WILLIE.

ROGET, droop not, fee the fpring
Is the earth enamelling,
And the birds on every tree
Greet this morn with melody:
Hark, how yonder thrustle chants it,
And her mate as proudly vaunts it;
See how every stream is drest
By her margin, with the best
Of Flora's gifts, she seems glad

For fuch brooks fuch flowers fhe had:
All the trees are quaintly tired
With green buds, of all defired;
And the hawthorn every day,
Spreads fome little fhew of May:
See the primrose sweetly fet
By the much-lov'd violet,
All the banks do fweetly cover,
As they would invite a lover
With his lafs, to see their dreffing,
And to grace them by their preffing.
Yet in all this merry tide
When all cares are laid afide,
Roget fits as if his blood

Had not felt the quick'ning good
Of the fun, nor cares to play,

Or with fongs to pass the day
As he wont. Fie, Roget, fie,
Raife thy head, and merrily

.1

Tune us fomewhat to thy reed;
See our flocks do freely feed :
Here we may together fit,
And for mufick very fit

Is this place; from yonder wood
Comes an echo fhrill and good;
Twice full perfectly it will
Anfwer to thine oaten quill.
Roget, drop not then, but fing
Some kind welcome to the spring.

ROGET.

Ah Willie, Willie, why should I,
Sound my notes of jollity?
Since no fooner can I play
Any pleafing roundelay,
But fome one or other still
'Gins to defcant on my quill;
And will fay, by this, he me
Meaneth in his minftralfy.
If I chance to name an afs
In my fong, it comes to pass,
One or other fure will take it
As his proper name, and make it
Fit to tell his nature too.
Thus whate'er I chance to do
Happens to my lofs, and brings
To my name the venom'd ftings
Of ill report: How should I
Sound then notes of jollity?

WILLIE.

'Tis true, indeed, we fay all
Rub a gall'd horfe on the gall,
Kick he will, ftorm, and bite :
But the horse of founder plight
Gently feels his master's hand.
In the water thrust a brand
Kindled in the fire, 'twill hifs;
When a ftick that taken is
From the hedge, in water thrust,
Never rokes as would the first,
But endures the water's touch.
Roget, fo it fares with fuch

Whose owne guilt hath them enflam'd,
Rage whene'er their vice is blam'd.
But who in himfelf is free
From all fpots, as lilies be,
Never flirs, do what thou can,
If thou flander fuch a man
Yet he's quiet, for he knows
With him no fuch vices close.
Only he that is indeed
Spotted with the leprous feed
Of corrupted thoughts, and hath
An ulcerous foul in the path
Of reproof, he ftraight will brawl,
If you rub him on the gall.
But in vain then fhall I keep
These my harmless flock of sheep.
And though all the day I tend them,
And from wolves and foxes fhend them,
Wicked fwains that bear me fpite,
In the gloomy vail of night,
Of my fold will draw the pegs,
Or elfe break my lambkins legs :
Or unhang my weather's bell,
Or bring briars from the dell,
And them in my fold by pieces
Caft, to tangle all their fleeces.
Well-a-day! fuch churlish swains
Now and then lurk on our plains;
That I fear, a time, ere long,
Shall not hear a fhepherd's fong.
Nor a fwain fhall take in tafk
Any wrong, nor once unmask
Such as do with vices rife
Soil the shepherd's happy life:
Except he means his sheep thall be
A prey to all their injury.
This caufeth me I do no more
Chant fo as I wont of yore?
Since in vain then should I keep
These my harmless flock of sheep.

WILLIE.

Yet if fuch thou wilt not fing,
Make the woods and vallies ring
With fome other kind of lore,
Roget hath enough in store,
Sing of love, or tell fome tale,
Praise the flowers, the hills, the vale;
Let us not here idle be,
Next day I will fing to thee.
Hark on knap of yonder hill
Some fweet fhepherd tunes his quill,
And the maidens in a round
Sit (to hear him) on the ground.

And if thou begin, shall we
Grac'd be with like company.
And to gird thy temples bring
Garlands for fuch fingering.

Then raise thee Roget.

ROGET.

Gentle Swain,

Whom I honour for thy ftrain,
Though it would beseem me more
To attend thee and thy lore:
Yet left thou might'ft find in me
A neglect of courtesy,

I will fing what I did leer
Long ago in Janiveer
Of a skilful aged fire,
As we tofted by the fire.

WILLIE.

Sing it out, it needs must be

Very good what comes from thee.

ROGET.

Whilome, an emperor, prudent and wise,
Reigned in Rome, and had fons three,
Which he had in great cheertee and great prize
And when it fhop fo, that th' infirmity
Of death, which no wight may efchew or flee,
Him threw down in his bed, he let to call
His fons, and before him they came all,

And to the firft he faid in this maneere,
All th' heritage which at the dying
Of my father, he me left, all in feere
Leave I thee: And all that of my buying
Was with my penny, all my purchafing,

My fecond fon bequeath I to thee:
And to the third fon thus faid he :

Unmoveable good, right none withouten path
Thee give I may; but I to thee devife
Jewels three, a ring, broach, and a cloth:
With which, and thou be guided as the wife,
Thou may't get all that ought thee suffice;
Who fo that the ring used ftill to wear
Of all folks the love he shall conquer.

And who fo the broach beareth on his breaft,
It is eke of fuch virtue and fuch kind,
That think upon what thing him liketh beft,
And he as b'live fhall it have and find.
My words fon imprint well in mind:

The cloth eke hath a marvellous nature,
Which that shall be committed to thy cure.

Who so fit on it, if he with where
In all the world to been, he fuddenly
Without more labour fhall be there.
Son, thofe three jewels bequeath I
To thee, unto this effect certainly,
That to study of the university
Thou go, and that I bid and charge thee.

When he had thus faid, the vexation
Of death fo hafted him, that his fpirit
Anon forfook his habitation
In his body, death would no refpite
Him yeve at all, he was of his life quit.

And buried was with fuch folemnity,
As fell to his imperial dignity.

Of the youngest fon I tell fhall,

And fpeak no more of his brethren two,
For with them have I not to do at all.
Thus fpake the mother Jonathas unto :
Sin God hath his will of thy father do;
To thy father's will, would I ne conform,
And truly all his teftament perform.

He three jewels, as thou knowest well,
A ring, a broach, and a cloth, thee bequeath,
Whole virtues he thee told every deal,

Or that he past hence and yield up the breath:
O good God, his departing, his death

Full grievously fricketh unto mine heart, But fuffered mot been all how fore it smart.

In that cafe women have fuch heaviness,
That it not lieth in my cunning aright;
You tell of fo great forrow the excels:
But wife women can take it light,
And in fhort while put unto the flight

All forrow and woe, and catch again comfort,
Now to my tale make I my refort.

Thy father's will, my fon, as I faid ere,
Will I perform; have here the ring, and go
To study anon, and when that thou art there,
As thy father thee bade, do even so,
And as thou wilt, my bleffing have also:
She unto him, as fwith, took the ring,
And bad him keep it well for any thing.

He went unto the study general
Where he gat love enough, and acquaintance
Right good and friendly; the ring caufing all.
And on a day to him befell this chance,
With a woman, a mortel of pleafance,

By the firects of the university,
As he was in his walking, met he.

And right as b'live he had with her a tale,
And there withal fore in her love he brent;
Gay, fresh, and piked, was the to the fale,
For to that end, and to that intent
She thither came, and both forth they went;
And he a pikol rowned in her ear,
Nat wot I what, for 1 ne came nat there.

She was his paramour shortly to fee,
This man to folks all was fo leef,
That they him gave abundance of money,

He feafted folk, and flood at high boucheefe:
Of the lack of good, he felt no grief,
All whilst the ring he with him had,
But failing it, his friendship 'gan fad.

His paramour which that ycalled was
Fellicula, marvelled right greatly
Of the difpenfes of this Jonathas,
Sin the no penny at all with him figh,
And on a night as there fhe lay him by

In the bed, thus fhe to him fpake, and said,
And this petition affoil him pray'd.

O, reverend fir, unto whom quoth she,
Obey I would ay with heart's humbleness,
Since that ye han had my virginity,
You I befeech of your high gentleness,
Telleth me whence com'th the good and richefs
That ye with feasting folk, and han no store,
By ought I fee can, ne gold, ne treasure.

If I tell it, quoth he, peradventure
Thou wilt difcover it, and out it publish,
Such is woman's inconftant nature,
They cannot keep counsel worth a rifh!
Better is my tongue keep, than to with

That I had kept clofe that is gone at large,
And repentence is a thing that I mote charge,,

Nay, good fir, quoth fhe, holdeth me not fufpe&
Doubteth nothing, I can be right fecree,
Well worthy were it me to been abject,
From all good company, if I quoth the,
Unto you should fo miftake me.

Be not adread your counfel me to shew.
Weil, faid he, thus it is at words few.

My father the ring which that thou may'st fe
On my finger, me at his dying day
Bequeath'd, which this virtue and property
Hath, that the love of men he fhall have ay
That weareth it, and there fhall be no nay

Of what thing that him liketh, ask, and crave
But with good will, he fhall as b'live it have.

Through the ring's virtuous excellence
Thus am I rich, and have ever ynow.
Now fir, yet a word by your licence
Suff'reth me to fay, and to speak now:
Is it wifdom, as that it feemeth you,

Wear it on your finger continually?
What would't thou mean, quoth he, thereby?

What peril thereof might there befall?
Right great, quoth the as ye in company
Walk often, fro' your finger might it fall,
Or plucked off been in a ragery,
And fo be loft, and that were folly:

Take it me, let me been of it warden,
For as my life keep it would I certain.

This Jonathas, this innocent young man,
Giving unto her words full credence,
As youth not avifed beft be can:
The ring her took of his infipience.
When this was done, the heat and the fervence
Of love, which he beforn had purchased,
Was quench'd, and love's knot was unlaced.

Men of their gifts to ftint began.
Ah! thought he, for the ring I not ne bear,
Faileth my love: fetch me woman
(Said he) my ring, anon I will it wear.
She rofe, and into chamber dreffeth her;

And when the therein had been a while,
Alas! (quoth he) out on falfehood and guile.

The cheft is broken, and the ring took out:
And when he heard her complaint and cry,

He twined thence, and home to his country
Unto his mother the straight way he went,
And when she saw thither coming was he;
My fon, quoth fhe, what was thine intent,
Thee from the school now to absent?

What caused thee from school hither to hie ?
Mother, right this, faid he, nat would I lie.

Forfooth mother, my ring is a go,
My paramour to keep I betook it,
And it is loft, for which I am full woe,
Sorrow fully unto mine heart it fit.
Son, often have I warned thee, and yet
For thy profit I warn thee my fon,
Unhoneft women thou hereafter shup.

Thy broach anon right well I to thee fet:
She brought it him, and charged him full deep
When he it took, and on his breast it fet,
But than his ring he should it keep,
Left he the lofs bewail fhould and weep.
To the university fhortly to feyne
In what he could, he hafted him again.

And when he coming was, his paramour,
Him met anon, and unto her him took
As that he did erft, this young revelour,
Her company he nat a deal forfook,
Though he cause had, but as with the hook
Of her flight, he beforn was caught and hent,
Right fo he was deceived oft and blent.

And as through virtue of the ring before
Of good he had abundance and plenty
While it was with him, or he had it lore:
Right fo through virtue of the broach had he
What good him lift; fhe thought, how may this be,
Some privy thing now caufeth this richess,
As did the ring here before I guess.

Wondering hereon, fhe prayed him, and befought
Bufily night and day, that tell he would
The caule of this; but he another thought,
He meant it clofe for him it kept he fhould,
And a long time it was or he it told.

She wept aye too and too, and faid, alas!
The time and hour that ever I born was!

Trust ye not on me, fir? she said, Lever me were be flain in this place, By that good Lord that for us all died,

Then purpose again you any fallace ;
Unto you would I be my live's space
As true, as any woman on earth is
Unto a man, doubteth nothing of this.

Small may the do, that cannot well by heat,
Though not performed be fuch a promise.
This Jonathas thought her words fo fweet,
That he was drunk of the pleasant sweetness
Of them, and of his foolish tenderness.

Thus unto her he spake, and faid tho'
Be of good comfort, why weepest thou so?
And the thereto anfwered thus, fobbing;
Sir, quoth the, my heaviness and dread
Is this: I am a dread of the leefing
Of your broach, as Almighty God forbid
It happen fo: Now what, fo God thee speed,
Said he, wouldst thou in this cafe counsel ?
Quoth the, that I keep it might fans fail.

He faid, I have a fear and dread algate,
If I fo did thou wouldst it lease,
As thou lofteft my ring, now gone but late:
First God pray 1, quoth the, that I not cheese,
But that my heart as the cold froft may freeze,
Or eife be it brent with wild fire:
Nay, furely it to keep is my defire.

To her words credence he gave pleneere,
And the broach took her, and after anon •
Whereas he was beforn full leefe and chear
To folke, and had good, all was gone;
Good and friendship him lacked, there was none.
Woman, me fetch the brooch, quoth he, fwythe
Into thy chamber for it go: hye thee.

She into chamber went, as then he bad,
But the not brought that he sent her fore,
She meant it not, but as fhe had been mad
Her clothes hath the all to rent and tore,
And cry'd alas! the brooch away is bore,

For which I wole anon right with my knife
My felfe flay, I am weary of my life.

This noife he heard, and b'live he to her ran
Weening the would han done as the fpake,
And the knife in all hafte that he can
From her took, and threw it behind his back,
And faid, ne for the lofs, ne for the lack

Of the broach, forrow not, I forgive all,
I trust in God, that yet us help he ball.

To th' empress his mother this young man
Again him dreffeth, he went her unto;
And when the faw him, fhe to wonder gan,
She thought now fomewhat there is mildo,
And faid, I dread thy jewels two

Been loft now, percafe the brooch with the ring.

Mother, he said, yea, by heaven king.

Sonne, thou worst well no jewel is left
Unto thee now, but the cloth precious
Which I thee take fhall, thee charging oft

The company of women riotous
Thou flee, left it be to thee fo grievous

That thou it nat sustain shalt ne bear,
Such company on my blessing forbear.

The cloth fhe felt, and it hath him take,
And of his lady his mother, his leave
He took, but first this forward gan he make :
Mother, faid he, trusteth this weal and leeve
That I shall feyn, forfooth ye fhall it preeve,

If I leefe this cloth, never I your face
Henceforth fee wole, ne you pray of grace.

With God's help I fhall do well ynow,
Her bleffing he took, and to study is go,
And as beforne told have I unto you,
His paramour his privy mortal foe
Was wont to meet him, right even fo

She did then, and made him pleasant cheer:
They clip and kiss and walk homeward in feere.

When they were entred in the house, he sprad
This cloth upon the ground, and thereon fit
And bade his paramour, this woman bad,
To fit also by him adown on it.
She doth as he commandeth and bit,

Had the this thought and virtue of the cloth
Wift, to han fet on it, had she been loth.

She for ahwile was full fore affefed.
This Jonathas with in his heart gan :
Would God that I might thus been eased.
That as on this cloth I and this woman
Sit here, as farre were, as that never man.

Or this came, and unneth had he so thought,
But they with the cloth thither weren brought.

Right to the world's end, as that it were,
When apparceived had the this, the cry'd
A though the through girt had be with a spear.
Harro alas that ever fhope this tide!
How came we hither? Nay, he said, abide,

Worfe is coming; here fole wole I thee leave - Wild beasts fhallen thee devoure or eave.

For thou my ring and broach haft fro' me holden.
O reverend fir! have upon me pity.
Quoth fhe, if ye this grace do me wolden,
As bring me home again to the city
Where as I this day was, but if that ye

Them have again, of foul death do me dye :
Your bounty on me kythe, I mercy cry.

This Jonathas could nothing beware,
Ne take enfample of the deceites tweine
That he did him beforne, but feith him bare,
And her he commanded on death's pain
From fuch offences thenceforth her restrain :
She swore, and made thereto foreward,
But hearkneth how the bore her afterward.

When the faw and knew that the wrath and ire That he to her had borne, was gone and past, And all was well; the thought him eft to fire, 3

Whan he awoke, and neither he ne fond
Woman, ne cloth, he wept bitterly,
And faid, alas! now is there in no lond
Man worse I know begon then am I;
On every fide his look he caft, and fy

Nothing but birds in the air flying,
And wild beafls about him running.

Of whofe fight he full fore was agryfed,
He thought all this well deferved I have,
What ailed me to be fo evil avised,
That my counsel could I not keep and fave?
Who can fool play? who can mad and rave?
But he that to a woman his fecree
Discovereth, the smart cleaveth now on me.

He thus departeth as God would harmless,
And forth of a venture his way he is went,
But witherward he draw, he conceitlefs
Was, he not knew to what place he was bent.
He paft a water which was fo fervent

That Beth upon his feet left it him none,
All clean was departed from the bone.

It fhope fo that he had a little glass
Which with that water anon filled he:
And when he further in his way gone was,