In working of Strymonian Rhasus fall, And efte in Dolons subtile súrprysall.
"Againe the dreadfull Cycones him dismay, And blacke Læstrigones, a people stout: Then greedie Scilla, under whom there bay Manie great bandogs, which her gird about : Then doo the Etnean Cyclops him affray, And deep Charybdis gulphing in and out: Lastly the squalid lakes of Tartarie, And griesly feends of hell him terrifie.
"There also goodly Agamemnon bosts, The glorie of the stock of Tantalus, And famous light of all the Greekish hosts; Under whose conduct most victorious, The Dorick flames consum'a the Iliack posts. Ah! but the Greekes themselves, more dolorous, To thee, O Troy, paid penaunce for thy fall; In th' Hellespont being nigh drowned all.
"Well may appeare by proofe of their mischaunce, The chaungfull turning of mens slipperie state, That none, whom fortune freely doth advaunce, Himselfe therefore to heaven should elevate: For loftie type of honour, through the glaunce Of envies dart, is downe in dust prostrate; And all, that vaunts in worldly vanitie, Shall fall through fortunes mutabilitie.
"Th' Argolicke Power returning home againe, Enricht with spoyles of th' Ericthonian towre, Did happie winde and weather entertaine, And with good speed the fomie billowes scowre : No signe of storme, no feare of future paine, Which soone ensued them with heavie stowre. Nereïs to the seas a token gave,
The whiles their crooked keeles the surges clave.
"And here the antique fame of stout Camill Doth ever live; and constant Curtius, Who, stifly bent his vowed life to spill For countreyes health, a gulph most hideous Amidst the towne with his owne corps did fill, T' appease the Powers; and prudent Mutius, Who in his flesh endur'd the scorching flame, To daunt his foe by' ensample of the same.
"And here wise Curius, companion Of noble vertues, lives in endles rest; And stout Flaminius, whose devotion Taught him the fires scorn'd furie to detest; And here the praise of either Scipion Abides in highest place above the best, To whom the ruin'd walls of Carthage vow'd, Trembling their forces, sound their praises lowd.
"Me therefore thus the cruell fiends of hell Girt with long snakes, and thousand yron chaynes, Through doome of that their cruell Iudge, compell With bitter torture, and impatient paines, Cause of my death and iust complaint to tell. For thou art he, whom my poore ghost com- plaines
To be the author of her ill unwares, That careles hear'st my' intollerable cares.
"Them therefore as bequeathing to the winde, I now depart, returning to thee never, And leave this lamentable plaint behinde. But doo thou haunt the soft downe-rolling river, And wilde greene woods and fruitful pastures minde; And let the flitting aire my vaine words sever."- Thus having said, he heavily departed With piteous crie, that anie would have smarted.
Now, when the sloathfull fit of lifes sweete rest Had left the heavie Shepheard, wondrous cares His inly grieved minde full sore opprest; That balefull sorrow he no longer beares For that Gnats death, which deeply was imprest; But bends what ever power his aged yeares Him lent, yet being such, as through their might He lately slue his dreadfull foe in fight.
By that same river lurking under greene, Eftsoones he gins to fashion forth a place; And, squaring it in compasse well beseene, There plotteth out a tombe by measured space : His yron-headed spade tho making cleene, To dig up sods out of the flowrie grasse,
And Saffron, sought for in Cilician soyle; And Lawrell, th' ornament of Phoebus toyle. Fresh Rhododaphne; and the Sabine flowre, Matching the wealth of th' auncient Frankincence; And pallid Yvie, building his owne bowre; And Box, yet mindfull of his olde offence; Red Amaranthus, lucklesse paramour; Oxeye still greene; and bitter Patience; Ne wants there pale Narcisse, that, in a well Seeing his beautie, in love with it fell.
And whatsoever other flowre of worth, And whatso other hearb of lovely hew,
The ioyous Spring out of the ground brings forth, To cloath her selfe in colours fresh and new; He planted there, and reard a mount of earth, In whose high front was writ as doth ensue.
To thee, small Gnat, in lieu of his life saved, The Shepheard hath thy deaths record engraved.
THE RIGHT HONORABLE, THE LADIE COMPTON AND MOUNTEGLE.
Most faire and vertuous Ladie; having often sought opportunitie by some good meanes to make knowen to your Ladiship the humble affection and faithfull duetie, which I have alwaies professed, and am bound to beare to that House, from whence yee spring, I have at length found occasion to remember the same, by making a simple present to you of these my idle labours; which having long sithens composed in the raw conceipt of my youth, I lately amongst other papers lighted upon, and was by others, which liked the same, mooved to set them foorth. Simple is the device, and the composition meane, yet carrieth some delight, even the rather because of the simplicitie and meannesse thus personated. The same I beseech your Ladiship take in good part, as a pledge of that profession which I have made to you; and keepe with you untill, with some other more worthie labour, I do redeeme it out of your hands, and discharge my utmost dutie. Till then wishing your Ladiship all increase of honour and happinesse, I humblie take leave.
But seeing kindly sleep refuse to doe His office, and my feeble eyes forgoe, They sought my troubled sense how to deceave With talke, that might unquiet fancies reave; And, sitting all in seates about me round, With pleasant tales (fit for that idle stound) They cast in course to waste the wearie howres: Some tolde of Ladies, and their Paramoures; Some of brave Knights, and their renowned Squires; Some of the Faeries and their strange attires; And some of Giaunts, hard to be beleeved; That the delight thereof me much releeved. Amongst the rest a good old woman was, Hight Mother Hubberd, who did farre surpas The rest in honest mirth, that seem'd her well: 35 She, when her turne was come her tale to tell, Tolde of a strange adventure, that betided Betwixt the Foxe and th' Ape by him misguided; The which for that my sense it greatly pleased, All were my spirite heavie and diseased, Ile write in termes, as she the same did say, So well as I her words remember may. No Muses aide me needes hereto to call ; Base is the style, and matter meane withall.
The Foxe and th' Ape, disliking of their evill And hard estate, determined to seeke Their fortunes farre abroad, lyeke with his lyeke: For both were craftie and unhappie witted; Two fellowes might no where be better fitted. The Foxe, that first this cause of griefe did finde, Gan first thus plaine his case with words unkinde. "Neighbour Ape, and my Goship eke beside, (Both two sure bands in friendship to be tide,) To whom may I more trustely complaine The evill plight, that doth me sore constraine, And hope thereof to finde due remedie? Heare then my paine and inward agonie. Thus manie yeares I now have spent and worne, In meane regard, and basest fortunes scorne,
Dooing my countrey service as I might,
No lesse I dare saie than the prowdest wight; And still I hoped to be up advaunced,
For my good parts; but still it hath mischaunced. Now therefore that no lenger hope I see,
But froward fortune still to follow mee,
And losels lifted high, where I did looke,
Say, my faire brother now, if this device Doth like you, or may you to like entice." "Surely (said th' Ape) it likes me wondrous well; And, would ye not poore fellowship expell,
My selfe would offer you t' accompanie In this adventures chauncefull ieopardie: For, to wexe olde at home in idlenesse, Is disadventrous, and quite fortunelesse ; Abroad where change is, good may gotten bee." The Foxe was glad, and quickly did agree: So both resolv'd, the morrow next ensuing, So soone as day appeard to peoples vewing, On their intended iourney to proceede; And over night, whatso theretoo did neede, Each did prepare, in readines to bee. The morrow next, so soone as one might see Light out of heavens windowes forth to looke, Both their habiliments unto them tooke, And put themselves (a Gods name) on their way; Whenas the Ape, beginning well to wey This hard adventure, thus began t' advise : "Now read Sir Reynold, as ye be right wise, What course ye weene is best for us to take, That for our selves we may a living make. Whether shall we professe some trade or skill? Or shall we varie our device at will, Even as new occasion appeares ?
Or shall we tie our selves for certaine yeares To anie service, or to anie place? For it behoves, ere that into the race We enter, to resolve first hereupon." "Now surely brother (said the Foxe anon) Ye have this matter motioned in season: For everie thing that is begun with reason Will come by readie meanes unto his end; But things miscounselled must needs miswend. Thus therefore I advize upon the case, That not to anie certaine trade or place, Nor anie man, we should our selves applie;
But that she gave like blessing to each creture As well of worldly livelode as of life,
That there might be no difference nor strife,
I meane to turne the next leafe of the booke. Yet, ere that anie way I doo betake, I meane my Gossip privie first to make." "Ah! my deare Gossip, (answer'd then the Ape,) Deeply doo your sad words my wits awhape, Both for because your griefe doth great appeare, And eke because my selfe am touched neare: For I likewise have wasted much good time, Still wayting to preferment up to clime, Whilest others alwayes have before me stept, And from my beard the fat away have swept; That now unto despaire I gin to growe
And meane for better winde about to throwe. Therefore to me, my trustie friend, aread Thy councell: two is better than one head." "Certes (said he) I meane me to disguize In some straunge habit, after uncouth wize, Or like a Pilgrim, or a Lymiter,
Ver. 85. — Lymiter,] A Fryer licensed to beg within a certain district. TYRWHITT.
Nor ought cald mine or thine: thrice happie then Was the condition of mortall men.
That was the golden age of Saturne old, But this might better be the world of gold:
Ver. 139. in hugger-mugger] In secret, Fr. en cachette, Cotgrave. TODD.
Let such vile vassalls borne to base vocation Drudge in the world, and for their living droyle, Which have no wit to live withouten toyle. But we will walke about the world at pleasure Like two free men, and make our ease a treasure. Free men some beggers call, but they be free ; And they which call them so more beggers bee: For they doo swinke and sweate to feed the other, Who live like lords of that which they doo gather, And yet doo never thanke them for the same, But as their due by Nature doo it clame. Such will we fashion both our selves to bee, Lords of the world; and so will wander free, Where so us listeth, uncontrol'd of anie : Hard is our hap, if we (emongst so manie) Light not on some that may our state amend ; Sildome but some good commeth ere the end.” Well seemd the Ape to like this ordinaunce : Yet, well considering of the circumstaunce, As pausing in great doubt awhile he staid, And afterwards with grave advizement said; "I cannot, my lief brother, like but well The purpose of the complot which ye tell : For well I wot (compar'd to all the rest Of each degree) that Beggers life is best : And they, that thinke themselves the best of all, Oft times to begging are content to fall. But this I wot withall, that we shall ronne Into great daunger like to bee undonne. Wildly to wander thus in the worlds eye Withouten pasport or good warrantie,
For feare least we like rogues should be reputed, And for eare-marked beasts abroad be bruted; Therefore I read, that we our counsells call, How to prevent this mischiefe ere it fall, And how we may, with most securitie, Beg amongst those that beggers doo defie." "Right well, deere Gossip, ye advized have, (Said then the Foxe,) but I this doubt will save: For, ere we farther passe, I will devise
A pasport for us both in fittest wize,
And by the names of Souldiers us protect;
That now is thought a civile begging sect.
Be you the Souldier, for you likest are
For manly semblance, and small skill in warre: 200 I will but wayte on you, and, as occasion Falls out, my selfe fit for the same will fashion." The pasport ended, both they forward went ; The Ape clad Souldierlike, fit for th' intent, In a blew iacket with a crosse of redd And manie slits, as if that he had shedd Much blood throgh many wounds therein receaved, Which had the use of his right arme bereaved; Upon his head an old Scotch cap he wore, With a plume feather all to peeces tore : His breeches were made after the new cut, Al Portugese, loose like an emptie gut; And his hose broken high above the heeling, And his shooes beaten out with traveling. But neither sword nor dagger he did beare; Seemes that no foes revengement he did feare; In stead of them a handsome bat he held, On which he leaned, as one farre in elde. Shame light on him, that through so false illusion, Doth turne the name of Souldiers to abusion,
And that, which is the noblest mysterie, Brings to reproach and common infamie ! Long they thus travailed, yet never met Adventure, which might them a working set : Yet manie waies they sought, and manie tryed; Yet for their purposes none fit espyed.
At last they chaunst to meet upon the way A simple husbandman in garments gray; Yet, though his vesture were but meane and bace, A good yeoman he was of honest place, And more for thrift did care than for gay clothing: Gay without good, is good hearts greatest loathing. The Foxe, him spying, bad the Ape him dight To play his part, for loe! he was in sight, That (if he er'd not) should them entertaine, And yeeld them timely profite for their paine. Eftsoones the Ape himselfe gan up to reare, And on his shoulders high his bat to beare, As if good service he were fit to do;
But little thrift for him he did it to:
And stoutly forward he his steps did straine, That like a handsome swaine it him became : When as they nigh approached, that good man, Seeing them wander loosly, first began T'enquire, of custome, what and whence they were?
To whom the Ape; "I am a Souldiere, That late in warres have spent my deerest blood, And in long service lost both limbs and good; And now, constrain'd that trade to overgive, I driven am to seeke some meanes to live: Which might it you in pitie please t' afford, I would be readie, both in deed and word, To doo you faithfull service all my dayes. This yron world (that same he weeping sayes) Brings downe the stowtest hearts to lowest state : For miserie doth bravest mindes abate, And make them seeke for that they wont to scorne, Of fortune and of hope at once forlorne." The honest man, that heard him thus complaine, Was griev'd, as he had felt part of his paine; And, well dispos'd him some reliefe to showe, Askt if in husbandrie he ought did knowe, To plough, to plant, to reap, to rake, to sowe, To hedge, to ditch, to thrash, to thetch, to mowe; Or to what labour els he was prepar'd? For husbands life is labourous and hard. Whenas the Ape him hard so much to talke Of labour, that did from his liking balke, He would have slipt the coller handsomly, And to him said; "Good Sir, full glad am I, To take what paines may anie living wight: But my late maymed limbs lack wonted might To doo their kindly services, as needeth : Scarce this right hand the mouth with diet feedeth, So that it may no painfull worke endure, Ne to strong labour can it selfe enure. But if that anie other place you have,
Which askes small paines, but thriftines to save, Or care to overlooke, or trust to gather,
Ye may me trust as your owne ghostly father." 280 With that the husbandman gan him avize,
That it for him were fittest exercise
Cattell to keep, or grounds to oversee ;
And asked him, if he could willing bee
To keep his sheep, or to attend his swyne,
Or watch his mares, or take his charge of kyne ?
droyle,] Work sluggishly. TODD.
mysterie,] Profession, trade, or calling.
(Might it you please) would take on me the keep. 290 For, ere that unto armes I me betooke, Unto my fathers sheepe I usde to looke, That yet the skill thereof I have not loste: Thereto right well this Curdog, by my coste, (Meaning the Foxe) will serve my sheepe to gather, And drive to follow after their belwether." The husbandman was meanly well content Triall to make of his endevourment; And, home him leading, lent to him the charge Of all his flocke, with libertie full large, Giving accompt of th' annuall increace Both of their lambes, and of their woolley fleece. Thus is this Ape become a shepheard swaine, And the false Foxe his dog: (God give them paine!) For ere the yeare have halfe his course out-run, And doo returne from whence he first begun, They shall him make an ill accompt of thrift. Now whenas Time, flying with wingës swift, Expired had the terme, that these two iavels Should render up a reckning of their travels Unto their master, which it of them sought, Exceedingly they troubled were in thought, Ne wist what answere unto him to frame, Ne how to scape great punishment, or shame, For their false treason and vile theeverie : For not a lambe of all their flockes supply Had they to shew; but, ever as they bred, They slue them, and upon their fleshes fed : For that disguised Dog lov'd blood to spill, And drew the wicked Shepheard to his will. So twixt them both they not a lambkin left; And, when lambes fail'd, the old sheepes lives they reft;
That how t'acquite themselves unto their Lord They were in doubt, and flatly set abord. The Foxe then counsel'd th' Ape for to require 325 Respite till morrow, t' answere his desire: For times delay new hope of helpe still breeds. The good man granted, doubting nought their deeds, And bad next day that all should readie be. But they more subtill meaning had than he: For the next morrowes meed they closely ment, For feare of afterclaps, for to prevent: And that same evening, when all shrowded were In careles sleep, they without care or feare Cruelly fell upon their flock in folde,
And of them slew at pleasure what they wolde : Of which whenas they feasted had their fill, For a full complement of all their ill, They stole away, and tooke their hastie flight, Carried in clowdes of all-concealing night. So was the husbandman left to his losse, And they unto their fortunes change to tosse. After which sort they wandered long while, Abusing manie through their cloaked guile; That at the last they gan to be descryed Of everie one, and all their sleights espyed. So as their begging now them failed quyte, For none would give, but all men would them wyte;
iavels] Wandering or dirty fellows.
abord.] In the figurative sense perhaps of aground, as the author of the Supplement to Johnson's
Dictionary also thinks. TODD,
Yet would they take no paines to get their living, But seeke some other way to gaine by giving, Much like to begging but much better named; For manie beg, which are thereof ashamed. And now the Foxe had gotten him a gowne, And th' Ape a cassocke sidelong hanging downe ; For they their occupation meant to change, And now in other state abroad to range: For, since their souldiers pas no better spedd, They forg'd another, as for Clerkes booke redd. Who passing foorth, as their adventures fell, Through manie haps, which needs not here to tell; At length chaunst with a formall Priest to meete, Whom they in civill manner first did greete, And after askt an almes for Gods deare love. The man straight way his choler up did move, And with reproachfull tearmes gan them revile, 365 For following that trade so base and vile; And askt what license, or what pas they had? "Ah! (said the Ape as sighing wondrous sad) Its an hard case, when men of good deserving Must either driven be perforce to sterving, Or asked for their pas by every squib, That list at will them to revile or snib: And yet (God wote) small oddes I often see Twixt them that aske, and them that asked bee. Natheles because you shall not us misdeeme, But that we are as honest as we seeme, Yee shall our pasport at your pleasure see, And then ye will (I hope) well mooved bee." Which when the Priest beheld, he vew'd it nere, As if therein some text he studying were, But little els (God wote) could thereof skill: For read he could not evidence, nor will, Ne tell a written word, ne write a letter, Ne make one title worse, ne make one better: Of such deep learning little had he neede, Ne yet of Latine, ne of Greeke, that breede Doubts mongst Divines, and difference of texts, From whence arise diversitie of sects, And hatefull heresies, of God abhor'd: But this good Sir did follow the plaine word, 390 Ne medled with their controversies vaine; All his care was, his service well to saine, And to read Homelies upon holidayes: When that was done, he might attend his playes; An easie life, and fit high God to please. He, having overlookt their pas at ease, Gan at the length them to rebuke againe, That no good trade of life did entertaine, But lost their time in wandring loose abroad; Seeing the world, in which they bootles boad, Had wayes enough for all therein to live; Such grace did God unto his creatures give. Said then the Foxe; "Who hath the world not tride, From the right way full eath may wander wide. We are but Novices, new come abroad, We have not yet the tract of anie troad, Nor on us taken anie state of life,
« PreviousContinue » |