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"God shield!" (quoth he, and turning up his eyes,) | When Winchester, with all those enemies

"To former health I hope him to restore, For in my skill his sound recovery lies; Doubt not thereof, if setting God before."

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Are you a surgeon?" (Peace again replies.)
Yea," quoth the frier, "and sent to heal his sore."
"Come near," quoth Peace," and God your com-
ing speed,

Never of help Contrition had more need."

And for more haste he haleth in the frier,
And his lord Conscience quickly of him told,
Who entertain'd him with right friendly cheer:
"O sir," quoth he, "entreat you that I could
To lend your hand to my dear cousin here,
Contrition, whom a sore disease doth bold,
That wounded by Hypocrisy of late,
Now lieth in most desperate estate."
"Sir," quoth the frier, "I hope him soon to cure,
Which to your comfort quickly you shall see,
Will he awhile my dressing but endure."
And to Contrition therewith cometh he,
And by fair speech himself of him assure,
But first of all going thorough for his fee:
Which done, quoth he, "if outwardly you show
Sound, 'not avails if inwardly or no."
But secretly assoiling of his sin,
No other med'cine will he to him lay,
Saying, that Heaven his silver him should win:
And to give friers, was better than to pray;
So he were shriv'd, what need he care a pin?
Thus with his patient he so long did play,
Until Contrition had forgot to weep.

This the wise ploughman show'd me from his
sleep,

He saw their faults that loosely lived then,
Others again our weaknesses shall see:
For this is sure, he bideth not with men,
That shall know all to be what they should be:
Yet let the faithful and industrious pen
Have the due merit; but return to me,
Whose fall this while blind Fortune did devise,
To be as strange as strangely I did rise.
Those secret foes yet subtly to deceive,
That me maligning, lifted at my state,
The king to marry forward still I heave,
(His former wife being repudiate)
With Ann the sister of the duke of Cleve,
The German princes to confederate,

Te back me still 'gainst those that 'gainst me lay,
Which as their own retain'd me here in pay.

Which my destruction principally wrought,
When afterward abandoning her bed,
Which to his will to pass could not be brought,
So long as yet I bare about my head,
The only man ber safety that had sought,
Of her again and only favoured,

Which was the cause he hasted to my end,
Upon whose fall hers likewise did depend.
For in his high distemp'rature of blood,
Who was so great whose life he did regard ?
Or what was it that his desires withstood,
He not invested, were it ne'er so hard?
Nor held he me so absolutely good,

That though I cross'd him, I could not be spar'd:
But with those things I lastly was to go,
Which he to ground did violently throw.
VOL IV.

Whom my much power from audience had de

barr'd,

The longer time their mischiefs to devise,
Feeling with me how lastly now it far'd,
When I had done the king what did suffice,
Lastly, thrust in against me to be heard,
When what was ill, contrarily turn'd good,
Making amain to th' shedding of iny blood.
And that the king his action doth deny,
And on my guilt doth altogether lay,
Having his riot satisfy'd thereby,
Seems not to know how I therein did sway,
What late was truth, now turn'd to heresy :
When he by me had purchased his prey,

Himself to clear, and satisfy the sin,

Leaves me but late his instrument therein.
Those laws I made myself alone to please,
To give me power more freely to my will,
Even to my equals hurtful sundry ways,
(Forced to things that most do say were ill)
Upon me now as violently seize,
By which I lastly perish'd by my skill,

On mine own neck returning (as my due)
That heavy yoke wherein by me they drew.
My greatness threaten'd by ill-boding eyes,
My actions strangely censured of all,
Yet in my way, my giddiness not sees
'The pit wherein I likely was to fall.
O, were the sweets of man's felicities
Often amongst not temper'd with some gall,
He would forget by his o'erweening skill,
Just Heaven above doth censure good and ill!
Things over-rank do never kindly bear,
As in the corn, the fluxure when we see
Fills but the straw, when it should fill the ear,
Rotting that time in ripening it should be,
And being once down, itself can never rear:
With us well doth this simile agree,

(By the wise man) due to the great in all,
By their own weight being broken in their
fall.

Self-loving man what sooner doth abuse,
And more than his prosperity doth wound?
Into the deep but fall how can he cbuse,
That over strides whereon his foot to ground?
Who sparingly prosperity doth use,
And to himself doth after-ill propound,

Unto his height who happily doth climb,
Sits above Fortune, and controlleth Tine.
Not choosing what us most delight doth bring,
And most that by the general breath is freed,
Wooing that suffrage but the virtuous thing,
Which in itself is excellent indeed,
Of which the depth and perfect managing
Amongst the most but few there be that heed,
Affecting that agreeing with their blood,
Seldom enduring, and as seldom good.
Bnt whilst we strive too suddenly to rise,
By flatt'ring princes with a servile tongue,
And being soothers to their tyrannies,
Work our much woes by what doth many wrong,
And unto others tending injuries.
Unto ourselves it happ'ning oft among,

In our own snares unluckily are caught,
Whilst our attempts fall instantly to naught

M

The council-chamber place of my arrest,
Where chief I was, when greatest was the store,
And had my speeches noted of the best,
That did them as high oracles adore:
A parliament was lastly my inquest,

That was myself a parliament before,

The Tower-hill scaffold last I did ascend:

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Cynthia late pass'd by,

Too soon from it that fled."

A bed of roses saw I there,
Bewitching with their grace;

Thus the great'st man of England made his end. Besides so wond'rous sweet they were,

THE QUEST OF CYNTHÍA.

WHAT time the groves were clad in green,
The fie'.'s drest all in flowers,

And that the sleek-hair'd nymphs were seen
To seek them summer bowers:

Forth rov'd I by the sliding rills,

To find where Cynthia sat,
Whose name so often from the hills-
The Echoes wouder'd at.

When me upon my quest to bring,

That pleasure might excel,

The Birds strove which should sweetliest sing, The flow'rs which should sweetest smell.

Long wand'ring in the wood, said I,

O whither's Cynthia gone?"

When soon the Echo doth reply

To my last word" Go on."

At length upon a lofty fir

It was my chance to find,

Where that dear name most due to her,
Was carv'd upon the rind.
Which whilst with wonder 1 beheld,
The bees their honey brought,

And up the carved letters fill'd,

As they with gold were wrought.

And near that tree's more spacious root,
Then looking on the ground,
The shape of her most dainty foot

Imprinted there I found.

Which stuck there like a curious seal,
As though it should forbid
Us, wretched mortals, to reveal

What under it was hid.

Besides, the flowers which it had press'd,
Appeared to my view

More fresh and lovely than the rest,
That in the meadows grew.

The clear drops, in the steps that stood
Of that delicious girl,

The nymphs, amongst their dainty food,
Drunk for dissolved pearl.
The yielding sand, where she had trod,
Untouch'd yet with the wind,
By the fair posture plainly show'd,
Where I might Cynthia find.
When on upon my wayless walk

As my desires ine draw,

I like a madman fell to talk
With every thing I saw :

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I ask'd some lilies, Why so white

They from their fellows were?"

Who answer'd me, "That Cynthia's sight Had made them look so clear."

That they perfum'd the place: I of a shrub of those enquir'd,

From others of that kind,

Who with such virtue them inspir'd?
It answer'd (to my mind:)

"As the base hemlock were we such,

The poisoned'st weed that grows, Till Cynthia, by her godlike touch, Transform'd us to the rose:

"Since when those frosts that winter brings, Which candy every green,

Renew us like the teeming springs,

And we thus fresh are seen."

At length I on a fountain light,

Whose brim with pinks was platted; The bank with daffadillies dight,

With grass like sleave was matted:
When I demanded of that well,

What pow'r frequented there;
Desiring, it would please to tell
What name it us'd to bear:
It told me "it was Cynthia's own,
Within whose cheerful brims,
That curious nymph had oft been known
To bathe her snowy limbs;
"Since when that water had the pow'r
Lost maidenhoods to restore,

And make one twenty in an hour,

Of son's age before."

And told me "That the bottom clear,

Now lay'd with many a fet

Of seed pearl, ere she bath'd her there,
Was known as black as jet:

"As when she from the water came,

Where first she touch'd the mould,
In balls the people made the same,
For pomander and sold."
When chance me to an arbour led,
Whereas I might behold
Two blest elysiums in one sted,

The less the great infold;

The place which she had chosen out,
Herself in to repose:

Had they come down, the gods no doubt
The very same had chose.

The wealthy spring yet never bore

That sweet, nor dainty flower,
That damask'd not the chequer'd floor
Of Cynthia's summer bower.

The birch, the myrtle, and the bay,
Like friends did all embrace;

And their large branches did display,
To canopy the place.

Where she like Venus doth appear

Upon a rosy bed;

As lilies the soft pillows were,

Whereon she lay'd her head.

Heav'n on her shape such cost bestow'd,

And with such bounties bless'd,
No limb of her's but might have made
A goddess at the least.

The flies by chance mesht in her hair,
By the bright radiance thrown
From her clear eyes, rich jewels were,
They so like diamonds shone.
The meanest weed the soil there bare,
Her breath did so refine,
That it with woodbine durst compare,
And beard the eglantine.

The dew which on the tender grass
The evening had distill'd,
To pure rose-water turned was,

The shades with sweets that fill'd.

The winds were hush'd, no leaf so small
At all was seen to stir:
Whilst tuning to the waters' fall,

The small birds sang to her.
Where she too quickly me espies,
When I too plainly see

A thousand Cupids from her eyes
Shoot all at once at me."

"Into these secret shades," quoth she,
"How dar'st thou be so bold

To enter, consecrate to me,

Or touch this hallow'd mould?

"Those words." quoth she, "I can pronounce, Which to that shape can bring

Thee, which the hunter had, who once
Saw Dian in the spring."

"Bright nymph," again I thus reply,
"This cannot me affright:

I had rather in thy presence die,
Than live out of thy sight.
"I first upon the mountains high
Built altars to thy name,
And grav'd it on the rocks thereby,
To propagate thy fame:

I taught the shepherds on the downs
Of thee to form their lays:

'Twas I that fill'd the neighbouring towns
With ditties of thy praise.

Thy colours I devis'd with care,
Which were unknown before:
Which since that, in their braided hair
The nymphs and sylvans wore.
"Transform me to what shape you can,
I pass not what it be:

Yea, what most hateful is to man,

So I may follow thee."

Which when she heard, full pearly floods
I in her eyes might view.

Quoth she," Most welcome to these woods,
Too mean for one so true.

"Here from the hateful world we'll live,
A den of mere despite :
To idiots only that doth give,
Which be her sole delight.
"To people the infernal pit,
That more and more doth strive}

Where only villainy is wit,
And devils only thrive.

"Whose vileness us shall never awe :
But here our sports shall be,
Such as the golden world first saw,
Most innocent and free.

"Of simples in these groves that grow,
We'll learn the perfect skill;
The nature of each herb to kuów,
Which curts, and which can kill.
"The waxen palace of the bee,
We seeking will surprise,
The curious workmanship to see
Of her full-laden thighs.

"We'll suck the sweets out of the comb, And make the gods repine,

As they do feast in Jove's great room,
To see with what we dine.
"Yet when there haps a honey fall,
We'll lick the syrupt leaves;
And tell the bees, that their's is gall
To this upon the greaves.
"The nimble squirrel noting here,
Her mossy dray that makes;
And laugh to see the dusty deer
Come bounding o'er the brakes.
"The spider's web to watch we'll stand,
And when it takes the bee,

We'll help out of the tyrant's hand
The innocent to free.
"Sometime we'll angle at the brook,
The freckled trout to take,
With silken worms and bait the hook,
Which him our prey shall make.
"Of meddling with such subtle tools,
Such dangers that enclose,

The moral is, that painted fools

Are caught with silken shows,

"And when the Moon doth once appear, We'll trace the lower grounds, When Fairies in their ringlets there

Do dance their nightly rounds.
"And have a flock of turtle-doves,
A guard on us to keep,

As witness of our honest loves
To watch us till we sleep."
Which spoke, I felt such holy fires
To overspread my breast
As lent life to my chaste desires,
And gave me endless rest.
By Cynthia thus do I subsist,

On Earth Heaven's ouly pride;
Let her be mine, and let who list
Take all the world beside.

THE SHEPHERD'S SIRENA. DORILUS, in sorrows deep, Autumn waxing old and ci.ill, As he sat his flocks to keep, Underneath an easy hill, Chane'd to cast his eye aside On those fields, where he had seen Bright Sirena, Nature's pride, Sporting on ne pleasant green;

To whose walks the shepherds oft
Came, her godlike foot to find;
And in places that were soft,
Kiss'd the print there left behind:
Where the path which she had trode,
Hath thereby more glory gain'd,
Than in Heav'n that milky road,
Which with nectar Hebe stain'd.
But bleak winter's boist'rous blasts
Now their fading pleasures chid,
And so fill'd them with his wastes,
That from sight her steps were hid.
Silly shepherd, sad the while
For his sweet Sirena gone,
All his pleasures in exile,
Laid on the cold earth alone:
Whilst his gamesome cut-tail'd cur
With his mirthless master plays,
Striving him with sport to stir,
As in his more youthful days.
Dorilus his dog doth chide,
Lays his well-tun'd bagpipe by,
And his sheep-hook casts aside,
"There," quoth he, "together lie."
When a letter forth he took,
Which to him Sirena writ,
With a deadly downcast look,
And thus fell to reading it.
"Dorilus, my dear," quoth she,
"Kind companion of my woe,
Though we thus divided be,
Death cannot divorce us so:
Thou whose bosom hath been still
Th' only closet of my care,
And in all my good and ill
Ever had thy equal share:
Might I win thee from thy föld,
Thou should'st come to visit me;
But the winter is so cold,
That I fear to hazard thee.

The wild waters are wax'd high,

So they are both deaf and dumb;

Lov'd they thee so well as I,

They would ebb when thou should'st come:

Then my cot with light should shine

Purer than the vestal fire;

Nothing here but should be thine,
That thy heart can well desire:
Where at large we will relate
From what cause our friendship grew,
And in that the varying fate,
Since we first each other knew:
Of my heavy passed plight,
As of many a future fear,
Which, except the silent night,
None but only thou shalt hear.
My sad heart it shall relieve,
When my thoughts I shall disclose,
For thou canst not choose but grieve,
When I shall recount my woes.
There is nothing to that friend,
To whose close uncrannied breast
We our secret thoughts may send,
And there safely let 'em rest:
And thy faithful counsel may
My distressed case assist;
Sad affliction else may sway
Me, a woman, as it list.
Hither I would have thee kaste,
Yet would gladly have thee.stay,

When those dangers I forecast,
That may meet thee by the way.
Do as thou shalt think it best,
Let thy knowledge be thy guide;
Like thou in my constant breast,
Whatsoever shall betide."

He her letter having read,
Puts it in his scrip again,
Looking like a man half dead,
By her kindness strangely slain:
And as one who inly knew
Her distressed present state,
And to her had still been true,
Thus doth with himself dilate.

"I will not thy face admire,
Admirable though it be,
Nor thine eyes, whose subtle fire
So much wonder win in me:
But my marvel shall be now,
(And of long it hath been so)
Of all woman-kind that thou
Wert ordain'd to taste of woe.
To a beauty so divine,
(Paradise in little done)

O that Fortune should assign
Aught but what thou well might'st shun!
But my counsels such must be,
(Though as yet I them conceal)
By their deadly wound in me,
They thy hurt must only heal.
Could I give what thou dost crave,
To that pass thy state is grown,
I thereby thy life may save,
But am sure to lose mine own.
To that joy thou dost conceive,
Through my heart the way doth lie,
Which in two for thee must cleave,
Lest that thou should'st go awry.
Thus my death must be a toy,
Which my pensive breast must cover;
Thy beloved to enjoy,

Must be taught thee by thy lover.

Hard the choice I have to chose ;

To myself if friend I be,

I must my Sirena lose;

If not so, she loseth me."

Thus whilst he doth cast about
What therein were best to do,
Nor could yet resolve the doubt,
Whether he should stay or go:
In those fields not far away
There was many a frolic swain,
In fresh russets day by day,
That kept revels on the plain.
Nimble Tom, sirnam'd the Tup,
For his pipe without a peer,
And could tickle Trenchmore up,
As t'would joy your heart to hear:
Ralph, as much renown'd for skill,
That the tabor touch'd so well:
For his gittern little Gill,
That all other did excel:
Rock and Rollo every way,
Who still led the rustic ging,
And could troul a roundelay,
That would make the fields to ring:
Collin on his sħalm so clear,
Many a high-pitch'd note that had,
And could make the Echoes near
Shout as they were waren mad:

Many a lustly swain beside,

That for nought but pleasure car'd,
Having Dorilus espy'd,

And with him knew how it far'd,
Thought from him they would remove
This strong melancholy fit;
Or so, should it not behove,
Quite to put him out of's wit:
Having learnt a song which he
Sometime to Sirena sent,
Full of jollity and glee,

When the nymph liv'd near to Trent;
They behind him softly got,
Lying on the earth along,
And when he suspected not,
Thus the jovial shepherds song.

NEAR to the silver Trent
Sirena dwelleth,
She to whom Nature lent
All that excelleth ;
By which the Muses late,

And the neat Graces,
Have for their greater state
Taken their places:
Twisting an Anadem,

Wherewith to crown her,

As it belong'd to them

Most to renown her.
cuo. On thy bank,
In a rank,

Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music
Along let them bring her,

Tagus and Pactolus

Are to thee debtor, Nor for their gold to us

Are they the better:
Henceforth of all the rest,
Be thou the river,
Which as the daintiest,
Puts them down ever,
For as my precious one

O'er thee doth travel,
She to pearl paragon
Turneth thy gravel.
cao. On thy bank,
In a rank,

Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music
Along let them bring her.

Our mournful Philomel,

That rarest tuner, Henceforth in April

Shall wake the sooner;
And to her shall complain
From the thick cover,
Redoubling every strain
Over and over:

For when my love too long
Her chamber keepeth ;
As though it suffered wrong,
The morning weepeth.
CHо. On thy bank,

In a rank,

Let thy swans sing her, And with their music

Along let them bring her.

Oft have I seen the Sun,

To do her honour,

Fix himself at his noon

To look upon her,

And hath gilt every grove,
Every hill near her,
With his flames from above,
Striving to cheer her:
And when she from his sight
Hath herself turned,

He, as it had been night,

In clouds hath mourned.
CHо. On thy bank,
In a rank,

Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music
Along let them bring her.
The verdant meads are seen,

When she doth view them, In fresh and gallant green

Straight to renew them;
And every little grass

Broad itself spreadeth,
Proud that this bonny lass
Upon it treadeth:
Nor flower is so sweet

In this large cincture,
But it upon her feet

Leaveth some tincture. CHо. On thy bank,

In a rank,

Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music
Along let them bring her.
The fishes in the flood,

When she doth angle,
For the hook strive agood
Them to intangle;
And leaping on the land

From the clear water, Their scales upon the sand Lavishly scatter; Therewith to pave the mould Whereon she passes,

So herself to behold As in her glasses. cho. Ún thy bank,

In a rank,

Let thy swans sing her,

And with their music
Along let them bring her.
When she looks out by night,
'The stars stand gazing,
Like comets to our sight

Fearfully blazing;

As wond'ring at her eyes,

With their much brightness, Which so amaze the skies,

Dimming their lightness.
The raging tempests are calm
When she speaketh,
Such most delightsome balm
From her lips breaketh.
CHо. On thy bank,

In a rank,

Let thy swans sing her, And with their music Along let them bring her.

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