Front Page Titles (by Subject) AD MUSAM. XLVIII. - The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 3 (Poems)
AD MUSAM. XLVIII. - Christopher Marlowe, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 3 (Poems) 
The Works of Christopher Marlowe, ed. A.H. Bullen (London: John C. Nimmo, 1885). Vol. 3.
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- Publisher's Notice
- Hero and Leander.
- To the Right-worshipful Sir Thomas Walsingham, Knight
- Hero and Leander.
- The First Sestiad.
- The Second Sestiad.
- The Epistle Dedicatory
- The Third Sestiad.
- The Fourth Sestiad.
- The Fifth Sestiad.
- The Sixth Sestiad.
- Ovid's Elegies.
- P. Ovidii Nasonis 'amorum Liber Primus
- Elegia I. Quemadmodum a Cupidine, Pro Bellis Amores Scribere Coactus Sit.
- Elegia II. Quod Primo Amore Correptus, In Triumphum Duci Se a Cupidine Patiatur.
- Elegia III. Ad Amicam.
- Elegia IV. Amicam, Qua Arte Quibusque Nutibus In Cæna, Presente Viro, Uti Debeat, Admonet.
- Elegia V. Corinnæ Concubitus.
- Elegia VI. Ad Janitorem, Ut Fores Sibi Aperiat.
- Elegia VII. Ad Pacandam Amicam, Quam Verberaverat.
- Elegia VIII. Execratur Lenam Quæ Puellam Suam Meretricis Arte Instituebat.
- Elegia Ix Ad Atticum, Amantem Non Oportere Desidiosum Esse, Sicuti Nec Militem.
- Elegia X Ad Puellam, Ne Pro Amore Præmia Poscat.
- Elegia XI. Napen Alloqutur, Ut Paratas Tabellas Ad Cornnam Perferat.
- Elegia XII. Tabellas Quas Miserat Execratur Quod Amica Noctem Negabat.
- Elegia XIII. Ad Auroram Ne Properet.
- Elegia XIV. Puellam Consolatur Cui Præ Nimia Cura Comæ Deciderant.
- Elegia XV. Ad Invidos, Quod Fama Poetarum Sit Perennis.
- P. Ovidii Nasonis Amorum. Liber Secundus .
- Elegia I. Quod Pro Gigantomachia Amores Scribere Sit Coactus.
- Elegia II. Ad Bagoum, Ut Custodiam Puellæ Sibi Commissæ Laxiorem Habeat
- Elegia III. Ad Eunuchum Servantem Dominam.
- Elegia IV. Quod Amet Mulieres, Cujuscunque Formæ Sint.
- Elegia V. Ad Amicam Corruptam.
- Elegia VI. In Mortem Psittaci.
- Elegia VII. Amicæ Se Purgat, Quod Ancillam Non Amet.
- Elegia VIII. Ad Cypassim Ancillam Corinnæ.
- Elegia IX. Ad Cupidinem.
- Elegia X. Ad Græcinum Quod Eodem Tempore Duas Amet.
- Elegia XI. Ad Amicam Navigantem.
- Elegia XII. Exultat, Quod Amica Potitus Sit.
- Elegia XIII. Ad Isidem, Ut Parientem Corinnam Servet
- Elegia XIV. In Amicam, Quod Abortivum Ipsa Fecerit.
- Elegia XV. Ad Annulum, Quem Dono Amicæ Dedit.
- Elegia XVI. Ad Amicam, Ut Ad Rura Sua Veniat.
- Elegia XVII. Quod Corinnæ Soli Sit Serviturus.
- Elegia XVIII. Ad Macrum, Quod De Amoribus Scribat,
- Elegia XIX. Ad Rivalem Cut Nxor Curæ Non Erat.
- P. Ovidii Masonis Amorum. Liber Tertius .
- Elegia I. Deliberatio Poetæ, Utrum Elegos Pergat Scribere an Potius Tragoedias.
- Elegia II. Ad Amicam Cursum Equorum Spectantem.
- Elegia III. De Amica Quæ Perjuraverat.
- Elegia IV. Ad Virum Servantem Conjugem.
- Elegia VI. Ad Amnem Dum Iter Faceret Ad Amicam.
- Elegia VII. Quod Ab Amica Receptus, Cum Ea Coire Non Potuit Conqueritur.
- Elegia VIII. Quod Ab Amica Non Recipiatur, Dolet.
- Elegia IX. Tibulli Mortem Deflet.
- Elegia X. Ad Cererem, Conquerens Quod Ejus Sacris Cum Amica Concumbere Non Permittatur.
- Elegia XI. Ad Amicam a Cujus Amore Discedere Non Potest.
- Elegia XII. Dolet Amicam Suam Ita Suis Carminibus Innotuisse Ut Rivales Multos Sibi Pararit.
- Elegia XIII. De Junonis Festo.
- Elegia XIV. Ad Amicam, Si Peccatura Est, Ut Occulte Peccet.
- Elegia XV. Ad Venerem, Quod Elegis Finem Imponat.
- Epigrams By J[ohn] D[avies].
- Ad Musam. I.
- Of a Gull. II.
- In Refum. III.
- In Quintum. IV.
- In Plurimos. V.
- In Titum. VI.
- In Faustum. VII.
- In Katam. VIII.
- In Librum. IX.
- In Medontem. X
- In Gellam. XI.
- In Quintum. XII.
- In Severum. XIII.
- In Leucam. XIV.
- In Macrum. XV.
- In Faustum. XVI.
- In Cosmum. XVII.
- In Flaccum. XVIII.
- In Cineam. XIX.
- In Gerontem. XX.
- In Marcum. XXI.
- In Cyprium. XXII.
- In Cineam. XXIII.
- In Gallum. XXIV.
- In Decium. XXV.
- In Gellam. XXVI.
- In Syllam. XXVII.
- In Syllam. XXVIII.
- In Heywodum. XXIX.
- In Dacum. XXX.
- In Priscum. XXXI.
- In Brunum. XXXII.
- In Francum. XXXIII.
- In Castorem. XXXIV.
- In Septimium. XXXV.
- Of Tobacco. XXXVI.
- In Crassum. Xxxvii
- In Philonem. XXXVIII.
- In Fuscum. XXXIX.
- In Afrum. Xl.
- In Paulum. Xli.
- In Lycum. Xlii.
- In Publium. Xliii.
- In Syllam. Xliv.
- In Dacum. Xlv.
- In Marcum. Xlvi.
- Meditations of a Gull. Xlvii.
- Ad Musam. Xlviii.
- The First Book of Lucan.
- To His Kind and True Friend, Edward Blunt.
- The First Book of Lucan.
- The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.
- Dialogue In Verse.
- No. 1. the Atheist’s Tragedie.
- No. II.
- No. III. a Note
- No. IV.: The Death of Marlowe.
- Scene I.
- Scene II.
- Scene III.
AD MUSAM. XLVIII.
- Peace, idle Muse, have done! for it is time,
- Since lousy Ponticus envies my fame,
- And swears the better sort are much to blame
- To make me so well known for my ill rhyme.
- Yet Banks his horse is better known than he;
- So are the camels and the western hog,
- And so is Lepidus his printed dog:
- Why doth not Ponticus their fames envy?
- Besides, this Muse of mine and the black feather
- Grew both together fresh in estimation;
- And both, grown stale, were cast away together:
- What fame is this that scarce lasts out of fashion?
- Only this last in credit doth remain,
- That from henceforth each bastard cast-forth rhyme,
- Which doth but savour of a libel vein,
- Shall call me father, and be thought my crime;
- So dull, and with so little sense endued,
- Is my gross-headed judge the multitude.
- Ilove thee not for sacred chastity,—
- Who loves for that?—nor for thy sprightly wit;
- I love thee not for thy sweet modesty,
- Which makes thee in perfection's throne to sit;
- I love thee not for thy enchanting eye,
- Thy beauty['s] ravishing perfection;
- I love thee not for unchaste luxury,
- Nor for thy body's fair proportion;
- I love thee not for that my soul doth dance
- And leap with pleasure, when those lips of thine
- Give musical and graceful utterance
- To some (by thee made happy) poet's line;
- I love thee not for voice or slender small:
- But wilt thou know wherefore? fair sweet, for all.
- Faith, wench, I cannot court thy sprightly eyes,
- With the base-viol plac'd between my thighs;
- I cannot lisp, nor to some fiddle sing,
- Nor run upon a high-stretch'd minikin;
- I cannot whine in puling elegies,
- Entombing Cupid with sad obsequies;
- I am not fashion'd for these amorous times,
- To court thy beauty with lascivious rhymes;
- I cannot dally, caper, dance, and sing,
- Oiling my saint with supple sonneting;
- I cannot cross my arms, or sigh “Ay me,
- Ay me, forlorn!” egregious foppery!
- I cannot buss thy fist, play with thy hair,
- Swearing by Jove, “thou art most debonair!”
- Not I, by cock! but shall [I] tell thee roundly?—
- Hark in thine ear,—zounds, I can () thee soundly.
- Sweet wench, I love thee: yet I will not sue,
- Or show my love as musky courtiers do;
- I'll not carouse a health to honour thee,
- In this same bezzling drunken courtesy,
- And, when all's quaff'd, eat up my bousing-glass
- In glory that I am thy servile ass;
- Nor will I wear a rotten Bourbon lock,
- As some sworn peasant to a female smock.
- Well-featur'd lass, thou know'st I love thee dear:
- Yet for thy sake I will not bore mine ear,
- To hang thy dirty silken shoe-tires there;
- Nor for thy love will I once gnash a brick,
- Or some pied colours in my bonnet stick:
- But, by the chaps of hell, to do thee good,
- I'll freely spend my thrice-decocted blood.
THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN.
Lucans First Booke Translated Line for Line, By Chr. Marlow. At London, Printed by P. Short, and are to be sold by Walter Burre at the Signe of the Flower de Luce in Paules Churchyard, 1600, 4to.
This is the only early edition. The title-page of the 1600 4to. of Hero and Leander has the words, “Whereunto is added the first booke of Lucan;” but the two pieces are not found in conjunction.
TO HIS KIND AND TRUE FRIEND, EDWARD BLUNT.
Blunt, I propose to be blunt with you, and, out of my dulness, to encounter you with a Dedication in memory of that pure elemental wit, Chr. Marlowe, whose ghost or genius is to be seen walk the Churchyard, in, at the least, three or four sheets. Methinks you should presently look wild now, and grow humorously frantic upon the taste of it. Well, lest you should, let me tell you, this spirit was sometime a familiar of your own, Lucan's First Book translated; which, in regard of your old right in it, I have raised in the circle of your patronage. But stay now, Edward: if I mistake not, you are to accommodate yourself with some few instructions, touching the property of a patron, that you are not yet possessed of; and to study them for your better grace, as our gallants do fashions. First, you must be proud, and think you have merit enough in you, though you are ne'er so empty; then, when I bring you the book, take physic, and keep state; assign me a time by your man to come again; and, afore the day, be sure to have changed your lodging; in the meantime sleep little, and sweat with the invention of some pitiful dry jest or two, which you may happen to utter with some little, or not at all, marking of your friends, when you have found a place for them to come in at; or, if by chance something has dropped from you worth the taking up, weary all that come to you with the often repetition of it; censure, scornfully enough, and somewhat like a traveller; commend nothing, lest you discredit your (that which you would seem to have) judgment. These things, if you can mould yourself to them, Ned, I make no question that they will not become you. One special virtue in our patrons of these days I have promised myself you shall fit excellently, which is, to give nothing; yes, thy love I will challenge as my peculiar object, both in this, and, I hope, many more succeeding offices. Farewell: I affect not the world should measure my thoughts to thee by a scale of this nature: leave to think good of me when I fall from thee.
Thine in all rights of perfect friendship,
THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN.
- Wars worse than civil on Thessalian plains,
- And outrage strangling law, and people strong,
- We sing, whose conquering swords their own breasts lancht,
- Armies allied, the kingdom's league uprooted,
- Th' affrighted world's force bent on public spoil,
- Trumpets and drums, like deadly, threatening other,
- Eagles alike display'd, darts answering darts,
- Romans, what madness, what huge lust of war,
- Hath made barbarians drunk with Latin blood?
- Now Babylon, proud through our spoil, should stoop,
- While slaughter'd Crassus' ghost walks unreveng'd,
- Will ye wage war, for which you shall not triumph?
- Ay me! O, what a world of land and sea
- Might they have won whom civil broils have slain!
- As far as Titan springs, where night dims heaven,
- Ay, to the torrid zone where mid-day burns,
- And where stiff winter, whom no spring resolves,
- Fetters the Euxine Sea with chains of ice;
- Scythia and wild Armenia had been yok'd,
- And they of Nilus' mouth, if there live any.
- Rome, if thou take delight in impious war,
- First conquer all the earth, then turn thy force
- Against thyself: as yet thou wants not foes.
- That now the walls of houses half-reared totter,
- That, rampires fallen down, huge heaps of stone
- Lie in our towns, that houses are abandon'd,
- And few live that behold their ancient seats;
- Italy many years hath lien untill'd
- And chok'd with thorns; that greedy earth wants hinds,—
- Fierce Pyrrhus, neither thou nor Hannibal
- Art cause; no foreign foe could so afflict us:
- These plagues arise from wreak of civil power.
- But if for Nero, then unborn, the Fates
- Would find no other means, and gods not slightly
- Purchase immortal thrones, nor Jove joy'd heaven
- Until the cruel giants' war was done;
- We plain not, heavens, but gladly bear these evils
- For Nero's sake: Pnarsalia groan with slaughter,
- And Carthage souls be glutted with our bloods!
- At Munda let the dreadful battles join;
- Add, Cæsar, to these ills, Perusian famine,
- The Mutin toils, the fleet at Luca[s] sunk,
- And cruel field near burning Ætna fought!
- Yet Rome is much bound to these civil arms,
- Which made thee emperor. Thee (seeing thou, being old,
- Must shine a star) shall heaven (whom thou lovest)
- Receive with shouts; where thou wilt reign as king,
- Or mount the Sun's flame-bearing chariot,
- And with bright restless fire compass the earth,
- Undaunted though her former guide be chang'd;
- Nature and every power shall give thee place,
- What god it please thee be, or where to sway.
- But neither choose the north t'erect thy seat,
- Nor yet the adverse reeking southern pole,
- Whence thou shouldst view thy Rome with squinting beams.
- If any one part of vast heaven thou swayest,
- The burden'd axes with thy force will bend:
- The midst is best; that place is pure and bright:
- There, Cæsar, mayst thou shine, and no cloud dim thee.
- Then men from war shall bide in league and ease,
- Peace through the world from Janus' fane shall fly.
- And bolt the brazen gates with bars of iron.
- Thou, Cæsar, at this instant art my god;
- Thee if I invocate, I shall not need
- To crave Apollo's aid or Bacchus' help;
- Thy power inspires the Muse that sings this war.
- The causes first I purpose to unfold
- Of these garboils, whence springs a long discourse:
- And what made madding people shake off peace.
- The Fates are envious, high seats quickly perish,
- Under great burdens falls are ever grievous;
- Rome was so great it could not bear itself.
- So when this world's compounded union breaks,
- Time ends, and to old Chaos all things turn,
- Confusèd stars shall meet, celestial fire
- Fleet on the floods, the earth shoulder the sea,
- Affording it no shore, and Phœbus wain
- Chase Phœbus, and enrag'd affect his place,
- And strive to shine by day and full of strife
- Dissolve the engines of the broken world.
- All great things crush themselves; such end the gods
- Allot the height of honour; men so strong
- By land and sea, no foreign force could ruin.
- O Rome, thyself art cause of all these evils,
- Thyself thus shiver'd out to three men's shares!
- Dire league of partners in a kingdom last not.
- O faintly-join'd friends, with ambition blind,
- Why join you force to share the world betwixt you?
- While th' earth the sea, and air the earth sustains,
- While Titan strives against the world's swift course,
- Or Cynthia, night's queen, waits upon the day,
- Shall never faith be found in fellow kings:
- Dominion cannot suffer partnership.
- This need[s] no foreign proof nor far-fet story:
- Rome's infant walls were steep'd in brother's blood,
- Nor then was land or sea, to breed such hate;
- A town with one poor church set them at odds.
- Cæsar's and Pompey's jarring love soon ended.
- 'Twas peace against their wills; betwixt them both
- Stepp'd Crassus in. Even as the slender isthmos,
- Betwixt the Ægæan, and the Ionian sea,
- Keeps each from other, but being worn away,
- They both burst out, and each encounter other;
- So whenas Crassus' wretched death, who stay'd them,
- Had fill'd Assyrian Carra's walls with blood,
- His loss made way for Roman outrages.
- Parthians, y'afflict us more than ye suppose;
- Being conquer'd, we are plagu'd with civil war.
- Swords share our empire: Fortune, that made Rome
- Govern the earth, the sea, the world itself,
- Would not admit two lords; for Julia,
- Snatch'd hence by cruel Fates. with ominous howls
- Bare down to hell her son, the pledge of peace,
- And all bands of that death-presaging alliànce.
- Julia, had heaven given thee longer life,
- Thou hadst restrain'd thy headstrong husband's rage,
- Yea, and thy father too, and, swords thrown down,
- Made all shake hands, as once the Sabines did:
- Thy death broke amity, and train'd to war
- These captains emulous of each other's glory.
- Thou fear'd'st, great Pompey, that late deeds would dim
- Old triumphs, and that Cæsar's conquering France
- Would dash the wreath thou war'st for pirates' wreck:
- Thee war's use stirr'd, and thoughts that always scorn'd
- A second place. Pompey could bide no equal,
- Nor Cæsar no superior: which of both
- Had justest cause, unlawful 'tis to judge:
- Each side had great partakers; Cæsar's cause
- The gods abetted, Cato lik'd the other
- Both differ'd much. Pompey was struck in years,
- And by long rest forgot to manage arms
- And, being popular, sought by liberal gifts
- To gain the light unstable commons' love,
- And joy'd to hear his theatre's applause:
- He lived secure, boasting his former deeds,
- And thought his name sufficient to uphold him:
- Like to a tall oak in a fruitful field,
- Bearing old spoils and conquerors' monuments,
- Who, though his root be weak, and his own weight
- Keep him within the ground, his arms all bare,
- His body, not his boughs, send forth a shade;
- Though every blast it nod, and seem to fall,
- When all the woods about stand bolt upright,
- Yet he alone is held in reverence.
- Cæsar's renown for war was less; he restless,
- Shaming to strive but where he did subdue;
- When ire or hope provok'd, heady and bold;
- At all times charging home, and making havoc:
- Urging his fortune, trusting in the gods,
- Destroying what withstood his proud desires,
- And glad when blood and ruin made him way:
- So thunder, which the wind tears from the clouds,
- With crack of riven air and hideous sound
- Filling the world, leaps out and throws forth fire,
- Affrights poor fearful men, and blasts their eyes
- With overthwarting flames, and raging shoots
- Alongst the air, and, not resisting it,
- Falls, and returns, and shivers where it lights.
- Such humours stirr'd them up; but this war's seed
- Was even the same that wrecks all great dominions.
- When Fortune made us lords of all, wealth flow'd,
- And then we grew licentious and rude;
- The soldiers' prey and rapine brought in riot;
- Men took delight in jewels, houses, plate,
- And scorn'd old sparing diet, and ware robes
- Too light for women; Poverty, who hatch'd
- Rome's greatest wits, was loath'd, and all the world
- Ransack'd for gold, which breeds the world['s] decay:
- And then large limits had their butting lands;
- The ground, which Curius and Camillus till'd,
- Was stretched unto the fields of hinds unknown.
- Again, this people could not brook calm peace;
- Them freedom without war might not suffice:
- Quarrels were rife; greedy desire, still poor,
- Did vild deeds; then 'twas worth the price of blood.
- And deem'd renown, to spoil their native town;
- Force mastered right, the strongest govern'd all;
- Hence came it that th' edicts were over-rul'd,
- That laws were broke, tribunes with consuls strove,
- Sale made of offices, and people's voices
- Bought by themselves and sold, and every year
- Frauds and corruption in the Field of Mars;
- Hence interest and devouring usury sprang,
- Faith's breach, and hence came war, to most men welcome.
- Now Cæsar overpass'd the snowy Alps;
- His mind was troubled, and he aim'd at war:
- And coming to the ford of Rubicon,
- At night in dreadful vision fearful Rome
- Mourning appear'd, whose hoary hairs were torn,
- And on her turret-bearing head dispers'd,
- And arms all naked; who, with broken sighs,
- And staring, thus bespoke: “What mean'st thou, Cæsar?
- Whither goes my standard? Romans if ye be,
- And bear true hearts, stay here!” This spectacle
- Struck Cæsar's heart with fear; his hair stood up,
- And faintness numb'd his steps there on the brink.
- He thus cried out: “Thou thunderer that guard'st
- Rome's mighty walls, built on Tarpeian rock!
- Ye gods of Phrygia and Iülus' line,
- Quirinus' rites, and Latian Jove advanc'd
- On Alba hill! O vestal flames! O Rome,
- My thought's sole goddess, aid mine enterprise!
- I hate thee not, to thee my conquests stoop:
- Cæsar is thine, so please it thee, thy soldier.
- He, he afflicts Rome that made me Rome's foe.”
- This said, he, laying aside all lets of war,
- Approach'd the swelling stream with drum and ensign:
- Like to a lion of scorch'd desert Afric,
- Who, seeing hunters, pauseth till fell wrath
- And kingly rage increase, then, having whisk'd
- His tail athwart his back, and crest heav'd up,
- With jaws wide-open ghastly roaring out,
- Albeit the Moor's light javelin or his spear
- Sticks in his side, yet runs upon the hunter.
- In summer-time the purple Rubicon,
- Which issues from a small spring, is but shallow,
- And creeps along the vales, dividing just
- The bounds of Italy from Cisalpine France.
- But now the winter's wrath, and watery moon
- Being three days old, enforc'd the flood to swell,
- And frozen Alps thaw'd with resolving winds.
- The thunder-hoof'd horse, in a crookèd line,
- To scape the violence of the stream, first waded;
- Which being broke, the foot had easy passage.
- As soon as Cæsar got unto the bank
- And bounds of Italy, “Here, here,” saith he,
- “An end of peace; here end polluted laws!
- Hence leagues and covenants! Fortune, thee I follow!
- War and the Destinies shall try my cause.”
- This said, the restless general through the dark,
- Swifter than bullets thrown from Spanish slings,
- Or darts which Parthians backward shoot, march'd on;
- And then, when Lucifer did shine alone,
- And some dim stars, he Ariminum enter'd.
- Day rose, and view'd these tumults of the war:
- Whether the gods or blustering south were cause
- I know not, but the cloudy air did frown.
- The soldiers having won the market-place,
- There spread the colours with confusèd noise
- Of trumpets' clang, shrill cornets, whistling fifes.
- The people started; young men left their beds,
- And snatch'd arms near their household-gods hung up,
- Such as peace yields; worm-eaten leathern targets,
- Through which the wood peer'd, headless darts, old swords
- With ugly teeth of black rust foully scarr'd.
- But seeing white eagles, and Rome's flags well known,
- And lofty Cæsar in the thickest throng,
- They shook for fear, and cold benumb'd their limbs,
- And muttering much, thus to themselves complain'd
- “O walls unfortunate, too near to France!
- Predestinate to ruin! all lands else
- Have stable peace: here war's rage first begins;
- We bide the first brunt. Safer might we dwell
- Under the frosty bear, or parching east,
- Waggons or tents, than in this frontier town.
- We first sustain'd the uproars of the Gauls
- And furious Cimbrians, and of Carthage Moors:
- As oft as Rome was sack'd, here gan the spoil.”
- Thus sighing whisper'd they, and none durst speak,
- And show their fear or grief; but as the fields
- When birds are silent thorough winter's rage,
- Or sea far from the land, so all were whist.
- Now light had quite dissolv'd the misty night,
- And Cæsar's mind unsettled musing stood;
- But gods and fortune pricked him to this war,
- Infringing all excuse of modest shame,
- And labouring to approve his quarrel good.
- The angry senate, urging Gracchus' deeds,
- From doubtful Rome wrongly expell'd the tribunes
- That cross'd them: both which now approach'd the camp,
- And with them Curio, sometime tribune too.
- One that was fee'd for Cæsar, and whose tongue
- Could tune the people to the nobles' mind.
- “Cæsar,” said he, “while eloquence prevail'd,
- And I might plead and draw the commons' minds
- To favour thee, against the senate's will,
- Five years I lengthen'd thy command in France;
- But law being put to silence by the wars,
- We, from her houses driven, most willingly
- Suffer'd exile: let thy sword bring us home,
- Now, while their part is weak and fears, march hence:
- Where men are ready lingering ever hurts.
- In ten years wonn'st thou France: Rome may be won
- With far less toil, and yet the honour's more;
- Few battles fought with prosperous success
- May bring her down, and with her all the world.
- Nor shalt thou triumph when thou com'st to Rome,
- Nor Capitol be adorn'd with sacred bays;
- Envy denies all; with thy blood must thou
- Aby thy conquest past: the son decrees
- To expel the father: share the world thou canst not;
- Enjoy it all thou mayst.” Thus Curio spake;
- And therewith Cæsar, prone enough to war,
- Was so incens'd as are Elean steeds
- With clamours, who, though lock'd and chain'd in stalls,
- Souse down the walls, and make a passage forth.
- Straight summon'd he his several companies
- Unto the standard: his grave look appeas'd
- The wrestling tumult, and right hand made silence;
- And thus he spake: “You that with me have borne
- A thousand brunts, and tried me full ten years,
- See how they quit our bloodshed in the north,
- Our friends' death, and our wounds, our wintering
- Under the Alps! Rome rageth now in arms
- As if the Carthage Hannibal were near;
- Cornets of horse are muster'd for the field;
- Woods turn'd to ships; both land and sea against us.
- Had foreign wars ill-thriv'd, or wrathful France
- Pursu'd us hither, how were we bested,
- When, coming conqueror, Rome afflicts me thus?
- Let come their leader whom long peace hath quail'd,
- Raw soldiers lately press'd, and troops of gowns,
- Babbling Marcellus, Cato whom fools reverence!
- Must Pompey's followers, with strangers' aid
- (Whom from his youth he brib'd), needs make him king?
- And shall he triumph long before his time,
- And, having once got head, still shall he reign?
- What should I talk of men's corn reap'd by force,
- And by him kept of purpose for a dearth?
- Who sees not war sit by the quivering judge,
- And sentence given in rings of naked swords,
- And laws assail'd, and arm'd men in the senate?
- 'Twas his troop hemm'd in Milo being accus'd;
- And now, lest age might wane his state, he casts
- For civil war, wherein through use he's known
- To exceed his master, that arch-traitor Sylla.
- A[s] brood of barbarous tigers, having lapp'd
- The blood of many a herd, whilst with their dams
- They kennell'd in Hyrcania, evermore
- Will rage and prey; so, Pompey, thou, having lick'd
- Warm gore from Sylla's sword, art yet athirst:
- Jaws flesh[ed] with blood continue murderous.
- Speak, when shall this thy long-usurped power end?
- What end of mischief? Sylla teaching thee,
- At last learn, wretch, to leave thy monarchy!
- What, now Sicilian pirates are suppress'd,
- And jaded king of Pontus poison'd slain,
- Must Pompey as his last foe plume on me,
- Because at his command I wound not up
- My conquering eagles? say I merit naught,
- Yet, for long service done, reward these men,
- And so they triumph, be't with whom ye will.
- Whither now shall these old bloodless souls repair?
- What seats for their deserts? what store of ground
- For servitors to till? what colonies
- To rest their bones? say, Pompey, are these worse
- Than pirates of Sicilia? they had houses.
- Spread, spread these flags that ten years' space have conquer'd!
- Let's use our tried force: they that now thwart right,
- In wars will yield to wrong: the gods are with us;
- Neither spoil nor kingdom seek we by these arms,
- But Rome, at thraldom's feet, to rid from tyrants.”
- This spoke, none answer'd, but a murmuring buzz
- Th' unstable people made: their household-gods
- And love to Rome (though slaughter steel'd their hearts,
- And minds were prone) restrain'd them; but war's love
- And Cæsar's awe dash'd all. Then Lælius
- The chief centurion, crown'd with oaken leaves
- For saving of a Roman citizen,
- Stepp'd forth, and cried: “Chief leader of Rome's force,
- So be I may be bold to speak a truth,
- We grieve at this thy patience and delay.
- What, doubt'st thou us? even now when youthful blood
- Pricks forth our lively bodies, and strong arms
- Can mainly throw the dart. wilt thou endure
- These purple grooms, that senate's tyranny?
- Is conquest got by civil war so heinous?
- Well, lead us, then, to Syrtes' desert shore,
- Or Scythia, or hot Libya's thirsty sands.
- This band, that all behind us might be quail'd,
- Hath with thee pass'd the swelling ocean,
- And swept the foaming breast of Arctic Rhene.
- Love over-rules my will; I must obey thee,
- Cæsar: he whom I hear thy trumpets charge,
- I hold no Roman; by these ten blest ensigns
- And all thy several triumphs, shouldst thou bid me
- Entomb my sword within my brother's bowels,
- Or father's throat, or women's groaning womb,
- This hand, albeit unwilling, should perform it;
- Or rob the gods, or sacred temples fire,
- These troops should soon pull down the church of Jove;
- If to encamp on Tuscan Tiber's streams,
- I'll boldly quarter out the fields of Rome;
- What walls thou wilt be levell'd with the ground,
- These hands shall thrust the ram, and make them fly,
- Albeit the city thou wouldst have so raz'd
- Be Rome itself.” Here every band applauded,
- And, with their hands held up, all jointly cried
- They'll follow where he please. The shouts rent heaver,
- As when against pine-bearing Ossa's rocks
- Beats Thracian Boreas, or when trees bow down
- And rustling swing up as the wind fets breath.
- When Cæsar saw his army prone to war,
- And Fates so bent, lest sloth and long delay
- Might cross him, he withdrew his troops from France,
- And in all quarters musters men for Rome.
- They by Lemannus' nook forsook their tents;
- They whom the Lingones foil'd with painted spears,
- Under the rocks by crookèd Vogesus;
- And many came from shallow Isara,
- Who, running long, falls in a greater flood,
- And, ere he sees the sea, loseth his name;
- The yellow Ruthens left their garrisons;
- Mild Atax glad it bears not Roman boats,
- And frontier Varus that the camp is far,
- Sent aid; so did Alcides' port, whose seas
- Eat hollow rocks, and where the north-west wind
- Nor zephyr rules not, but the north alone
- Turmoils the coast, and enterance forbids;
- And others came from that uncertain shore
- Which is nor sea nor land, but ofttimes both,
- And changeth as the ocean ebbs and flows;
- Whether the sea roll'd always from that point
- Whence the wind blows, still forcèd to and fro;
- Or that the wandering main follow the moon;
- Or flaming Titan, feeding on the deep,
- Pulls them aloft, and makes the surge kiss heaven,
- Philosophers, look you; for unto me,
- Thou cause, whate'er thou be, whom God assigns
- This great effect, art hid. They came that dwell
- By Nemes' fields and banks of Satirus,
- Where Tarbell's winding shores embrace the sea;
- The Santons that rejoice in Cæsar's love;
- Those of Bituriges, and light Axon pikes;
- And they of Rhene and Leuca, cunning darters,
- And Sequana that well could manage steeds;
- The Belgians apt to govern British cars;
- Th' A[r]verni, too, which boldly feign themselves
- The Romans' brethren, sprung of Ilian race;
- The stubborn Nervians stain'd with Cotta's blood;
- And Vangions who, like those of Sarmata,
- Wear open slops; and fierce Batavians,
- Whom trumpet's clang incites; and those that dwell
- By Cinga's stream, and where swift Rhodanus
- Drives Araris to sea; they near the hills,
- Under whose hoary rocks Gebenna hangs;
- And, Trevier, thou being glad that wars are past thee.
- And you, late-shorn Ligurians, who were wont
- In large-spread hair to exceed the rest of France;
- And where to Hesus and fell Mercury
- They offer human flesh, and where Jove seems
- Bloody like Dian, whom the Scythians serve.
- And you, French Bardi, whose immortal pens
- Renown the valiant souls slain in your wars,
- Sit safe at home and chant sweet poesy.
- And, Druides, you now in peace renew
- Your barbarous customs and sinister rites:
- In unfell'd woods and sacred groves you dwell;
- And only gods and heavenly powers you know,
- Or only know you nothing; for you hold
- That souls pass not to silent Erebus
- Or Pluto's bloodless kingdom, but elsewhere
- Resume a body; so (if truth you sing)
- Death brings long life. Doubtless these northern men.
- Whom death, the greatest of all fears, affright not,
- Are blest by such sweet error; this makes them
- Run on the sword's point, and desire to die,
- And shame to spare life which being lost is won.
- You likewise that repuls'd the Caÿc foe,
- March towards Rome; and you, fierce men of
- Leaving your country open to the spoil.
- These being come, their huge power made him bold
- To manage greater deeds; the bordering towns
- He garrison'd; and Italy he fill'd with soldiers.
- Vain fame increased true fear, and did invade
- The people's minds, and laid before their eyes
- Slaughter to come, and, swiftly bringing news
- Of present war, made many lies and tales:
- One swears his troops of daring horsemen fought
- Upon Mevania's plain, where bulls are graz'd;
- Other that Cæsar's barbarous bands were spread
- Along Nar flood that into Tiber falls,
- And that his own ten ensigns and the rest
- March'd not entirely, and yet hide the ground;
- And that he's much chang'd, looking wild and big,
- And far more barbarous than the French, his vassals;
- And that he lags behind with them, of purpose,
- Borne 'twixt the Alps and Rhene, which he hath brought
- From out their northern parts, and that Rome,
- He looking on, by these men should be sack'd.
- Thus in his fright did each man strengthen fame,
- And, without ground, fear'd what themselves had feign'd.
- Nor were the commons only struck to heart
- With this vain terror; but the court, the senate,
- The fathers selves leap'd from their seats, and, flying,
- Left hateful war decreed to both the consuls.
- Then, with their fear and danger all-distract,
- Their sway of flight carries the heady rout,
- That in chain'd troops break forth at every port:
- You would have thought their houses had been fir'd,
- Or, dropping-ripe, ready to fall with ruin.
- So rush'd the inconsiderate multitude
- Thorough the city, hurried headlong on,
- As if the only hope that did remain
- To their afflictions were t' abandon Rome.
- Look how, when stormy Auster from the breach
- Of Libyan Syrtes rolls a monstrous wave,
- Which makes the main-sail fall with hideous sound,
- The pilot from the helm leaps in the sea,
- And mariners, albeit the keel be sound,
- Shipwreck themselves; even so, the city left,
- All rise in arms; nor could the bed-rid parents
- Keep back their sons, or women's tears their husbands:
- They stayed not either to pray or sacrifice;
- Their household-gods restrain them not; none lingered,
- As loath to leave Rome whom they held so dear:
- Th' irrevocable people fly in troops.
- O gods, that easy grant men great estates,
- But hardly grace to keep them! Rome, that flows
- With citizens and captives, and would hold
- The world, were it together, is by cowards
- Left as a prey, now Cæsar doth approach.
- When Romans are besieged by foreign foes,
- With slender trench they escape night-stratagems,
- And sudden rampire rais'd of turf snatched up,
- Would make them sleep securely in their tents.
- Thou, Rome, at name of war runn'st from thyself,
- And wilt not trust thy city-walls one night:
- Well might these fear, when Pompey feared and fled.
- Now evermore, lest some one hope might ease
- The commons' jangling minds, apparent signs arose,
- Strange sights appeared; the angry threatening gods
- Filled both the earth and seas with prodigies.
- Great store of strange and unknown stars were seen
- Wandering about the north, and rings of fire
- Fly in the air, and dreadful bearded stars,
- And comets that presage the fall of kingdoms;
- The flattering sky glittered in often flames,
- And sundry fiery meteors blazed in heaven,
- Now spear-like long, now like a spreading torch;
- Lightning in silence stole forth without clouds,
- And, from the northern climate snatching fire,
- Blasted the Capitol; the lesser stars,
- Which wont to run their course through empty night,
- At noon-day mustered; Phœbe, having filled
- Her meeting horns to match her brother's light,
- Struck with th' earth's sudden shadow, waxèd pale;
- Titan himself, throned in the midst of heaven,
- His burning chariot plunged in sable clouds,
- And whelmed the world in darkness, making men
- Despair of day; as did Thyestes' town,
- Mycenæ, Phœbus flying through the east.
- Fierce Mulciber unbarrèd Ætna's gate,
- Which flamèd not on high, but headlong pitched
- Her burning head on bending Hespery.
- Coal-black Charybdis whirled a sea of blood.
- Fierce mastives howled. The vestal fires went out;
- The flame in Alba, consecrate to Jove,
- Parted in twain, and with a double point
- Rose, like the Theban brothers' funeral fire.
- The earth went off her hinges; and the Alps
- Shook the old snow from off their trembling laps.
- The ocean swelled as high as Spanish Calpe
- Or Atlas' head. Their saints and household-gods
- Sweat tears, to show the travails of their city:
- Crowns fell from holy statues. Ominous birds
- Defiled the day; and wild beasts were seen,
- Leaving the woods, lodge in the streets of Rome.
- Cattle were seen that muttered human speech;
- Prodigious births with more and ugly joints
- Than nature gives, whose sight appals the mother;
- And dismal prophecies were spread abroad:
- And they, whom fierce Bellona's fury moves
- To wound their arms, sing vengeance; Cybel's priests,
- Curling their bloody locks, howl dreadful things.
- Souls quiet and appeas'd sighed from their graves;
- Clashing of arms was heard; in untrod woods
- Shrill voices schright; and ghosts encounter men.
- Those that inhabited the suburb-fields
- Fled: foul Erinnys stalked about the walls,
- Shaking her snaky hair and crookèd pine
- With flaming top; much like that hellish fiend
- Which made the stern Lycurgus wound his thigh,
- Or fierce Agave mad; or like Megæra
- That scar'd Alcides, when by Juno's task
- He had before look'd Pluto in the face.
- Trumpets were heard to sound; and with what noise
- An armèd battle joins, such and more strange
- Black night brought forth in secret. Sylla's ghost
- Was seen to walk, singing sad oracles;
- And Marius' head above cold Tav'ron peering,
- His grave broke open, did affright the boors.
- To these ostents, as their old custom was,
- They called th' Etrurian augurs: amongst whom
- The gravest, Arruns, dwelt in forsaken Leuca
- Well-skill'd in pyromancy; one that knew
- The hearts of beasts, and flight of wandering fowls.
- First he commands such monsters Nature hatch'd
- Against her kind, the barren mule's loath'd issue,
- To be cut forth and cast in dismal fires;
- Then, that the trembling citizens should walk
- About the city; then, the sacred priests
- That with divine lustration purg'd the walls,
- And went the round, in and without the town;
- Next, an inferior troop, in tuck'd-up vestures,
- After the Gabine manner; then, the nuns
- And their veil'd matron, who alone might view
- Minerva's statue; then, they that kept and read
- Sibylla's secret works, and wash their saint
- In Almo's flood; next learnèd augurs follow;
- Apollo's soothsayers, and Jove's feasting priests;
- The skipping Salii with shields like wedges;
- And Flamens last, with net-work woollen veils.
- While these thus in and out had circled Rome,
- Look, what the lightning blasted, Arruns takes,
- And it inters with murmurs dolorous,
- And calls the place Bidental. On the altar
- He lays a ne'er-yok'd bull, and pours down wine,
- Then crams salt leaven on his crookèd knife:
- The beast long struggled, as being like to prove
- An awkward sacrifice; but by the horns,
- The quick priest pulled him on his knees, and slew him.
- No vein sprung out, but from the yawning gash,
- Instead of red blood, wallow'd venomous gore.
- These direful signs made Arruns stand amazed,
- And searching farther for the gods' displeasure,
- The very colour scared him; a dead blackness
- Ran through the blood, that turned it all to jelly,
- And stained the bowels with dark loathsome spots;
- The liver swelled with filth; and every vein
- Did threaten horror from the host of Cæsar;
- A small thin skin contained the vital parts;
- The heart stirred not; and from the gaping liver
- Squeezed matter through the caul; the entrails peered;
- And which (ay me!) ever pretendeth ill,
- At that bunch where the liver is, appear'd
- A knob of flesh, whereof one half did look
- Dead and discolour'd, th' other lean and thin.
- By these he seeing what mischiefs must ensue,
- Cried out, “O gods, I tremble to unfold
- What you intend! great Jove is now displeas'd;
- And in the breast of this slain bull are crept
- Th' infernal powers. My fear transcends my words;
- Yet more will happen than I can unfold:
- Turn all to good, be augury vain, and Tages,
- Th' art's master, false!” Thus, in ambiguous terms
- Involving all, did Arruns darkly sing.
- But Figulus, more seen in heavenly mysteries,
- Whose like Ægyptian Memphis never had
- For skill in stars and tuneful planeting,
- In this sort spake: “The world's swift course is lawless
- And casual; all the stars at random range;
- Or if fate rule them, Rome, thy citizens
- Are near some plague. What mischief shall ensue?
- Shall towns be swallow'd? shall the thicken'd air
- Become intemperate? shall the earth be barren?
- Shall water be congeal'd and turn'd to ice?
- O gods, what death prepare ye? with what plague
- Mean ye to rage? the death of many men
- Meets in one period. If cold noisome Saturn
- Were now exalted, and with blue beams shin'd,
- Then Ganymede would renew Deucalion's flood,
- And in the fleeting sea the earth be drench'd.
- O Phœbus, shouldst thou with thy rays now singe
- The fell Nemæan beast, th' earth would be fir'd,
- And heaven tormented with thy chafing heat:
- But thy fires hurt not. Mars, 'tis thou inflam'st
- The threatening Scorpion with the burning tail,
- And fir'st his cleys: why art thou thus enrag'd?
- Kind Jupiter hath low declin'd himself;
- Venus is faint; swift Hermes retrograde;
- Mars only rules the heaven. Why do the planets
- Alter their course, and vainly dim their virtue?
- Sword-girt Orion's side glisters too bright:
- War's rage draws near; and to the sword's strong hand
- Let all laws yield, sin bears the name of virtue:
- Many a year these furious broils let last:
- Why should we wish the gods should ever end them?
- War only gives us peace. O Rome, continue
- The course of mischief, and stretch out the date
- Of slaughter! only civil broils make peace.”
- These sad presages were enough to scare
- The quivering Romans; but worse things affright them.
- As Mænas full of wine on Pindus raves,
- So runs a matron through th' amazèd streets,
- Disclosing Phœbus' fury in this sort;
- “Pæan, whither am I haled? where shall I fall,
- Thus borne aloft? I see Pangæus' hill
- With hoary top, and, under Hæmus' mount,
- Philippi plains. Phœbus, what rage is this?
- Why grapples Rome, and makes war, having no foes?
- Whither turn I now? thou lead'st me toward th' east,
- Where Nile augmenteth the Pelusian sea:
- This headless trunk that lies on Nilus' sand
- I know. Now th[o]roughout the air I fly
- To doubtful Syrtes and dry Afric, where
- A Fury leads the Emathian bands. From thence
- To the pine-bearing hills; thence to the mounts
- Pyrene; and so back to Rome again.
- See, impious war defiles the senate-house!
- New factions rise. Now through the world again
- I go. O Phœbus, show me Neptune's shore,
- And other regions! I have seen Philippi.”
- This said, being tir'd with fury, she sunk down.
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.
- Come live with me and be my love,
- And we will all the pleasures prove
- That hills and vallies, dales and fields,
- Woods or steepy mountain yields.
- And we will sit upon the rocks,
- Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
- By shallow rivers to whose falls
- Melodious birds sing madrigals.
- And I will make thee beds of roses
- And a thousand fragrant posies,
- A cup of flowers and a kirtle
- Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
- A gown made of the finest wool
- Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
- Fair-linèd slippers for the cold,
- With buckles of the purest gold.
- A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
- With coral clasps and amber studs;
- An if these pleasures may thee move,
- Come live with me, and be my love.
- The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing
- For thy delight each May-morning:
- If these delights thy mind may move,
- Then live with me, and be my love.
[In England's Helicon Marlowe's song is followed by the “Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd” and “Another of the same Nature made since.” Both are signed Ignoto, but the first of these pieces has been usually ascribed to Sir Walter Raleigh — on no very substantial grounds.]
- THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD.
- If all the world and love were young,
- And truth in every Shepherd's tongue,
- These pretty pleasures might me move
- To live with thee, and be thy love.
- But Time drives flocks from field to fold,
- When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
- And Philomel becometh dumb,
- The rest complains of cares to come.
- The flowers do fade and wanton fields
- To wayward winter reckoning yields;
- A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
- Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
- Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
- Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
- Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten;
- In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
- Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
- Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
- All these to me no means can move
- To come to thee, and be thy love.
- But could youth last and love still breed,
- Had joys no date nor age no need,
- Then these delights my mind might move
- To live with thee, and be thy love.
- ANOTHER OF THE SAME NATURE MADE SINCE.
- Come live with me, and be my dear,
- And we will revel all the year,
- In plains and groves, on hills and dales,
- Where fragrant air breathes sweetest gales.
- There shall you have the beauteous pine,
- The cedar, and the spreading vine;
- And all the woods to be a screen,
- Lest Phœbus kiss my Summer's Queen.
- The seat for your disport shall be
- Over some river in a tree,
- Where silver sands and pebbles sing
- Eternal ditties to the spring.
- There shall you see the nymphs at play,
- And how the satyrs spend the day;
- The fishes gliding on the sands,
- Offering their bellies to your hands.
- The birds with heavenly tunèd throats
- Possess woods' echoes with sweet notes,
- Which to your senses will impart
- A music to enflame the heart.
- Upon the bare and leafless oak
- The ring-doves' wooings will provoke
- A colder blood than you possess
- To play with me and do no less.
- In bowers of laurel trimly dight
- We will out-wear the silent night,
- While Flora busy is to spread
- Her richest treasure on our bed.
- Ten thousand glow-worms shall attend,
- And all these sparkling lights shall spend
- All to adorn and beautify
- Your lodging with most majesty.
- Then in mine arms will I enclose
- Lilies' fair mixture with the rose,
- Whose nice perfection in love's play
- Shall tune me to the highest key.
- Thus as we pass the welcome night
- In sportful pleasures and delight,
- The nimble fairies on the grounds,
- Shall dance and sing melodious sounds.
- If these may serve for to entice
- Your presence to Love's Paradise,
- Then come with me, and be my dear,
- And we will then begin the year.
The following verses in imitation of Marlowe are by Donne:—
- THE BAIT.
- Come live with me, and be my love,
- And we will some new pleasure prove
- Of golden sands and christal brooks
- With silken lines and silver hooks.
- There will the river whispering run,
- Warm'd by thine eyes more than the sun;
- And there th' enamoured fish will stay
- Begging themselves they may betray.
- When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
- Each fish which every channel hath
- Will amorously to thee swim,
- Gladder to catch thee than thou him.
- If thou to be so seen beest loath
- By sun or moon, thou darkenest both;
- And if my self have leave to see,
- I heed not their light, having thee.
- Let others freeze with angling reeds
- And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
- Or treacherously poor fish beset
- With strangling snare or winding net.
- Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
- The bedded fish in banks outwrest,
- Or curious traitors, sleave-silk flies,
- Bewitch poor fishes' wandering eyes.
- For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
- For thou thyself art thine own bait:
- That fish that is not catched thereby,
- Alas, is wiser far than I.
Herrick has a pastoral invitation
- TO PHILLIS TO LOVE AND LIVE WITH HIM.
- Live, live with me, and thou shalt see
- The pleasures I'll prepare for thee;
- What sweets the country can afford
- Shall bless thy bed and bless thy board.
- The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed
- With crawling woodbine overspread:
- By which the silver-shedding streams
- Shall gently melt thee into dreams.
- Thy clothing next shall be a gown
- Made of the fleeces' purest down.
- The tongues of kids shall be thy meat;
- Their milk thy drink; and thou shall eat
- The paste of filberts for thy bread,
- With cream of cowslips buttered.
- Thy feasting-table shall be hills
- With daisies spread and daffodils;
- Where thou shalt sit, and red-breast by
- For meat shall give thee melody.
- I'll give thee chains and carcanets
- Of primroses and violets.
- A bag and bottle thou shalt have,
- That richly wrought and this as brave,
- So that as either shall express
- The wearer's no mean shepherdess.
- At shearing-times and yearly wakes,
- When Themihs his pastime makes,
- There thou shalt be; and be the wit,
- Nay more, the feast and grace of it.
- On holidays when virgins meet
- To dance the hays with nimble feet,
- Thou shalt come forth and then appear
- The queen of roses for that year;
- And having danced ('bove all the best)
- Carry the garland from the rest.
- In wicker-baskets maids shall bring
- To thee, my dearest shepherdling,
- The blushing apple, bashful pear,
- And shame-faced plum all simp'ring there:
- Walk in the groves and thou shalt find
- The name of Phillis in the rind
- Of every straight and smooth-skin tree,
- Where kissing that I'll twice kiss thee.
- To thee a sheep-hook I will send
- Be-prankt with ribands to this end,
- This, this alluring hook might be
- Less for to catch a sheep than me.
- Thou shalt have possets, wassails fine,
- Not made of ale but spiced wine;
- To make thy maids and self free mirth,
- All sitting near the glittering hearth.
- Thou shalt have ribbands, roses, rings,
- Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes and strings
- Of winning colours that shall move
- Others to lust but me to love.
- These, nay, and more, thine own shall be
- If thou wilt love and live with me.
- I walk'd along a stream, for pureness rare, Brighter than sun-shine; for it did acquaint
- The dullest sight with all the glorious prey
- That in the pebble-pavèd channel lay.
- No molten crystal, but a richer mine, Even Nature's rarest alchymy ran there,—
- Diamonds resolv'd, and substance more divine, Through whose bright-gliding current might appear
- A thousand naked nymphs, whose ivory shine, Enamelling the banks, made them more dear
- Than ever was that glorious palace' gate
- Where the day-shining Sun in triumph sate.
- Upon this brim the eglantine and rose, The tamarisk, olive, and the almond tree,
- As kind companions, in one union grows, Folding their twining arms, as oft we see
- Turtle-taught lovers either other close, Lending to dulness feeling sympathy;
- And as a costly valance o'er a bed, So did their garland-tops the brook o'erspread.
- Their leaves, that differ'd both in shape and show, Though all were green, yet difference such in green,
- Like to the checker'd bent of Iris' bow, Prided the running main, as it had been—
DIALOGUE IN VERSE.
- Seest thou not yon farmer's son? He hath stoln my love from me, alas!
- What shall I do? I am undone; My heart will ne'er be as it was.
- O, but he gives her gay gold rings, And tufted gloves [for] holiday,
- And many other goodly things, That hath stolen my love away.
- Let him give her gay gold rings Or tufted gloves, were they ne'er so [gay];
- [F]or were her lovers lords or kings, They should not carry the wench away.
- But 'a dances wonders well, And with his dances stole her love from me:
- Yet she wont to say I bore the bell For dancing and for courtesy.
- Fie, lusty younker, what do you here, Not dancing on the green to-day?
- For Pierce, the farmer's son, I fear, Is like to carry your wench away.
- Good Dick, bid them all come hither, And tell Pierce from me beside,
- That, if he thinks to have the wench, Here he stands shall lie with the bride.
- Fie, Nan, why use thy old lover so, For any other new-come guest?
- Thou long time his love did know; Why shouldst thou not use him best?
- Bonny Dick, I will not forsake My bonny Rowland for any gold:
- If he can dance as well as Pierce, He shall have my heart in hold.
- Why, then, my hearts, let's to this gear; And by dancing I may won
- My Nan, whose love I hold so dear As any realm under the sun.
- Then, gentles, ere I speed from hence I will be so bold to dance
- A turn or two without offence; For, as I was walking along by chance,
40 I was told you did agree.
- 'Tis true, good sir; and this is she Hopes your worship comes not to crave her;
- For she hath lovers two or three, And he that dances best must have her.
- How say you, sweet, will you dance with me?
- And you [shall] have both land and [hill];
- My love shall want nor gold nor fee.
- I thank you, sir, for your good will;
- But one of these my love must be:
50 I'm but a homely country maid,
- And far unfit for your degree; [To dance with you I am afraid.]
- Take her, good sir, by the hand, As she is fairest; were she fairer,
- By this dance, you shall understand, He that can win her is like to wear her.
- And saw you not [my] Nan to-day, My mother's maid have you not seen?
- My pretty Nan is gone away
60 To seek her love upon the green.
- [I cannot see her 'mong so many:]
- She shall have me, if she have any.
- Welcome, sweet-heart, and welcome here. Welcome, my [true] love, now to me.
- This is my love [and my darling dear], And that my husband [soon] must be.
- And, boy, when thou com'st home thou'lt see
- Thou art as welcome home as he.
- Why, how now, sweet Nan! I hope you jest.
- No, by my troth, I love the fool the best:
- And, if you be jealous, God give you good-night!
- I fear you're a gelding, you caper so light.
- I thought she had jested and meant but a fable,
- But now do I see she hath play'[d] with his bable.
- I wish all my friends by me to take heed,
- That a fool come not near you when you mean to speed.
- “Gentesque subactas Vix impune feres.”
- “Arma tenenti Omnia dat qui justa negat.”
- “Castraque quae, Vogesi curvam super ardua rupem,
- Pugnaces pictis colnbebant Lingonas armis.
- “pars ægra et marcida pendet,
- Pars micat, et celeri venas movet improba pulsu.”
- “Thy silver dishes for thy meat
- As precious as the gods do eat,
- Shall on an ivory table be
- Prepar'd each day for thee and me.”