FOOTNOTES:

[475] Not in MS.

[476] So Isham copy.—Other eds. omit the words "this is."



IN MACRUM. XV.

Thou canst not speak yet, Macer; for to speak, Is to distinguish sounds significant: Thou with harsh noise the air dost rudely break; But what thou utter'st common sense doth want,— Half-English words, with fustian terms among, Much like the burden of a northern song.



IN FAUSTUM. XVI.

"That youth," said Faustus, "hath a lion seen, Who from a dicing-house comes moneyless." But when he lost his hair, where had he been? I doubt me, he[477] had seen a lioness.

FOOTNOTES:

[477] So MS. and eds. B, C. Not in Isham copy or ed. A.



IN COSMUM. XVII.

Cosmus hath more discoursing in his head Than Jove when Pallas issu'd from his brain; And still he strives to be delivered Of all his thoughts at once; but all in vain; For, as we see at all the playhouse-doors, When ended is the play, the dance, and song, A thousand townsmen, gentlemen, and whores, Porters, and serving-men, together throng,— So thoughts of drinking, thriving, wenching, war, And borrowing money, ranging in his mind, 10 To issue all at once so forward are, As none at all can perfect passage find.



IN FLACCUM. XVIII.

The false knave Flaccus once a bribe I gave; The more fool I to bribe so false a knave: But he gave back my bribe; the more fool he, That for my folly did not cozen me.



IN CINEAM. XIX.

Thou, dogged Cineas, hated like a dog, For still thou grumblest like a masty[478] dog, Compar'st thyself to nothing but a dog; Thou say'st thou art as weary as a dog, As angry, sick, and hungry as a dog, As dull and melancholy as a dog, As lazy, sleepy, idle[479] as a dog. But why dost thou compare thee to a dog In that for which all men despise a dog? I will compare thee better to a dog; 10 Thou art as fair and comely as a dog, Thou art as true and honest as a dog, Thou art as kind and liberal as a dog, Thou art as wise and valiant as a dog. But, Cineas, I have often[480] heard thee tell, Thou art as like thy father as may be: 'Tis like enough; and, faith, I like it well; But I am glad thou art not like to me.

FOOTNOTES:

[478] Mastiff.

[479] So Isham copy and MS.—Eds. A, B, C "and as idle."

[480] So MS.—Isham copy and ed. A "oft."



IN GERONTEM.[481] XX.

Geron, whose[482] mouldy memory corrects Old Holinshed our famous chronicler With moral rules, and policy collects Out of all actions done these fourscore year; Accounts the time of every odd[483] event, Not from Christ's birth, nor from the prince's reign, But from some other famous accident, Which in men's general notice doth remain,— The siege of Boulogne,[484] and the plaguy sweat,[485] The going to Saint Quintin's[486] and New-Haven,[487] 10 The rising[488] in the north, the frost so great, That cart-wheel prints on Thamis' face were graven,[489] The fall of money,[490] and burning of Paul's steeple,[491] The blazing star,[492] and Spaniards' overthrow:[493] By these events, notorious to the people, He measures times, and things forepast doth show: But most of all, he chiefly reckons by A private chance,—the death of his curst[494] wife; This is to him the dearest memory, And th' happiest accident of all his life. 20

FOOTNOTES:

[481] Not in MS.

[482] So Isham copy.—Omitted in ed. A.

[483] So Isham copy.—Eds. A, B, C "old."

[484] Boulogne was captured by Henry VIII. in 1544.

[485] The reference probably is to the visitation of 1551.

[486] In 1557 an English corps under the Earl of Pembroke took part in the war against France. "The English did not share in the glory of the battle, for they were not present; but they arrived two days after to take part in the storming of St. Quentin, and to share, to their shame, in the sack and spoiling of the town."—Froude, VI. 52.

[487] Havre.—The expedition was despatched in 1562.

[488] Led by the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland in 1569.

[489] The reference is to the frost of 1564.—"There was one great frost in England in our memory, and that was in the 7th year of Queen Elizabeth: which began upon the 21st of December and held in so extremely that, upon New Year's eve following, people in multitudes went upon the Thames from London Bridge to Westminster; some, as you tell me, sir, they do now—playing at football, others shooting at pricks."—"The Great Frost," 1608 (Arber's "English Garner," Vol. I.)

[490] "This yeare [1560] in the end of September the copper monies which had been coyned under King Henry the Eight and once before abased by King Edward the Sixth, were again brought to a lower valuacion."—Hayward's Annals of Queen Elizabeth, p. 73.

[491] On the 4th June 1561, the steeple of St. Paul's was struck by lightning.

[492] "On the 10th of October (some say on the 7th) appeared a blazing star in the north, bushing towards the east, which was nightly seen diminishing of his brightness until the 21st of the same month."—Stow's Annales, under the year 1580 (ed. 1615, p. 687).

[493] The defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588.

[494] Vixenish.



IN MARCUM. XXI.

When Marcus comes from Mins',[495] he still doth swear, By "come[496] on seven," that all is lost and gone: But that's not true; for he hath lost his hair, Only for that he came too much on[497] one.

FOOTNOTES:

[495] Dyce conjectures that this was the name of some person who kept an ordinary where gaming was practised. (MS. "for newes.")

[496] So eds. B, C.—Isham copy and ed. A "a seaven."

[497] So MS. with some eccentricities of spelling ("to much one one").—Old eds. "at."



IN CYPRIUM. XXII.

The fine youth Cyprius is more terse and neat Than the new garden of the Old Temple is; And still the newest fashion he doth get, And with the time doth change from that to this; He wears a hat now of the flat-crown block,[498] The treble ruff,[499] long coat, and doublet French: He takes tobacco, and doth wear a lock,[500] And wastes more time in dressing than a wench. Yet this new-fangled youth, made for these times, Doth, above all, praise old George[501] Gascoigne's rhymes.[502] 10

FOOTNOTES:

[498] Shape or fashion; properly the wooden mould on which the crown of a hat is shaped.

[499] So MS.—Old eds. "ruffes."

[500] Love-lock; a lock of hair hanging down the shoulder in the left side. It was usually plaited with ribands.

[501] So MS. and eds. B, C.—Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[502] Gascoigne's "rhymes" have been edited in two thick volumes by Mr. Carew Hazlitt. He died on 7th October 1577. In Gabriel Harvey's Letter Book (recently edited by Mr. Edward Scott for the Camden Society) there are some elegies on him.



IN CINEAM. XXIII.

When Cineas comes amongst his friends in morning, He slyly looks[503] who first his cap doth move: Him he salutes, the rest so grimly scorning, As if for ever they had lost his love. I, knowing how it doth the humour fit Of this fond gull to be saluted first, Catch at my cap, but move it not a whit: Which he perceiving,[504] seems for spite to burst. But, Cineas, why expect you more of me Than I of you? I am as good a man, 10 And better too by many a quality, For vault, and dance, and fence, and rhyme I can: You keep a whore at your own charge, men tell me; Indeed, friend Cineas, therein you excel me.[505]

FOOTNOTES:

[503] So Isham copy and ed. A.—Eds. B, C "spies."—MS. "notes."

[504] So the MS.—Isham copy and ed. A "Which perceiving he."—Eds. B, C "Which to perceiving he."

[505] The MS. adds—

"You keepe a whore att your [own] charge in towne; Indeede, frend Ceneas, there you put me downe."



IN GALLUM. XXIV.

Gallus hath been this summer-time in Friesland, And now, return'd, he speaks such warlike words, As, if I could their English understand, I fear me they would cut my throat like swords; He talks of counter-scarfs,[506] and casamates,[507] Of parapets, curtains, and palisadoes;[508] Of flankers, ravelins, gabions he prates, And of false-brays,[509] and sallies, and scaladoes.[510] But, to requite such gulling terms as these, With words to my profession I reply; 10 I tell of fourching, vouchers, and counterpleas, Of withernams, essoins, and champarty. So, neither of us understanding either, We part as wise as when we came together.

FOOTNOTES:

[506] Counter-scarps.

[507] Old eds. "Casomates."

[508] Old eds. "Of parapets, of curteneys, and pallizadois."—MS. "Of parapelets, curtens and passadoes."—Cunningham prints "Of curtains, parapets," &c.

[509] "A term in fortification, exactly from the French fausse-braie, which means, say the dictionaries, a counter-breast-work, or, in fact, a mound thrown up to mask some part of the works.

'And made those strange approaches by false-brays, Reduits, half-moons, horn-works, and such close ways.'

B. Jons. Underwoods."—Nares.

[510] Dyce points out that this passage is imitated in Fitzgeoffrey's Notes from Black-Fryers, Sig. E. 7, ed. 1620.



IN DECIUM.[511] XXV.

Audacious painters have Nine Worthies made; But poet Decius, more audacious far, Making his mistress march with men of war, With title of "Tenth Worthy" doth her lade. Methinks that gull did use his terms as fit, Which term'd his love "a giant for her wit."

FOOTNOTES:

[511] In this epigram, as Dyce showed, Davies is glancing at a sonnet of Drayton's "To the Celestiall Numbers" in Idea. Jonson told Drummond that "S. J. Davies played in ane Epigrame on Draton's, who in a sonnet concluded his mistress might been the Ninth [sic] Worthy; and said he used a phrase like Dametas in Arcadia, who said, For wit his Mistresse might be a Gyant."—Notes of Ben Jonson's Conversations with Drummond, p. 15. (ed. Shakesp. Soc.)



IN GELLAM. XXVI.

If Gella's beauty be examined, She hath a dull dead eye, a saddle nose, An ill-shap'd face, with morphew overspread, And rotten teeth, which she in laughing shows; Briefly, she is the filthiest wench in town, Of all that do the art of whoring use: But when she hath put on her satin gown, Her cut[512] lawn apron, and her velvet shoes, Her green silk stockings, and her petticoat Of taffeta, with golden fringe around, 10 And is withal perfum'd with civet hot, Which doth her valiant stinking breath confound,— Yet she with these additions is no more Than a sweet, filthy, fine, ill-favour'd whore.

FOOTNOTES:

[512] So MS.—Old eds. "out."



IN SYLLAM. XXVII.

Sylla is often challeng'd to the field, To answer, like a gentleman, his foes: But then doth he this[513] only answer yield, That he hath livings and fair lands to lose. Sylla, if none but beggars valiant were, The king of Spain would put us all in fear.

FOOTNOTES:

[513] So Isham copy.—Ed. A "when doth he his."



IN SYLLAM. XXVIII.

Who dares affirm that Sylla dare not fight? When I dare swear he dares adventure more Than the most brave and most[514] all-daring wight That ever arms with resolution bore; He that dare touch the most unwholesome whore That ever was retir'd into the spittle, And dares court wenches standing at a door (The portion of his wit being passing little); He that dares give his dearest friends offences, Which other valiant fools do fear to do, 10 And, when a fever doth confound his senses, Dare eat raw beef, and drink strong wine thereto: He that dares take tobacco on the stage,[515] Dares man a whore at noon-day through the street, Dares dance in Paul's, and in this formal age Dares say and do whatever is unmeet; Whom fear of shame could never yet affright, Who dares affirm that Sylla dares not fight?

FOOTNOTES:

[514] So Isham copy.—Ed. A "most brave, most all daring."—Eds. B, C "most brave and all daring."—MS. "most valiant and all-daring."

[515] There are frequent allusions to this practice. Cf. Induction to Cynthia's Revels:—"I have my three sorts of tobacco in my pocket; my light by me."



IN HEYWODUM. XXIX.

Heywood,[516] that did in epigrams excel, Is now put down since my light Muse arose;[517] As buckets are put down into a well, Or as a schoolboy putteth down his hose.

FOOTNOTES:

[516] John Heywood, the well-known epigrammatist and interlude-writer. His Proverbs were edited in 1874, with a pleasantly-written Introduction and useful notes, by Mr. Julian Sharman.

[517] Dyce refers to a passage of Sir John Harington's Metamorphosis of Ajax, 1596:—"This Haywood for his proverbs and epigrams is not yet put down by any of our country, though one [marginal note, M. Davies] doth indeed come near him, that graces him the more in saying he puts him down." He quotes also from Bastard's Chrestoleros, 1598 (Lib. ii. Ep. 15); Lib. iii. Ep. 3, and Freeman's Rubbe and a Great Cast ( Pt. ii., Ep. 100), allusions to the present epigram.



IN DACUM.[518] XXX.

Amongst the poets Dacus number'd is, Yet could he never make an English rhyme: But some prose speeches I have heard of his, Which have been spoken many a hundred time; The man that keeps the elephant hath one, Wherein he tells the wonders of the beast; Another Banks pronounced long agone, When he his curtal's[519] qualities express'd: He first taught him that keeps the monuments At Westminster, his formal tale to say, 10 And also him which puppets represents, And also him which with the ape doth play. Though all his poetry be like to this, Amongst the poets Dacus number'd is.

FOOTNOTES:

[518] Samuel Daniel. See Ep. xlv.

[519] All the information about Banks' wonderful horse Moroccus ("the little horse that ambled on the top of Paul's") is collected in Mr. Halliwell-Phillips' Memoranda on Love's Labour Lost.



IN PRISCUM. XXXI.

When Priscus, rais'd from low to high estate, Rode through the street in pompous jollity, Caius, his poor familiar friend of late, Bespake him thus, "Sir, now you know not me," "'Tis likely, friend," quoth Priscus, "to be so, For at this time myself I do not know."



IN BRUNUM. XXXII.

Brunus, which deems[520] himself a fair sweet youth, Is nine and thirty[521] year of age at least; Yet was he never, to confess the truth, But a dry starveling when he was at best. This gull was sick to show his nightcap fine, And his wrought pillow overspread with lawn; But hath been well since his grief's cause hath line[522] At Trollop's by Saint Clement's Church in pawn.

FOOTNOTES:

[520] So eds. B, C.—Isham copy and ed. A "thinks."

[521] Old eds. "thirtie nine." MS. "nine and thirtith."

[522] Lain.



IN FRANCUM. XXXIII.

When Francus comes to solace with his whore, He sends for rods, and strips himself stark naked; For his lust sleeps, and will not rise before, By whipping of the wench, it be awaked. I envy him not, but wish I[523] had the power To make myself his wench but one half-hour.

FOOTNOTES:

[523] So Isham copy.—Ed. A "he."



IN CASTOREM. XXXIV.

Of speaking well why do we learn the skill, Hoping thereby honour and wealth to gain? Sith railing Castor doth, by speaking ill, Opinion of much wit, and gold obtain.



IN SEPTIMIUM. XXXV.

Septimius[524] lives, and is like garlic seen, For though his head be white, his blade is green. This old mad colt deserves a martyr's praise, For he was burned[525] in Queen Mary's days.

FOOTNOTES:

[524] So ed. B.—Isham copy, ed. A, and MS. "Septimus."

[525] "Burn" is often used with an indelicate double entendre. Cf. Lear iii. 2, "No heretics burned but wenchers' suitors;" Troilus and Cressida, v. 2, "A burning devil take them."



OF TOBACCO. XXXVI.

Homer of Moly and Nepenthe sings; Moly, the gods' most sovereign herb divine, Nepenthe, Helen's[526] drink, which gladness brings, Heart's grief expels, and doth the wit refine. But this our age another world hath found, From whence an herb of heavenly power is brought; Moly is not so sovereign for a wound, Nor hath nepenthe so great wonders wrought. It is tobacco, whose sweet subtle[527] fume The hellish torment of the teeth doth ease, 10 By drawing down and drying up the rheum, The mother and the nurse of each disease; It is tobacco, which doth cold expel, And clears th' obstructions of the arteries, And surfeits threatening death digesteth well, Decocting all the stomach's crudities;[528] It is tobacco, which hath power to clarify The cloudy mists before dim eyes appearing; It is tobacco, which hath power to rarify The thick gross humour which doth stop the hearing; 20 The wasting hectic, and the quartan fever, Which doth of physic make a mockery, The gout it cures, and helps ill breaths for ever, Whether the cause in teeth or stomach be; And though ill breaths were by it but confounded, Yet that vild[529] medicine it doth far excel, Which by Sir Thomas More[530] hath been propounded, For this is thought a gentleman-like smell. O, that I were one of these mountebanks Which praise their oils and powders which they sell! 30 My customers would give me coin with thanks; I for this ware, forsooth,[531] a tale would tell: Yet would I use none of these terms before; I would but say, that it the pox will cure; This were enough, without discoursing more, All our brave gallants in the town t'allure.

FOOTNOTES:

[526] Isham copy, "Heuens;" and eds. B, C "Heauens."—MS. "helevs."—Davies alludes to Odyssey iv., 219, &c.

[527] So MS.—Old eds. "substantiall."

[528] We are reminded of Bobadil's encomium of tobacco:—"I could say what I know of the virtue of it, for the expulsion of rheums, raw humours, crudities, obstructions, with a thousand of this kind; but I profess myself no quacksalver. Only this much: by Hercules I do hold it and will affirm it before any prince in Europe to be the most sovereign and precious weed that ever the earth tendered to the use of man."

[529] So MS.—Not in old eds.

[530] Dyce quotes from More's Lucubrationes (ed. 1563, p. 261), an epigram headed "Medicinae ad tollendos foetores anhelitus, provenientes a cibis quibusdam."

[531] So eds. A, B, C.—Isham copy "so smooth."—MS. "so faire."



IN CRASSUM. XXXVII.

Crassus his lies are no[532] pernicious lies, But pleasant fictions, hurtful unto none But to himself; for no man counts him wise To tell for truth that which for false is known. He swears that Gaunt[533] is three-score miles about, And that the bridge at Paris[534] on the Seine Is of such thickness, length, and breadth throughout, That six-score arches can it scarce sustain; He swears he saw so great a dead man's skull At Canterbury digg'd out of the ground, 10 As[535] would contain of wheat three bushels full; And that in Kent are twenty yeomen found, Of which the poorest every year[536] dispends Five thousand pound: these and five thousand mo So oft he hath recited to his friends, That now himself persuades himself 'tis so. But why doth Crassus tell his lies so rife, Of bridges, towns, and things that have no life? He is a lawyer, and doth well espy That for such lies an action will not lie. 20

FOOTNOTES:

[532] So MS.—Eds. "not."

[533] Ghent.

[534] The reference probably is to the Pont Neuf, begun by Henry III. and finished by Henry IV.

[535] So MS.—Old eds. "That."

[536] MS. "day!"



IN PHILONEM. XXXVIII.

Philo, the lawyer,[537] and the fortune-teller, The school-master, the midwife,[538] and the bawd, The conjurer, the buyer and the seller Of painting which with breathing will be thaw'd, Doth practise physic; and his credit grows, As doth the ballad-singer's auditory, Which hath at Temple-Bar his standing chose, And to the vulgar sings an ale-house story: First stands a porter; then an oyster-wife Doth stint her cry and stay her steps to hear him; 10 Then comes a cutpurse ready with his[539] knife, And then a country client presseth[540] near him; There stands the constable, there stands the whore, And, hearkening[541] to the song, mark[542] not each other; There by the serjeant stands the debitor,[543] And doth no more mistrust him than his brother: This[544] Orpheus to such hearers giveth music, And Philo to such patients giveth physic.

FOOTNOTES:

[537] Isham copy and MS. "gentleman."

[538] MS. "widdow."

[539] So Isham copy and MS.—Other eds. "a."

[540] So Isham copy.—Other eds. "passeth."—MS. "presses."

[541] So Isham copy, ed. A, and MS.—Eds. B, C "listening."

[542] So Isham copy, ed. A, and MS.—Eds. B, C "heed."

[543] So eds. B, C.—Isham copy, MS., and ed. A, "debtor poor."—With the foregoing description of the "ballad-singer's auditory" compare Wordsworth's lines On the power of Music, and Vincent Bourne's charming Latin verses (entitled Cantatrices) on the Ballad Singers of the Seven Dials.

[544] So MS.—Eds. "Thus."



IN FUSCUM. XXXIX.

Fuscus is free, and hath the world at will; Yet, in the course of life that he doth lead, He's like a horse which, turning round a mill, Doth always in the self-same circle tread: First, he doth rise at ten;[545] and at eleven He goes to Gill's, where he doth eat till one; Then sees a play till six;[546] and sups at seven; And, after supper, straight to bed is gone; And there till ten next day he doth remain; And then he dines; then sees a comedy; 10 And then he sups, and goes to bed again: Thus round he runs without variety, Save that sometimes he comes not to the play, But falls into a whore-house by the way.

FOOTNOTES:

[545] Cf. a somewhat similar description in Guilpin's Skialetheia (Ep. 25):—

"My lord most court-like lies abed till noon, Then all high-stomacht riseth to his dinner; Falls straight to dice before his meat be down, Or to digest walks to some female sinner; Perhaps fore-tired he gets him to a play, Comes home to supper and then falls to dice; Then his devotion wakes till it be day, And so to bed where unto noon he lies."

[546] If the play ended at six, it could hardly have begun before three. From numerous passages it appears that performances frequently began at three, or even later. Probably the curtain rose at one in the winter and three in the summer.



IN AFRUM. XL.

The smell-feast[547] Afer travels to the Burse Twice every day, the flying news to hear; Which, when he hath no money in his purse, To rich men's tables he doth ever[548] bear. He tells how Groni[n]gen[549] is taken in[550] By the brave conduct of illustrious Vere, And how the Spanish forces Brest would win, But that they do victorious Norris[551] fear. No sooner is a ship at sea surpris'd, But straight he learns the news, and doth disclose it; No[552] sooner hath the Turk a plot devis'd To conquer Christendom, but straight he knows it. Fair-written in a scroll he hath the names Of all the widows which the plague hath made; And persons, times, and places, still he frames To every tale, the better to persuade. We call him Fame, for that the wide-mouth slave Will eat as fast as he will utter lies; 20 For fame is said an hundred mouths to have, And he eats more than would five-score suffice.

FOOTNOTES:

[547] This word is found in Chapman, Harrington, and others.

[548] So MS.—Old eds. "often."

[549] Groningen was taken by Maurice of Nassau. Vere was present at the siege.

[550] The expression "take in" (in the sense of "conquer, capture") is very common.

[551] An English expedition, under Sir John Norris, was sent to Brittany in 1594.

[552] This line and the next are found only in Isham copy and MS.



IN PAULUM. XLI.

By lawful mart, and by unlawful stealth, Paulus, in spite of envy, fortunate, Derives out of the ocean so much wealth, As he may well maintain a lord's estate: But on the land a little gulf there is, Wherein he drowneth all this[553] wealth of his.

FOOTNOTES:

[553] So Isham copy—Eds. A, B, C "the."—MS. "ye."



IN LYCUM. XLII.

Lycus, which lately is to Venice gone, Shall, if he do return, gain three for one;[554] But, ten to one, his knowledge and his wit Will not be better'd or increas'd a whit.

FOOTNOTES:

[554] When a person started on a long or dangerous voyage it was customary to deposit—or, as it was called, "put out"—a sum of money, on condition of receiving at his return a high rate of interest. If he failed to return the money was lost. There are frequent allusions in old authors to this practice.



IN PUBLIUM. XLIII.

Publius, a[555] student at the Common-Law, Oft leaves his books, and, for his recreation, To Paris-garden[556] doth himself withdraw; Where he is ravish'd with such delectation, As down amongst the bears and dogs he goes; Where, whilst he skipping cries, "To head, to head,"[557] His satin doublet and his velvet hose Are all with spittle from above be-spread; Then is he like his father's country hall, Stinking of dogs, and muted[558] all with hawks; 10 And rightly too on him this filth doth fall, Which for such filthy sports his books forsakes, Leaving old Ployden, Dyer, and Brooke alone, To see old Harry Hunkes and Sacarson.[559]

FOOTNOTES:

[555] So MS.—Not in old eds.

[556] The Bear-Garden in the Bankside, Southwark.

[557] In Titus Andronicus, v. 1, we have the expression "to fight at head" ("As true a dog as ever fought at head"). "To fly at the head" was equivalent to "attack;" and in Nares' Glossary (ed. Halliwell) the expression "run on head," in the sense of incite, is quoted from Heywood's Spider and Flie, 1556.

[558] Covered with hawks' dung.

[559] "Harry Hunkes" and "Sacarson" were the names of two famous bears (probably named after their keepers). Slender boasted to Anne Page, "I have seen Sackarson loose twenty times and have taken him by the chain."



IN SYLLAM. XLIV.

When I this proposition had defended, "A coward cannot be an honest man," Thou, Sylla, seem'st forthwith to be offended, And hold'st[560] the contrary, and swear'st[561] he can. But when I tell thee that he will forsake His dearest friend in peril of his life, Thou then art chang'd, and say'st thou didst mistake; And so we end our argument and strife: Yet I think oft, and think I think aright, Thy argument argues thou wilt not fight. 10

FOOTNOTES:

[560] So MS.—Old eds. "holds."

[561] So MS.—Old eds. "swears."



IN DACUM. XLV.

Dacus,[562] with some good colour and pretence, Terms his love's beauty "silent eloquence;" For she doth lay more colours on her face Than ever Tully us'd his speech to grace.

FOOTNOTES:

[562] Dyce shows that Samuel Daniel is meant by Dacus (who has already been ridiculed in Ep. xxx.). In Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond (1592) are the lines:—

"Ah, beauty, syren, faire enchanting good, Sweet silent rhetorique of perswading eyes, Dumb eloquence, whose power doth move the blood More than the words or wisedome of the wise," &c.

Perhaps there is an allusion to this epigram in Marston's fourth satire:—

"What, shall not Rosamond or Gaveston Ope their sweet lips without detraction? But must our modern critticks envious eye Seeme thus to quote some grosse deformity, Where art not error shineth in their stile, But error and no art doth thee beguile?"



IN MARCUM. XLVI.

Why dost thou, Marcus, in thy misery Rail and blaspheme, and call the heavens unkind? The heavens do owe[563] no kindness unto thee, Thou hast the heavens so little in thy mind; For in thy life thou never usest prayer But at primero, to encounter fair.

FOOTNOTES:

[563] So eds. B, C.—Ed. A "draw" (Epigram xlv.-xlviii. are not in the MS.)



MEDITATIONS OF A GULL. XLVII.

See, yonder melancholy gentleman, Which, hood-wink'd with his hat, alone doth sit! Think what he thinks, and tell me, if you can, What great affairs trouble his little wit. He thinks not of the war 'twixt France and Spain,[564] Whether it be for Europe's good or ill, Nor whether the Empire can itself maintain Against the Turkish power encroaching still;[565] Nor what great town in all the Netherlands The States determine to besiege this spring, 10 Nor how the Scottish policy now stands, Nor what becomes of the Irish mutining.[566] But he doth seriously bethink him whether Of the gull'd people he be more esteem'd For his long cloak or for[567] his great black feather By which each gull is now a gallant deem'd; Or of a journey he deliberates To Paris-garden, Cock-pit, or the play; Or how to steal a dog he meditates, Or what he shall unto his mistress say. Yet with these thoughts he thinks himself most fit To be of counsel with a king for wit.

FOOTNOTES:

[564] Ended in 1598 by the peace of Vervins.

[565] The war between Austria and Turkey was brought to a close in 1606.

[566] A reference to Tyrone's insurrection, 1595-1602.

[567] So Isham copy.—Not in other eds.



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[568] is better known than he; So are the camels and the western hog, And so is Lepidus his printed dog[569]: Why doth not Ponticus their fames envy? Besides, this Muse of mine and the black feather Grew both together fresh in estimation; 10 And both, grown stale, were cast away together: What fame is this that scarce lasts out a 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.

J. D.

FOOTNOTES:

[568] See note, p. 232.

[569] Dyce points out that by Lepidus is meant Sir John Harington, whose dog Bungey is represented in a compartment of the engraved title-page of the translation of Orlando Furioso, 1591. In his epigrams (Book III. Ep. 21) Harington refers to this epigram of Davies, and expresses himself greatly pleased at the compliment paid to his dog.



IGNOTO.

I[570] love 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 beautyś 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,[571] play with thy hair, Swearing by Jove, "thou art most debonair!" Not I, by cock! but [I] shall 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[572] drunken courtesy, And, when all's quaff'd, eat up my bousing-glass[573] In glory that I am thy servile ass; Nor will I wear a rotten Bourbon lock,[574] 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:[575] But, by the chaps of hell, to do thee good, I'll freely spend my thrice-decocted blood.

FOOTNOTES:

[570] This sonnet and the two following pieces are only found in Isham copy and ed. A.

[571] So Isham copy.—Ed. A "fill."

[572] Tippling.

[573] "Bouse" was a cant term for "drink."

[574] See note v. p. 226.

[575] It was a common practice for gallants to wear their mistresses' garters in their hats.



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.[576]

Blunt,[577] 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,[578] 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,

THOMAS THORPE.

FOOTNOTES:

[576] A well-known bookseller.

[577] Old ed. "Blount."

[578] Paul's churchyard, the Elizabethan "Booksellers' Row."



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,[579] Armies allied, the kingdom's league uprooted, Th' affrighted world's force bent on public spoil, Trumpets and drums, like[580] 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, 10 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, I, 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. 20 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 30 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: Pharsalia groan with slaughter, And Carthage souls be glutted with our bloods! At Munda let the dreadful battles join; 40 Add, Caesar, to these ills, Perusian famine, The Mutin toils, the fleet at Luca[s] sunk, And cruel[581] field near burning AEtna 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; 50 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[582] southern pole, Whence thou shouldst view thy Rome with squinting[583] beams. If any one part of vast heaven thou swayest, The burden'd axes[584] with thy force will bend: The midst is best; that place is pure and bright; There, Caesar, mayst thou shine, and no cloud dim thee. Then men from war shall bide in league and ease, 60 Peace through the world from Janus' face shall fly, And bolt the brazen gates with bars of iron. Thou, Caesar, 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,[585] whence springs a long discourse; And what made madding people shake off peace. The Fates are envious, high seats[586] quickly perish, 70 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, Confused stars shall meet, celestial fire Fleet on the floods, the earth shoulder the sea, Affording it no shore, and Phoebe's wain Chase Phoebus, and enrag'd affect his place, And strive to shine by day and full of strife Dissolve the engines of the broken world. 80 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, 90 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[587] 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.[588] Caesar'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, 100 Betwixt the AEgaean,[589] 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[590] 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, 110 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 alliance. 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. 120 Thou fear'd'st, great Pompey, that late deeds would dim Old triumphs, and that Caesar'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 Caesar no superior: which of both Had justest cause, unlawful 'tis to judge: Each side had great partakers; Caesar's cause The gods abetted, Cato lik'd the other.[591] Both differ'd much. Pompey was struck in years, 130 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, 140 His body, not his boughs, send forth a shade; Though every blast it nod,[592] and seem to fall, When all the woods about stand bolt upright, Yet he alone is held in reverence. Caesar's renown for war was loss; 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, 150 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. 160 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,[593] was loath'd, and all the world Ransack'd for gold, which breeds the worldś decay; And then large limits had their butting lands; The ground, which Curius and Camillus till'd, 170 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 180 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 Caesar 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[594] Rome Mourning appear'd, whose hoary hairs were torn, And on her turret-bearing head dispers'd, 190 And arms all naked; who, with broken sighs, And staring, thus bespoke: "What mean'st thou, Caesar? Whither goes my standard? Romans if ye be, And bear true hearts, stay here!" This spectacle Struck Caesar'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 Ilus' line, Quirinus' rites, and Latian Jove advanc'd 200 On Alba hill! O vestal flames! O Rome, My thoughts sole goddess, aid mine enterprise! I hate thee not, to thee my conquests stoop: Caesar 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[595] 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 210 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, 220 And frozen Alps thaw'd with resolving winds. The thunder-hoof'd[596] horse, in a crooked line, To scape the violence of the stream, first waded; Which being broke, the foot had easy passage. As soon as Caesar 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, 230 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 confused noise Of trumpets' clang, shrill cornets, whistling fifes. 240 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,[597] 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 Caesar 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! 250 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 260 When birds are silent thorough winter's rage, Or sea far from the land, so all were whist,[598] Now light had quite dissolv'd the misty night, And Caesar's mind unsettled musing stood; But gods and fortune pricked him to this war, Infringing all excuse of modest shame, And labouring to approve[599] his quarrel good. The angry senate, urging Gracchus'[600] deeds, From doubtful Rome wrongly expell'd the tribunes That cross'd them: both which now approach'd the camp, 270 And with them Curio, sometime tribune too, One that was fee'd for Caesar, and whose tongue Could tune the people to the nobles' mind.[601] "Caesar," 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, 280 Now, while their part is weak and fears, march hence: Where men are ready lingering ever hurts.[602] 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:[603] the son decrees 290 To expel the father: share the world thou canst not; Enjoy it all thou mayst." Thus Curio spake; And therewith Caesar, prone enough to war, Was so incens'd as are Elean[604] steeds. With clamours, who, though lock'd and chain'd in stalls,[605] Souse[606] 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 300 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? 310 Let come their leader[607] whom long peace hath quail'd, Raw soldiers lately press'd, and troops of gowns, Babbling[608] 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, 320 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 330 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[609] pirates are suppress'd, And jaded[610] 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,[611] 340 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?[612] 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:[613] the gods are with us; 350 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 Caesar's awe dash'd all. Then Laelius,[614] 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, 361 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, 370 Hath with thee pass'd the swelling ocean, And swept the foaming breast of Arctic[615] Rhene. Love over-rules my will; I must obey thee, Caesar: 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[616] womb, This hand, albeit unwilling, should perform it? Or rob the gods, or sacred temples fire, 380 These troops should soon pull down the church of Jove;[617] 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 heaven, As when against pine-bearing Ossa's rocks 390 Beats Thracian Boreas, or when trees bow[618] down And rustling swing up as the wind fets[619] breath. When Caesar 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[620] the Lingones foil'd with painted spears, Under the rocks by crooked Vogesus; And many came from shallow Isara, 400 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,[621] 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 410 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 forced 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 420 By Nemes' fields and banks of Satirus,[622] Where Tarbell's winding shores embrace the sea; The Santons that rejoice in Caesar's love;[623] Those of Bituriges,[624] and light Axon[625] pikes; And they of Rhene and Leuca,[626] 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 Roman's brethren, sprung of Ilian race; The stubborn Nervians stain'd with Cotta's blood; 430 And Vangions who, like those of Sarmata, Wear open slops;[627] 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[628] 440 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 450 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 Cayc foe, March towards Rome; and you, fierce men of Rhene, 460 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; 470 Other that Caesar'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[629] behind with them, of purpose, Borne 'twixt the Alps and Rhene, which he hath brought From out their northern parts,[630] and that Rome, He looking on, by these men should be sack'd. 480 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,[631] That in chain'd[632] troops break forth at every port: You would have thought their houses had been fir'd, 490 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, 500 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,[633] and would hold 510 The world, were it together, is by cowards Left as a prey, now Caesar 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 520 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[634] sky glittered in often flames, And sundry fiery meteors blazed in heaven, Now spear-like long, now like a spreading torch; 530 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; Phoebe, having filled Her meeting horns to match her brother's light, Struck with th' earth's sudden shadow, waxed pale; Titan himself, throned in the midst of heaven, His burning chariot plunged in sable clouds, And whelmed the world in darkness, making men 540 Despair of day; as did Thyestes' town, Mycenae, Phoebus flying through the east. Fierce Mulciber unbarred AEtna's gate, Which flamed 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. 550 The earth went off her hinges; and the Alps Shook the old snow from off their trembling laps.[635] 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,[636] Leaving the woods, lodge in the streets of Rome. Cattle were seen that muttered human speech; Prodigious births with more and ugly joints 560 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[637] 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;[638] and ghosts encounter men. Those that inhabited the suburb-fields Fled: foul Erinnys stalked about the walls, 570 Shaking her snaky hair and crooked pine With flaming top; much like that hellish fiend Which made the stern Lycurgus wound his thigh, Or fierce Agave mad; or like Megaera 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 armed battle joins, such and more strange Black night brought forth in secret. Sylla's ghost Was seen to walk, singing sad oracles; 580 And Marius' head above cold Tav'ron[639] peering, His grave broke open, did affright the boors. To these ostents, as their old custom was, They call th' Etrurian augurs: amongst whom The gravest, Arruns, dwelt in forsaken Leuca[640] 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[641] and cast in dismal fires; 590 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[642] their saint In Almo's flood; next learned augurs follow; 600 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 crooked knife: The beast long struggled, as being like to prove 610 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 620 Did threaten horror from the host of Caesar 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[643] 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.[644] By these he seeing what mischiefs must ensue, Cried out, "O gods, I tremble to unfold 630 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 AEgyptian Memphis never had For skill in stars and tuneful planeting,[645] 640 In this sort spake: "The world's swift course is lawless And casual; all the stars at random range;[646] 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?[647] 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 650 Were now exalted, and with blue beams shin'd, Then Ganymede[648] would renew Deucalion's flood, And in the fleeting sea the earth be drench'd. O Phoebus, shouldst thou with thy rays now singe The fell Nemaean 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:[649] why art thou thus enrag'd? Kind Jupiter hath low declin'd himself; 660 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 670 Of slaughter! only civil broils make peace." These sad presages were enough to scare The quivering Romans; but worse things affright them. As Maenas[650] full of wine on Pindus raves, So runs a matron through th' amazed streets, Disclosing Phoebus' fury in this sort; "Paean, whither am I haled? where shall I fall, Thus borne aloft? I seen Pangaeus' hill With hoary top, and, under Haemus' mount, Philippi plains. Phoebus, what rage is this? 680 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[651] hills; thence[652] to the mounts Pyrene; and so back to Rome again. See, impious war defiles the senate-house! 690 New factions rise. Now through the world again I go. O Phoebus, show me Neptune's shore, And other regions! I have seen Philippi." This said, being tir'd with fury, she sunk down.

FOOTNOTES:

[579] Old ed. "launcht."—The forms "lanch" and "lance" are used indifferently.

[580] Alike.

[581] "Et ardenti servilia bella sub AEtna."

[582] "Nec polus adversi calidus qua vergitur Austri."

[583] "Obliquo sidere."

[584] Axis.

[585] Tumults.

[586]

"Summisque negatum, Stare diu."

[587] Far-fetched.

[588] "Exiguum dominos commisit asylum."

[589] "So old ed. in some copies which had been corrected at press; other copies 'Aezean.'"—Dyce.

[590] Carrae's.

[591] A somewhat weak translation of Lucan's most famous line:—"Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni."

[592] As the line stands we must take "nod" and "fall" transitively ("though every blast make it nod and seem to make it fall"). The original has "At quamvis primo nutet casura sub Euro."

[593] "Fecunda virorum / Paupertas."

[594] "Ingens visa duci patriae trepidantis imago."

[595] "Inde moras solvit belli."

[596] "Sonipes."

[597] "Nuda jam crate fluentes / Invadunt clypeos."

[598] Silent.

[599] Prove.

[600] "Jactatis ... Gracchis."

[601] Marlowe omits to translate the words that follow in the original:—

"Utque ducem varias volventem pectore curas Conspexit."

[602] A line (omitted by Marlowe) follows in the original:—"Par labor atque metus pretio majore petuntur."

[603] An obscure rendering of

"Gentesque subactas Vix impune feres."

[604] Old ed. "Eleius." It is hardly possible to suppose (as Dyce suggests) that Marlowe took the adjective "Eleus" for a substantive.

[605] A mistranslation of "carcere clauso." ("Carcer" is the barrier or starting-place in the circus.)

[606] "Immineat foribus." "Souse" is a north-country word meaning to bang or dash. It is also applied to the swooping-down of a hawk.

[607] Old ed. "leaders."

[608] So Dyce for the old ed's. "Brabbling." The original has "Marcellusque loquax." ("Brabbling" means "wrangling.")

[609] A mistake (or perhaps merely a misprint) for "Cilician."

[610] Old ed. has "Jaded, king of Pontus!"

[611] "Unless we understand this in the sense of—say I receive no reward (—and in Fletcher's Woman-Hater, 'merit' means—derive profit, B. and F.'s Works, i. 91, ed. Dyce,—), it is a wrong translation of 'mihi si merces erepta laborum est.'"—Dyce.

[612] "Sicilia" should be "Cilicia."

[613] A free translation of the frigid original—

"Arma tenenti Omnia dat qui justa negat."

[614] Old ed. "Lalius."

[615] Old ed. "Articks Rhene." ("Rhene" is the old form of "Rhine.")

[616] So old ed. Dyce's correction "or groaning woman's womb" seems hardly necessary. (The original has "plenaeque in viscera partu conjugis.")

[617] "Numina miscebit castrensis flamma Monetae."

[618] Old ed. "bowde."

[619] Fetches.

[620] The original has—

"Castraque quae, Vogesi curvam super ardua rupem, Pugnaces pictis cohibebant Lingonas armis."

Dyce conjectures that Marlowe's copy read Lingones.

[621] Old ed. "bloats."

[622]

"Tunc rura Nemossi Qui tenet et ripas Aturi."

[623] Marlowe seems to have read here very ridiculously, "gaudetque amato [instead of amoto] Santonus hoste."—Dyce.

[624] Marlowe has converted the name of a tribe into that of a country.

[625] The approved reading is "longisque leves Suessones in armis."

[626] "Optimus excusso Leucus Rhemusque lacerto."

[627] "Et qui te laxis imitantur, Sarmata, bracchis Vangiones."

Marlowe has mistaken "Sarmata," a Sarmatian, for the country Sarmatia.

[628] The old ed. gives "fell Mercury (Joue)," and in the next line "where it seems." "Jove" written, as a correction, in the MS. above "it" was supposed by the printer to belong to the previous line.

[629] The original has—

"Hunc inter Rhenum populos Alpesque jacentes, / Finibus Arctois patriaque a sede revulsos, / Pone sequi."/ ("Populos" is the subject and "Hunc" the object of "sequi." For "Hunc" the best editions give "Tunc.")

[630] "Parts" must be pronounced as a dissyllable.

[631] "Praecipitem populum."

[632] "Serieque haerentia longa / Agmina prorumpunt."

[633] "Urbem populis, victisque frequentem Gentibus."—Old ed. "captaines."

[634] "Fulgura fallaci micuerunt crebra sereno."

[635] The original has, "jugis nutantibus." Dyce reads "tops,"—an emendation against which Cunningham loudly protests. "Laps" is certainly more emphatic.

[636] The line is imperfect. We should have expected "at night wild beasts were seen" ("silvisque feras sub nocte relictis").

[637] Old ed. "Sibils."

[638] Shrieked.

[639] "Gelidas Anienis ad undas."

[640] "Or Lunae"—marginal note in old ed.

[641] The original has "rapi."

[642] Old ed. "wash'd."

[643] Portendeth.

[644] Here Marlowe quite deserts the original—

"pars aegra et marcida pendet, Pars micat, et celeri venas movet improba pulsu."

[645] "Numerisque moventibus astra."—The word "planeting" was, I suppose, coined by Marlowe. I have never met it elsewhere.

[646] So Dyce.—Old ed. "radge." (The original has "et incerto discurrunt sidera motu.")

[647] "Omnis an effusis miscebitur unda venenis."—Dyce suggests that Marlowe's copy read "pruinis."

[648] The original has "Aquarius."—Ganymede was changed into the sign Aquarius: see Hyginus' Poeticon Astron. II. 29.

[649] Claws.

[650] A Maenad.—Old ed. "Maenus."

[651] The original has "Nubiferae."

[652] Old ed. "hence."



THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.



THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.[653]

Come[654] live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and vallies, dales and fields,[655] Woods or steepy mountain yields.[656]

And we will[657] sit upon the rocks, Seeing[658] the shepherds feed their[659] flocks By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing[660] madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses[661] And[662] a thousand fragrant posies, A cup of flowers and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown[663] made of the finest wooll Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined[664] 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[665] live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd-swains[666] 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.

FOOTNOTES:

[653] This delightful pastoral song was first published, without the fourth and sixth stanzas, in The Passionate Pilgrim, 1599. It appeared complete in England's Helicon, 1600, with Marlowe's name subscribed. By quoting it in the Complete Angler, 1653, Izaak Walton has made it known to a world of readers.

[654] Omitted in P. P.

[655] So P. P.—E. H. "That vallies, groves, hills and fieldes."—Walton "That vallies, groves, or hils or fields."

[656] So E. H.—P. P. "And the craggy mountain yields."—Walton "Or, woods and steepie mountains yeelds."

[657] So E. H.—P. P. "There will we."—Walton "Where we will."

[658] So E. H.—P. P. and Walton "And see."

[659] So E. H. and P. P.—Walton "our."

[660] So P. P. and Walton.—E. H. "sings."

[661] So E. H. and Walton.—P. P. "There will I make thee a bed of roses."

[662] So E. H.—P. P. "With."—Walton "And then."

[663] This stanza is omitted in P. P.

[664] So E. H.—Walton "Slippers lin'd choicely."

[665] So E. H. and Walton.—P. P. "Then."—After this stanza there follows in the second edition of the Complete Angler, 1655, an additional stanza:—

"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."

[666] This stanza is omitted in P. P.—E. H. and Walton "The sheep-heards swaines."



[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[667]—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.

Times drives the 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.

FOOTNOTES:

[667] Oldys in his annotated copy (preserved in the British Museum) of Langbaine's Engl. Dram. Poets, under the article Marlowe remarks:—"Sir Walter Raleigh was an encourager of his [i.e. Marlowe's] Muse; and he wrote an answer to a Pastoral Sonnet of Sir Walter's [sic], printed by Isaac Walton in his book of fishing." It would be pleasant to think that Marlowe enjoyed Raleigh's patronage; but Oldys gives no authority for his statement.



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 Phoebus 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 tuned 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-tables 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 Themilis 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.



FRAGMENT.[668]

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-paved 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[669] 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—

FOOTNOTES:

[668] From England's Parnassus, 1600, p. 480, where it is subscribed "Ch. Marlowe."

[669] The text of England's Parnassus has "twindring," which is corrected in the Errata, to "twining."



DIALOGUE IN VERSE.[670]

JACK.

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.

FRIEND.

Let him give her gay gold rings Or tufted gloves, were they ne'er so [gay]; 10 [F]or were her lovers lords or kings, They should not carry the wench away.

[JACK.]

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.