Ygyrt with beltes of glitterand gold.

(Mought they good shepheards bene!) Their Pan their sheepe to them has sold, I say as some have seene.

For Palinode (if thou him ken)

Yode late on pilgrimage

To Rome, (if such be Rome) and then
He sawe thilke misusage;

For shepheardes (sayd he) there doen lead,
As lordes done other where;

Their sheep han crusts, and they the bread;

The chippes, and they the cheere:
They han the fleece, and eke the flesh,
(O seely sheepe the while!)
The corne is theyrs, let other thresh,

Their haudes they may not file.
They han great store and thriftie stockes,
Great friendes and feeble foes;
What neede hem caren for their flockes,
Theyr boyes can looke to those.
These wisards welter in wealths waves,
Pampred in pleasures deepe;

They han fat kernes, and leany knaves,
Their fasting flockes to keepe.
Sike mister men bene all misgone,
They heapen hilles of wrath;

Sike syrlie shepheards han we none,
They keepen all the path.

MOR. Here is a great deale of good matter
Lost for lacke of telling;

Now sicker I see thou dost but clatter,

Harme may come of melling.

Thou meddlest more, then shall have thank,
To witen shepheards wealth;

When folke bene fat, and riches ranck,
It is a signe of health.

But say mee, what is Algrind, hee
That is so oft bynempt?

THOM. Hee is a shepheard great in gree,

But hath bene long ypent:

One day hec sat upon a hill,

As now thou wouldest mee;

But I am taught, by Algrinds ill,
To love the lowe degree;

For sitting so with bared scalp;

An eagle sored bye,

That, weening his white head was chalke,
A shell-fish downe let flye;

Shee weend the shell-fish to have broke,
But therewith bruzd his brayne;

So now, astonied with the stroke,

Hee lyes in lingring payne.

MOR. Ah! good Algrind! his hap was ill, But shall be better in time.

Now farewell, shepheard, sith this hill
Thou hast such doubt to clime.

PALINODES EMBLEME. In medio virtus.

MORRELLS EMBLEME.

In summo fœlicitas.

TELL mee, Perigot, what shalbe the game, Wherefore with mine thou dare thy musick matche?

Or bene thy bagpypes renne farre out of frame? Or hath the crampe thy joynts benomd with ache? PER. Ah! Willie, when the hart is ill assayde, How can bagpype or ioynts be well apayde?

WIL. What the foule evill hath thee so bestad? Whilom thou was peregall to the best, And, wont to make the iolly shepheards glad, With pyping and dauncing didst passe the rest. PER. Ah! Willie, now I have learnd a new daunce; My old musick mard by a new mischaunce. WIL. Mischiefe mought to that mischaunce beThat so hath raft us of our merriment; [fall, But rede me what paine doth thee so apall; Or lovest thou, or bene thy younglinges miswent? PER. Love hath misled both my younglinges

aud me;

I pine for payne, and they my paine to see.
WIL.Perdie, and well awaye! ill may they thrive;
Never knew I lovers sheepe in good plight:
But and if in rymes with me thou dare strive,
Such fond fantasies shall soone be put to flight.
PER. That shall I doe, though mochell worse I
fared:

Never shall be sayde that Perigot was dared,
WIL. Then loe, Perigot, the pledge which I plight,
A mazer ywrought of the maple warre,
Wherein is enchased many a fayre sight

Of bears and tygers, that maken fiers warre;
And over them spred a goodly wilde vine,
Entrailed with a wanton yvy twine.

Thereby is a lambe in the wolvës iawes;

But see, how fast renneth the shepheard swain. To save the innocent from the beastes pawes, And here with his sheepehooke hath him slain. Tell me, such a cup hast thou ever seene? Well mought it beseeme any harvest queene.

PER. Thereto will I pawne yonder spotted lambe; Of all my flocke there nis sike another, For I brought him up without the dambe; But Colin Clout rafte me of his brother, That he purchast of me in the plaine field; Sore against my will was I forst to yeeld.

WIL. Sicker, make like account of his brother;

But who shall iudge the wager wonne orlost? PER. That shall yonder heardgrome, and none other, Which over the pousse hetherward doth post. WIL. But, for the sunnbeame so sore doth us beate, Were not better to shunne the scortching heate? [swayne; PER. Well agreed, Willie; then set thee downe, Sike a song never heardest thou but Colin sing.

[twayne; CUD. Gynne, when ye list, ye iolly shepheardes Sike a judge, as Cuddie, were for a king. PER. "It fell upon a holy eve,

WIL.

Hey, ho, holiday!

PER. When holy Fathers wont to shrieve;
WIL. Now ginneth this roundelay.

PER. Sitting upon a hill so hie,

WIL. Hey, ho, the high hill!

PER. The while my flocke did feede thereby;

WIL. The while the shepheard selfe did spill;
PER. I saw the bouncing Bellibone,

WIL. Hey, ho, Bonnibell!
PER. Tripping over the dale alone;
WIL. She can trip it very well.
PER. Well decked in a frocke of gray,
WIL. Hey, ho, gray is greet!
PER. And in a kirtle of greene saye,
WIL. The greene is for maydens meet.
PER. A chapelet on her head she wore,
WIL. Hey, ho, chapelet!

PER. Of sweete violets therein was store,
WIL. She sweeter then the violet.

PER. My sheepe did leave their wonted food,
WIL Hey, ho, seely sheepe!

PER. And gazd on her as they were wood,
WIL. Wood as he that did them keepe.
PER. As the bonilasse passed bye,
WIL. Hey, ho, bonilasse!

PER. She rovde at mee with glaancing eye,
WIL. As cleare as the crista!! glasse:
PER. All as the sunny beame so bright,
WIL. Hey, ho, the sunne-beame
PER. Glaunceth from Phoebus face forthright,
WIL. So love into thy heart did streame :
PER. Or as the thonder cleaves the cloudes,
WIL. Hey, ho, the thonder!

PER. Wherein the lightsome levin shroudes,
WIL. So cleaves thy soule asonder:
PER. Or as dame Cynthias silver ray,
WIL. Hey, ho, the moonelight!

PER. Upon the glittering wave doth play,
WIL. Such play is a pitteous plight.
PER. The glaunce into my heart did glide,
WIL. Hey, ho, the glyder!

PER. Therewith my soule was sharply gryde,
WIL. Such woundes soon wexen wider.

PER. Hasting to raunch the arrowe out,

WIL. Hey, ho, Perigot!

PER. I left the head in my heart-root,

WIL. It was a desperate shot.

PER. There it ranckleth aye more and more,

PER. For pricfe thereof, my death shall weepe,-
And mone with many a mocke.
PER. So learnd I love on a holy eve,
WIL. Hey, ho, holy-day!

PER. That ever since my heart did greve,
WIL. Now endeth our roundelay."

CUD. Sicker, sike a roundle never heard I none;
Little lacketh Perigot of the best,

WIL.

And Willie is not greatly overgone,

So weren his under-songes well addrest. Heardgrome, I fear me thou have a squint eye; Areede uprightly, who has the victorie. CUD. Fayth of my soule, I deeme eche have gained; Forthy let the lambe be Willie his owne; And for Perigot, so well hath him payned, To him be the wroughten mazer alone. PER. Perigot is well pleased with the doome,

Ne can Willie wite the witelesse heardgroome. WIL. Never dempt more right of beautie, I weene, The shepheard of Ida that iudged beauties

queene.

Cun. But tell me, shepheards, should it not yshend Your roundels fresh, to heare a dolefull verse Of Rosalind (who knowes not Rosalind?) That Colin made? ylke can I you rehearse. PER. Now say it, Cuddie, as thou art a ladde;

With mery thing is good to medle sadde. WIL. Fayth of my soule, thou shalt ycrouned be In Colins steede, if thou this song areede; For never thing on Earth so pleaseth me As him to heare, or matter of his deede.

CUD. Then listen ech unto my heavie lay,

And tune your pypes as ruthfull as yee may.
"Ye wastefull woodes! bear witnesse of my woe,
Wherein my plaints did oftentimes resounde;
Ye carelesse byrds are privy to my cryes,
Which in your songs were woont to make a part:
Thou, pleasaunt spring, hast luld mee oft asleepe,
Whose streames my trickling teares did oft aug-
ment!

"Resort of people doth my griefes augment,
The walled towns doe work my greater woe;
The forest wide is fitter to resound
The hollow eccho of my carefull cries:

I hate the house, since thence my love did part,
Whose wailefull want debars mine eyes of sleepe.

"Let stremes of teares supply the place of sleepe;
Let all, that sweete is, voyd; and all, that may
augment
[woe

My dole, draw neere! More' meete to waile my
Bene the wilde woods, my sorows to resound,
Then bed, nor bowre, both which I fill with cries,
When I them see so waste, and finde no part

"Of pleasure past. Here will I dwell apart
In gastfull grove therefore, till my last sleep
Doo close mine eyes; so shall I not augment
With sight of such as channge my restlesse woe.
Help me, yee banefull byrds! whose shrieking sound
Is signe of dreery death, my deadly cries

D

"And you that feel no woe, when as the sound Of these my nightlie cries ye heare apart, Let breake your sounder sleepe, and pitie augment."

PER. O Colin, Colin! the shepheardes ioye,
How I admire ech turning of thy verse;
And Cuddie, freshe Cuddie, the liefest boye,
How dolefully his dole thou didst rehearse!
Cup. Then blow your pypes, shepheards, till you
be at home;

The night higheth fast, yts time to be gone.

PERIGOT HIS EMBLEME.

Vincenti gloria victi.

WILLYES EMBLEME. Vinto non vitto.

CUDDIES EMBLEME

Felice chi puo.

THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.

SEPTEMBER.

AEGLOGA NONA.

ARGUMENT.

Herein Diggon Davie is devised to be a shepheard that, in hope of more gaine, drove his sheepe into a farre countrey. The abuses whereof, and loose living of popish prelates, by occasion of Hobbinols demaund, he discourseth at large.

HOBBINOLL, DIGGON DAVIE.
HOBBINOLL.

DIGGON DAVIE! I bid her god day;
Or Diggon her is, or I missay.

DIG. Her was her, while it was day-light,
But nowe her is a most wretched wight:
For day, that was, is wightly past,
And now at earst the dirke night doth hast.

HOв. Diggon, areede who has thee so dight;
Never I wist thee in so poore a plight.
Where is the fayre flocke thou was woont to lead?
Or bene they chaffred, or at mischiefe dead!

DIG. Ah! for love of that is to thee most leefe, Hobbinoll, I pray thee gall not my oldé grecfe;

Sike question rippeth up cause of new woe,
For one, opened, mote unfold many moe,

HOв, Nay, but sorrow close shrouded in heart,
I know, to keepe is a burdenous smart:
Ech thing imparted is more eath to beare:
When the rayne is fallen, the clouds waxen cleare.
And now, sithence I saw thy head last,
Thrise three moones bene fully spent and past;
Since when thou hast measured much ground,
And wandred weele about the world round,»
So as thou can many thinges relate;
But tell me first of thy flockes estate.

DIG. My sheepe bene wasted; (wae is me there-
fore!)

The iolly shepheard that was of yore,
Is now nor iolly, nor shepheard more.
In forreine coastes men sayd was plentie;
And so there is, but all of miserie:

I dempt there much to have eeked my store,
But such eeking hath made my heart sore.
In tho countries, whereas I have bene,
No beeing for those that truly mene;
But for such, as of guile maken gaine,
No such country as there to remaine;
They setten to sale theyr shops of shame,
And maken a mart of theyr good name:
The shepheards there robben one another,
And layen baytes to beguile her brother;
Or they will buye his sheepe out of the cote,
Or they will carven the shepheardes throte.
The shepheardes swayne you cannot well ken,
But it be by his pride, from other men;
They looken bigge as bulles that bene bate,
And bearen the cragge so stiffe and so state,
As cocke on his dunghill crowing cranck.

HOB. Diggon, I am so stiffe and so stanck,
That uneth may I stand any more;
And now the westerne winde bloweth sore,
That now is in his chiefe sovereigntee,
Beating the withered leafe from the tree;
Sitte we downe here under the hill;
Tho may we talke and tellen our fill,
And make a mocke at the blustering blast:
Now say on, Diggon, whatever thou hast.

DIG. Hobbin, ah Hobbin! I curse the stound
That ever I cast to have lorne this ground:
Wel-away the while I was so fond
To leave the good that I had in hond,
In hope of better that was uncouth;
So lost the dogge the flesh in his mouth.
My seely sheepe (ah! seely sheepe!)
That here by there I wilome usde to keepe,
All were they lustie as thou diddest see,
Bene all starved with pyne and penuree;
Hardly my selfe escaped thilke paine,
Driven for neede to come home againe.

HOB. Ah! fon, now by thy losse art taught
That seldom chaunge the better brought:
Content who lives with tryed state,
Neede feare no chaunge of frowning Fate;
But who will seeke for unknownė gayne,
Oft lives by losse, and leaves with payne.

"

DIG. I wote ne, Hobbin, how I was bewitcht With vayne desire and hope to be enricht: But, sicker, so it is, as the bright starre Scemeth aye greater when it is farre:

I thought the soyle would have made me rich, But now I wote it is nothing sich;

For eyther the shepheards bene ydle and still, And ledde of theyr sheepe what way they will,

Or they bene false, and full of covetise,

And casten to compasse many wronge emprise :
But the more bene fraight with fraud and spight,
Ne in good nor goodnes taken delight,
But kindle coales of conteck and yre,
Wherewith they set all the world on fire;
Which when they thinken againe to quench,
With holy water they doen hem all drench.
They saye they con to Heaven the high-way,
But by my soule I dare undersaye

They never sette foote in that same troad,
But balke the right way, and strayen abroad.
They boast they han the Devill at commaund,
But aske hem therefore what they han paund :
Marrie! that great Pan bought with deare borrow,
To quite it from the blacke bowre of sorrow.
But they han sold thilke same long egoe,
For they woulden draw with hem many moe.
But let hem gange alone a Gods name;
As they han brewed, so let hem beare blame.
Hos. Diggon, I praye thee speake not so dirke;
Such myster saying me seemeth to-mirke.

[what,

DIG. Then, plainly to speake of shepheards moste
Badde is the best; (this English is flat.)
Their ill haviour garres men missay
Both of theyr doctrine, and theyr fay.
They sayne the world is much war then it wont,
All for her shepheardes bene beastly and blont.
Other sayne, but howe truely I n'ote,
All for they holden shame of their cote:
Some sticke not to say, (hote cole on her tongue!)
That sike mischiefe graseth hem emong,
All for they casten too much of worldes care,
To deck her dame, and enrich her heire;
For such encheason, if you goe nie,
Fewe chimnies reeking you shall espie.
The fat oxe, that wont ligge in the stall,
Is nowe fast stalled in her crumenall.
Thus chatten the people in their steads,
Ylike as a monster of many heads:
But they, that shooten nearest the pricke,
Sayne, other the fat from their beards doen lick:
For bigge bulles of Basan brace hem about,
That with their hornes butten the more stoute;
But the leane soules treaden under foot,
And to seeke redresse mought little boote;
For liker bene they to pluck away more,
Then ought of the gotten good to restore :
For they bene like fowle wagmoires overgrast,
That, if thy galage once sticketh fast,
The more to winde it out thou dost swinck,
Thou mought aye deeper and deeper sinck.
Yet better leave off with a little losse,
Then by much wrestling to leese the grosse.
HOв. Nowe, Diggon, I see thou speakest too
Better it were a little to feine,
[plaine,

And cleanely cover that cannot be cured;
Such ill, as is forced, mought needes bee endured.
But of sike pastoures howe done the flocks creepe?
Dic. Sike as the shepheards, sike bene her sheepe,
For they nill listen to the shepheards voice;
But if he call hem, at their good choice
They wander at will and stay at pleasure,
And to their folds yeade at their owne leasure.
But they had be better come at their call;
For many han unto mischiefe fall,
And bene of ravenous wolves yrent,
All for they nould be buxome and bent.
Hoв. Fie on thee, Diggon, and all thy foule leas-
Well is knowne that, sith the Saxon king,

[ing;

Never was wolf seene, many nor some,
Nor in all Kent, nor in Christendome;
But the fewer wolves (the sooth to saine)
The more bene the foxes that here remaine.

DIG. Yes, but they gang in more secret wise,
And with sheeps clothing doen hem disguise.
They walke not widely as they were wont,
For feare of raungers and the great hunt,
But prively prolling to and froe,
Enaunter they mought be inly knowe.

HOB. Or privie or pert if any bin,
We han great bandogs wil teare their skin.

DIG. In deede thy Ball is a bold bigge cur,
And could make a iolly hole in their fur:
But not good dogs hem needeth to chace,
But heedy shepheards to discerne their face;
For all their craft is in their countenaunce,
They bene so grave and full of maintenaunce.
But shall I tell thee what my self knowe
Chaunced to Roffin not long ygoe?

HOв. Say it out, Diggon, whatever it hight, For not but well mought him betight: He is so meeke, wise, and merciable, And with his word his work is convenable. Colin Clout, I weene, be his selfe boye, (Ab, for Colin! he whilome my ioye:) Shepheards sich, God mought us many send, That doen so carefully theyr flocks tend.

DIG. Thilke same shepheard mought I well marke,
He has a dogge to bite or to barke;
Never had shepheard so keene a cur,
That waketh and if but a leafe stur.
Whilome there wonned a wicked wolfe,
That with many a lambe had gutted his gulfe.
And ever at night wont to repayre

Unto the flocke, when the welkin shone fayre,
Yclad in clothing of seely sheepe,

When the good olde man used to sleepe;
Tho at midnight he would barke and ball,
(For he had eft learned a currës call)
As if a woolfe were emong the sheepe:
With that the shepheard would breake his sleepe,
And send out Lowder (for só his dog hote)
To raunge the fields with wide open throte.
Tho, when as Lowder was far away,
This wolvish sheepe woulde catchen his pray,
A lambe, or a kid, or a weanell wast;
With that to the wood would hee speede him fast.
Long time he used this slippery pranck,
Ere Roffy could for his labour him thanck.
At end, the shepheard his practise spyed,
(For Roffy is wise, and as Argus eyed,)
And, when at even he came to the flocke,
Fast in their foldes he did them locke,

And tooke out the woolfe in his counterfeit cote,
And let out the sheepes bloud at his throte.

HOB. Marry, Diggou, what should him affraye To take his owne where ever it laye? For, had his wesand been a little widder, He woulde have devoured both hidder and shidder.

DIG. Mischiefe light on him, and Gods great

curse,

Too good for him had bene a great deale worse;
For it was a perilous beast above all,

And eke had hee cond the shepheards call,
And oft in the night came to the sheepcote,
And called Lowder, with a hollow throte,
As if the olde man selfe had beene:
The dogge his maisters voice did it weene,

Yet halfe in doubt he opened the dore,
And ranne out as he was wont of yore.
No sooner was out, but, swifter then thought,
Fast by the hyde the wolfe Lowder caught;
And, had not Roffy renne to the steven,
Lowder had bene slaine thilke same even.

Hos. God shield, man, hee should so ill have All for he did his devoyre belive.

If sike bene wolves, as thou hast told,
How mought we, Diggon, hem behold?

[thrive,

DIG. How, but, with heede and watchfullnesse,
Forstallen hem of their wilinesse :
For-thy with shepheard sittes not play,

Or sleepe, as some doen, all the long day;
But ever liggen in watch and ward,

From sodaine force their flocks for to gard.

The English Poet, which booke being lately come to my handes, I minde also by Gods grace, upon further advisement, to publish.

PIERS. CUDDÍE.

PIERS.

straight,

All the cold season to watch and waite:
We bene of flesh, men as other bee,
Why should we be bound to such miseree?
What-ever thing lacketh chaungeable rest,
Mought needes decay, when it is at best.

DIG. Ah! but, Hobbinoll, all this long tale
Nought easeth the care that doth mee forhaile;
What shall I doe? what way shall I wend,
My piteous plight and losse to amend?
Ah! good Hobbinoll, mought I thee pray
Of ayde or counsell in my decaye.

Hoв. Now by my soule, Diggón, I lament The haplesse mischiefe that has thee hent; Nethelesse thou seest my lowly saile, That froward Fortune doth ever availe: But, were Hobbinoll as God mought please, Diggon should soone finde favour and ease: But if to my cotage thou wilt resort, So as I can I will thee comfort; There mayst thou ligge in a vetchy bed, Till fairer Fortune show forth his head. DIG. Ah! Hobbinoll, God mought it thee requite; Diggon on fewe such friendes did ever lite.

DICGONS EMBLEME.

Inopem me copia fecit.

THE SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.

OCTOBER.

AECLOGA DECIMA.

ARGUMENT.

In Cuddie is set out the perfect patern of a poet, which, finding no maintenance of his state and studies, complaineth of the contempt of poetrie, and the causes thereof: specially having bene in all ages, and even amongst the most barbarous, alwaies of singular account and honour, and being indeed so worthie and commendable an art; or rather no art, but a divine gift and heavenly instinct not to be gotten by labour and learning, but adorned with both; and poured into the witte by a certaine enthousiasmos and celest all inspiration, as the author hereof else where at large discourseth in his booke called

And my poore Muse hath spent her spared store, Yet little good bath got, and much lesse gayne. Such pleasaunce makes the grashopper so poore, And ligge so layd, when winter doth her straine.

The dapper ditties, that I wont devise,
To feede youthes fansie, and the flocking fry,
Delighten much; what I the bett forthy?
They han the pleasure, I a sclender prise:
I beate the bush, the byrdes to them do flie:
What good thereof to Cuddie can arise ?

PIERS. Cuddie, the praise is better then the price,
The glory eke much greater then the gayne:
O what an honour is it, to restraine

The lust of lawlesse youth with good advice,
Or pricke them foorth with pleasaunce of thy vaine,
Whereto thou list their trained willes entice!

Soone as thou gynst to sette thy notes in frame, O how the rural routes to thee do cleave! Seemeth thou doest theyr soule of sense bereave, All as the shepheard that did fetch his dame From Plutoes balefull bowre withouten leave; His musickes might the hellish hound did tame.

CUD. So praysen babes the peacocks spotted trayne, And wondren at bright Argus blazing eye; But who rewardes him ere the more forthy, Or feedes him once the fuller by a graine? Sike praise is smoke, that sheddeth in the skie; Sike words bene winde, and wasten soone in vaine.

PIERS. Abandon then the base and viler clowne;
Lift up thy selfe out of the lowly dust,
And sing of bloody Mars, of wars, of giusts;
Turne thee to those that weld the awfull crowne,
To doubted knights, whose woundlesse armour rusts,
And helmes unbruzed wexen daylie browne.

There may thy Muse display her fluttring wing,
And stretch her selfe at large from east to west;
Whither thou list in fayre Elisa rest,
Or, if thee please in bigger notes to sing,
Advaunce the worthy whom shee loveth best,
That first the white beare to the stake did bring.

And, when the stubborne stroke of stronger stounds
Has somewhat slackt the tenor of thy string,
Of love and lustihead tho maist thou sing,
And carroll lowde, and leade the millers rounde,
eAll were Elisa one of thilk same ring;
So mought our Cuddies name to Heaven sounde.