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What gars my Willie that he so doth wane? Alexis, now I see thou dost mistake,

If it be for thou hast mis-said, or done, There is no meaning thou thy charge forsake;

Take keepe of thine owne councell; and thou art Nor would I wish thee so thyselfe abuse,

As sheene and cleare fro'both-twaine as the Sunne: As to neglect the calling for thy Muse :

Foi, all swaines laur thine haviour, and thine art. But let the e two so of each other borrow,

May hap thine heart (that undeath brooke neglect, That they may season mirth, and lessen sorrow.

And jealous of thy fresh fame) liggs upon Thy flocke will helpe thy charges to defray,

Thy rurall songs, which rarest clarkes affect, Thy Muse to passe the long and tedious day.

Dreading the descant that mote fall thereon. Or whilst thou tun'st sweet measures to thy reed,

Droope not for that (man) but unpleate thy browes, Thy sheepe to listen will more neere thee feed;

And blithly, so, fold envies up in pleats:
The wolves will shun them, birds above thee sing, For, fro' thy makings, milke and melly flowes,
And lambkins dance about thee in a ring;

To feed the songster-swaines with art's soot-meats.
Nay, which is more, in this thy low estate
Thou in contentment shalt with monarkos mate: Now, silcer (W'ernock) thou hast spilt the marke,
For mighty Pan, and Ceres to us grants,

Albe that I ne wot I han mis-song:
Our fields and flockes, shall help our outward wants. But, for I am so yong, I dread my warke
The Muses teach us songs to put off cares,

Woll be misvalued both of old and yong.
Grac'd with as rare and sweet conceits as theirs :
And we can thinke our lasses on the greenes

As faire, or fairer than the fairest queenes ;

Is ilke the cause that thou been ligge so laid, Or, what is more than most of them shall do,

Who whilom no encheson could fore-haile; Wee'le make their juster farnes last longer too,

And caitive-courage nere made misapaid, (saile ? Having our lines by greatest princes grac'd,

But with chicfe yongsters, songsters, bar'st thy When both their name and memory's defac'd.

As swoot as swans thy strains make Thams to ring Therefore, Alexis, though that some disdaine

Fro' Cotswould, where her sourse her course dotla The heavenly musicke of the rural plaine,

take, What is't to us, if they (or'eseene) contemne

To her wide mouth, which vents thy carolling The dainties which were nere ordain'd for them?

Beyond the hether and the further lake. And though that there be other sone envy

Than up (said swaine) pull frothy vajled cheeke The praises due to sacred poesie,

Hur prop, thy palme: and let thy virilajes Let them disdaine and fret till they are wearie,

Kill envious cunning swaines (whom all do seeke) Wein ourselves have that shall make us merrie : With envy, at thy earned gaudy praise. Which be that wants, and had the power to know it, plither, lad, thou reck’st much of thy swinke, Would give his life that he might dye a poet.

When swinke ne swat thou shouldst ne reck for


At Aganip, than, lay thee downe to drinke Thou hast so well (yong Thirsis) plaid thy part, Untill thy stomacke swell, to raise thy pame. I am almost in love with that street art :

What tho' time yet hannot bedowld thy chin? And if some power will but inspire my song, Thy dam's deere wombe was Helicon to thee; Alexis will not be obscured long.

Where (like a loach) thou drew'st thilke liquor in,
Which on thy heart-strings ran with musicke's

glee. Enough, kinde pastor: but, oh! yonder see

Than up betimes, and make the sullen swaines Two shepheards, walking on the lay-banke be,

With thy shrill reed such jolly-jovisance, Cuttie and Willie, that so dearly love,

That they (entranc'd) may wonder at thy straines ; Who are repairing unto yonder grove :

So, leave of thee ne're ending sovenance. Let's follow them : for n' ver braver swaines Made musicke to their flockes upon these plaines. They are more worthy, and can better tell Ah, Wernock, Wernock! so my sp'rits beene steept What rare contents do with a poet dwell. (shere, In dulnesse, thro' these duller times missawes Then wbiles our sheepe the short sweet grasse do Of sik-like musicke, (riming rudely cleept) And till the long shade of the billes appeare, That yer I pipe well, must be better cause. Wee'le heare then sing; for though the one be Ah! who (with lavish draughts of Sganip) Never was any that more swestiy sung. (young, Can swill their soule to frolicke so, their Muse,

GEO. WITHER. When courts and camps, that erst the Muse did


Do now forlore her; nay, her most abuse ? AN EGLOGUE

Now, with their willesse, causelesse surqnedry, BETWEEN YONGE WILLIĖ, THE SINGER OF HIS NATIVE They been transpos'd fro’ what of yore they were, PASTORAIS, AND OLD WERNOCK, HIS FRIEND.

That swaines, who but to looser luxurie
Can show the way, are now most cherisht there.

These times been crimefull, (ah!) and being so, WIE, why lig'st thou (man) so wo-be-gon ? Bold swaines, (deft songsters) sing them criminall; What! been thy rather lamkins ill-apaid ?

So, make themselves oft gleefull in their wo: Or, hath some drerie chance thy pipe misdone? For thy tho' songsters are misween'd of all. Or, hast thou any sheep-cure mis-assaid ?

Mecænas woont in blonket liveries Or, is some conteck 'twixt thy love and thee? Yclad sike chanters ; but these miser times Or, else some love-warke arsie-varsie ta'ne ? Uncase hem quite, that all may hem despise, Or, Fates lesse frolicke than they wont to be ? As tbey don all tbeir best embellisht rimes.





And harvest-qucenes of yore would chaplets make They been as those that Heav'n's-folke warble on. To crowne their scalps that couth most swootly I con my good; for, now my scalpe is frost sing,

Yeelding to snow; the crow-feete neer mine eyne And give hem many a gaude at ale or wake, Been markes of mickle precfe I have, that most But now ne recke they of soot carolling.

Of all glees clse alow, han sudaine fine. Enaunter they should be as seeme they would, O how it garres old Wernock swynck with glee Or songen lowdly for so deere desart;

In that emprise that cbiven featest fame, Or else be peregall to nymphes of old,

It heats my heart above abilitie From which their beastlihed now freely start. To leave parduring sovenance of my name. Than must they latch the blowes of fates too fell And when mine engine ban heav'd by my thought, With their too feeble clowches as they con: Au that on poynt device eftsvoncs y fell, For, none regards or guards hem for their spell, 0! how my hart's joy rapt, as I bad cought, Tho' they, on point-rlevice, empt Helicon! A princedome to my share, of thilke newell. There nis thilke chivisance they whilome had They beene of pleasances the alderbest : For piping swoote; sith, with an heydeguies, Than, God to forne; I wol no mo but tho: Pipt by Tom-piper, or a Lorrel-lad,

Tho'been the summe of all I loven best: (So be he clawes hem) they idolatrize.

And for hem love I life; else nold I so. And those that should presse proper songs for sale, Drive on thy fucke, then, to the motley plaines, Bene, in their doomes, so dull; in skill, so crude; Where by some prill, that 'mong the pibbles plods, That they had leaver printen Jacke a vale, Thou, with thine oaten reede and queintest Or Clim ô Clough, (alacke!) they been so rude !

straines, And sith so few feate songsters in an age

Maist rapt the senior swaines, and minor gods : Bene founden ; few do weigh hem as they been, That as on Ida, that mych-famed mount, For, swaines, that con no skill of holy rage, A shepheard swaine; that sung lesse soote than Bene foe-men to faire skil's enlawreld queene.

thoil, Enough is mee, for thy, that I ma vent

By light love's goddesse, had the grace to mount My wit's spels to myselfe, or unto thee,

To owe the sheenest queene that Earti did owe: (Deer Wernock) which dost feel like miscontent So, thou maist, with thy past'rall minstralsy Sith thou, and all unheeded, singt with me. Beating the aire, atweene resounding hils,

Draw to thee bonibels as smirke, as hy,

And wrap hem in thy love begrey their wils :

For (ah!) had Phæbus' clarkes the meanes of some Vartue it's sed (and is an old said-saw)

Worse clarkes (parav'nter) so to sing at ease ; Is for burselfe, to be forsought alone :

They soone would make high long-wing'd hagThen eftsoones fro' their case thy shrill pipes draw,

gards come ; And make the welkin ringen with their tone.

And vaile unto their lures; so, on hem seise. Of world, ne worly men take thou no keepe,

For, bright nymphes buxume breasts do eas'ly ope What the one doth, or what the other say; To let in thirling notes of noted laies : For should I so, I so should cyne ont-weepe: For, deftly song they han a charming scope; Then, with me; Willie, ay sing care away. So, nyinphs themselves adore brows girt with bayes. It's wood to be fore-pind with wastefull carke

Then, Willie, (ah! for pitty of thine heart, In many a noyfull stoure of willing bale

That drouping yearnes, at inisses of these times) For vading toyes : but trim wit's poorest wark Take thou thy pipe, and of glee take thy part; The upper Heav'n han hent fro' vether dale.

Or cheere thyselfe with cordials of thy rimes. Thilks all our share of all the quelling heape Befure the world's sterne face, the world back-bite Of this world's good : enough is us to tell

So slyly, that her parts ne'it perceive : How rude the best bene, caduke, and how cheape, Morall thy matter so, that, tho' thou smite, But, laude for well-done warks, done all excel ! Thou maist with tickling her dull sence, deceive. For thy we shoulden take keepe of our race Then hy thee, Willie, to the neighbour wasts, That here ve rennen, and what here we doon Where thou (as in another world alone) That whan we wenden till another place,

Maist (while thy flocke doe feede) blow bitter blasts Our‘sorenance may here, ay-gayly woon.

On thy loud'st pipe, to make il's pertly knowne. For, time will undersong lis; and our voice For, sith the rude world doon us misplease Woll woxen weake; and our devising lame : That well deserven, tell we bur hus owne ; For, life is briefe ; and skils been long, and And let her ken our cunning can, with ease, choice :

[fame. Aye shend, or lend her sempiterne renowne. Then spend we time, that time may spare our Looke how breeme winter chamfers earth's bleeke face!

Ah, Wernock! so thy sawes mine leart downe thril S9, corbed elde accoyes youth's surquedry; With love of Muses' skill in speciall, And, in the front, deepe furrowes doon enchase, That I ne wot, on mould what feater skill Inveloped with falling snow a hy.

Can be vhugg'd in lordings pectorall. Then nought can be achiev'd with witty shewes, Ne would I it let bee for all the store Sith griefe of elde accloyen wimble wit;

In th' uncoth scope of both-twain hemispheres; Then, us behoven, yer elde sick accrewes,

Ynough is me, perdy, nor strive for more
Time to forelay, with spels retarding it.

But to be rich in hery for my leeres.
I not what blisse is whelm'd with Heav'n's coape, Ne would I sharen that soule-gladding glee
So be the pleasance of the Muse be none :

In th' ever gaudy gardens of tbe blest For, when thilke geesome joyes ban hallowed Not there to han, the Muses' companee, scope,

Which, God to-fore, is, of the best, the best,

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all yours,


Now, Wernock, shalt thou see (so mote I thee)
That I nill usen any skill so mytch,
(Paire fall my swinck) as this so nice, and free,

THE INNER TEMPLE MASQUE. In case I may my name to Heaven stitch.

For why? I am by kind so inly pul'd
To these delices, that when I betake

Non semper Grosius arcus
Myself to other lore I more am dul'd;

Destinat, exemplo sed laxat cornua nervo. And therefro, keenely set, I fall to make.

Ovid. ad Pisonem. But, well-away, thyn is the way to thriven; And, my neer kith, for that wol sore me shend: Who little reck how I by kind am given; But her wold force to swinck for thriftier end.

SOCIETY OF THE INNER TEMPLE. Jlence forward then I must assay, and con

My leere in leefull lore, to pleased them
That, sib to me, would my promotion,

I Give you but your owne: if you refuse to foster And carke for that to prancke our common stem : it, I knowe not who will : by your meanes it may For, now (as wends the world) no skill to that

live. If it degenerate in kinde from those other (Or rather but that) thrives; sith saaines are now So full of contecke, that they wot ne what

the society hath produced, blame yourselves for They would; so, if they could, they all would not seeking a happier Muse. I knowe it is not

without faultes, yet such as your loves, or at least So fares it in calme seasons with curst men; If frennes forbeare at home, hem to invade,

poetica licentia (the common salve) will make They wry their peace to noy each other then tolerable: what is good in it, that is yours; what By plees, till they decease, or fall, or fade.

bad, myne ; what indifferent, both; and that will
So times been keener now with common swaynes, suffice, since it was done to please ourselves in
Than when as forraigne soe-men with hem fought:
For, now they swyncke, but for sly law-men's private, by him that is

Or seld they should possessen what they ought,
But, what for this? To me it little longs
To gab of sikliche notes of misery;

Ynough is me to chaunten swoote my songs,
And blend hem with my rural mynstrelsy.

On one side the hall, towardes the lower end, was But, О (my Wernock) how am I to thee

discovered a cliffe of the sea, done over in part Obligen, for thy keene reencouragements

white, according to that of Virgil, lib. 5. To skill so mickle lov'd and sought of me As this of making with arts elements?

Jamque adeo scopulos Syrenum adrecta subibat I not how I shall thrive therein; ne how

Difficiles quondam multorumque ossibus albos. I shall be dempt of in these nicer times :

Upon it were seated two Syrens, as they are deBut howsoere so thou my workcs alow,

scribed by Hyginus and Servius, with their upper I nill be ill-apaiden with my rimes.

parts like women to the navell, and the rest like WERNOCK.

a hen. One of these, at the first discovery of Thou needst not, Willie ; wretch were I to laude

the scene, (a sea being done in perspective on

one side the cliffe) began to sing this songe, Thee in thy misses; for, I so should be To th’adultries of thy wits-scapes, but a baude,

beinge as lascivious and proper to them, and Ne, as a friend, in sentence, should be free. beginninge as that of theirs in Hom. lib. ph. Than, wend thon fairly on, with thyne emprise ;

Οδ. Διορ' άγ ίων πέλυαιν Οδυσευ μέγα κύδος Αχαιων. Sing cleerely, Will, on mine encouragemeut, And other swaines, more able to devise; And, fixe thee for it, in the firmament.

Steere bither, steere, your winged pines, Ynough is me so I may beare a part

All beaten mariners, Aye in the Muses quire with those and thee;

Here lye Love's undiscovered mynes, Il'e sing (at ease) aloud, with cheerefull bart,

A prey to passengers ;
No base, ne meane, but tenour of best glee.

Perfumes farre sweeter than the best

Which make the phenix' urne and nest.
And I, with thee, woll chaunt each counter-verse

Feare not your ships, So shrilly, that we'll make thilke quire to ring

Nor any to oppose you, save our lips, As ever do the angels; who rehearse [sing.

But come on shore, The loudest lauds of Heav'n's Lord whan they

Where no joy dyes till love hath gotten more. So, farewel, Wernock, mickle thanks to thee The last two lines were repeated as from a grove For thy freedome, that canst so well devise :

nere, by a full chorus, and the Syren about to Phoebus now goes to glade; then now goe we, sing againe, Triton (in all parts as Apollonius, Unto our sheddes to rest us till he rise.

lib. 4. Argonaut. showes him) was seen interWERNOCK.

rupting her thus : Agree'd, deere Willie, gent and debonaire, Wee'l hence: for, rhumaticke now fares the aire. Leave, leare, alluring Syren, with thy song,


To hasten what the Fates would fain prolong :


Your sweetest tunes but grones of mandrakes be ; At the end of this songe Circe was seene upon the He his owne traytor is that heareth thee.

rocke, quaintly attyred, her haire loose about Tethys commands, nor is it fit that you

ber shoulders, an anadem of powers on her Should ever glory you did him subdue

head, with a wand in her hand, and then makBy wyles, whose pollicyes were never spread ing towardes the Syrens, called them thence "Till flaming Troy gave light to have them read. with this speech: Ulysses now furrowes the liquid plaine, Doubtfull of seeing Ithaca againe,

Syrens, ynough! cease; Circe hath prevaild, For in his way more stops are thrust by time,

The Greeks, which on the dauncinge billowrs sayld, Than in the path where vertue comes to climbe :

About whose shippes a hundred dolphins clunge, She that with silver springs for ever fills

Wrapt with the musicke of Ulysses' tongue, The shady groves, sweet meddowes, and the hills,

Have with their guide, by powerfull Circe's hand,

Cast their hook'd auchors on Æca's strand.
From whose continuall store such pooles are fed,
As in the land for seas are famosed.

Yonde stands a bille crown'd with high wavinge

(sees, 'Tis she whose favour to this Grecian tends, And to remove bis ruine Triton sends.

Whose gallant toppes each neighb’ringe countrye

Under whose shade an hundred Sylvans playe, SYRUN.

With gaudy nymphes farre fairer than the daye ; But'tis not Tethys, nor a greater powre, [hour) where everlastinge springe witir silver showres Cynthia, that rules the waves; scarce he (each Sweet roses doih increase to grace our bowres ; That wields the thunderboltes, can thinges begun Where lavish Flora, prodigall in pride, By mighty Circe (daughter to the Sun)

Spends what might well enrich all earth beside, Checke or controule ; she that by charmes can And to adorue this place she loves so deare, The scaled fish to leave the brinye lake; (make Stays in some climates scarcely halfe the yeare. And on the seas walke as on land she were ; When, would she to the world indifferent bee, She that can pull the pale Moone from her spheare, They should continuall Aprill hare as we. And at mid-day the world's all glorious eye Muffle with cloudes in longa obscuritie;

Midway the wood, and from the leveld lands, She that can cold December set on fire,

A spatious, yet a curious arbour standes, And from the grave bodyes with life inspire;

Wherein should Phæbus once to pry beginne, She that can cleave the center, and with ease

I would benight him 'ere he gette his inne, A prospect make to our Antipodes; (made,

Or turne his steedes awry, so drawe him on

To burne all landes but this, like Phaëton.
Whose mystique spelles have fearfull thunders
And forc'd brave rivers to run retrogo le;

Ulysses neare his mates, by my strange charmes. She, without stories, that sturdy oakes can tare, Lyes there till my returne in sleepe's soft armes : And turne their rootes where late their curl'd Then, Syrens, quickly wend me to the bon re, toppes were,

To fitte their welcome, aud show Circe's powre. She that can with the winter solstice bringe

All Flora's daintyes, Circe bids me singe ;
Aud till some greater hand her pow're can staye,

What all the elements doe owe to thee,
Who'ere coinmand, I none but her obeye.

In their obedience is perform'd in me.

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Thinke on her wrath.

I shall. Triton ! farewelle.


Vaine was thy message, vaine her haste, for I
Must tune againe my wanton melodye.

Here she went on with her song thus :
For swellinge waves, our panting brestes,

Where never stormes arise,
Exchange, and be awhile our guestes;

For starres gaze on our eyes.
The compasse, love shall hourely singe,
And as he goes about the ringe,

We will not misse
To telle each pointe he nameth with a kisse.

While Circe was speakinge her first speech, and

at these words, “ Yond stands a hill," &c. a travers was drawne at the lower end of tbe ball, and gave way for the discovery of an artificiali wood, so neere imitating nature, that, I thinke, had there been a grove like that in the open plaine, birds would have been faster drawne to that than to Zeuxis' grapes. The trees stood at the climing of an bill, and lefte at their feete a little plaine, which they circled like a crescente. In this space, upon hillockes, were seen eight musitians in crimsen taffity rubes, with chaplets of lawrell on their heades, their lutes by them, which being by them toucht as a warninge to the nymphes of the wood, from among the trees was heard this songe.



Then come on shore,
Where no joy dyes till love hath gotten more.

Waat singe the sweete birds in each grove?

Nought but love.
What sound our .eccho, day and night?

All delighte.

Hom. Anná i Nuenos 0.gaths, &c.




What doth each wynd breathe us that Reetes? I tyn'd the firebrande that (beside thy flight)
Endlesse sweets.

Left Polyphemus in eternall nighte;
And lastly to Ææa brought thee on,

Safe from the man-devouring Læstrygon.
Is there a place on earth this isle excels,

This for Ulysses' love hath Circe done,
Or any nymphes more bappy live than we, And if to live with me thou shalt be wonne,
When all our sorges, our soundes, and breath Aurora's hand shall never drawe awaye
inges be,

The sable vale that hides the gladsome daye.
That here all love, delighte, and sweetness dwells. But we new pleasures will beginne to taste,
By this time Circe and the Syrens being come into To instance what I canne: Musicke, thy voyce,

And better stille, those we enjoyed laste. the wood, Ulysses was seene lying as asleep, under And of all those have felt our wrath, the choyce the couverte of a faire tree, towardes whom

Appeare; and in a dance 'gin that delight Circe coming, bespake thus.

Which with the minutes shall growe intinite.

Here one attir'd like a woodman, in all poyntes, Yet holdes soft sleepe his course. Now Ithacus,

came forth of the wood, and, going towards Ajax would offer hecatombes to us,

the stage, sunge this songe to call away the And Ilium's ravish'd wifes, and childlesse sires,

With incense dym the bright æthereal fires,

To have thee bounde in chaynes of sleepe as here; Come yee whose lornes the cuckold weares,
But that thou may'st behold, and knowe how deare
Thou art to Circe, with my magicke deepe,

The whittoll too, with asse's eares;
And powerfull verses, thus I banish sleepe.

Let the wolfe leave howlinge,
The baboone his scowlinge,

And grillus hye
Sonne of Erebus and Nighte,

Out of his stye. Hye away; and aime thy flighte

Though gruntinge, though barkinge, though brayWhere consorte none other fowle,

inge yee come.

[home. Than the batte, and sullen owle.

W'e'ele make yee daunce quiet, and so send yee Where upon the lyrber grasse,

Nor ginne shall snare you, Poppy and mandragoras,

Nor inastive scare you With like simples not a few,

Nor learne the baboone's trickes, Hange for ever droppes of dewe.

Nor grillus' seoffe, Where flowes Lethe, without coyle,

From the hogge troughe, Softly like a streaine of oyle.

But turne againe unto the thickes. Hye thee thither, gentle Sleepe,

Here's none ('tis hop'd) so foolish, scornes With this Greeke no longer keepe:

That any els should weare the hornes. Thrice I charge thee by my wand,

Here's no curre with howlinge, Thrice with mocy from my band,

Nor an ape with scowlinge, Doe I to touch Ulysses' eyes,

Shall mocke or moe And with the jaspis: Then arise

At what you showe. Sagest Greeke.

In jumpinge, in skippinge, in turninge, or oughte

You shall doe to please us how well or how noughte. Ulysses (as by the powre of Circe) awakinge, thus

If tbere be any began :

Amonge this many,

Whom such an humour steares,
Thou more than mortalle mayde,

May he still lye,

In Grillus' stye,
Who, when thou listes, canst make (as if afraide)
The mountaines tremble, and with terrour shake

Or weare for ever the asse's eares. The seate of Dis; and from Averous' lake

While the first staffe of this songe was singinge, Grim Hecate with all the Furyes bringe,

out of the thickets on eyther side of the passage To worke revenge ; or to thy questioninge

came rushing the Antimasque, being such as by Disclo:e the secretes of th' infernall shades,

Circe, were supposed to have beene transformed Or raise the ghostes that walke the under-glades.

(havinge the mindes of men still) into these To thee, whom all obey, Ulysses bendes,

shapes followinge: But may I aske (greate Circe) whereto tendes Thy never-failinge handes ? Shall we be free? Two with heartes, heades, and bodyes, as Actæon Or must thyne anger crush my mates and me? is pictur'd.

Two like Midas, with asses' earts.

Two like wolves, as Lycaon is drawne. Neyther, Laertes' sonne, with winges of love, Two like baboons. To thee, and none but thee, my actions move. Grillus (of whom Plutarche writes in his morralles) My arte went with thee, and thou me may'st in the shape of a bogge.

thanke, In winninge Rhesus' horses, e're they dranke These together dancinge an antique measure, to. Of Xanthus' streame; and when with human gore, wardes the latter end of it missed Grillus, who Cleare Hebrus' channell was all stained 'ore; When some brave Greeks, companions then with 2 The musicke was composed of treble violins, thee,

with all the inward parts, a base violle, base lute, Forgot their country through the lotos tree; sagbut, cornamute, and a tabour and pipe.



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