a picture fine deface Which he sometime his fancie to beguile had caru'd on bark of Beech in secret place And with despight of most afflicted minde through deepe dispaire of hart for loue dismaid He pull'd euen from the tree the carued rinde and weeping sore these wofull words he said Ah Phillida would God thy picture faire I could as lightly blot out of my brest Then should I not thus rage in deepe dispaire and teare the thing sometime I liked best But all in vaine it booteth not God wot What printed is in hart on tree to blot Out of M. Birds set Songs FINIS ¶ Melisea her Song in scorne of her Sheepheard Narcissus YOung Sheepheard turne a-side and moue Me not to follow thee For I will neither kill with loue Nor loue shall not kill me Since I will liue and neuer show Then die not for my loue I will not giue For I will neuer haue thee loue me so As I doo meane to hate thee while I liue That since the louer so dooth proue His death as thou doo'st see Be bold I will not kill with loue Nor loue shall not kill me Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ His aunswere to the Nimphs Song IF to be lou'd it thee offend I cannot choose but loue thee still And so thy greefe shall haue no end Whiles that my life maintaines my will O let me yet with greefe complaine since such a torment I endure Or else fulfill thy great disdaine to end my life with death most sure For as no credite thou wilt lend and as my loue offends thee still So shall thy sorrowes haue no end whiles that my life maintaines my will If that by knowing thee I could leaue off to loue thee as I doo Not to offend thee then I would leaue off to like and loue thee too But since all loue to thee dooth tend and I of force must loue thee still Thy greefe shall neuer haue an end whiles that my life maintaines my will Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Her present aunswere againe to him ME thinks thou tak'st the worser way Enamoured Sheepheard and in vaine That thou wilt seeke thine owne decay To loue her that dooth thee disdaine For thine owne selfe thy wofull hart Keepe still else art thou much to blame For she to whom thou gau'st each part Of it disdaines to take the same Follow not her that makes a play And iest of all the greefe and paines And seeke not Sheepheard thy decay To loue her that thy loue disdaines Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ His last replie SInce thou to me wert so vnkinde My selfe I neuer loued for I could not loue him in my minde Whom thou faire Mistresse doo'st abhorre If viewing thee I sawe thee not And seeing thee I could not loue thee Dying I should not liue God wot Nor liuing should to anger mooue thee But it is well that I doo finde My life so full of torments for All kinde of ills doo fit his minde Whom thou faire Mistresse doo'st abhorre In thy obliuion buried now My death I haue before mine eyes And heere to hate my selfe I vow As cruell thou doo'st me despise Contented euer thou didst finde Me with thy scornes though neuer for To say the trueth I ioyed in minde After thou didst my loue abhorre Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Philon the Sheepheard his Song WHile that the Sunne with his beames hot Scorched the fruites in vale and mountaine Philon the Sheepheard late forgot Sitting besides a Christall Fountaine In shaddow of a greene Oake tree Vpon his Pipe this Song plaid he Adiew Loue adiew Loue vntrue Loue Vntrue Loue vntrue Loue adiew Loue Your minde is light soone lost for new loue So long as I was in young sight I was as your hart your soule and treasure And euermore you sob'd and sigh'd Burning in flames beyond all measure Three dayes endured your loue to me And it was lost in other three Adiew Loue adiew Loue vntrue Loue. c. Another Sheepheard you did see To whom your hart was soone enchained Full soone your loue was leapt from me Full soone my place he had obtained Soone came a third your loue to win And we were out and he was in Adiew Loue. c. Sure you haue made me passing glad That you your minde so soone remoued Before that I the leysure had To choose you for my best beloued For all my loue was past and done Two dayes before it was begun Adiew Loue. c. Out of M. Birds set Songs FINIS ¶ Lycoris the Nimph her sad Song IN dewe of Roses steeping her louely cheekes Lycoris thus sate weeping Ah Dorus false that hast my hart bereft me And now vnkinde hast left me Heare alas oh heare me Aye me aye me Cannot my beautie mooue thee Pitty yet pitty me Because I loue thee Aye me thou scorn'st the more I pray thee And this thou doo'st and all to slay me Why doo then Kill me and vaunt thee Yet my Ghoast Still shall haunt thee Out of M. Morleyes Madrigalls FINIS ¶ To his Flocks BVrst foorth my teares assist my forward greefe And shew what paine imperious loue prouokes Kinde tender Lambs lament Loues scant releefe And pine since pensiue care my freedom yoakes Oh pine to see me pine my tender Flocks Sad pyning care that neuer may haue peace At Beauties gate in hope of pittie knocks But mercie sleepes while deepe disdaines encrease And Beautie hope in her faire bosome yoakes Oh greeue to heare my greefe my tender Flocks Like to the windes my sighs haue winged beene Yet are my sighs and sutes repaide with mocks I pleade yet she repineth at my teene O ruthlesse rigour harder then the Rocks That both the Sheepheard kills and his poore Flocks FINIS ¶ To his Loue. COme away come sweet Loue The golden morning breakes All the earth all the ayre Of loue and pleasure speakes Teach thine armes then to embrace And sweet Rosie lips to kisse And mixe our soules in mutuall blisse Eyes were made for beauties grace Viewing ruing Loues long paine Procur'd by beauties rude disdaine Come away come sweet Loue The golden morning wasts While the Sunne from his Sphere His fierie arrowes casts Making all the shadowes flie Playing staying in the Groaue To entertaine the stealth of loue Thither sweet Loue let vs hie Flying dying in desire Wing'd with sweet hopes and heauenly fire Come away come sweet Loue Doo not in vaine adiorne Beauties grace that should rise Like to the naked morne Lillies on the Riuers side And faire Cyprian flowers new blowne Desire no beauties but their owne Ornament is Nurse of pride Pleasure measure Loues delight Hast then sweet Loue our wished flight FINIS ¶ Another of his Cinthia AWay with these selfe-louing-Lads Whom Cupids arrowe neuer glads Away poore soules that sigh and weepe In loue of them that lie and sleepe For Cupid is a Meadow God And forceth none to kisse the rod. God Cupids shaft like destenie Dooth eyther good or ill decree Desert
faire befall the dainty sweete By that flower there is a Bower where the heauenly Muses meete In that Bower there is a chaire frindged all about with gold Where dooth sit the fairest faire that euer eye did yet behold It is Phillis faire and bright shee that is the Sheepheards ioy Shee that Venus did despight and did blind her little boy This is she the wise the rich that the world desires to see This is ipsa quae the which there is none but onely shee Who would not this face admire who would not this Saint adore Who would not this sight desire though he thought to see no more Oh faire eyes yet let me see one good looke and I am gone Looke on me for I am hee thy poore silly Coridon Thou that art the Sheepheards Queene looke vpon thy silly Swaine By thy comfort haue beene seene dead men brought to life againe N. Breton FINIS ¶ Coridon and Melampus Song Cor. MElampus when will Loue be void of feares Mel. When Iealousie hath neither eyes nor eares Cor. Melampus when will Loue be throughly shrieued Mel. When it is hard to speake and not beleeued Cor. Melampus when is Loue most malecontent Mel. When Louers range and beare their bowes vnbent Cor. Melampus tell me when takes Loue least harme Mel. When Swaines sweete pipes are puft and Trulls are warme Cor. Melampus tell me when is Loue best fed Mel. When it hath suck'd the sweet that ease hath bred Cor. Melampus when is time in Loue ill spent Mel. When it earnes meede and yet receaues no rent Cor. Melampus when is time well spent in Loue Mel. When deedes win meedes and words Loues works doo proue Geo. Peele FINIS ¶ Tityrus to his faire Phillis THE silly Swaine whose loue breedes discontent Thinks death a trifle life a loathsome thing Sad he lookes sad he lyes But when his Fortunes mallice dooth relent Then of Loues sweetnes he will sweetly sing thus he liues thus he dyes Then Tityrus whom Loue hath happy made Will rest thrice happy in this Mirtle shade For though Loue at first did greeue him yet did Loue at last releeue him I. D. FINIS ¶ Sheepheard SWeete thrall first step to Loues felicitie Sheepheardesse Sweete thrall no stop to perfect libertie Hee O life Shee What life Hee Sweete life Shee No life more sweete Hee O Loue. Shee What loue Hee Sweete Loue. Shee No loue more meete I. M. FINIS Another of the same Authour FIelds were ouer-spread with flowers Fairest choise of Floraes treasure Sheepheards there had shadie Bowers Where they oft reposd with pleasure Meadowes flourish'd fresh and gay where the wanton Heards did play Springs more cleare then Christall streames Seated were the Groues among Thus nor Titans scorching beames Nor earths drouth could Sheepheards wrong Faire Pomonaes fruitfull pride did the budding braunches hide Flocks of sheepe fed on the Plaines Harmelesse sheepe that roamd at large Heere and there sate pensiue Swaines Wayting on their wandring charge Pensiue while their Lasses smil'd Lasses which had them beguil'd Hills with trees were richly dight Vallies stor'd with Vestaes wealth Both did harbour sweet delight Nought was there to hinder health Thus did heauen grace the soyle Not deform'd with work-mens toile Purest plot of earthly mold Might that Land be iustly named Art by Nature was controld Art which no such pleasures framed Fayrer place was neuer seene Fittest place for Beauties Queene I. M. FINIS ¶ Menaphon to Pesana FAire fields proud Floraes vaunt why i' st you smile when as I languish You golden Meades why striue you to beguile my weeping anguish I liue to sorrow you to pleasure spring why doo ye spring thus What will not Boreas tempests wrathfull King take some pitty on vs And send forth Winter in her rustie weede to waile my bemoanings While I distrest doo tune my Country Reede vnto my groanings But heauen and earth time place and euery power haue with her conspired To turne my blisfull sweete to balefull sower since I this desired The heauen whereto my thoughts may not aspire aye me vnhappie It was my fault t' imbrace my bane the fire that forceth me die Mine be the paine but hers the cruell cause of this strange torment Wherefore no time my banning prayers shall pause till proud she repent Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ A sweete Pastorall GOod Muse rock me a sleepe with some sweet Harmonie This wearie eye is not to keepe thy warie companie Sweete Loue be gone a while thou knowest my heauines Beauty is borne but to beguile my hart of happines See how my little flocke that lou'd to feede on hie Doo headlong tumble downe the Rocke and in the Vallie die The bushes and the trees that were so fresh and greene Doo all their dainty colour leese and not a leafe is seene The Black-bird and the Thrush that made the woods to ring With all the rest are now at hush and not a noate they sing Sweete Philomele the bird that hath the heauenly throate Dooth now alas not once affoord recording of a noate The flowers haue had a frost each hearbe hath lost her sauour And Phillida the faire hath lost the comfort of her fauour Now all these carefull sights so kill me in conceite That how to hope vpon delights it is but meere deceite And therefore my sweete Muse that knowest what helpe is best Doo now thy heauenly cunning vse to set my hart at rest And in a dreame bewray what fate shall be my friend Whether my life shall still denay or when my sorrow end N. Breton FINIS ¶ Harpalus complaynt on Phillidaes loue bestowed on Corin who loued her not and denyed him that loued her PHillida was a faire mayde as fresh as any flower Whom Harpalus the Heards-man prayde to be his Paramour Harpalus and eke Corin were Heard-men both yfere And Phillida could twist and spinne and thereto sing full cleere But Phillida was all too coy for Harpalus to winne For Corin was her onely ioy who forc'd her not a pinne How often would she flowers twine how often garlands make Of Cowslips and of Cullumbine and all for Corins sake But Corin he had Hawkes to lure and forced more the field Of Louers law he tooke no cure for once he was beguild Harpalus preuailed naught his labour all was lost For he was furthest from her thought and yet he lou'd her most Therefore woxe he both pale and leane and drye as clod of clay His flesh it was consumed cleane his colour gone away His beard it had not long beene shaue his haire hung all vnkempt A man most fit euen for the graue whom spitefull Loue had spent His eyes were red and all fore-watcht his face besprent with teares It seem'd vnhap had him long hatcht in midst of his dispaires His cloathes were blacke and also bare as one forlorne was hee Vpon his head he alwayes ware a wreath of Willow-tree His beasts he kept vpon the hill and he sate in the Dale
And thus with sighs and sorrowes shrill he gan to tell his tale Oh Harpalus thus would he say vnhappiest vnder Sunne The cause of thine vnhappy day by loue was first begun For thou went'st first by sute to seeke a Tyger to make tame That sets not by thy loue a Leeke but makes thy greefe a game As easie were it to conuert the frost into a flame As for to turne a froward hart whom thou so faine wouldst frame Corin he liueth carelesse he leapes among the leaues He eates the fruites of thy redresse thou reap'st he takes the sheaues My beasts a-while your food refraine and harke your Heard-mans sound Whom spightfull Loue alas hath slaine through-girt with many a wound Oh happy be ye beasts wild that heere your pasture takes I see that ye be not beguild of these your faithfull makes The Hart he feedeth by the Hind the Bucke hard by the Doe The Turtle-Doue is not vnkind to him that loues her so The Ewe she hath by her the Ram the young Cowe hath the Bull The Calfe with many a lusty Lamb doo feede their hunger full But well-away that Nature wrought thee Phillida so faire For I may say that I haue bought thy beauty all too deare What reason is 't that cruelty with beauty should haue part Or else that such great tirannie should dwell in vvomans hart I see therefore to shape my death she cruelly is prest To th' end that I may want my breath my dayes beene at the best Oh Cupid graunt this my request and doo not stop thine eares That she may feele within her brest the paine of my despaires Of Corin that is carelesse that she may craue her fee As I haue done in great distresse that lou'd her faithfully But since that I shall die her slaue her slaue and eke her thrall Write you my friends vpon my graue this chaunce that is befall Heere lyeth vnhappy Harpalus by cruell Loue now slaine Whom Phillida vniustly thus hath murdred with disdaine L. T. Haward Earle of Surrie FINIS ¶ An other of the same subiect but made as it were in aunswere ON a goodly Sommers day Harpalus and Phillida He a true harted Swaine Shee full of coy disdaine droue their flocks to field He to see his Sheepheardesse She did dreame on nothing lesse Then his continuall care Which to grim-fac'd Dispaire wholely did him yield Corin she affected still All the more thy hart to kill Thy case dooth make me rue That thou should'st loue so true and be thus disdain'd While their flocks a feeding were They did meete together there Then with a curtsie lowe And sighs that told his woe thus to her he plain'd Bide a while faire Phillida List what Harpalus will say Onely in loue to thee Though thou respect not mee yet vouchsafe an eare To preuent ensuing ill Which no doubt betide thee will If thou doo not fore-see To shunne it presentlie then thy harme I feare Firme thy loue is well I wot To the man that loues thee not Louely and gentle mayde Thy hope is quite betrayde which my hart doth greeue Corin is vnkind to thee Though thou thinke contrarie His loue is growne as light As is his Faulcons flight this sweet Nimph beleeue Mopsus daughter that young mayde Her bright eyes his hart hath strayde From his affecting thee Now there is none but shee that is Corins blisse Phillis men the Virgin call She is Buxome faire and tall Yet not like Phillida If I my mind might say eyes oft deeme amisse He commends her beauty rare Which with thine may not compare He dooth extoll her eye Silly thing if thine were by thus conceite can erre He is rauish'd with her breath Thine can quicken life in death He prayseth all her parts Thine winnes a world of harts more if more there were Looke sweet Nimph vpon thy flock They stand still and now feede not As if they shar'd with thee Greefe for this iniurie offred to true loue Pretty Lambkins how they moane And in bleating seeme to groane That any Sheepheards Swaine Should cause their Mistres paine by affects remoue If you looke but on the grasse It 's not halfe so greene as 't was When I began my tale But it is witherd pale all in meere remorce Marke the Trees that brag'd euen now Of each goodly greene-leau'd-bow They seeme as blasted all Ready for Winters fall such is true loues force The gentle murmur of the Springs Are become contrary things They haue forgot their pride And quite forsake their glide as if charm'd they stand And the flowers growing by Late so fresh in euery eye See how they hang the head As on a suddaine dead dropping on the sand The birds that chaunted it yer-while Ere they hear'd of Corins guile Sit as they were afraide Or by some hap dismaide for this wrong to thee Harke sweet Phil how Philomell That was wont to sing so well Iargles now in yonder bush Worser then the rudest Trush as it were not shee Phillida who all this while Neither gaue a sigh or smile Round about the field did gaze As her wits were in a maze poore despised mayd And reuiued at the last After streames of teares were past Leaning on her Sheepheards hooke With a sad and heauie looke thus poore soule she sayd Harpalus I thanke not thee For this sorry tale to mee Meete me heere againe to morrow Then I will conclude my sorrow mildly if may be With their flocks they home doo fare Eythers hart too full of care If they doo meete againe Then what they furder sayne you shall heare from me Shep. Tonie FINIS ¶ The Nimphes meeting their May Queene entertaine her with this Dittie WIth fragrant flowers we strew the way And make this our cheefe holy-day For though this clime were blest of yore Yet was it neuer proud before O beauteous Queene of second Troy Accept of our vnfayned ioy Now th' Ayre is sweeter then sweet Balme And Satires daunce about the Palme Now earth with verdure newly dight Giues perfect signes of her delight O beauteous Queene c. Now birds record new harmonie And trees doo whistle melodie Now euery thing that Nature breedes Dooth clad it selfe in pleasant weedes O beauteous Queene c. Tho. Watson FINIS ¶ Colin Cloutes mournfull Dittie for the death of Astrophell SHeepheards that wunt on pipes of Oaten reede Oft-times to plaine your loues concealed smart And with your pitteous Layes haue learn'd to breede Compassion in a Country-Lasses hart Harken ye gentle Sheepheards to my song And place my dolefull plaint your plaints among To you alone I sing this mournfull verse The mournfulst verse that euer man heard tell To you whose softned harts it may emprerse With dolours dart for death of Astrophell To you I sing and to none other wight For well I wot my rimes been rudely dight Yet as they been if any nicer wit Shall hap to heare or couet them to reade Thinke he that such are for such
one 's most fit Made not to please the liuing but the dead And if in him found pitty euer place Let him be moou'd to pitty such a case Edm. Spencer FINIS ¶ Damaetas Iigge in praise of his Loue. IOlly Sheepheard Sheepheard on a hill on a hill so merrily on a hill so cherily Feare not Sheepheard there to pipe thy fill Fill euery Dale fill euery Plaine both sing and say Loue feeles no paine Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard on a greene on a greene so merrily on a greene so cherily Be thy voyce shrill be thy mirth seene Heard to each Swaine seene to each Trull both sing and say Loues ioy is full Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard in the Sunne in the Sunne so merrily in the Sunne so cherily Sing forth thy songs and let thy rimes runne Downe to the Dales to the hills aboue both sing and say No life to loue Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard in the shade in the shade so merrily in the shade so cherily Ioy in thy life life of Sheepheards trade Ioy in thy loue loue full of glee both sing and say Sweet Loue for me Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard heere or there heere or there so merrily heere or there so cherily Or in thy chat eyther at thy cheere In euery Iigge in euery Lay both sing and say Loue lasts for aye Iolly Sheepheard Sheepheard Daphnis Loue Daphnis loue so merrily Daphnis loue so cherily Let thy fancie neuer more remoue Fancie be fixt fixt not to fleete still sing and say Loues yoake is sweete Iohn Wootton FINIS ¶ Montanus praise of his faire Phaebe PHaebe sate Sweete she sate sweete sate Phaebe when I saw her White her brow Coy her eye brow and eye how much you please me Words I spent Sighs I sent sighs and words could neuer draw her Oh my Loue Thou art lost since no sight could euer ease thee Phaebe sate By a Fount sitting by a Fount I spide her Sweete her touch Rare her voyce touch and voyce what may distaine you As she sung I did sigh And by sighs whilst that I tride her Oh mine eyes You did loose her first sight whose want did paine you Phoebes flocks White as wooll yet were Phoebes lookes more whiter Phoebes eyes Doue-like mild Doue-like eyes both mild and cruell Montane sweares In your Lamps he will die for to delight her Phoebe yeeld Or I die shall true harts be fancies fuell Thom. Lodge FINIS ¶ The complaint of Thestilis the forsaken Sheepheard THestilis a silly Swaine when Loue did him forsake In mournfull wife amid the woods thus gan his plaint to make Ah wofull man quoth he falne is thy lot to mone And pine away with carefull thoughts vnto thy Loue vnknowne Thy Nimph forsakes thee quite whom thou didst honour so That aye to her thou wert a friend but to thy selfe a foe Ye Louers that haue lost your harts-desired choyce Lament with me my cruell hap and helpe my trembling voyce Was neuer man that stoode so great in Fortunes grace Nor with his sweate alas too deere possest so high a place As I whose simple hart aye thought himselfe still sure But now I see high springing tides they may not eye endure Shee knowes my guiltlesse hart and yet she lets it pine Of her vntrue professed loue so feeble is the twine What wonder is it then if I berent my haires And crauing death continually doo bathe my selfe in teares When Craesus King of Lide was cast in cruell bands And yeelded goods and life into his enemies hands What tongue could tell his woe yet was his griefe much lesse Then mine for I haue lost my Loue which might my woe redresse Ye woods that shroud my limbs giue now your hollow sound That ye may helpe me to bewaile the cares that me confound Ye Riuers rest a while and stay your streames that runne Rue Thestilis the wofulst man that rests vnder the Sunne Transport my sighs ye winds vnto my pleasant foe My trickling teares shall witnes heare of this my cruell woe Oh happy man were I if all the Gods agreed That now the Sisters three should cut in twaine my fatall threed Till life with loue shall end I heere resigne all ioy Thy pleasant sweete I now lament whose lacke breeds mine annoy Farewell my deere therefore farewell to me well knowne If that I die it shall be sayd that thou hast slaine thine owne L. T. Howard E. of Surrie FINIS ¶ To Phillis the faire Sheepheardesse MY Phillis hath the morning Sunne at first to looke vpon her And Phillis hath morne-waking birds her risings still to honour My Phillis hath prime-featherd flowres that smile when she treads on them And Phillis hath a gallant flocke that leapes since she dooth owne them But Phillis hath too hard a hart alas that she should haue it It yeelds no mercie to desert nor grace to those that craue it Sweete Sunne when thou look'st on pray her regard my moane Sweete birds when you sing to her to yeeld some pitty woo her Sweet flowers that she treads on tell her her beauty deads one And if in life her loue she nill agree me Pray her before I die she will come see me S. E. D. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Dorons ligge THrough the shrubs as I can crack for my Lambs pretty ones mongst many little ones Nimphs I meane whose haire was black As the Crow Like as the Snow Her face and browes shin'd I weene I saw a little one a bonny pretty one As bright buxome and as sheene As was shee On her knee That lull'd the God whose arrowes warmes such merry little ones such faire-fac'd pretty ones As dally in Loues chiefest harmes Such was mine Whose gray eyne Made me loue I gan to wooe this sweete little one this bonny pretty one I wooed hard a day or two Till she bad Be not sad Wooe no more I am thine owne thy dearest little one thy truest pretty one Thus was faith and firme loue showne As behooues Sheepheards Loues Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ Astrophell his Song of Phillida and Coridon FAire in a morne ô fairest morne was neuer morne so faire There shone a Sunne though not the Sunne that shineth in the ayre For the earth and from the earth was neuer such a creature Did come this face was neuer face that carried such a feature Vpon a hill ô blessed hill was neuer hill so blessed There stoode a man was neuer man for vvoman so distressed This man beheld a heauenly view which did such vertue giue As cleares the blind and helps the lame and makes the dead man liue This man had hap ô happy man more happy none then hee For he had hap to see the hap that none had hap to see This silly Swaine and silly Swaines are men of meanest grace Had yet the grace ô gracious guest to hap on such a face He pitty cryed and pitty came and pittied so his paine As dying would not let him die but gaue him life againe For ioy whereof he
to my plaint on whom the cheerefull Sunne did neuer rise If pitties stroakes your tender breasts may taint come learne of me to wet your wanton eyes For Loue in vaine the name of pleasure beares His sweet delights are turned into feares The trustlesse shewes the frights the feeble ioyes the freezing doubts the guilefull promises The feigned lookes the shifts the subtill toyes the brittle hope the stedfast heauines The wished warre in such vncertaine peace These with my woe my woes with these increase Thou dreadfull God that in thy Mothers lap doo'st lye and heare the crie of my complaint And seest and smilest at my sore mishap that lacke but skill my sorrowes heere to paint Thy fire from heauen before the hurt I spide Quite through mine eyes into my brest did glide My life was light my blood did spirt and spring my body quicke my hart began to leape And euery thornie thought did prick and sting the fruite of my desired ioyes to reape But he on whom to thinke my soule still tyers In bale forsooke and left me in the bryers Thus Fancie strung my Lute to Layes of Loue and Loue hath rock'd my wearie Muse a-sleepe And sleepe is broken by the paines I proue and euery paine I feele dooth force me weepe Then farewell fancie loue sleepe paine and sore And farewell weeping I can waile no more Shep. Tonie FINIS ¶ Phillidaes Loue-call to her Coridon and his replying Phil. COridon arise my Coridon Titan shineth cleare Cor. Who is it that calleth Coridon who is it that I heare Phil. Phillida thy true-Loue calleth thee arise then arise then arise and keepe thy flock with me Cor. Phillida my true-Loue is it she I come then I come then I come and keepe my flock with thee Phil. Heere are cherries ripe my Coridon eate them for my sake Cor. Heere 's my Oaten pipe my louely one sport for thee to make Phil. Heere are threeds my true-Loue fine as silke to knit thee to knit thee a paire of stockings white as milke Cor. Heere are Reedes my true-Loue fine and neate to make thee to make thee a Bonnet to with-stand the heate Phil. I will gather flowers my Coridon to set in thy cap Cor. I will gather Peares my louely one to put in thy lap Phil. I will buy my true-Loue Garters gay for Sundayes for Sundayes to weare about his legs so tall Cor. I will buy my true-Loue yellow Say for Sundayes for Sundayes to weare about her middle small Phil. When my Coridon sits on a hill making melodie Cor. When my louely one goes to her wheele singing cherilie Phil. Sure me thinks my true-Loue dooth excell for sweetnes for sweetnes our Pan that old Arcadian Knight Cor. And me thinks my true-Loue beares the bell for clearenes for clearenes beyond the Nimphs that be so bright Phil. Had my Coridon my Coridon beene alack my Swaine Cor. Had my louely one my louely one beene in Ida plaine Phil. Cinthia Endimion had refus'd preferring preferring my Coridon to play with-all Cor. The Queene of Loue had beene excus'd bequeathing bequeathing my Phillida the golden ball Phil. Yonder comes my Mother Coridon whether shall I flie Cor. Vnder yonder Beech my louely one while she passeth by Say to her thy true-Loue was not heere remember remember to morrow is another day Phil. Doubt me not my true-Loue doo not feare farewell then farewell then heauen keepe our loues alway Ignoto FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards solace PHaebus delights to view his Laurell tree The Poplar pleaseth Hercules alone Melissa mother is and fautrixe to the Bee Pallas will weare the Oliue branch alone Of Sheepheards and their flocks Pales is Queene And Ceres ripes the Corne was lately greene To Chloris euery flower belongs of right The Dryade Nimphs of vvoods make chiefe account Oreades in hills haue their delight Diana dooth protect each bubling Fount To Hebe louely kissing is assign'd To Zephire euery gentle-breathing wind But what is Loues delight To hurt each where He cares not whom with Darts of deepe desire With watchfull iealousie with hope with feare With nipping cold and secret flames of fire O happy houre wherein I did forgoe This little God so great a cause of woe Tho. Watson FINIS ¶ Syrenus Song to Eugerius LEt now the goodly Spring-tide make vs merrie And fields which pleasant flowers doo adorne And Vales Meades Woods with liuely colours flourish Let plenteous flocks the Sheepheards riches nourish Let hungry Woolues by dogges to death be torne And Lambes reioyce with passed Winter wearie Let euery Riuers Ferrie In waters flow and siluer streames abounding And fortune ceaselesse wounding Turne now thy face so cruell and vnstable Be firme and fauourable And thou that kill'st our soules with thy pretences Molest not wicked Loue my inward sences Let Country plainenes liue in ioyes not ended In quiet of the desert Meades and mountaines And in the pleasure of a Country dwelling Let Sheepheards rest that haue distilled fountaines Of teares prooue not thy wrath all paines excelling Vpon poore soules that neuer haue offended Let thy flames be incended In haughtie Courts in those that swim in treasure And liue in case and pleasure And that a sweetest scorne my wonted sadnes A perfect rest and gladnes And hills and Dales may giue me with offences Molest not wicked Loue my inward sences In what law find'st thou that the freest reason And wit vnto thy chaines should be subiected And harmelesse soules vnto thy cruell murder O wicked Loue the wretch that flieth furder From thy extreames thou plagu'st O false suspected And carelesse boy that thus thy sweets doost season O vile and wicked treason Might not thy might suffise thee but thy fuell Of force must be so cruell To be a Lord yet like a Tyrant minded Vaine boy with errour blinded Why doost thou hurt his life with thy offences That yeelds to thee his soule and inward sences He erres alas and foulely is deceaued That calls thee God being a burning fire A furious flame a playning greefe and clamorous And Venus sonne that in the earth was amorous Gentle and mild and full of sweet desire Who calleth him is of his wits bereaued And yet that she conceaued By proofe so vile a sonne and so vnruly I say and yet say truly That in the cause of harmes that they haue framed Both iustly may be blamed She that did breede him with such vile pretences He that dooth hurt so much our inward sences The gentle Sheepe and Lambs are euer flying The rauenous Woolues and beasts that are pretending To glut their mawes with flesh they teare asunder The milke-white Doues at noyse of fearfull thunder Flie home a-maine themselues from harme defending The little Chick when Puttocks are a crying The Woods and Meadowes dying For raine of heauen if that they cannot haue it Doo neuer cease to craue it So euery thing his contrary resisteth Onely thy thrall persisteth In suffering of thy wrongs without offences And lets
thee spoile his hart and inward sences A publique passion Natures lawes restrayning And which with words can neuer be declared A soule twixt loue and feare and desperation And endlesse plaint that shuns all consolation A spendlesse flame that neuer is impaired A friendlesse death yet life in death maintayning A passion that is gayning On him that loueth well and is absented Whereby it is augmented A iealousie a burning greefe and sorrow These fauours Louers borrow Of thee fell Loue these be thy recompences Consuming still their soule and inward sences Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Arsileus replie to Syrenus Song O Let that time a thousand moneths endure Which brings from heauen the sweet and siluer showers And ioyes the earth of comfort late depriued With grasse and leaues fine buds and painted flowers Ecchoe returne vnto the vvoods obscure Ring foorth the Sheepheards Songs in loue contriued Let old loues be reuiued Which angry Winter buried but of late And that in such a state My soule may haue the full accomplishment Of ioy and sweet content And since fierce paines and greefes thou doost controule Good Loue doo not forsake my inward soule Presume not Sheepheards once to make you merrie With springs and flowers or any pleasant Song Vnlesse mild Loue possesse your amorous breasts If you sing not to him your Songs doo wearie Crowne him with flowers or else ye doo him wrong And consecrate your Springs to his behests I to my Sheepheardesse My happy loues with great content doo sing And flowers to her doo bring And sitting neere her by the Riuer side Enioy the braue Spring-tide Since then thy ioyes such sweetnes dooth enroule Good Loue doo not forsake my inward soule The wise in auncient time a God thee nam'd Seeing that with thy power and supreame might Thou didst such rare and mighty wonders make For thee a hart is frozen and enflam'd A foole thou mak'st a wise man with thy light The coward turnes couragious for thy sake The mighty Gods did quake At thy commaund To birds and beasts tranformed Great Monarches haue not scorned To yeeld vnto the force of beauties lure Such spoiles thou doost procure With thy braue force which neuer may be tould With which sweet Loue thou conquer'st euery soule In other times obscurely I did liue But with a drowsie base and simple kinde Of life and onely to my profit bend me To thinke of Loue my selfe I did not giue Or for good grace good parts and gentle minde Neuer did any Sheepheardesse commend me But crowned now they send me A thousand Garlands that I wone with praise In wrastling dayes by dayes In pitching of the barre with arme most strong And singing many a Song After that thou didst honour and take hould Of my sweet Loue and of my happy soule What greater ioy can any man desire Then to remaine a Captiue vnto Loue And haue his hart subiected to his power And though sometimes he tast a little sower By suffering it as mild as gentle Doue Yet must he be in liew of that great hire Whereto he dooth aspire If Louers liue afflicted and in paine Let them with cause complaine Of cruell fortune and of times abuse And let not them accuse Thee gentle-Loue that dooth with blisse enfould Within thy sweetest ioyes each liuing soule Behold a faire sweete face and shining eyes Resembling two most bringht and twinkling starres Sending vnto the soule a perfect light Behold the rare perfections of those white And Iuorie hands from greefes most surest barres That mind wherein all life and glory lyes That ioy that neuer dyes That he dooth feele that loues and is beloued And my delights approoued To see her pleas'd whose loue maintaines me heere All those I count so deere That though sometimes Loue dooth my ioyes controule Yet am I glad he dwels within my soule Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ A Sheepheards dreame A Silly Sheepheard lately sate among a flock of Sheepe Where musing long on this and that at last he fell a sleepe And in the slumber as he lay he gaue a pitteous groane He thought his sheepe were runne away and he was left alone He whoopt he whistled and he call'd but not a sheepe came neere him Which made the Sheepheard sore appall'd to see that none would heare him But as the Swaine amazed stood in this most solemne vaine Came Phillida foorth of the vvood and stoode before the Swaine Whom when the Sheepheard did behold he straite began to weepe And at the hart he grew a cold to thinke vpon his sheepe For well he knew where came the Queene the Sheepheard durst not stay And where that he durst not be seene the sheepe must needes away To aske her if she saw his flock might happen pacience mooue And haue an aunswere with a mock that such demaunders prooue Yet for because he saw her come alone out of the vvood He thought he would not stand as dombe vvhen speach might doo him good And therefore falling on his knees to aske but for his sheepe He did awake and so did leese the honour of his sleepe N. Breton FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards Ode NIghts were short and dayes were long Blossomes on the Hawthorne hong Philomell Night-Musiques King Told the comming of the Spring Whose sweete-siluer-sounding-voyce Made the little birds reioyce Skipping light from spray to spray Till Aurora shew'd the day Scarse might one see when I might see For such chaunces sudden be By a Well of Marble-stone A Sheepheard lying all a-lone Weepe he did and his weeping Made the fading flowers spring Daphnis was his name I weene Youngest Swaine of Sommers Queene When Aurora saw t' was he Weepe she did for companie Weepe she did for her sweet Sonne That when antique Troy was wonne Suffer'd death by lucklesse Fate Whom she now laments too late And each morning by Cocks crewe Showers downe her siluer dewe Whose teares falling from their spring Giue moisture to each liuing thing That on earth encrease and grow Through power of their friendly foe Whose effect when Flora felt Teares that did her bosome melt For who can resist teares often But she whom no teares can soften Peering straite aboue the banks Shew'd her selfe to giue her thanks Wondring thus at Natures worke Wherein many meruailes lurke Me thought I heard a dolefull noyse Consorted with a mournfull voyce Drawing neere to heare more plaine Heare I did vnto my paine For who is not pain'd to heare Him in griefe whom hart holds deere Silly Swaine with griefe ore-gone Thus to make his pitteous mone Loue I did alas the while Loue I did but did beguile My deere Loue with louing so Whom as then I did not know Loue I did the fayrest boy That these fields did ere enioy Loue I did faire Ganimede Venus darling beauties bed Him I thought the fairest creature Him the quintessence of Nature But yet alas I was deceau'd Loue of reason is bereau'd For since then I saw a Lasse Lasse that did in
Oh why doo'st thou make such hast It is too early yet So soone from ioyes to flit why art thou so vnkind See my little Lambkins runne Looke on them till I haue done Hast not on the night To rob me of her sight that liue but by her eyes Alas sweet Loue we must depart Harke my dogge begins to barke Some bodie 's comming neere They shall not finde vs heere for feare of being chid Take my Garland and my Gloue Weare it for my sake my Loue To morrow on the greene Thou shalt be our Sheepheards Queene crowned with Roses gay Mich. Drayton FINIS ¶ Alanius the Sheepheard his dolefull Song complayning of Ismeniaes crueltie NO more ô cruell Nimph now hast thou prayed Enough in thy reuenge prooue not thine ire On him that yeelds the fault is now appayed Vnto my cost Now mollifie thy dire Hardnes and brest of thine so much obdured And now raise vp though lately it hath erred A poore repenting soule that in the obscured Darknes of thy obliuion lyes enterred For it falls not in that that should commend thee That such a Swaine as I may once offend thee If that the little Sheepe with speede is flying From angry Sheepheard with his words afrayed And runneth here and there with fearefull crying And with great griefe is from the flock estrayed But when it now perceiues that none doth follow And all alone so farre estraying mourneth Knowing what danger it is in with hollow And fainting bleates then fearefull it returneth Vnto the flock meaning no more to leaue it Should it not be a iust thing to receaue it Lift vp those eyes Ismenia which so stately To view me thou hast lifted vp before me That liberty which was mine owne but lately Giue me againe and to the same restore me And that mild hart so full of loue and pittie Which thou didst yeeld to me and euer owe me Behold my Nimph I was not then so wittie To know that sincere loue that thou didst shew me Now wofull man full well I know and rue it Although it was too late before I knew it How could it be my enemie say tell me How thou in greater fault and errour being Then euer I was thought should'st thus repell me And with new league and cruell title seeing Thy faith so pure and worthy to be changed And what is that Ismenia that dooth bind it To loue whereas the same is most estranged And where it is impossible to finde it But pardon me if heerein I abuse thee Since that the cause thou gau'st me dooth excuse me But tell me now what honour hast thou gayned Auenging such a fault by thee committed And there-vnto by thy occasion trayned What haue I done that I haue not acquitted Or what excesse that is not amply payed Or suffer more that I haue not endured What cruell minde what angry breast displayed With sauage hart to fiercenes so adiured Would not such mortall griefe make milde and tender But that which my fell Sheepheardesse dooth render Now as I haue perceaued well thy reasons Which thou hast had or hast yet to forget me The paines the griefes the guilts of forced treasons That I haue done wherein thou first didst set me The passions and thine eares and eyes refusing To peare and see me meaning to vndoe me Cam'st thou to know or be but once perusing Th'vnsought occasions which thou gau'st vnto me Thou should'st not haue where-with to more torment me Nor I to pay the fault my rashnes lent me Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Montana the Sheepheard his loue to Aminta I Serue Aminta whiter then the snowe Straighter then Cedar brighter then the glasse More fine in trip then foote of running Roe More pleasant then the field of flowring grasse More gladsome to my withering ioyes that fade Then Winters Sunne or Sommers cooling shade Sweeter then swelling Grape of ripest vvine Softer then feathers of the fairest Swan Smoother then Iet more stately then the Pine Fresher then Poplar smaller then my span Clearer then Phoebus fierie pointed beame Or Icie crust of Christalls frozen streame Yet is she curster then the Beare by kind And harder harted then the aged Oake More glib then Oyle more fickle then the wind More stiffe then steele no sooner bent but broake Loe thus my seruice is a lasting sore Yet will I serue although I die therefore Shep. Tonie FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards sorrow for his Phaebes disdaine OH Woods vnto your walks my body hies To loose the trayterous bonds of tyring Loue Where trees where hearbs where flowers Their natiue moisture poures From foorth their tender stalkes to helpe mine eyes Yet their vnited teares may nothing moue When I behold the faire adorned tree Which lightnings force and Winters frost resists Then Daphnes ill betide And Phaebus lawlesse pride Enforce me say euen such my sorrowes be For selfe disdaine in Phaebes hart consists If I behold the flowers by morning teares Looke louely sweete Ah then forlorne I crie Sweete showers for Memnon shed All flowers by you are fed Whereas my pittious plaint that still appeares Yeelds vigor to her scornes and makes me die When I regard the pretty glee-full bird With teare-full yet delightfull notes complaine I yeeld a terror with my teares And while her musique wounds mine eares Alas say I when will my notes afford Such like remorce who still beweepe my paine When I behold vpon the leafe-lesse bow The haplesse bird lament her Loues depart I draw her biding nigh And sitting downe I sigh And sighing say Alas that birds auow A setled faith yet Phaebe scornes my smart Thus wearie in my walke and wofull too I spend the day fore-spent with daily greefe Each obiect of distresse My sorrow dooth expresse I doate on that which dooth my hart vndoo And honour her that scornes to yeeld releefe Ignoto FINIS ¶ Espilus and Therion their contention in Song for the May-Ladie Espilus TVne vp my voyce a higher note I yeeld To high conceite the Song must needes neede be hie More high then starres more firme then flintie field Are all my thoughts in which I liue and die Sweete soule to whom I vowed am a slaue Let not wild vvoods so great a treasure haue Therion The highest note comes oft from basest minde As shallow Brookes doo yeeld the greatest sound Seeke other thoughts thy life or death to find Thy starres be falne plowed is thy flinty ground Sweet soule let not a wretch that serueth Sheepe Among his Flock so sweete a treasure keepe Espilus Two thousand Sheepe I haue as white as milke Though not so white as is thy louely face The pasture rich the wooll as soft as silke All this I giue let me possesse thy grace But still take heede least thou thy selfe submit To one that hath no wealth and wants his wit Therion Two thousand Deere in wildest vvoods I haue Them can I take but you I cannot hold He is not poore who can his freedome saue Bound but
Which call vpon the absent Sommer time For did flowres make our May Or the Sun-beames your day When Night and Winter did the vvorld embrace Well might you waile your ill and sing alas Loe Matron-like the Earth her selfe attires In habite graue Naked the fields are bloomelesse are the brires Yet we a Sommer haue Who in our clime kindleth these liuing fires Which bloomes can on the briers saue No Ice dooth christallize the running Brooke No blast deflowres the flowre-adorned field Christall is cleere but cleerer is the looke Which to our climes these liuing fires dooth yield Winter though euery where Hath no abiding heere On Brooks and Briers she doth rule alone The Sunne which lights our world is alwayes one Edmund Bolton FINIS ¶ Melicertus Madrigale WHat are my Sheepe without their wonted food What is my life except I gaine my Loue My Sheepe consume and faint for want of blood My life is lost vnlesse I Grace approue No flower that saplesse thriues No Turtle without pheare The day without the Sunne doth lower for woe Then woe mine eyes vnlesse they beauty see My Sonne Samelaes eyes by whom I know Wherein delight consists where pleasures be Nought more the hart reuiues Then to embrace his Deare The starres from earthly humours gaine their light Our humours by their light possesse their power Samelaes eyes fed by my weeping sight Infuse my paines or ioyes by smile or lower So wends the source of loue It feedes it failes it ends Kind lookes cleare to your Ioy behold her eyes Admire her hart desire to tast her kisses In them the heauen of ioy and solace lyes Without them euery hope his succour misses Oh how I liue to prooue Whereto this solace tends Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ Olde Damons Pastorall FRom Fortunes frownes and change remou'd wend silly Flocks in blessed feeding None of Damon more belou'd feede gentle Lambs while I sit reading Carelesse vvorldlings outrage quelleth all the pride and pompe of Cittie But true peace with Sheepheards dwelleth Sheepheards who delight in pittie Whether grace of heauen betideth on our humble minds such pleasure Perfect peace with Swaines abideth loue and faith is Sheepheards treasure On the lower Plaines the thunder little thriues and nought preuaileth Yet in Citties breedeth wonder and the highest hills assaileth Enuie of a forraigne Tyrant threatneth Kings not Sheepheards humble Age makes silly Swaines delirant thirst of rule garres great men stumble What to other seemeth sorrie abiect state and humble biding Is our ioy and Country glorie highest states haue worse betiding Golden cups doo harbour poyson and the greatest pompe dissembling Court of seasoned words hath foyson treason haunts in most assembling Homely breasts doo harbour quiet little feare and mickle solace States suspect their bed and diet feare and craft doo haunt the Pallace Little would I little want I where the mind and store agreeth Smallest comfort is not scantie least he longs that little seeth Time hath beene that I haue longed foolish I to like of follie To conuerse where honour thronged to my pleasures linked wholy Now I see and seeing sorrow that the day consum'd returnes not Who dare trust vpon to morrow when nor time nor life soiournes not Thom. Lodge FINIS ¶ Perigot and Cuddies Roundelay IT fell vpon a holy-Eue hey hoe holy-day When holy-Fathers wont to shriue now ginneth this Roundelay Sitting vpon a hill so hie hey hoe the hie hill The while my flocke did feede thereby the while the Sheepheards selfe did spill I saw the bouncing Bellybone hey hoe Bonny-bell Tripping ouer the Dale alone shee can trip it very well Well decked in a Frock of gray hey hoe gray is greete And in a Kirtle of greene Say the greene is for Maydens meete A Chaplet on her head she wore hey hoe the Chaplet Of sweet Violets therein was store she 's sweeter then the Violet My Sheepe did leaue their wonted food hey hoe silly Sheepe And gaz'd on her as they were wood vvood as he that did them keepe As the Bony-lasse passed by hey hoe Bony-lasse Shee rold at me with glauncing eye as cleare as the Christall-glasse All as the Sunnie-beame so bright hey hoe the Sun-beame Glaunceth from Phoebus face forth right so loue into my hart did streame Or as the thunder cleaues the clouds hey hoe the thunder Wherein the lightsome leuin shrouds so cleaues my soule a-sunder Or as Dame Cinthias siluer ray hey hoe the moone-light Vpon the glistering vvaue doth play such play is a pitteous plight The glaunce into my hart did glide hey hoe the glider There-with my soule was sharply gride such wounds soone wexen wider Hasting to raunch the arrow out hey hoe Perigot I left the head in my hart roote it was a desperate shot There it rankleth aye more and more hey hoe the arrow Ne can I finde salue for my sore loue is a curelesse sorrow And though my bale with death I bought hey hoe heauie cheere Yet should thilke lasse not from my thought so you may buy gold too deere But whether in painfull loue I pine hey hoe pinching paine Or thriue in wealth she shall be mine but if thou can her obtaine And if for gracelesse greefe I dye hey hoe gracelesse greefe Witnesse she slew me with her eye let thy folly be the preefe And you that saw it simple sheepe hey hoe the faire flocke For priefe thereof my death shall weepe and moane with many a mocke So learn'd I loue on a holy-Eue hey hoe holy-day That euer since my hart did greeue now endeth our Roundelay Edm. Spencer FINIS ¶ Phillida and Coridon IN the merry moneth of May In a morne by breake of day Foorth I walked by the Wood side When as May was in his pride There I spied all alone Phillida and Coridon Much a-doo there was God wot He would loue and she would not She sayd neuer man was true He sayd none was false to you He sayd he had lou'd her long She sayd Loue should haue no wrong Coridon would kisse her then She said Maides must kisse no men Till they did for good and all Then she made the Sheepheard call All the heauens to witnesse truth Neuer lou'd a truer youth Thus with many a pretty oath Yea and nay and faith and troth Such as silly Sheepheards vse When they will not Loue abuse Loue which had beene long deluded Was with kisses sweete concluded And Phillida with garlands gay Was made the Lady of the May. N. Breton FINIS ¶ To Colin Cloute. BEautie sate bathing by a Spring where fayrest shades did hide her The winds blew calme the birds did sing the coole streames ranne beside her My wanton thoughts entic'd mine eye to see what was forbidden But better Memory said fie so vaine Desire was chidden hey nonnie nonnie c. Into a slumber then I fell when fond imagination Seemed to see but could not tell her feature or her fashion But euen as Babes in dreames doo smile and sometime fall
that Venus force imparts But lie content Within a fire and waste away their harts Vp flewe the Dame and vanish'd in a cloud But there stoode I And many thoughts within my mind did shroud My loue for why I felt within my hart a scorching fire And yet as did The Salamander t was my whole desire Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Firmius his Song SHeepheards giue eare and now be still Vnto my passions and their cause and what they be Since that with such an earnest will And such great signes of friendships lawes you aske it me It is not long since I was whole Nor since I did in euery part free-will resigne It is not long since in my sole Possession I did know my hart and to be mine It is not long since euen and morrow All pleasure that my hart could finde was in my power It is not long since greefe and sorrow My louing hart began to binde and to deuoure It is not long since companie I did esteeme a ioy indeede still to frequent Nor long since solitarilie I liu'd and that this life did breede my sole content Desirous I wretched to see But thinking not to see so much as then I sawe Loue made me know in what degree His valour and braue force did touch me with his lawe First he did put no more nor lesse Into my hart then he did view that there did want But when my breast in such excesse Of liuely flames to burne I knew then were so scant My ioyes that now did so abate My selfe estraunged euery way from former rest That I did know that my estate And that my life was euery day in deaths arrest I put my hand into my side To see what was the cause of this vnwonted vaine Where I did finde that torments hied By endlesse death to preiudice my life with paine Because I sawe that there did want My hart wherein I did delight my dearest hart And he that did the same supplant No iurisdiction had of right to play that part The Iudge and Robber that remaine Within my soule their cause to trie are there all one And so the giuer of the paine And he that is condemn'd to die or I or none To die I care not any way Though without why to die I greeue as I doo see But for because I heard her say None die for lone for I beleeue none such there be Then this thou shalt beleeue by me Too late and without remedie as did in briefe Anaxarete and thou shalt see The little she did satisfie with after griefe Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards praise of his sacred Diana PRaysed be Dianaes faire and harmelesse light Praised be the dewes where-with she moists the ground Praised be her beames the glory of the night Prais'd be her power by which all powers abound Prais'd be her Nimphs with whom she decks the vvoods Prais'd be her Knights in whom true honour liues Prais'd be that force by which she mooues the floods Let that Diana shine which all these giues In heauen Queene she is among the Spheares She Mistresse-like makes all things to be pure Eternity in her oft change she beares She beauty is by her the faire endure Time weares her not she dooth his Chariot guide Mortality below her Orbe is plast By her the vertue of the starres downe slide In her is vertues perfect Image cast A knowledge pure it is her woorth to know With Circes let them dwell that thinke not so FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards dumpe LIke desart Woods with darksome shades obscured Where dreadfull beasts where hatefull horror raigneth Such is my wounded hart whom sorrow paineth The Trees are fatall shafts to death inured That cruell loue within my hart maintaineth To whet my greefe when as my sorrow waineth The ghastly beasts my thoughts in cares assured Which wadge me warre whilst hart no succour gaineth With false suspect and feare that still remaineth The horrors burning sighs by cares procured Which foorth I send whilst weeping eye complaineth To coole the heate the helplesse hart containeth But shafts but cares sighs horrors vnrecured Were nought esteem'd if for their paines awarded Your Sheepheards loue might be by you regarded S. E. D. FINIS ¶ The Nimph Dianaes Song WHen that I poore soule was borne I was borne vnfortunate Presently the Fates had sworne To fore-tell my haplesse state Titan his faire beames did hide Phoebe ' clips'd her siluer light In my birth my Mother died Young and faire in heauie plight And the Nurse that gaue me suck Haplesse was in all her life And I neuer had good luck Being mayde or married wife I lou'd well and was belou'd And forgetting was forgot This a haplesse marriage mou'd Greeuing that it kills me not With the earth would I were wed Then in such a graue of woes Daylie to be buried Which no end nor number knowes Young my Father married me Forc'd by my obedience Syrenus thy faith and thee I forgot without offence Which contempt I pay so farre Neuer like was paid so much Iealousies doo make me warre But without a cause of such I doo goe with iealous eyes To my folds and to my Sheepe And with iealousie I rise When the day begins to peepe At his table I doo eate In his bed with him I lie But I take no rest nor meate Without cruell iealousie If I aske him what he ayles And whereof he iealous is In his aunswere then he failes Nothing can he say to this In his face there is no cheere But he euer hangs the head In each corner he dooth peere And his speech is sad and dead Ill the poore soule liues ywis That so hardly married is Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Rowlands Madrigall FAire Loue rest thee heere Neuer yet was morne so cleere Sweete be not vnkinde Let me thy fauour finde Or else for loue I die Harke this pretty bubling spring How it makes the Meadowes ring Loue now stand my friend Heere let all sorrow end And I will honour thee See where little Cupid lyes Looking babies in her eyes Cupid helpe me now Lend to me thy bowe to wound her that wounded me Heere is none to see or tell All our flocks are feeding by This banke with Roses spred Oh it is a dainty bed fit for my Loue and me Harke the birds in yonder Groaue How they chaunt vnto my Loue Loue be kind to me As I haue beene to thee for thou hast wonne my hart Calme windes blow you faire Rock her thou sweete gentle ayre O the morne is noone The euening comes too soone to part my Loue and me The Roses and thy lips doo meete Oh that life were halfe so sweete Who would respect his breath That might die such a death oh that life thus might die All the bushes that be neere With sweet Nightingales beset Hush sweete and be still Let them sing their fill there 's none our ioyes to let Sunne why doo'st thou goe so fast
start For it ranne from eye to hart Calisto straite supposed loue Was faire and frollique for to loue Dian she Scap'd not free For well I wote heere-vpon She lou'd the Swaine Endimion Clitia Phaebus and Chloris eye Thought none so faire as Mercurie Venus thus Did discusse By her Sonne in darts of fire None so chast to check desire Dian rose with all her Maydes Blushing thus at Loues braides With sighs all Shew their thrall And flinging thence pronounc'd this saw What so strong as Loues sweete law Ro. Greene. FINIS ¶ Astrophell to Stella his third Song IF Orpheus voyce had force to breathe such musiques loue Through pores of sencelesse trees as it could make them moue If stones good measure daunc'd the Thebane walls to build To cadence of the tunes which Amphyons Lyre did yeeld More cause a like effect at least-wise bringeth O stones ô trees learne hearing Stella singeth If Loue might sweet'n so a boy of Sheepheards broode To make a â—yzard dull to tast Loues daintie foode If Eagle fierce could so in Grecian Mayde delight As his light was her eyes her death his endlesse night Earth gaue that Loue heau'n I trow Loue defineth O beasts ô birds looke Loue loe Stella shineth The birds stones and trees feele this and feeling Loue And if the trees nor stones stirre not the same to proue Nor beasts nor birds doo come vnto this blessed gaze Know that small Loue is quicke and great Loue dooth amaze They are amaz'd but you with reason armed O eyes ô eares of men how are you charmed S. Phil. Sidney FINIS ¶ A Song betweene Syrenus and Syluanus Syrenus WHo hath of Cupids cates and dainties prayed May feede his stomack with them at his pleasure If in his drinke some ease he hath assayed Then let him quench his thirsting without measure And if his weapons pleasant in their manner Let him embrace his standard and his banner For being free from him and quite exempted Ioyfull I am and proud and well contented Syluanus Of Cupids daintie cates who hath not prayed May be depriued of them at his pleasure If wormewood in his drinke he hath assayed Let him not quench his thirsting without measure And if his weapons in their cruell manner Let him abiure his standard and his banner For I not free from him and not exempted Ioyfull I am and proud and well contented Syrenus Loue 's so expert in giuing many a trouble That now I know not why he should be praised He is so false so changing and so double That with great reason he must be dispraised Loue in the end is such a iarring passion That none should trust vnto his peeuish fashion For of all mischiefe he 's the onely Maister And to my good a torment and disaster Syluanus Loue 's so expert in giuing ioy not trouble That now I know not but he should be praised He is so true so constant neuer double That in my minde he should not be dispraised Loue in the end is such a pleasing passion That euery one may trust vnto his fashion For of all good he is the onely Maister And foe vnto my harmes and my disaster Syrenus Not in these sayings to be proou'd a lyer He knowes that dooth not loue nor is beloued Now nights and dayes I rest as I desire After I had such greefe from me remooued And cannot I be glad since thus estraunged My selfe from false Diana I haue chaunged Hence hence false Loue I will not entertaine thee Since to thy torments thou doo'st seeke to traine me Syluanus Not in these saying to be proou'd a lyer He knowes that loues and is againe beloued Now nights and dayes I rest in sweete desire After I had such happy fortune prooued And cannot I be glad since not estraunged My selfe into Seluagia I haue chaunged Come come good Loue and I will entertaine thee Since to thy sweete content thou seek'st to traine me Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Ceres Song in emulation of Cinthia SWell Ceres now for other Gods are shrinking Pomona pineth Fruitlesse her tree Faire Phaebus shineth Onely on me Conceite dooth make me smile whilst I am thinking How euery one dooth reade my storie How euery bough on Ceres lowreth Cause heauen plenty on me powreth And they in leaues doo onely glorie All other Gods of power bereauen Ceres onely Queene of heauen With roabes and flowers let me be dressed Cinthia that shineth Is not so cleare Cinthia declineth When I appeare Yet in this Isle she raignes as blessed And euery one at her dooth wonder And in my eares still fond fame whispers Cinthia shall be Ceres Mistres But first my Carre shall riue in sunder Helpe Phaebus helpe my fall is suddaine Cinthia Cinthia must be Soueraigne This Song was sung before her Maiestie at Bissam the Lady Russels in prograce The Authors name unknowne to me ¶ A Pastorall Ode to an honourable friend AS to the blooming prime Bleake Winter being fled From compasse of the clime Where Nature lay as dead The Riuers dull'd with time The greene leaues withered Fresh Zephyri the Westerne brethren be So th' honour of your fauour is to me For as the Plaines reuiue And put on youthfull greene As plants begin to thriue That disattir'd had beene And Arbours now aliue In former pompe are seene So if my Spring had any flowers before Your breathes Fauonius hath encreast the store E. B. FINIS ¶ A Nimphs disdaine of Loue. HEy downe a downe did Dian sing amongst her Virgins sitting Then loue there is no vainer thing for Maydens most vnfitting And so think I with a downe downe derrie VVhen women knew no woe but liu'd them-selues to please Mens fayning guiles they did not know the ground of their disease Vnborne was false suspect no thought of iealousie From wanton toyes and fond affect the Virgins life was free Hey downe a downe did Dian sing c. At length men vsed charmes to which what Maides gaue eare Embracing gladly endlesse harmes anone enthralled were Thus women welcom'd woe disguis'd in name of loue A iealous hell a painted show so shall they finde that proue Hey downe a downe did Dian sing amongst her Virgins sitting Then loue there is no vainer thing for Maydens most vnfitting And so thinke I with a downe downe derrie Ignoto FINIS ¶ Apollos Loue-Song for faire Daphne MY hart and tongue were twinnes at once conceaued The eldest was my hart borne dumbe by destinie The last my tongue of all sweet thoughts bereaued Yet strung and tun'd to play harts harmonie Both knit in one and yet a-sunder placed What hart would speake the tongue dooth still discouer What tongue dooth speake is of the hart embraced And both are one to make a new-found Louer New-found and onely found in Gods and Kings Whose words are deedes but deedes nor words regarded Chast thoughts doo mount and flie with swiftest wings My loue with paine my paine with losse rewarded Engraue vpon this tree Daphnes perfection That
neither men nor Gods can force affection This Dittie was sung before her Maiestie at the right honourable the Lord Chandos at Sudley Castell at her last being there in prograce The Author thereof vnknowne ¶ The Sheepheard Delicius his Dittie NEuer a greater foe did Loue disdaine Or trode on grasse so gay Nor Nimph greene leaues with whiter hand hath rent More golden haire the wind did neuer blow Nor fairer Dame hath bound in white attire Or hath in Lawne more gracious features tied Then my sweete Enemie Beautie and chastitie one place refraine In her beare equall sway Filling the world with wonder and content But they doo giue me paine and double woe Since loue and beautie kindled my desire And cruell chastitie from me denied All sence of iollitie There is no Rose nor Lillie after raine Nor flower in moneth of May Nor pleasant meade nor greene in Sommer sent That seeing them my minde delighteth so As faire flower which all the heauens admire Spending my thoughts on her in whom abide All grace and gifts on hie Me thinks my heauenly Nimph I see againe Her neck and breast display Seeing the whitest Ermine to frequent Some plaine or flowers that make the fairest show O Gods I neuer yet beheld her nier Or farre in shade or Sunne that satisfied I was in passing by The Meade the Mount the Riuer Wood and Plaine With all their braue array Yeeld not such sweete as that faire face that 's bent Sorrowes and ioy in each soule to bestow In equall parts procur'd by amorous fire Beauty and Loue in her their force haue tried to blind each humane eye Each wicked mind and will which wicked vice dooth staine her vertues breake and stay All ayres infect by ayre are purg'd and spent Though of a great foundation they did grow O body that so braue a soule doo'st hire And blessed soule whose vertues euer pried aboue the starrie skie Onely for her my life in ioyes I traine my soule sings many a Lay Musing on her new Seas I doo inuent Of soueraigne ioy wherein with pride I rowe The deserts for her sake I doo require For without her the Springs of ioy are dried and that I doo defie Sweete Fate that to a noble deede doo'st straine and lift my hart to day Sealing her there with glorious ornament Sweete scale sweete greefe and sweetest ouerthrowe Sweete miracle whose fame cannot expire Sweete wound and golden shaft that so espied such heauenly companie Of beauties graces in sweete vertues died As like were neuer in such yeares descried Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Amintas for his Phillis AVrora now began to rise againe From watry couch and from old Tithons side In hope to kiss vpon Acteian plaine Young Cephalus and through the golden glide On Easterne coast he cast so great a light That Phaebus thought it time to make retire From Thetis bower wherein he spent the night To light the world againe with heauenly fire No sooner gan his winged Steedes to chase The Stigian night mantled with duskie vale But poore Amintas hasteth him a pace In deserts thus to weepe a wofull tale You silent shades and all that dwell therein As birds or beasts or wormes that creepe on ground Dispose your selues to teares while I begin To rue the greefe of mine eternall wound And dolefull ghosts whose nature flies the light Come seate your selues with me on eu'ry side And while I die for want of my delight Lament the woes through fancie me betide Phillis is dead the marke of my desire My cause of loue and shipwrack of my ioyes Phillis is gone that set my hart on fire That clad my thoughts with ruinous annoyes Phillis is fled and bides I wote not where Phillis alas the praise of woman-kinde Phillis the Sunne of this our Hemisphere Whose beames made me and many others blinde But blinded me poore Swaine aboue the rest That like olde Oedipus I liue in thrall Still feele the woorst and neuer hope the best My mirth in moane and honey drown'd in gall Her faire but cruell eyes bewitcht my sight Her sweete but fading speech enthrall'd my thought And in her deedes I reaped such delight As brought both will and libertie to nought Therefore all hope of happines adiew Adiew desire the source of all my care Despare tells me my weale will nere renue Till thus my soule dooth passe in Charons Crare Meane time my minde must suffer Fortunes scorne My thoughts still wound like wounds that still are greene My weakened limbs be layd on beds of thorne My life decayes although my death 's fore-seene Mine eyes now eyes no more but Seas of teares Weepe on your fill to coole my burning brest Where loue did place desire twixt hope and feares I say desire the Authour of vnrest And would to God Phillis where ere thou be Thy soule did see the sower of mine estate My ioyes ecclips'd for onely want of thee My being with my selfe at foule debate My humble vowes my sufferance of woe My sobs and sighs and euer-watching eyes My plaintiue teares my wandring to and fro My will to die my neuer-ceasing cries No doubt but then these sorrowes would perswade The doome of death to cut my vitall twist That I with thee amidst th' infernall shade And thou with me might sport vs as we list Oh if thou waite on faire Proserpines traine And hearest Orpheus neere th' Elizian springs Entreate thy Queene to free thee thence againe And let the Thracian guide thee with his strings Tho. Watson FINIS ¶ Faustus and Firmius sing to their Nimph by turnes Firmius OF mine owne selfe I doo complaine And not for louing thee so much But that in deede thy power is such That my true loue it dooth restraine And onely this dooth giue me paine For faine I would Loue her more if that I could Faustus Thou doo'st obserue who dooth not see To be belou'd a great deale more But yet thou shalt not finde such store Of loue in others as in me For all I haue I giue to thee Yet faine I would Loue thee more if that I could Firmius O trie no other Sheepheard Swaine And care not other loues to proue Who though they giue thee all their loue Thou canst not such as mine obtaine And would'st thou haue in loue more gaine O yet I would Loue thee more if that I could Faustus Impossible it is my friend That any one should me excell In loue whose loue I will refell If that with me he will contend My loue no equall hath nor end And yet I would Loue her more if that I could Firmius Behold how Loue my soule hath charm'd Since first thy beauties I did see Which is but little yet to me My freest sences I haue harm'd To loue thee leauing them vnarm'd And yet I would Loue thee more if that I could Faustus I euer gaue and giue thee still Such store of loue as Loue hath lent me And therefore well thou maist content
with such measure Betweene you both faire issue to engender Longer then Nestor may you liue in pleasure The Gods to you such sweete content surrender That may make mild and tender The beasts in euery mountaine And glad the fields and vvoods and euery Fountaine Abiuring former sadnes Ring foorth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for gladnes Let amorous birds with sweetest notes delight you Let gentle winds refresh you with their blowing Let fields and Forrests with their good requite you And Flora decke the ground where you are going Roses and Violets strowing The Iasmine and the Gilliflower With many more and neuer in your bower To tast of houshold sadnes Ring foorth faire Nimphs your ioyfull Songs for gladnes Concord and peace hold you for aye contented And in your ioyfull state liue you so quiet That with the plague of iealousie tormented You may not be nor fed with Fortunes diet And that your names may flie yet To hills vnknowne with glorie But now because my breast so hoarce and sorrie It faints may rest from singing End Nimphs your Songs that in the clouds are ringing Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Philistus farewell to false Clorinda CLorinda false adiew thy loue torments me Let Thirsis haue thy hart since he contents thee Oh greefe and bitter anguish For thee I languish Faine I alas would hide it Oh but who can abide it I can I cannot I abide it Adiew adiew then Farewell Leaue my death now desiring For thou hast thy requiring Thus spake Philistus on his hooke relying And sweetly â—ell a dying Out of M. Morleyes Madrigalls FINIS ¶ Rosalindes Madrigall LOue in my bosome like a Bee dooth suck his sweete Now with his wings he playes with me now with his feete Within mine eyes he makes his nest His bed amidst my tender brest My kisses are his daily feast And yet he robs me of my rest Ah wanton will ye And if I sleepe then pierceth he with prettie slight And makes his pillow of my knee the liue-long night Strike I my Lute he tunes the string He musique playes if I but sing He lends me euery louely thing Yet cruell he my hart dooth sting Whist wanton still ye Else I with Roses euery day will whip ye hence And binde ye when ye long to play for your offence I le shut mine eyes to keepe ye in I le make you fast it for your sinne I le count your power not woorth a pin Alas what heereby shall I winne If he gaine-say me What if I beate the wanton boy with many a rod He will repay me with annoy because a God Then sit thou safely on my knee And let thy bower my bosome be Lurke in mine eyes I like of thee O Cupid so thou pitty me Spare not but play thee Thom. Lodge FINIS ¶ A Dialogue Song betweene Syluanus and Arsilius Syl. SHeepheard why doo'st thou hold thy peace Sing and thy ioy to vs report Arsil. My ioy good Sheepheard should be lesse If it were told in any sort Syl. Though such great fauours thou doo'st winne Yet daigne thereof to tell some part Arsil. The hardest thing is to begin In enterprizes of such Art Syl. Come make an end no cause omit Of all the ioyes that thou art in Arsil. How should I make an end of it That am not able to begin Syl. It is not iust we should consent That thou should'st not thy ioyes recite Arsil. The soule that felt the punishment Dooth onely feele this great delight Syl. That ioy is small and nothing fine That is not told abroade to manie Arsil. If it be such a ioy as mine It neuer can neuer be told to anie Syl. How can this hart of thine containe A ioy that is of such great force Arsil. I haue it where I did retaine My passions of so great remorce Syl. So great and rare a ioy is this No man is able to with-hold Arsil. But greater that a pleasure is The lesse it may with words be told Syl. Yet haue I heard thee heeretofore Thy ioyes in open Songs report Arsil. I said I had of ioy some store But not how much nor in what sort Syl. Yet when a ioy is in excesse It selfe it will oft-times vnfold Arsil. Nay such a ioy would be the lesse If but a word thereof were told Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Montanus Sonnet WHen the dogge Full of rage With his irefull eyes Frownes amidst the skies The Sheepheard to asswage The furie of the heate Him selfe dooth safely seate By a Fount Full of faire Where a gentle breath Mounting from beneath tempereth the ayre There his flocks Drinke their fill And with ease repose While sweet sleepe doth close Eyes from toyling ill But I burne Without rest No defensiue power Shields from Phoebus lower sorrow is my best Gentle Loue Lower no more If thou wilt inuade In the secret shade Labour not so sore I my selfe And my flocks They their Loue to please I my selfe to ease Both leaue the shadie Oakes Content to burne in fire Sith Loue dooth so desire S. E. D. FINIS ¶ The Nimph Seluagia her Song SHeepheard who can passe such wrong And a life in woes so deepe Which to liue is to too long As it is too short to weepe Greeuous sighs in vaine I wast Leesing my affiance and I perceaue my hope at last with a candle in the hand What time then to hope among bitter hopes that neuer sleepe When this life is to too long as it is too short to weepe This greefe which I feele so rife wretch I doo deserue as hire Since I came to put my life in the hands of my desire Then cease not my complaints so strong for though life her course dooth keepe It is not to liue so long as it is too short to weepe Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ The Heard-mans happie life WHat pleasure haue great Princes more daintie to their choice Then Heardmen wilde who carelesse in quiet life reioyce And Fortunes Fate not fearing Sing sweet in Sommer morning Their dealings plaine and rightfull are voide of all deceite They neuer know how spightfull it is to kneele and waite On fauourite presumptuous Whose pride is vaine and sumptuous All day theyr flocks each tendeth at night they take their rest More quiet then who sendeth his ship into the East Where gold and pearle are plentie But getting very daintie For Lawyers and their pleading they'steeme it not a straw They thinke that honest meaning is of it selfe a law Where conscience iudgeth plainely They spend no money vainely Oh happy who thus liueth not caring much for gold With cloathing which suffiseth to keepe him from the cold Though poore and plaine his diet Yet merrie it is and quiet Out of M. Birds set Songs FINIS ¶ Cinthia the Nimph her Song to faire Polydora NEere to the Riuer banks with greene And pleasant trees on euery side Where freest minds would most haue beene That neuer felt braue Cupids pride To passe the day and
tedious howers Amongst those painted meades and flowers A certaine Sheepheard full of woe Syrenus call'd his flocks did feede Not sorrowfull in outward show But troubled with such greefe indeede As cruell Loue is wont t' impart Vnto a painefull louing hart This Sheepheard euery day did die For loue he to Diana bare A Sheepheardesse so fine perdie So liuely young and passing faire Excelling more in beauties feature Then any other humane creature VVho had not any thing of all She had but was extreame in her For meanely wise none might her call Nor meanely faire for he did erre If so he did but should deuise Her name of passing faire and wise Fauours on him she did bestow Which if she had not then be sure He might haue suffered all that woe Which afterward he did endure When he was gone with lesser paine And at his comming home againe For when indeede the hart is free From suffering paine or torments smart If wisedome dooth not ouer-see And beareth not the greatest part The smallest greefe and care of minde Dooth make it captiue to their kinde Neere to a Riuer swift and great That famous Ezla had to name The carefull Sheepheard did repeate The â—eares he had by absence blame Which he suspect where he did keepe And feede his gentle Lambs and Sheepe And now sometimes he did behold His Sheepheardesse that there about Was on the mountaines of that old And auncient Leon seeking out From place to place the pastures best Her Lambs to feede her selfe to rest And sometime musing as he lay When on those hills she was not seene Was thinking of that happie day When Cupid gaue him such a Queene Of beautie and such cause of ioy Wherein his minde he did imploy Yet sayd poore man when he did see Him selfe so sunke in sorrowes pit The good that Loue hath giuen me I onely doo imagine it Because this neerest harme and trouble Heereafter I should suffer double The Sunne for that it did decline The carelesse man did not offend With fierie beames which scarce did shine But that which did of loue depend And in his hart did kindle fire Of greater flames and hote desire Him did his passions all inuite The greene leaues blowne with gentle winde Christaline streames with their delight And Nightingales were not behinde To helpe him in his louing verse Which to himselfe he did rehearse Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard to the flowers SWeete Violets Loues Paradise that spread Your gracious odours which you couched beare Within your palie faces Vpon the gentle wing of some calme-breathing-winde That playes amidst the Plaine If by the fauour of propitious starres you gaine Such grace as in my Ladies bosome place to finde Be proude to touch those places And when her warmth your moysture foorth dooth weare Whereby her daintie parts are sweetly fed Your honours of the flowrie Meades I pray You prettie daughters of the earth and Sunne With mild and seemely breathing straite display My bitter sighs that haue my hart vndone Vermillion Roses that with new dayes rise Display your crimson folds fresh looking faire Whose radiant bright disgraces The rich adorned rayes of roseate rising morne Ah if hâ—â— Virgins hand Doo plucâ—â—â—r pure ere Phoebus view the land And vaile your gracious pompe in louely Natures scorne If chaunce my Mistres traces Fast by your flowers to take the Sommers ayre Then wofull blushing tempt her glorious eyes To spread their teares Adonis death reporting And tell Loues torments sorrowing for her friend Whose drops of blood within your leaues consorting Report faire Venus moanes to haue no end Then may remorce in pittying of my smart Drie vp my teares and dwell within her hart Ignoto FINIS ¶ The Sheepheard Arsilius his Song to his Rebeck NOw Loue and Fortune turne to me againe And now each one enforceth and assures A hope that was dismayed dead and vaine And from the harbour of mishaps assures A hart that is consum'd in burning fire With vnexpected gladnes that admires My soule to lay a-side her mourning tire And sences to prepare a place for ioy Care in obliuion endlesse shall expire For euery greefe of that extreame annoy Which when my torment raign'd my soule alas Did feele the which long absence did destroy Fortune so well appayes that neuer was So great the torment of my passed ill As is the ioy of this same good I passe Returne my hart sursaulted with the fill Of thousand great vnrests and thousand feares Enioy thy good estate if that thou will And wearied eyes leaue off your burning teares For soone you shall behold her with delight For whom my spoiles with glorie Cupid beares Sences which seeke my starre so cleare and bright By making heere and there your thoughts estray Tell me what will you feele before her sight Hence solitarinesse torments away Felt for her sake and wearied members cast Of all your paine redeem'd this happie day O stay not time but passe with speedie hast And Fortune hinder not her comming now O God betides me yet this greefe at last Come my sweete Sheepheardesse the life which thou Perhaps didst thinke was ended long agoe At thy commaund is readie still to bow Comes not my Sheepheardesse desired so O God what if she 's lost or if she stray Within this vvood where trees so thick doo grow Or if this Nimph that lately went away Perhaps forgot to goe and seeke her out No no in her obliuion neuer lay Thou onely art my Sheepheardesse about Whose thoughts my soule shall finde her ioy and rest Why comm'st not then to assure it from doubt O seest thou not the Sunne passe to the West And if it passe and I behold thee not Then I my wonted torments will request And thou shalt waile my hard and heauie lot Bar. Yong. FINIS ¶ Another of Astrophell to his Stella IN a Groaue most rich of shade Where birds wanton musique made May then young his pyed weedes showing New perfum'd with flowers fresh growing Astrophell with Stella sweete Did for mutuall comfort meete Both within them-selues oppressed But each in the other blessed Him great harmes had taught much care Her faire necke a foule yoake bare But her sight his cares did banish In his sight her yoake did vanish Wept they had alas the while But now teares them-selues did smile While their eyes by Loue directed Enter changeably reflected Sigh they did but now betwixt Sighs of woes were glad sighs mixt With armes crost yet testifying Restlesse rest and liuing dying Their eares hungry of each vvord Which the deare tongue would afford But their tongues restrain'd from walking Till their harts had ended talking But when their tongues could not speake Loue it selfe did silence breake Loue did set his lips a-sunder Thus to speake in loue and wonder Stella Soueraigne of my ioy Faire triumpher of annoy Stella starre of heauenly fire Stella Loadstarre of desire Stella in whose shining eyes Are the lights of Cupids skies Whose
coy heigh hoe heigh hoe coy disdaine I know you loue a Sheepheards boy fie that Maydens so should faine Well Amarillis now I yeeld Sheepheards pipe aloude Loue conquers both in towne and field like a Tirant fierce and proude The euening starre is vp ye see Vesper shines we must away Would euery Louer might agree so we end our Roundelay H. C. FINIS The Sheepheards Antheme NEere to a bancke with Roses set about Where prettie Turtles ioyning bill to bill And gentle springs steale softly murmuring out Washing the foote of pleasures sacred hill There little Loue sore wounded lyes his bow and arrowes broken Bedewde with teares from Venus eyes Oh that it should be spoken Beare him my hart slaine with her scornfull eye Where sticks the arrow that poore hart did kill With whose sharpe pyle yet will him ere he die About my hart to write his latest will And bid him send it backe to mee at instant of his dying That cruell cruell shee may see my fayth and her denying His Hearse shall be a mournfull Cypres shade And for a Chauntrie Philomels sweet lay Where prayer shall continually be made By Pilgrime louers passing by that way With Nimphs and Sheepheards yeerely mone his timelesse death beweeping And telling that my hart alone hath his last will in keeping Mich. Drayton FINIS The Countesse of Pembrookes Pastorall A Sheepheard and a Sheepheardesse sate keeping sheepe vpon the downes His lookes did gentle blood expresse her beauty was no foode for clownes Sweet louely twaine what might you be Two fronting hills bedect with flowers they chose to be each others seate And there they stole theyr amorous houres with sighes and teares poore louers meate Fond Loue that feed'st thy seruants so Faire freend quoth he when shall I liue That am halfe dead yet cannot die Can beautie such sharpe guerdon giue to him whose life hangs in your eye Beautie is milde and will not kill Sweet Swaine quoth shee accuse not mee that long haue been thy humble thrall But blame the angry destinie whose kinde consent might finish all Vngentle Fate to crosse true loue Quoth hee let not our Parents hate disioyne what heauen hath linckt in one They may repent and all too late if chyldlesse they be left alone Father nor freend should wrong true loue The Parents frowne said shee is death to children that are held in awe From them we drew our vitall breath they challenge dutie then by law Such dutie as kills not true loue They haue quoth hee a kinde of sway on these our earthly bodies heere But with our soules deale not they may the God of loue doth hold them deere Hee is most meet to rule true loue I know said shee t is worse then hell when Parents choyse must please our eyes Great hurt comes thereby I can tell forc'd loue in desperate danger dies Fayre mayde then fancie thy true loue If wee quoth hee might see the houre of that sweet state which neuer ends Our heauenly gree might haue the power to make our Parents as deere freends All rancour yeelds to soueraine loue Then God of loue sayd shee consent and shew some wonder of thy power Our Parents and our owne content may be confirmde by such an houre Graunt greatest God to further loue The Fathers who did alwayes tend when thus they got theyr priuate walke As happy fortune chaunc'd to send vnknowne to each heard all this talke Poore soules to be so crost in loue Behind the hills whereon they sate they lay this while and listned all And were so mooued both thereat that hate in each began to fall Such is the power of sacred loue They shewed themselues in open sight poore Louers Lord how they were mazde And hand in hand the Fathers plight whereat poore harts they gladly gazde Hope now begins to further loue And to confirme a mutuall band of loue that at no time should ceasse They likewise ioyned hand in hand the Sheepheard and the Sheepheardesse Like fortune still befall true loue Shep. Tome FINIS Another of Astrophell THe Nightingale so soone as Aprill bringeth Vnto her rested sence a perfect waking While late bare earth proude of newe clothing springeth Sings out her woes a thorne her Song-booke making And mournfully bewayling Her throate in tunes expresseth What greefe her brest oppresseth For Tereus force on her chast will preuailing Oh Philamela faire oh take some gladnes That heere is iuster cause of plaintfull sadnes Thine earth now springs mine fadeth Thy thorne without my thorne my hart inuadeth Alas shee hath no other cause of languish But Tereus loue on her by strong hand wroken Wherein she suffering all her spirits languish Full woman-like complaines her will was broken But I who daily crauing Cannot haue to content mee Haue more cause to lament mee Sith wanting is more woe then too much hauing Oh Philamela faire oh take some gladnes That heere is iuster cause of plaintfull sadnes Thine earth now springs mine fadeth Thy thorne without my thorne my hart inuadeth S. Phil. Sidney FINIS ¶ Faire Phillis and her Sheepheard SHeepheard saw you not my faire louely Phillis Walking on this mountaine or on yonder plaine She is gone this way to Dianaes Fountaine and hath left me wounded with her high disdaine Aye me she is faire And without compare Sorrow come and sit with me Loue is full of feares Loue is full of teares Loue without these cannot be Thus my passions paine me For my loue hath slaine me Gentle Sheepheard beare a part Pray to Cupids mother For I know no other that can helpe to ease my smart Sheepheard I haue seene thy faire louely Phillis Where her flocks are feeding by the Riuers side Oh I must admire she so farre exceeding In surpassing beautie should surpasse in pride But alas I finde They are all vnkinde Beauty knowes her power too well When they list they loue When they please they moue thus they turne our heauen to hell For their faire eyes glauncing Like to Cupids dauncing roule about still to deceaue vs With vaine hopes deluding Still dispraise concluding Now they loue and now they leaue vs. Thus I doo despaire haue her I shall neuer If she be so coy lost is all my loue But she is so faire I must loue her euer All my paine is ioy which for her I proue If I should her trie And she should denie heauie hart with woe will breake Though against my will Tongue thou must be still for she will not heare thee speake Then with sighs goe prooue her Let them shew I loue her gracious Venus be my guide But though I complaine me She will still disdaine me beauty is so full of pride What though she be faire speake and feare not speeding Be she nere so coy yet she may be wunne Vnto her repaire where her Flocks are feeding Sit and tick and toy till set be the Sunne Sunne then being set Feare not Vulcanes net though that Mars therein was caught If
she doo denie Thus to her replie Venus lawes she must be taught Then with kisses mooue her That 's the way to prooue her thus thy Phillis must be wone She will not forsake thee But her Loue will make thee When Loues duty once is done Happie shall I be If she graunt me fauour Else for loue I die Phillis is so faire Boldly then goe see thou maist quickly haue her Though she should denie yet doo not despaire She is full of pride Venus be my guide helpe a sillie Sheepheards speede Vse no such delay Sheepheard goe thy way venture man and doo the deede I will sore complaine me Say that loue hath slaine thee if her fauours doo not feede But take no deniall Stand vpon thy triall spare to speake and want of speede I. G. FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards Song of Venus and Adonis VEnus faire did ride siluer Doues they drew her By the pleasant lawnds ere the Sunne did rise Vestaes beautie rich opend wide to view her Philomel records pleasing Harmonies Euery bird of spring cheerefully did sing Paphos Goddesse they salute Now Loues Queene so faire had of mirth no care for her Sonne had made her mute In her breast so tender He a shaft did enter when her eyes beheld a boy Adonis was he named By his Mother shamed yet he now is Venus ioy Him alone she met ready bound for hunting Him she kindly greetes and his iourney stayes Him she seekes to kisse no deuises wanting Him her eyes still wooe him her tongue still prayes He with blushing red Hangeth downe the head not a kisse can he afford His face is turn'd away Silence sayd her nay still she woo'd him for a word Speake shee said thou fairest Beautie thou impairest see mee I am pale and wan Louers all adore mee I for loue implore thee christall teares with that downe ran Him heere-with shee forc'd to come sit downe by her Shee his necke embrac'de gazing in his face Hee like once transformd stird no looke to eye her Euery hearbe did wooe him growing in that place Each bird with a dittie prayed him for pitty in behalfe of beauties Queene Waters gentle murmour craued him to loue her yet no liking could be seene Boy shee sayd looke on mee Still I gaze vpon thee speake I pray thee my delight Coldly hee replyed And in breefe denyed to bestow on her a sight I am now too young to be wunne by beauty Tender are my yeeres I am yet a bud Fayre thou art shee said then it is thy dutie Wert thou but a blossome to effect my good Euery beauteous flower boasteth in my power Byrds and beasts my lawes effect Mirrha thy faire mother most of any other did my louely hests respect Be with me delighted Thou shalt be requited euery Nimph on thee shall tend All the Gods shall loue thee Man shall not reproue thee Loue himselfe shall be thy freend Wend thee from mee Venus I am not disposed Thou wring'st mee too hard pre-thee let me goe Fie what a paine it is thus to be enclosed If loue begin with labour it will end in woe kisse mee I will leaue heere a kisse receiue a short kisse I doe it find Wilt thou leaue me so yet thou shalt not goe breathe once more thy balmie wind It smelleth of the Mirh-tree That to the world did bring thee neuer was perfume so sweet When she had thus spoken Shee gaue him a token and theyr naked bosoms meet Now hee sayd let 's goe harke the hounds are crying Grieslie Boare is vp Hunts-men follow fast At the name of Boare Venus seemed dying Deadly coloured pale Roses ouer-cast Speake sayd shee no more of following the Boare thou vnfit for such a chase Course the fearefull Hare Venson doe not spare if thou wilt yeeld Venus grace Shun the Boare I pray thee Else I still will stay thee herein he vowed to please her minde Then her armes enlarged Loth shee him discharged forth he went as swift as winde Thetis Phoebus Steedes in the West retained Hunting sport was past Loue her loue did seeke Sight of him too soone gentle Queene shee gained On the ground he lay blood had left his cheeke For an orped Swine smit him in the groyne deadly wound his death did bring Which when Venus found shee fell in a swound and awakte her hands did wring Nimphs and Satires skipping Came together tripping Eccho euery cry exprest Venus by her power Turnd him to a flower which shee weareth in her creast H. C. FINIS ¶ Thirsis the Sheepheard his deaths song THirsis to die desired marking her eyes that to his hart was neerest And shee that with his flame no lesse was fiered sayd to him Oh hart 's loue deerest Alas forbeare to die now By thee I liue by thee I wish to die too Thirsis that heate refrained wherewith to die poore louer then hee hasted Thinking it death while hee his lookes maintained full fixed on her eyes full of pleasure and louely Nectar sweet from them he tasted His daintie Nimph that now at hand espyed the haruest of loues treasure Said thus with eyes all trembling faint and wasted I die now The Sheepheard then replyed and I sweet life doe die too Thus these two Louers foutunately dyed Of death so sweet so happy and so desired That to die so againe their life retired Out of Maister N. Young his Musica Transalpina FINIS ¶ Another stanza added after THirsis enioyed the graces Of Chloris sweet embraces Yet both theyr ioyes were scanted For darke it was and candle-light they wanted Wherewith kinde Cinthia in the heauen that shined her nightly vaile resigned and her faire face disclosed Then each from others lookes such ioy deriued That both with meere delight dyed and reuiued Out of the same FINIS ¶ Another Sonet thence taken ZEphirus brings the time sweetly senteth with flowers and hearbs which Winters frost exileth Progne now chirpeth Philomel lamentesh Flora the Garlands white and red compileth Fields doo reioyce the frowning skie relenteth Ioue to behold his dearest daughter smileth The ayre the water the earth to ioy consenteth each creature now to loue him reconcileth But with me wretch the stormes of woe perseuer and heauie sighs which from my hart she straineth That tooke the key thereof to heauen for euer so that singing of birds and spring-times flowring And Ladies loue that mens affection gaineth are like a Desert and cruell beasts deuouring FINIS ¶ The Sheepheards slumber IN Pescod time when Hound to horne giues eare till Buck be kild And little Lads with pipes of corne sate keeping beasts a field I went to gather Strawberies tho by Woods and Groaues full faire And parcht my face with Phoebus so in walking in the ayre That downe I layde me by a streame with boughs all ouer-clad And there I met the straungest dreame that euer Sheepheard had Me thought I saw each Christmas game each reuell all and some And euery thing that I can name or may in fancie
could youth last and loue still breede Had ioyes no date nor age no neede Then these delights my minde might moue To liue with thee and be thy loue Ignoto FINIS ¶ Another of the same nature made since COme liue with mee and be my deere And we will reuell all the yeere In plaines and groaues on hills and dales Where fragrant ayre breedes sweetest gales There shall you haue the beauteous Pine The Cedar and the spreading Vine And all the woods to be a Skreene Least Phoebus kisse my Sommers Queene The seate for your disport shall be Ouer some Riuer in a tree Where siluer sands and pebbles sing Eternall ditties with the spring There shall you see the Nimphs at play And how the Satires spend the day The fishes gliding on the sands Offering their bellies to your hands The birds with heauenly tuned throates Possesse vvoods Ecchoes with sweet noates Which to your sences will impart A musique to enflame the hart Vpon the bare and leafe-lesse Oake The Ring-Doues wooings will prouoke A colder blood then you possesse To play with me and doo no lesse In bowers of Laurell trimly dight We will out-weare the silent night While Flora busie is to spread Her richest treasure on our bed Ten thousand Glow-wormes shall attend And all their sparkling lights shall spend All to adorne and beautifie Your lodging with most maiestie Then in mine armes will I enclose Lillies faire mixture with the Rose Whose nice perfections in loues play Shall tune me to the highest key Thus as we passe the welcome night In sportfull pleasures and delight The nimble Fairies on the grounds Shall daunce and sing mellodious sounds If these may serue for to entice Your presence to Loues Paradice Then come with me and be my Deare And we will straite begin the yeare Ignoto FINIS ¶ The Wood-mans walke THrough a faire Forrest as I went vpon a Sommers day I met a Wood-man queint and gent yet in strange aray I meruail'd much at his disguise whom I did know so well But thus in tearmes both graue and wise his minde he gan to tell Friend muse not at this fond aray but list a while to me For it hath holpe me to furuay what I shall shew to thee Long liu'd I in this Forrest faire till wearie of my weale Abroade in walks I would repaire as now I will reueale My first dayes walke was to the Court where Beautie fed mine eyes Yet found I that the Courtly sport did maske in slie disguise For falshood sate in fairest lookes and friend to friend was coy Court-fauour fill'd but empty bookes and there I found no ioy Desert went naked in the cold when crouching craft was sed Sweet words were cheapely bought and sold but none that stood in sted Wit was imployed for each mans owne plaine meaning came too short All these deuises seene and knowne made me forsake the Court. Vnto the Citty next I went in hope of better hap Where liberally I launch'd and spent as set on Fortunes lap The little stock I had in store me thought would nere be done Friends flockt about me more and more as quickly lost as wone For when I spent they were kinde but when my purse did faile The formost man came last behinde thus loue with wealth doth quaile Once more for footing yet I stroue although the world did frowne But they before that held me vp together troad me downe And least once more I should arise they sought my quite decay Then got I into this disguise and thence I stole away And in my minde me thought I saide Lord blesse me from the Cittie Where simplenes is thus betraide and no remorce or pittie Yet would I not giue ouer so but once more trie my fate And to the Country then I goe to liue in quiet state There did appeare no subtile showes but yea and nay went smoothly But Lord how Country-folks can glose when they speake most soothly More craft was in a buttond cap and in an old wiues rayle Then in my life it was my hap to see on Downe or Dale There was no open forgerie but vnder-handed gleaning Which they call Country pollicie but hath a worser meaning Some good bold-face beares out the wrong because he gaines thereby The poore mans back is crackt ere long yet there he lets him lye And no degree among them all but had such close intending That I vpon my knees did fall and prayed for their amending Back to the vvoods I got againe in minde perplexed sore Where I found ease of all this paine and meane to stray no more There Citty Court nor Country too can any way annoy me But as a vvood-man ought to doo I freely may imploy me There liue I quietly alone and none to trip my talke Wherefore when I am dead and gone think on the Wood-mans walke Shep. Ionie FINIS ¶ Thirsis the Sheepheard to his Pipe LIke Desert woods with darkesome shades obscured Where dreadfull beasts where hatefull horror raigneth Such is my wounded hart whom sorrow payneth The Trees are fatall shaft to death inured That cruell loue within my breast maintaineth To whet my greefe when as my sorrow wayneth The ghastly beasts my thoughts in cares assured Which wage me warre while hart no succour gaineth With false suspect and feare that still remaineth The horrors burning sights by cares procured Which foorth I send whilst weeping eye complaineth To coole the heate the helplesse hart containeth But shafts but cares but sighs horrors vnrecured Were nough esteem'd if for these paines awarded My faithfull loue by her might be regarded Ignoto FINIS ¶ An excellent Sonnet of a Nimph. VErtue beauty and speach did strike wound charme My hart eyes eares with wonder loue delight First second last did binde enforce and arme His works showes sutes with wit grace and vowes-might Thus honour liking trust much farre and deepe Held pearst possest my iudgement sence and will Till wrongs contempt deceite did grow steale creepe Bands fauour faith to breake defile and kill Then greefe vnkindnes proofe tooke kindled taught Well grounded noble due spite rage disdaine But ah alas in vaine my minde sight thought Dooth him his face his words leaue shunne refraine For nothing time nor place can loose quench ease Mine owne embraced sought knot fire disease S. Phil. Sidney FINIS ¶ A Report Song in a dreame betweene a Sheepheard and his Nimph. SHall we goe daunce the hay The hay Neuer pipe could euer play better Sheepheards Roundelay Shall we goe sing the Song The Song Neuer Loue did euer wrong faire Maides hold hands all a-long Shall we goe learne to woo To woo Neuer thought came euer too better deede could better doo Shall we goe learne to kisse To kisse Neuer hart could euer misse comfort where true meaning is Thus at base they run They run When the sport was scarse begun but I wakt and all was done N. Breton FINIS ¶ Another of the same SAy that I