough sinewes rores,
Begs at thy hand, in lieu of all his paines,
That thou wouldst but release him of his chaines;
Yet thou a niggard listenest not thereto,
With one short gaspe which thou mightst easily do, 20
But thou couldst come to her ere there was neede,
And euen at once destroy both flower and seede.
But cruell Death if thou so barbarous be,
To those so goodly, and so young as shee;
That in their teeming thou wilt shew thy spight;
Either from marriage thou wilt Maides affright,
Or in their wedlock, Widowes liues to chuse
Their Husbands bed, and vtterly refuse,
Fearing conception; so shalt thou thereby
Extirpate mankinde by thy cruelty. 30
If after direfull Tragedy thou thirst,
Extinguish _Himens_ Torches at the first;
Build Funerall pyles, and the sad pauement strewe,
With mournfull Cypresse, and the pale-leau'd Yewe.
Away with Roses, Myrtle, and with Bayes;
Ensignes of mirth, and iollity, as these;
Neuer at Nuptials vsed be againe,
But from the Church the new Bride entertaine
With weeping _Nenias_, euer and among,
As at departings be sad _Requiems_ song. 40
_Lucina_ by th' olde Poets that wert sayd,
Women in Childe-birth euermore to ayde,
Because thine Altars, long haue layne neglected:
Nor as they should, thy holy fiers reflected
Vpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye,
And wilt not helpe them in necessitie.
Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse,
Whether for thy deare sake I should accuse
Nature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame,
And doe impute it as her greatest shame, 50
To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agen
I vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then,
That at the time of need she was no stronger,
That we by her might haue enioy'd thee longer.
But whilst of these I with my selfe debate,
I call to minde how flinty-hearted Fate
Seaseth the olde, the young, the faire, the foule,
No thing on earth can Destinie controule:
But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee,
Still to eternall memory hath left thee, 60
Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath,
That many a great one hath not after death.

NIMPHIDIA

THE COVRT OF FAYRIE

Olde CHAVCER doth of _Topas_ tell,
Mad RABLAIS of Pantagruell,
A latter third of _Dowsabell_,
With such poore trifles playing:
Others the like haue laboured at
Some of this thing, and some of that,
And many of they know not what,
But that they must be saying.

Another sort there bee, that will
Be talking of the Fayries still, 10
Nor neuer can they have their fill,
As they were wedded to them;
No Tales of them their thirst can slake,
So much delight therein they take,
And some strange thing they fame would make,
Knew they the way to doe them.

Then since no Muse hath bin so bold,
Or of the Later, or the ould,
Those Eluish secrets to vnfold,
Which lye from others reading, 20
My actiue Muse to light shall bring,
The court of that proud Fayry King,
And tell there, of the Reuelling,
_Ioue_ prosper my proceeding.

And thou NIMPHIDIA gentle F_ay_,
Which meeting me vpon the way,
These secrets didst to me bewray,
Which now I am in telling:
My pretty light fantastick mayde,
I here inuoke thee to my ayde, 30
That I may speake what thou hast sayd,
In numbers smoothly swelling.

This Pallace standeth in the Ayre,
By Nigromancie placed there,
That it no Tempests needs to feare,
Which way so ere it blow it.
And somewhat Southward tow'rd the Noone,
Whence lyes a way vp to the Moone,
And thence the _Fayrie_ can as soone
Passe to the earth below it. 40

The Walls of Spiders legs are made,
Well mortized and finely layd,
He was the master of his Trade
It curiously that builded:
The Windowes of the eyes of Cats,
And for the Roofe, instead of Slats,
Is couer'd with the skinns of Batts,
With Mooneshine that are guilded.

Hence _Oberon_ him sport to make,
(Their rest when weary mortalls take) 50
And none but onely _Fayries_ wake,
Desendeth for his pleasure.
And _Mab_ his meerry Queene by night
Bestrids young Folks that lye vpright,
(In elder Times the _Mare_ that hight)
Which plagues them out of measure.

Hence Shaddowes, seeming Idle shapes,
Of little frisking Elues and Apes,
To Earth doe make their wanton skapes,
As hope of pastime hasts them: 60
Which maydes think on the Hearth they see,
When Fyers well nere consumed be,
Their daunsing Hayes by two and three,
Iust as their Fancy casts them.

These make our Girles their sluttery rue,
By pinching them both blacke and blew,
And put a penny in their shue,
The house for cleanely sweeping:
And in their courses make that Round,
In Meadowes, and in Marshes found, 70
Of them so call'd the _Fayrie_ ground,
Of which they haue the keeping.

Thus when a Childe haps to be gott,
Which after prooues an Ideott,
When Folke perceiue it thriueth not,
The fault therein to smother:
Some silly doting brainlesse Calfe,
That vnderstands things by the halfe,
Say that the _Fayrie_ left this Aulfe,
And tooke away the other. 80

But listen and I shall you tell,
A chance in _Fayrie_ that befell,
Which certainly may please some well;
In Loue and Armes delighting:
Of _Oberon_ that Iealous grewe,
Of one of his owne _Fayrie_ crue,
Too well (he fear'd) his Queene that knew,
His loue but ill requiting.

_Pigwiggen_ was this _Fayrie_ knight,
One wondrous gratious in the sight 90
Of faire Queene _Mab_, which day and night,
He amorously obserued;
Which made king _Oberon_ suspect,
His Seruice tooke too good effect,
His saucinesse, and often checkt,
And could have wisht him starued.

_Pigwiggen_ gladly would commend,
Some token to queene _Mab_ to send,
If Sea, or Land, him ought could lend,
Were worthy of her wearing: 100
At length this Louer doth deuise,
A Bracelett made of Emmotts eyes,
A thing he thought that shee would prize,
No whitt her state impayring.

And to the Queene a Letter writes,
Which he most curiously endites,
Coniuring her by all the rites
Of loue, she would be pleased,
To meete him her true Seruant, where
They might without suspect or feare, 110
Themselues to one another cleare,
And haue their poore hearts eased.

At mid-night the appointed hower,
And for the Queene a fitting bower,
(Quoth he) is that faire Cowslip flower,
On _Hipcut_ hill that groweth,
In all your Trayne there's not a _Fay_,
That euer went to gather May,
But she hath made it in her way,
The tallest there that groweth. 120

When by _Tom Thum_ a Fayrie Page,
He sent it, and doth him engage,
By promise of a mighty wage,
It secretly to carrie:
Which done, the Queene her maydes doth call,
And bids them to be ready all,
She would goe see her Summer Hall,
She could no longer tarrie.

Her Chariot ready straight is made,
Each thing therein is fitting layde, 130
That she by nothing might be stayde,
For naught must be her letting,
Foure nimble Gnats the Horses were,
Their Harnasses of Gossamere,
Flye Cranion her Chariottere,
Vpon the Coach-box getting.

Her Chariot of a Snayles fine shell,
Which for the colours did excell:
The faire Queene _Mab_, becomming well,
So liuely was the limming: 140
The seate the soft wooll of the Bee;
The couer, (gallantly to see)
The wing of a pyde Butterflee,
I trowe t'was simple trimming.

The wheeles compos'd of Crickets bones,
And daintily made for the nonce,
For feare of ratling on the stones,
With Thistle-downe they shod it;
For all her Maydens much did feare,
If _Oberon_ had chanc'd to heare, 150
That _Mab_ his Queene should haue bin there,
He would not haue aboad it.

She mounts her Chariot with a trice,
Nor would she stay for no advice,
Vntill her Maydes that were so nice,
To wayte on her were fitted,
But ranne her selfe away alone;
Which when they heard there was not one,
But hasted after to be gone,
As she had beene diswitted. 160

_Hop_, and _Mop_, and _Drop_ so cleare,
_Pip_, and _Trip_, and _Skip_ that were,
To _Mab_ their Soueraigne euer deare:
Her speciall Maydes of Honour;
_Fib_, and _Tib_, and _Pinck_, and _Pin_,
_Tick_, and _Quick_, and _Iill_, and _Iin_,
_Tit_, and _Nit_, and _Wap_, and _Win_,
The Trayne that wayte vpon her.

Vpon a Grashopper they got,
And what with Amble, and with Trot, 170
For hedge nor ditch they spared not,
But after her they hie them.
A Cobweb ouer them they throw,
To shield the winde if it should blowe,
Themselues they wisely could bestowe,
Lest any should espie them.

But let vs leaue Queene _Mab_ a while,
Through many a gate, o'r many a stile,
That now had gotten by this wile,
Her deare _Pigwiggin_ kissing, 180
And tell how _Oberon_ doth fare,
Who grew as mad as any Hare,
When he had sought each place with care,
And found his Queene was missing.

By grisly _Pluto_ he doth sweare,
He rent his cloths, and tore his haire,
And as he runneth, here and there,
An Acorne cup he greeteth;
Which soone he taketh by the stalke
About his head he lets it walke, 190
Nor doth he any creature balke,
But lays on all he meeteth.

The _Thuskan_ Poet doth aduance,
The franticke _Paladine_ of France,
And those more ancient doe inhaunce,
_Alcides_ in his fury.
And others _Aiax Telamon_,
But to this time there hath bin non,
So Bedlam as our _Oberon_,
Of which I dare assure you. 200

And first encountring with a waspe,
He in his armes the Fly doth claspe
As though his breath he forth would graspe,
Him for Pigwiggen taking:
Where is my wife thou Rogue, quoth he,
_Pigwiggen_, she is come to thee,
Restore her, or thou dy'st by me,
Whereat the poore waspe quaking,

Cryes, _Oberon_, great _Fayrie_ King,
Content thee I am no such thing, 210
I am a Waspe behold my sting,
At which the _Fayrie_ started:
When soone away the Waspe doth goe,
Poore wretch was neuer frighted so,
He thought his wings were much to slow,
O'rioyd, they so were parted.

He next vpon a Glow-worme light,
(You must suppose it now was night),
Which for her hinder part was bright,
He tooke to be a Deuill. 220
And furiously doth her assaile
For carrying fier in her taile
He thrasht her rough coat with his flayle,
The mad King fear'd no euill.

O quoth the _Gloworme_ hold thy hand,
Thou puisant King of _Fayrie_ land,
Thy mighty stroaks who may withstand,
Hould, or of life despaire I:
Together then her selfe doth roule,
And tumbling downe into a hole, 230
She seem'd as black as any Cole,
Which vext away the _Fayrie_.

From thence he ran into a Hiue,
Amongst the Bees he letteth driue
And downe their Coombes begins to riue,
All likely to haue spoyled:
Which with their Waxe his face besmeard,
And with their Honey daub'd his Beard
It would haue made a man afeard,
To see how he was moyled. 240

A new Aduenture him betides,
He mett an Ant, which he bestrides,
And post thereon away he rides,
Which with his haste doth stumble;
And came full ouer on her snowte,
Her heels so threw the dirt about,
For she by no meanes could get out,
But ouer him doth tumble.

And being in this piteous case,
And all be-slurried head and face, 250
On runs he in this Wild-goose chase
As here, and there, he rambles
Halfe blinde, against a molehill hit,
And for a Mountaine taking it,
For all he was out of his wit,
Yet to the top he scrambles.

And being gotten to the top,
Yet there himselfe he could not stop,
But downe on th' other side doth chop,
And to the foot came rumbling: 260
So that the Grubs therein that bred,
Hearing such turmoyle ouer head,
Thought surely they had all bin dead,
So fearefull was the Iumbling.

And falling downe into a Lake,
Which him vp to the neck doth take,
His fury somewhat it doth slake,
He calleth for a Ferry;
Where you may some recouery note,
What was his Club he made his Boate, 270
And in his Oaken Cup doth float,
As safe as in a Wherry.

Men talke of the Aduentures strange,
Of _Don Quishott_, and of their change
Through which he Armed oft did range,
Of _Sancha Panchas_ trauell:
But should a man tell euery thing,
Done by this franticke _Fayrie_ king.
And them in lofty numbers sing
It well his wits might grauell. 280

Scarse set on shore, but therewithall,
He meeteth _Pucke_, which most men call
_Hobgoblin_, and on him doth fall,
With words from frenzy spoken;
Hoh, hoh, quoth _Hob_, God saue thy grace,
Who drest thee in this pitteous case,
He thus that spoild my soueraignes face,
I would his necke were broken.

This _Puck_ seemes but a dreaming dolt,
Still walking like a ragged Colt, 290
And oft out of a Bush doth bolt,
Of purpose to deceiue vs.
And leading vs makes vs to stray,
Long Winters nights out of the way,
And when we stick in mire and clay,
_Hob_ doth with laughter leaue vs.

Deare _Puck_ (quoth he) my wife is gone
As ere thou lou'st King _Oberon_,
Let euery thing but this alone
With vengeance, and pursue her; 300
Bring her to me aliue or dead,
Or that vilde thief, _Pigwiggins_ head,
That villaine hath defil'd my bed
He to this folly drew her.

Quoth _Puck_, My Liege Ile neuer lin,
But I will thorough thicke and thinne,
Vntill at length I bring her in,
My dearest Lord nere doubt it:
Thorough Brake, thorough Brier,
Thorough Muck, thorough Mier, 310
Thorough Water, thorough Fier,
And thus goes _Puck_ about it.

This thing Nimphidia ouer hard
That on this mad King had a guard
Not doubting of a great reward,
For first this businesse broching;
And through the ayre away doth goe
Swift as an Arrow from the Bowe,
To let her Soueraigne _Mab_ to know,
What perill was approaching. 320

The Queene bound with Loues powerfulst charme
Sate with _Pigwiggen_ arme in arme,
Her Merry Maydes that thought no harme,
About the roome were skipping:
A Humble-Bee their Minstrell, playde
Vpon his Hoboy; eu'ry Mayde
Fit for this Reuells was arayde,
The Hornepype neatly tripping.

In comes _Nimphidia_, and doth crie,
My Soueraigne for your safety flie, 330
For there is danger but too nie,
I posted to forewarne you:
The King hath sent _Hobgoblin_ out,
To seeke you all the Fields about,
And of your safety you may doubt,
If he but once discerne you.

When like an vprore in a Towne,
Before them euery thing went downe,
Some tore a Ruffe, and some a Gowne,
Gainst one another iustling: 340
They flewe about like Chaffe i' th winde,
For hast some left their Maskes behinde;
Some could not stay their Gloues to finde,
There neuer was such bustling.

Forth ranne they by a secret way,
Into a brake that neere them lay;
Yet much they doubted there to stay,
Lest _Hob_ should hap to find them:
He had a sharpe and piercing sight,
All one to him the day and night, 350
And therefore were resolu'd by flight,
To leave this place behind them.

At length one chanc'd to find a Nut,
In th' end of which a hole was cut,
Which lay vpon a Hazell roote,
There scatt'red by a Squirill:
Which out the kernell gotten had;
When quoth this _Fay_ deare Queene be glad,
Let _Oberon_ be ne'r so mad,
Ile set you safe from perill. 360

Come all into this Nut (quoth she)
Come closely in be rul'd by me,
Each one may here a chuser be,
For roome yee need not wrastle:
Nor neede yee be together heapt;
So one by one therein they crept,
And lying downe they soundly slept,
And safe as in a Castle.

_Nimphidia_ that this while doth watch,
Perceiu'd if _Puck_ the Queene should catch 370
That he should be her ouer-match,
Of which she well bethought her;
Found it must be some powerfull Charme,
The Queene against him that must arme,
Or surely he would doe her harme,
For throughly he had sought her.

And listning if she ought could heare,
That her might hinder, or might feare:
But finding still the coast was cleare,
Nor creature had discride her; 380
Each circumstance and hauing scand,
She came thereby to vnderstand,
_Puck_ would be with them out of hand
When to her Charmes she hide her:

And first her Ferne seede doth bestowe,
The kernell of the Missletowe:
And here and there as _Puck_ should goe,
With terrour to affright him:
She Night-shade strawes to work him ill,
Therewith her Veruayne and her Dill, 390
That hindreth Witches of their will,
Of purpose to dispight him.

Then sprinkles she the iuice of Rue,
That groweth vnderneath the Yeu:
With nine drops of the midnight dewe,
From Lunarie distilling:
The Molewarps braine mixt therewithall;
And with the same the Pismyres gall,
For she in nothing short would fall;
The _Fayrie_ was so willing. 400

Then thrice vnder a Bryer doth creepe,
Which at both ends was rooted deepe,
And ouer it three times shee leepe;
Her Magicke much auayling:
Then on _Proserpyna_ doth call,
And so vpon her spell doth fall,
Which here to you repeate I shall,
Not in one tittle fayling.

By the croking of the Frogge;
By the howling of the Dogge; 410
By the crying of the Hogge,
Against the storme arising;
By the Euening Curphewe bell;
By the dolefull dying knell,
O let this my direfull Spell,
_Hob_, hinder thy surprising.

By the Mandrakes dreadfull groanes;
By the Lubricans sad moans;
By the noyse of dead mens bones,
In Charnell houses ratling: 420
By the hissing of the Snake,
The rustling of the fire-Drake,
I charge thee thou this place forsake,
Nor of Queene _Mab_ be pratling.

By the Whirlwindes hollow sound,
By the Thunders dreadfull stound,
Yells of Spirits vnder ground,
I chardge thee not to feare vs:
By the Shreech-owles dismall note,
By the Blacke Night-Rauens throate, 430
I charge thee _Hob_ to teare thy Coate
With thornes if thou come neere vs,

Her Spell thus spoke she stept aside,
And in a Chincke her selfe doth hide,
To see there of what would betyde,
For shee doth onely minde him:
When presently shee _Puck_ espies,
And well she markt his gloating eyes,
How vnder euery leafe he spies,
In seeking still to finde them. 440

But once the Circle got within,
The Charmes to worke doe straight begin,
And he was caught as in a Gin;
For as he thus was busie,
A paine he in his Head-peece feeles,
Against a stubbed Tree he reeles,
And vp went poore _Hobgoblins_ heeles,
Alas his braine was dizzie.

At length vpon his feete he gets,
_Hobgoblin_ fumes, _Hobgoblin_ frets, 450
And as againe he forward sets,
And through the Bushes scrambles;
A Stump doth trip him in his pace,
Down comes poore _Hob_ vpon his face,
And lamentably tore his case,
Amongst the Bryers and Brambles.

A plague vpon Queene _Mab_, quoth hee,
And all her Maydes where ere they be,
I thinke the Deuill guided me,
To seeke her so prouoked. 460
Where stumbling at a piece of Wood,
He fell into a dich of mudd,
Where to the very Chin he stood,
In danger to be choked.

Now worse than e're he was before:
Poore _Puck_ doth yell, poore _Puck_ doth rore;
That wak'd Queene _Mab_ who doubted sore
Some Treason had been wrought her:
Vntill _Nimphidia_ told the Queene
What she had done, what she had seene, 470
Who then had well-neere crack'd her spleene
With very extreame laughter.

But leaue we _Hob_ to clamber out:
Queene _Mab_ and all her _Fayrie_ rout,
And come againe to haue about
With _Oberon_ yet madding:
And with _Pigwiggen_ now distrought,
Who much was troubled in his thought,
That he so long the Queene had sought,
And through the Fields was gadding. 480

And as he runnes he still doth crie,
King _Oberon_ I thee defie,
And dare thee here in Armes to trie,
For my deare Ladies honour:
For that she is a Queene right good,
In whose defence Ile shed my blood,
And that thou in this iealous mood
Hast lay'd this slander on her.

And quickly Armes him for the Field,
A little Cockle-shell his Shield, 490
Which he could very brauely wield:
Yet could it not be pierced:
His Speare a Bent both stiffe and strong,
And well-neere of two Inches long;
The Pyle was of a Horse-flyes tongue,
Whose sharpnesse nought reuersed.

And puts him on a coate of Male,
Which was of a Fishes scale,
That when his Foe should him assaile,
No poynt should be preuayling: 500
His Rapier was a Hornets sting,
It was a very dangerous thing:
For if he chanc'd to hurt the King,
It would be long in healing.

His Helmet was a Bettles head,
Most horrible and full of dread,
That able was to strike one dead,
Yet did it well become him:
And for a plume, a horses hayre,
Which being tossed with the ayre, 510
Had force to strike his Foe with feare,
And turne his weapon from him.

Himselfe he on an Earewig set,
Yet scarce he on his back could get,
So oft and high he did coruet,
Ere he himselfe could settle:
He made him turne, and stop, and bound,
To gallop, and to trot the Round,
He scarce could stand on any ground,
He was so full of mettle. 520

When soone he met with _Tomalin_,
One that a valiant Knight had bin,
And to King _Oberon_ of kin;
Quoth he thou manly _Fayrie_:
Tell _Oberon_ I come prepar'd,
Then bid him stand vpon his Guard;
This hand his basenesse shall reward,
Let him be ne'r so wary.

Say to him thus, that I defie,
His slanders, and his infamie, 530
And as a mortall enemie,
Doe publickly proclaime him:
Withall, that if I had mine owne,
He should not weare the _Fayrie_ Crowne,
But with a vengeance should come downe:
Nor we a King should name him.

This _Tomalin_ could not abide,
To heare his Soueraigne vilefide:
But to the _Fayrie_ Court him hide;
Full furiously he posted, 540
With eu'ry thing _Pigwiggen_ sayd:
How title to the Crowne he layd,
And in what Armes he was aray'd,
As how himselfe he boasted.

Twixt head and foot, from point to point,
He told th'arming of each ioint,
In every piece, how neate, and quaint,
For _Tomalin_ could doe it:
How fayre he sat, how sure he rid,
As of the courser he bestrid, 550
How Mannag'd, and how well he did;
The King which listened to it,

Quoth he, goe _Tomalin_ with speede,
Prouide me Armes, prouide my Steed,
And euery thing that I shall neede,
By thee I will be guided;
To strait account, call thou thy witt,
See there be wanting not a whitt,
In euery thing see thou me fitt,
Just as my foes prouided. 560

Soone flewe this newes through _Fayrie_ land
Which gaue Queene _Mab_ to vnderstand,
The combate that was then in hand,
Betwixt those men so mighty:
Which greatly she began to rew,
Perceuing that all _Fayrie_ knew,
The first occasion from her grew,
Of these affaires so weighty.

Wherefore attended with her maides,
Through fogs, and mists, and dampes she wades, 570
To _Proserpine_ the Queene of shades
To treat, that it would please her,
The cause into her hands to take,
For ancient loue and friendships sake,
And soone therof an end to make,
Which of much care would ease her.

A While, there let we _Mab_ alone,
And come we to King _Oberon_,
Who arm'd to meete his foe is gone,
For Proud _Pigwiggen_ crying: 580
Who sought the _Fayrie_ King as fast,
And had so well his iourneyes cast,
That he arriued at the last,
His puisant foe espying:

Stout _Tomalin_ came with the King,
_Tom Thum_ doth on _Pigwiggen_ bring,
That perfect were in euery thing,
To single fights belonging:
And therefore they themselues ingage,
To see them exercise their rage, 590
With faire and comely equipage,
Not one the other wronging.

So like in armes, these champions were,
As they had bin, a very paire,
So that a man would almost sweare,
That either, had bin either;
Their furious steedes began to naye
That they were heard a mighty way,
Their staues vpon their rests they lay;
Yet e'r they flew together, 600

Their Seconds minister an oath,
Which was indifferent to them both,
That on their Knightly faith, and troth,
No magicke them supplyed;
And sought them that they had no charmes,
Wherewith to worke each others harmes,
But came with simple open armes,
To haue their causes tryed.

Together furiously they ran,
That to the ground came horse and man, 610
The blood out of their Helmets span,
So sharpe were their incounters;
And though they to the earth were throwne,
Yet quickly they regain'd their owne,
Such nimblenesse was neuer showne,
They were two Gallant Mounters.

When in a second Course againe,
They forward came with might and mayne,
Yet which had better of the twaine,
The Seconds could not iudge yet; 620
Their shields were into pieces cleft,
Their helmets from their heads were reft,
And to defend them nothing left,
These Champions would not budge yet.

Away from them their Staues they threw,
Their cruell Swords they quickly drew,
And freshly they the fight renew;
They euery stroke redoubled:
Which made _Proserpina_ take heed,
And make to them the greater speed, 630
For fear lest they too much should bleed,
Which wondrously her troubled.

When to th' infernall _Stix_ she goes,
She takes the Fogs from thence that rose,
And in a Bagge doth them enclose;
When well she had them blended:
She hyes her then to _Lethe_ spring,
A Bottell and thereof doth bring,
Wherewith she meant to worke the thing,
Which onely she intended. 640

Now _Proserpine_ with _Mab_ is gone
Vnto the place where _Oberon_
And proud _Pigwiggen_, one to one,
Both to be slaine were likely:
And there themselues they closely hide,
Because they would not be espide;
For _Proserpine_ meant to decide
The matter very quickly.

And suddainly vntyes the Poke,
Which out of it sent such a smoke, 650
As ready was them all to choke,
So greeuous was the pother;
So that the Knights each other lost,
And stood as still as any post,
_Tom Thum_, nor _Tomalin_ could boast
Themselues of any other.

But when the mist gan somewhat cease,
_Proserpina_ commanded peace:
And that a while they should release,
Each other of their perill: 660
Which here (quoth she) I doe proclaime
To all in dreadfull _Plutos_ name,
That as yee will eschewe his blame,
You let me heare the quarrell,

But here your selues you must engage,
Somewhat to coole your spleenish rage:
Your greeuous thirst and to asswage,
That first you drinke this liquor:
Which shall your vnderstanding cleare,
As plainely shall to you appeare; 670
Those things from me that you shall heare,
Conceiuing much the quicker.

This _Lethe_ water you must knowe,
The memory destroyeth so,
That of our weale, or of our woe,
It all remembrance blotted;
Of it nor can you euer thinke:
For they no sooner tooke this drinke,
But nought into their braines could sinke,
Of what had them besotted. 680

King _Oberon_ forgotten had,
That he for iealousie ranne mad:
But of his Queene was wondrous glad,
And ask'd how they came thither:
_Pigwiggen_ likewise doth forget,
That he Queene _Mab_ had euer met;
Or that they were so hard beset,
When they were found together.

Nor neither of them both had thought,
That e'r they had each other sought; 690
Much lesse that they a Combat fought,
But such a dreame were lothing:
_Tom Thum_ had got a little sup,
And _Tomalin_ scarce kist the Cup,
Yet had their braines so sure lockt vp,
That they remembred nothing.

Queene _Mab_ and her light Maydes the while,
Amongst themselues doe closely smile,
To see the King caught with this wile,
With one another testing: 700
And to the _Fayrie_ Court they went,
With mickle ioy and merriment,
Which thing was done with good intent,
And thus I left them feasting.

FINIS.

THE QVEST OF CYNTHIA

What time the groues were clad in greene,
The Fields drest all in flowers,
And that the sleeke-hayred Nimphs were seene,
To seeke them Summer Bowers.

Forth rou'd I by the sliding Rills,
To finde where CYNTHIA sat,
Whose name so often from the hills,
The Ecchos wondred at.

When me vpon my Quest to bring,
That pleasure might excell, 10
The Birds stroue which should sweetliest sing,
The Flowers which sweet'st should smell.

Long wand'ring in the Woods (said I)
Oh whether's CYNTHIA gone?
When soone the Eccho doth reply,
To my last word, goe on.

At length vpon a lofty Firre,
It was my chance to finde,
Where that deare name most due to her,
Was caru'd vpon the rynde. 20

Which whilst with wonder I beheld,
The Bees their hony brought,
And vp the carued letters fild,
As they with gould were wrought.

And neere that trees more spacious roote,
Then looking on the ground,
The shape of her most dainty foot,
Imprinted there I found.

Which stuck there like a curious seale,
As though it should forbid 30
Vs, wretched mortalls, to reueale,
What vnder it was hid.

Besides the flowers which it had pres'd,
Apeared to my vew,
More fresh and louely than the rest,
That in the meadowes grew:

The cleere drops in the steps that stood,
Of that dilicious Girle,
The Nimphes amongst their dainty food,
Drunke for dissolued pearle. 40

The yeilding sand, where she had troad,
Vntutcht yet with the winde,
By the faire posture plainely show'd,
Where I might _Cynthia_ finde.

When on vpon my waylesse walke,
As my desires me draw,
I like a madman fell to talke,
With euery thing I saw:

I ask'd some Lillyes why so white,
They from their fellowes were; 50
Who answered me, that _Cynthia's_ sight,
Had made them looke so cleare:

I ask'd a nodding Violet why,
It sadly hung the head,
It told me _Cynthia_ late past by,
Too soone from it that fled:

A bed of Roses saw I there,
Bewitching with their grace:
Besides so wondrous sweete they were,
That they perfum'd the place, 60

I of a Shrube of those enquir'd,
From others of that kind,
Who with such virtue them enspir'd,
It answer'd (to my minde).

As the base Hemblocke were we such,
The poysned'st weed that growes,
Till _Cynthia_ by her god-like tuch,
Transform'd vs to the Rose:

Since when those Frosts that winter brings
Which candy euery greene, 70
Renew vs like the Teeming Springs,
And we thus Fresh are scene.

At length I on a Fountaine light,
Whose brim with Pincks was platted;
The Banck with Daffadillies dight,
With grasse like Sleaue was matted,

When I demanded of that Well,
What power frequented there;
Desiring, it would please to tell
What name it vsde to beare. 80

It tolde me it was _Cynthias_ owne,
Within whose cheerefull brimmes,
That curious Nimph had oft beene knowne
To bath her snowy Limmes.

Since when that Water had the power,
Lost Mayden-heads to restore,
And make one Twenty in an howre,
Of _Esons_ age before.

And told me that the bottome cleere,
Now layd with many a fett 90
Of seed-pearle, ere shee bath'd her there:
Was knowne as blacke as Jet,

As when she from the water came,
Where first she touch'd the molde,
In balls the people made the same
For Pomander, and solde.

When chance me to an Arbour led,
Whereas I might behold:
Two blest _Elizeums_ in one sted,
The lesse the great enfold. 100

The place which she had chosen out,
Her selfe in to repose;
Had they com'n downe, the gods no doubt
The very same had chose.

The wealthy Spring yet neuer bore
That sweet, nor dainty flower
That damask'd not, the chequer'd flore
Of CYNTHIAS Summer Bower.

The Birch, the Mirtle, and the Bay,
Like Friends did all embrace; 110
And their large branches did display,
To Canapy the place.

Where she like VENVS doth appeare,
Vpon a Rosie bed;
As Lillyes the soft pillowes weare,
Whereon she layd her head.

Heau'n on her shape such cost bestow'd,
And with such bounties blest:
No lim of hers but might haue made
A Goddesse at the least. 120

The Flyes by chance mesht in her hayre,
By the bright Radience throwne
From her cleare eyes, rich Iewels weare,
They so like Diamonds shone.

The meanest weede the soyle there bare,
Her breath did so refine,
That it with Woodbynd durst compare,
And beard the Eglantine.

The dewe which on the tender grasse,
The Euening had distill'd, 130
To pure Rose-water turned was,
The shades with sweets that fill'd.

The windes were husht, no leafe so small
At all was scene to stirre:
Whilst tuning to the waters fall,
The small Birds sang to her.

Where she too quickly me espies,
When I might plainely see,
A thousand _Cupids_ from her eyes
Shoote all at once at me. 140

Into these secret shades (quoth she)
How dar'st thou be so bold
To enter, consecrate to me,
Or touch this hallowed mold.

Those words (quoth she) I can pronounce,
Which to that shape can bring
Thee, which the Hunter had who once
Sawe _Dian_ in the Spring.

Bright Nimph againe I thus replie,
This cannot me affright: 150
I had rather in thy presence die,
Then liue out of thy sight.

I first vpon the Mountaines hie,
Built Altars to thy name;
And grau'd it on the Rocks thereby,
To propogate thy fame.

I taught the Shepheards on the Downes,
Of thee to frame their Layes:
T'was I that fill'd the neighbouring Townes,
With Ditties of thy praise. 160

Thy colours I deuis'd with care,
Which were vnknowne before:
Which since that, in their braded hayre
The Nimphes and Siluans wore.

Transforme me to what shape you can,
I passe not what it be:
Yea what most hatefull is to man,
So I may follow thee.

Which when she heard full pearly floods,
I in her eyes might view: 170
(Quoth she) most welcome to these Woods,
Too meane for one so true.

Here from the hatefull world we'll liue,
A den of mere dispight:
To Ideots only that doth giue,
Which be her sole delight.

To people the infernall pit,
That more and more doth striue;
Where only villany is wit,
And Diuels only thriue. 180

Whose vilenesse vs shall neuer awe:
But here our sports shall be:
Such as the golden world first sawe,
Most innocent and free.

Of Simples in these Groues that growe,
Wee'll learne the perfect skill;
The nature of each Herbe to knowe
Which cures, and which can kill.

The waxen Pallace of the Bee,
We seeking will surprise 190
The curious workmanship to see,
Of her full laden thighes.

Wee'll suck the sweets out of the Combe,
And make the gods repine:
As they doe feast in _Ioues_ great roome,
To see with what we dine.

Yet when there haps a honey fall,
Wee'll lick the sirupt leaues:
And tell the Bees that their's is gall,
To this vpon the Greaues. 200

The nimble Squirrell noting here,
Her mossy Dray that makes,
And laugh to see the lusty Deere
Come bounding ore the brakes.

The Spiders Webb to watch weele stand,
And when it takes the Bee,
Weele helpe out of the Tyrants hand,
The Innocent to free.

Sometime weele angle at the Brooke,
The freckled Trout to take, 210
With silken Wormes, and bayte the hooke,
Which him our prey shall make.

Of medling with such subtile tooles,
Such dangers that enclose,
The Morrall is that painted Fooles,
Are caught with silken showes.

And when the Moone doth once appeare,
Weele trace the lower grounds,
When _Fayries_ in their Ringlets there
Do daunce their nightly rounds. 220

And haue a Flocke of Turtle Doues,
A guard on vs to keepe,
A witnesse of our honest loues,
To watch vs till we sleepe.

Which spoke I felt such holy fires
To ouerspred my breast,
As lent life to my Chast desires
And gaue me endlesse rest.

By _Cynthia_ thus doe I subsist,
On earth Heauens onely pride, 230
Let her be mine, and let who list,
Take all the world beside.

FINIS.

THE SHEPHEARDS SIRENA